Just a short ficlet for the holidays. It starts with Christmas, but will end with New Years. A lot of romance, with a little angst (of course); smut comes later, but there's cheese throughout. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own House.

"What are you doing?"

Cuddy jumped at the sound of his voice behind her.

"House!" she gasped. "You scared the crap out of me."

Rachel covered her mouth with her small hands as she tried to stifle a giggle. "Mommy said a bad word."

House gasped along with her, his eyes wide and dramatic. "She should be punished."

"It's not a bad word," Cuddy answered defensively, talking over the giggles.

"It is," Rachel argued. "Miss Harper made me put my nose in the circle on the chalkboard when I said it."

"Said what?" House asked.

"Crap."

"House!" Cuddy glared at him in warning before turning to her daughter. "Rachel, when did you get in trouble at school?"

"I don't know," she turned away from her mother's gaze.

"Honey, it's okay. I'm not mad at you. It is a bad word and Mommy shouldn't have said it," Cuddy said. "You shouldn't have either. I was startled when House came in and I didn't watch my words. Is that what happened with you? Did something startle you and it just slip out of your mouth?"

"No," Rachel shrugged. "I told Lisa Parker her dress looked like crap."

House laughed. Cuddy sent him another silencing glare.

"What?" he asked in feigned innocence.

"Oh, honey," she said. "That was a mean thing to say to Lisa."

"You said I should tell the truth."

"As you should!"

"House!"

Rachel looked back and forth between them curiously.

"It is important for you to tell the truth," Cuddy spoke in her most patient 'motherly' voice. "Sometimes it's better not to say anything than to be mean and hurt someone's feelings."

"Everybody lies," House muttered under his breath.

"I know," Rachel mumbled.

"Did Miss Harper explain that to you?"

"No," she answered. "House did."

Both Cuddy and Rachel turned to look at House.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, pointing to the Menorah on the table. "What are you doing?"

Cuddy grinned at the sudden shift from mocking mischief to awkward diversion. Leave it to House to be embarrassed for doing the right thing.

"We putting candles in the Mora," Rachel answered him, jumping in excitement.

House frowned, more at Cuddy's amused stare than Rachel's explanation, but he focused on the latter.

"I can see that, but why?"

"Because it's Hanukkah," Cuddy answered.

"We going to light candles and have memories," Rachel further explained.

Cuddy grinned at her daughter and pushed her bangs off her forehead. "To remember the rededication of the Holy Temple," she said.

"You can't be serious!"

"Honey, why don't you go and play for a little bit before dinner," Cuddy said to Rachel.

She waited until her daughter was out of the room before addressing House. "Don't start," she warned.

"Why bother teaching her to tell the truth when you're going to perpetuate a lie?"

"The rededication of the temple is part of history. There's no lie to it."

"The meaning behind it is a lie."

"So you say."

"Don't pretend you believe you're one of the chosen."

"I am chosen," she smiled and cupped his cheek. "I'm chosen by you."

He allowed her to kiss him, but continued gruffly. "Funny how you decide you're Jewish when it's convenient."

"I'm not going to argue this with you," she said, turning to finish setting the table. "You have this debate with me and Wilson every year and yet we're still celebrating in spite of your arguments. There's nothing wrong with passing down your heritage to your children."

"Everything is wrong with teaching your kid to be a hypocrite."

"I'm teaching my child her family history. She can choose for herself what she believes."

"You mean after you've polluted her mind with religious fairy tales and sanctimonious lies?"

Cuddy sighed and turned away from him. It was time to make dinner; a good diversion from this debate that was starting to feel like a ground-hog day experience.

"You're teaching Rachel to believe what you were taught to believe," he said. "Which at this point isn't clear since you obviously pick and choose what you believe to fit what benefits you most at any given time. It's not real! And you're not just a hypocrite, you're a …"

"Oh, please," she groaned, interrupting his tirade. "Don't pretend you aren't going to celebrate Christmas. You've created your own holiday tradition of mocking the holiday traditions, but in the end you're opening gifts and drinking too much at parties just like everyone else. You celebrate the season in your own warped way."

