A/N: I avoid the medical aspects at all costs because I'm simply lost in that area. It's just not necessary in this story. This is set sometime after 7x15 Bombshells and before House married Dominika (second worst storyline ever).

Disclaimer: I do not own House or its characters. Our hearts would hurt less if I did, believe me.

Part 1

I.

After three weeks of trying to hurt Cuddy as much as she had hurt him, House realized that despite his efforts, Cuddy-with the exception of an occasional hurt look-was not going to allow herself to break down in front of him. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was crushed over his now alarmingly increased pill popping or his dangling of hookers in her face.

He had come to this realization alone on a Thursday night. His latest hooker had charmingly babbled on about some "family emergency" (as if he gave a shit) and it was too late to call Wilson over for a beer. After coating his throat with a few or more healthy swigs of bourbon, he decided to relieve his bladder, his mind blissfully dulled. As he pissed, his gaze wandered over a small burn mark on his shower curtain. He had been avoiding looking at it while sober (if Vicodin counted as sober) because it made him think of when

"Candles? Really, Cuddy?"

"Shut up!" Cuddy retorted defensively. "Excuse me if I thought they would help create a relaxing setting for our bath."

"And when has any occasion with me really been relaxing?" House waggled his eyebrows and Cuddy couldn't help but giggle.

"I guess you're right," she said, completely ignoring his smirk at her agreement and continued, "but seriously, what's up with the shower curtain being down? It looks weird and wouldn't-" She stopped speaking mid-word as House was now frantically gesturing behind her where one of the lit candles was burning a hole through the plastic curtain.

House was a medical genius, a quick thinker, a puzzle solver. And yet, here was one of the nation's greatest minds stumped at the problem of a home hazard thought Cuddy. Before House could gape like a fish for any longer, Cuddy solved the solution by dowsing the curtain with a cup of water and blew out the remaining lit candles for good measure.

"Sorry about that. I'll buy you another curtain." As an afterthought she refused to buying a see-through one.

House grinned at the idea but instead of commenting further, he simply said, "See? Candles were a lame idea. So much for romance!"

"I said they were for relaxation, not romance," she huffed. "And while I may have wrecked your shower curtain," she conceded, "I didn't destroy our genitals like your bath did, if you remember?" She shot back, referencing their first bath together.

At that, House could only grin. Cuddy in defensive mode (over a mild issue) was always a cute Cuddy and in this moment her hair was mussed up and she was wearing one of his old tees and looked absolutely beautiful to him. Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

House tried to shake the memory from his head but it seemed to be ingrained in his thoughts. That night he couldn't stop thinking about her and that's when he realized his behavior was only pushing Cuddy further from him. It seemed like an obvious thought now, but he had been so determined to hurt her, the love of his life, that he hadn't thought about how hurting her would affect him. And with that realization came his second for the night: That although he had originally thought the only thing that could make his shattered heart hurt less was to hurt her more, was if he could win her back.

II.

House started leaving little presents in her office. Not every day, and certainly not conventional presents either, because when had that ever been his style, he mused. On the Monday following his Thursday night epiphany, he left a pinochle deck of cards on her desk with the words Because you haven't played Egyptian Ratscrew until you've played with a pinochle deck scrawled on a post-it next to it. After several consecutive Egyptian Ratspit losses to Cuddy over a regular deck he had insisted the next time they play with a pinochle one.

On Wednesday he left a tube of lipstick he knew she thought was a shade darker than she could pull off with a note Because you can pull this shade off.

On Thursday he left a huge Tempur-pedic pillow on her chair. A few weeks before their break-up she had mentioned how stiff her neck had been feeling. Because who needs a stiff neck when you have to deal with pain in the necks?

The next Monday he crept into (broke into, if you wanted to quibble over details) Cuddy's office and left a huge stuffed bear. With the exception of its size, the stuffed bear was by far the most conventional gift he had left and the note accompanying it was as romantically traditional as he was going to get. Because you deserve cute things, always. Share with Rachel, if you can bear it. Get it? Haha.

As he limped back to his office as stealthily as one can with a cane, he wondered what Cuddy thought about her presents. In the past weeks, unless he was purposely shoving his new lifestyle in her face, he had avoided her. Now the roles were reversed. He had hoped to at least make eye contact with her in between each new arrival in her office and now, come to think of it, he hadn't seen her at all. It hadn't occurred to him that this was weird because he had been so obsessed on finding his version of perfectly symbolic gifts and just the right words to scribble on stolen post-its from Wilson's office.

Now suspicious, House decided to stalk Cuddy and find the perfect time to corner her. It didn't take long to find her bustling in and out of the clinic, a place he knew she had assumed he wouldn't step foot in without her commanding it of him. He waited patiently-or as patiently as House could; he was nervously inching the beanie further down along his head and trying to pretend like his phone was the most fascinating thing to him. His cane was hidden discreetly a few feet away in case Cuddy was anxiously scouting his appearance.

Finally after one seemingly endless session with a patient, Cuddy emerged from a room and did indeed scan the room quickly if not nervously. She quickly signed a few forms a nurse shoved her way before hastily retreating to her office. House knew this would be his one moment. He took a deep breath and followed her in.

She was already in her chair, facing away from the door when he entered her office. She whirled around in her chair and her face blanched at the sight of him.

It was true. She had been avoiding him at all costs. Ever since the previous Monday when the gifts had been magically placed on her chair or desk, she had been on edge. She knew they were all from House. If the handwriting hadn't given it away, the uniqueness in the gestures sure did. She couldn't help but admit that the presents were cute, in his own little House way. She always had had a soft spot for his creativity.

But despite the cuteness of the presents, they terrified her. For the three weeks since their break-up, House had used every opportunity near her to be an asshole; to make her feel like shit. She couldn't understand what he trying to aim for now by suddenly being sweet. But a part of her, the part she was trying to ignore so she could stay blissfully unaware, knew that this was House's version of trying to win her back. That part scared her, because as much as she ached to have him back in her life-House was the type of person, after all, that could hook people under his spell of seduction quite easily-she couldn't allow someone who angrily abused drugs and was as emotionally unstable as he was around both Rachel and herself.

But she thought of the bear, his latest present, as of this morning, that he had given half to Rachel. Or at least, he had acknowledged that he had gotten it for her daughter to enjoy as well. The House before they had started dating hadn't given two shits about her daughter. She almost smiled thinking that his feelings had softened for Rachel in the course of their ten-month relationship.

All these thoughts had been bursting in her mind this morning; they had been brewing in her mind for the past week, really. But as soon as she saw House standing tall and lean, as always, in her office, she froze. At the moment, avoiding him had been her best way to cope. She did not want to deal with him face-to-face, scared of what he might say. Scared of what she might say or do or think.

A/N #2: I guess review if you gave a shit.