House continued to argue with her as she moved around the kitchen preparing the ingredients for their Hanukkah celebration. He made his point; she made hers. In the end, it was just another topic to fuel the never-ending snark that was so much a part of their relationship. Normally she would consider it the start of foreplay; tonight she was not feeling it.

"Why does everything have to be a statement of belief? Or a conscientious objection to a belief?" Cuddy asked. "Why can't we just enjoy it for what it is?"

"Torture?"

"It's not always torture."

He lifted his brows and stared at her.

"Oh, come on," she insisted. "You must have at least a couple of good Christmas memories from your childhood, or college. There must be something about the Christmas season you like."

House stole a slice of carrot from the cutting board. "Mistletoe," he said before popping it into his mouth.

"Ha! Of course."

"It's the ultimate tool for sexual misconduct. Guys get a free pass because all the pressure to get a girl to put-out is built into an ugly plant. It's an ingenious holiday custom: the reason for the season in one ho ho ho."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "A kiss is all that is traditional under the mistletoe, House."

"Ah, but I get to say where to kiss," he grinned. "My Christmas balls are always hung."

Cuddy laughed. It was that deep, throaty laugh that never failed to turn him on.

"How about every time you light one of those candles, you blow mine?" he suggested. "Now that's a tradition I could get behind."

"No pun intended."

He came up behind her and slid his jaw along the side of her neck. "Oh, that pun was intended."

Cuddy shivered. How she loved the feel of his scruff on her skin!

"That is the most sacrilegious suggestion I've heard in a long time."

"And you are so tempted," he teased, lightly pressing his hips against her rear. "You and I both know it would be a very real religious experience."

Cuddy grinned at him over her shoulder.

"You're on," she said.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Sure," she answered simply. "Why not?"

"Why do I feel like this is a trap?"

"No trap," she assured him. "I want this season to be about us. Our family. Our interests and desires. I think we should do what we want to do, the way we want to do it and to hell with what anyone else thinks or wants."

"Please tell me you're going to say that to your mother."

"I will," she affirmed.

"And MY mother."

Cuddy chuckled. "I'll talk to both of them."

House grinned widely.

"Rachel likes the idea of lighting the candles and speaking an unknown language, and I like that she will at least learn a little about our heritage," Cuddy told him. "Give us this celebration, House and you'll get your mistletoe moment."

House took the knife out of her hand and gently pushed her out of the way. "I'll make the Hanukkah meal," he said. "You can do the other Jew stuff."

Cuddy smiled and pulled him to her, kissing him on the cheek before turning to leave.

"Thank you," she said.

"Oh, thank YOU," he called out. "We'll talk about the 12 positions of Christmas later."

# # # # # # # #

House paced the floor as he waited for Cuddy.

Dammit! He was nervous. You'd think after 6 months together he'd not be so anxious when planning a date with her. But he wanted to make her happy, to give her a special moment like she'd given him.

He still couldn't believe she'd even remembered what he'd told her, much less planned a holiday surprise around it.

The day after their first Hanukkah candle lighting, Cuddy had approached him in his office and told him they were going out that night after dinner.

"Oh, no," he'd argued. "The agreement was eight days of candle service. You don't get to light Rachel's and skip out on mine."

Cuddy shook her head as she'd turned to leave. "Your candle is always lit," she'd sassed. "And you don't have to remind me of our agreement. I've already planned ahead."

She'd turned to wink at him over her shoulder. "Pun intended."

A flirty Cuddy was a hot Cuddy.

House had been anxious to discover what she had in mind, until they'd pulled into the parking lot of the 4th circle of hell. They were at the mall.

"Stop grumbling," she said as she stepped through the door of Nordstrom, Rachel following along, holding her hand tightly. "This is going to be fun."

"Fun for you," he argued. "Obviously this plan to create our own holiday is more about creating 'your' holiday."

"Because I'm a selfish woman who has no concern for your wants and needs at all."

House looked over at her, hearing the tense, subtle defense in her voice and sensing a less than positive shift in her mood. He was tempted to continue – he loved to get her riled - but he couldn't help but feel he may be sabotaging something far more interesting than a the sex appeal of an aggravated Cuddy. He decided to back off.

"Maybe you take care of my wants and needs so well that it's all I want and need," he suggested as he took her free hand.

"Nice save."

She was nervous. He could see it, which made him all the more curious. What was she up to?

"Dr. Cuddy!"

House heard a voice call as they stepped off the escalator. He was a little guy in a suit and bow tie, overly animated and way too interested in small talk. Boring! Probably a donor, or some other group with whom he made it a point not to associate.

House stepped around them to appreciate the grand piano nearby. It was roped off, marked for authorized personnel only, but it didn't stop him from running his hand along the top. It was a beauty.

"Ah, Dr. House, we are so grateful you have chosen to do this for us," the man said as he disconnected the ropes.

House frowned at him, confused and puzzled.

"This is Mr. Larsen," Cuddy explained. "He's the manager who arranged for you to play tonight."

Cuddy almost laughed at the blank stare she received.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Larsen said. "I reserved the hour, but feel free to play as long as you like. We don't have anyone following you and music makes it much more festive, don't you think? Our shoppers do enjoy it."

"What the…"

"Oh, I agree," Cuddy interrupted. "Thank you so much for working this out for us."

Cuddy looked at House, attempting to send him a silent message. "It's a great start to creating the holiday."

Cuddy masterfully navigated through the conversation with Larsen as House continued to stare at her. He looked as if he'd just discovered an alien life form. It was hard to focus on Mr. Larsen when she wanted to laugh. Once the manager had stepped away, leaving them alone at the piano, she turned to House.

"You're smiling," he noted.

"I'm happy."

House scowled.

"You once told me you'd always thought it would be fun to play the piano somewhere for the holidays," she explained. "You use to gravitate to the mall musicians and your dad would get angry, but you always thought it would make the holidays a little more fun to be one of the musicians. You even thought about playing the piano on the side for a season."

House stared at her, eyes wide in surprise. "That was years ago."

"You said you still thought it would make the season more tolerable," she said a little defensively.

"I mean I told you that story years ago," House corrected.

"After the hospital gala," she smiled. "After everyone had left and you took your scotch at the piano."

"I thought you had left, too."

"I was glad I hadn't."

They stared at each other, remembering when he played for her, one of the many charged moments filled with desire and longing.

"You arranged for me to play?" he asked, his voice soft. "Here?"

Cuddy nodded. "I thought it could be part of 'our' holiday."

House looked over at the piano, a frown marring his brow as a hint of contemplation and curiosity shadowed his face.

"I haven't played in public for years."

He looked so introspective and lost; Cuddy began to second guess the wisdom of this idea.

"It's just for fun," she said. "You don't have to play if you don't want. I just thought…"

House turned to look at her with a mischievous grin.

"Are you going to drape yourself over the piano?"

Cuddy feigned exasperation. "I guess I should have booked the piano bar."

"Next year," he said, and sat down on the bench.

Cuddy felt her stomach flip as she dried her hair and remembered the night before. Next year, he'd said. It always did something to her to hear him talk about a future, to reveal he thought about it, wanted it. She knew he feared it would end, he looked for it, expected it at every turn. She hoped in time he could feel more secure.

House moved his fingers up the scale, testing the feel of the keyboard, his face instantly reflected the peace and pleasure of music.

"You're not joining me?" he asked, as he began to play one of the more traditional Christmas carols.

"I'm going to stand over here and enjoy the view."

"Imagining me naked?"

Rachel giggled, watching them with interest.

"In a Santa hat," Cuddy said.

"That can be arranged," he grinned lecherously.

"Well, it is our holiday," she winked.

She'd stepped back as some shoppers began to gravitate toward the music, giving them room to mill around the piano and enjoy the music. He was actually quite good, amazing really. And watching him was a revelation in itself.

The way he seemed to unfold, to relax into the music and simply feel…it was a transformation very few people would believe possible. But then, it was the various dichotomies of House that made him so intriguing.

He'd played for over an hour, traditional Christmas songs, jazz compositions, even a couple of love songs he accompanied with searing looks at her from across the piano. When Rachel had ventured closer, cautious and curious, House had gestured for her to join him on the piano bench.

Cuddy grinned into the mirror as she recalled the way he'd sung to Rachel and encouraged her to sing along. He really was quite good with her. Music was good for him. She'd always known it was an interest; she'd even suspected it did indeed "sooth the savage beast" when the darkness began to overtake him. Now, she understood it was more than that. It spoke to him, and for him.

They really needed to consider moving his piano out of his apartment. They'd fallen into a comfortable routine, but maybe it was time to talk about a more permanent living arrangement. Maybe it was time to stop feeling so nervous and afraid, expecting the worst instead of working for the best.

"I'm growing grey out here," House mumbled from the other side of the door.

She stepped out of the bathroom and smirked at him. "You'll grow bald before you get much greyer."

"And emasculation is complete."

Cuddy rolled her eyes as she put on her earrings. "As if your masculinity is tied to your head."

"Not that one," he grinned and came up behind her. "Speaking of which…"

"You don't have to remind me all eight nights, you know," she said, turning to face him. "I have no desire to break that agreement."

"Good to know," he said. "But I was going to say you look beautiful."

"By bringing up your head?"

"You in that blouse brought up my head," he stated and pulled her into his arms.

"Ah," she grinned. "I see the connection."

"The connection comes later," he said. "First, we have a date."

They were in New York City. House had made arrangements for the nanny to stay the evening with Rachel so he could whisk her away for a holiday surprise. They had celebrated the third night of Hanukkah with Rachel early in the evening, so they could be in the city by dinner. He'd booked them a hotel room near central park and now had them seated at a trendy fusion restaurant she'd read about. Then after dinner, they walked through the city, enjoying the lights along the streets and the various window displays.

Cuddy held his arm as they crossed the street toward the park. "I wonder if there are any carolers out," she said.

"Would you like that?" He asked seriously.

"I would," she nodded. "Caroling was always so stupid and cheesy when the kids in the neighborhood did it. I always wanted to find a place where it was more like what we see in the movies."

"Scripted, choreographed and edited?"

"Something like that."

House stopped suddenly and turned to face her.

"Your chariot awaits, Madam," he said with a slight bow.

Cuddy turned to look at the horse and carriage, her mouth agape.

"It's not that authentic New England Christmas you imagine," he shrugged apologetically.

She jumped into his arms, giving him a firm kiss on the lips. "We're riding in the park?"

"It may be the last year we can," he answered. "The mayor is trading magic for animal rights."

Cuddy almost giggled. It was a silly school girl fantasy, one she'd only vaguely referenced a few years back while planning the annual hospital holiday party. She'd been considering hiring a horse and carriage for the staff to enjoy during the evening, but the idea got the kibosh. Apparently a trip around the hospital campus wasn't that romantic. House had mocked her mercilessly about the idea, going so far as to say her romantic notions were the reason she couldn't find a man. "You're a high-maintenance princess and no man could make you happy."

Yet here he was, fulfilling her princess dream.

House placed his hand on her rear as she climbed into the carriage: a certain reminder her prince was a rogue.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle this," she smirked over her shoulder.

"Just letting you know I can too."

Cuddy chuckled and settled into the seat as House awkwardly joined her, placing his cane at the side and covering them both with the blanket provided.

"Why do I get the feeling this blanket is not just to protect me from the cold?"

"It never is, ma'am," the driver said.

Cuddy chuckled as House stared blankly at the man.

"Does this thing have a privacy guard?"

"No sir, Dr. House," he answered. "You'll have to behave."

"That'll be the day," Cuddy teased. "You know Dr. House?"

She'd picked up on the use of his name.

"He saved my daughter's life," the man answered excitedly. "I owe him everything."

"You could start by shutting up," House grumbled.

"House!"

"It's okay, ma'am," the driver said. "I know he's a jerk."

"How 'bout we stop talking and start finding some carolers?"

House wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they rode through the park. Between sarcastic remarks to the driver, he offered trivia bits and scientific facts about the park history, holiday traditions and even local plant life.

"You're grinning," he noted, frowning slightly even as his eyes held a spark of pleasure.

"I expected you to be copping a feel beneath the blanket and instead I'm getting the full tourist experience," she explained.

House moved his hand beneath her breast.

"Well that can be arranged," he said. "This is your fantasy."

It was her fantasy. He was her fantasy, always had been. She wondered if he really understood that, if he knew how much she wanted their relationship to work. There were times the fear and trepidation clouded his features to the point she felt panicked. It was so easy for it to suck them into a dark, dangerous place where he became more callous and careless, and she became more rigid and controlling. Sometimes she wondered if he really understood how much she loved him, especially considering how often she failed at showing him.

They heard the carolers before they saw them.

"Feel free to step off and listen for a bit," the driver said.

"Don't we have a time limit?" Cuddy frowned.

"Nope," he said. "I'm all yours tonight."

"THAT is not part of the fantasy," House glared at him. Cuddy chuckled and jumped off the carriage, lightly pulling a grumbling House behind her.

They followed the carolers as they made their way around the ice rink, but House couldn't take his eyes off Cuddy. She had the enthusiasm of a little girl, wrapped in the wonder of a beautiful, sensual woman. The way she laughed and sang along in a soft, shy voice was enchanting, reminiscent of the young girl he'd first met in med school.

When she showed an interest in the skaters, House convinced her to get out on the rink and experience it herself. She resisted at first, not wanting to leave him alone.

"You don't have to miss the experience because you're dating a gimp."

Cuddy scowled at him. "Don't do that."

"You don't do it." His tone was soft; his expression firm. "Just because my leg won't allow me to get out there and skate doesn't mean you should miss it. And it doesn't mean I should miss it. You can consider it foreplay."

"Great," she mumbled. "Watching me fall on my ass is a turn-on."

It had started to snow, a light dusting that left flakes clinging to her hair. House brushed them away, gently pushing her hair behind her ear as he whispered. "Watching you do anything is a turn-on."

So she skated for him. At first she just teased him as she'd passed in the circle, but then she tried more advanced moves, dancing and shimmying for him. She was no figure skater, but she was damn sexy. The woman knew how to move.

Cuddy noticed the change in his expression and immediately left the rink, sitting at the side to remove the rental skates.

"You don't have to rush," he said from behind her.

She grinned over her shoulder. "Your eyes were melting the ice."

House smirked and handed her a bag of roasted chestnuts he'd bought from a street vendor.

"I'd like to melt more than ice," he said.

"I kind of got that."

She turned in the skates and took his arm as they walked over the bridge toward their carriage. House stopped at the center and pointed toward the gazebo where a choir had started singing. His arms encircled her and she leaned back against him.

It was all so perfect. The lights, the snow, the choir, the man she loved: the perfect holiday scene.

It really was cliché.

And she'd never felt so happy.

# # # # # # # #

"Mommy, look! Come look!" Rachel squealed, jumping and clapping excitedly as her mom stepped through the front door.

"Okay, okay," Cuddy said. "Let me put my things down."

She was talking to herself. Rachel had rushed out of the room before she could respond.

Cuddy shook her head and grinned. She wasn't surprised; her daughter had been wound up for weeks, giddy with holiday excitement from the moment she woke up to when they put her to bed at night. Who could blame her? This holiday season had been amazing.

The trip to New York had inspired them. After the carriage had dropped them off at their hotel, they'd spent most of the night making love, sharing childhood memories and laughing at the dreams they'd once had. Somewhere between the mocking and teasing, they'd started brainstorming on ways to create magic for Rachel, to build her hopes and teach her to believe that good things didn't just happen: they were made. In the process, they'd managed to recreate some of that belief in themselves.

Cuddy had taken them to the history center where they listened to Hanukkah stories and made crafts; House had taken them to the farm to cut down a live Christmas tree. Cuddy had taught Rachel to make cookies; House had built her a gingerbread "house." They'd gone to see the lighting of the tree in town square and A Christmas Carol at the puppetry theatre; they'd watched classic Christmas specials on TV and strung popcorn garland. Every night it was something new. Every night she fell more in love.

"Ok," she heard House say as she stepped into the living room. "Here goes."

Cuddy froze in the doorway, her throat tightening with emotion.

Rachel and House were laying stomach down on the floor facing the Christmas tree. House held a remote control, his eyes wide with childlike excitement, while Rachel lay beside him, her chin cupped in her hands and a smile of wonder on her face as they watched a train come out from under the tunnel of presents and through the village that had been built around the base of the tree. It disappeared around the back corner and returned again through the tunnel.

"Watch this," House said, and flipped a button on the remote. The train switched tracks and veered to the outside of the village, through a wintry land of misfit toys and around the tree again.

Rachel giggled. Cuddy felt her eyes well with tears. How did she ever doubt he would be good with Rachel? Why did she resist him for so long?

House felt her presence and turned to look at her, frowning when he saw the tears. Cuddy shook her head, silently assuring him she was fine before flipping off her shoes and joining them on the floor.

"What's this? The polar express?"

"House built it!" Rachel said, and began to outline the process as she understood it. Cuddy listened; House studied her. Rachel talked about the school play and the snow angel she'd made, but his gaze never left her. His eyes were searing, at first intense as he searched for a clue to her emotional state, then nervous and slightly panicked, an expression she'd glimpsed one too many times lately. Finally his expression turned tender as he found his answers. It was the look that sent her pulse racing and her stomach aflutter. When he looked at her with such open adoration and vulnerability, it took her breath away. The walls were down and his heart was clearly reflected in those bright, blue orbs, full of a hope he didn't understand and a fear he longed to escape. He only looked at her like that, and the knowledge that this part of him was reserved for only her transformed her bones to liquid every time.

"Want to play with the choo-choo?" he asked, grinning lecherously. As usual, he knew the affect he was having on her.

"I think I can, I think I can," she quipped.

"That's the little train that could!" Rachel proudly exclaimed.

"Not so little," House said.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Yes, it is sweetie," she answered as she moved to stand, brushing the hair from her daughters face and looking at House. "I wondered why you left work early. It never occurred to me you'd be playing conductor."

"Oh, I was doing more than that," he grinned as he stood to join her. "An elf seems to have left a gift for you."

And oh boy, had an elf left her a gift!

While House got Rachel set up to watch the Polar Express, Cuddy went to the bedroom to change her clothes. That's where she found the gift box propped on her pillow. It was wrapped so the lid to the box was removed without damaging the paper. She quickly looked inside.

It was a red bustier lingerie set with white feather trim, typically Christmas themed, but instead of garters and stockings there were thigh high black boots…and a whip.

Cuddy ran her fingers along the leather, excited and amused, while at the same time confused by the weight of concern that seemed to be pressing on the recesses of her mind. Something was wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was off between them. They were doing all the right things in creating the holiday, and their sex life had gone into over drive as House became more and more adventurous in his ideas. On the surface, it seemed they were doing great. And yet, in the midst of all the magic, a sense of foreboding hung in the air between them. It had her second guessing herself and building reinforcements around her heart. It had her feeling an anxiety she hadn't felt since they'd first entered into a romantic relationship.

"Look who gets to be naughty and nice," House said from behind her, nuzzling her neck as his arms slipped around her waist.

Pushing her fears back into hiding, Cuddy sank into his arms and focused on the moment.

"This is going to be good," she said, turning to cup his ass and pull him to her.

"For goodness sake…"

# # # # # # # #

It was Christmas Eve; Rachel was fast asleep and Cuddy was putting the final touches on the "doll mansion" they had put together as a surprise from Santa. House stood at the fireplace watching her.

"I think we should have considered downsizing," she muttered. "Maybe I'll skip all of these accessories and save her from the hoarding temptation."

House didn't respond.

"This is insane," she continued. "Why does a doll need all this crap?"

Still nothing.

Cuddy looked up at him, wondering at his silence.

He was wearing his pajama bottoms with a t-shirt, his hair was mussed – which usually happened when he wore it a little longer – and his beard hadn't been trimmed. He looked sexy as hell, except for the red rim around his eyes that gave him a haunted look in the glow of the lights and the flicker of the fire.

"What's wrong?"

His lips parted slightly as he took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

It wasn't often House spoke with such clear words of affection without following it with sarcasm or deflections. As the words floated heavy in the air, she felt a familiar nervousness grip her heart.

"Are you okay?"

"Perfect," he shrugged and took a swallow of the drink he was holding. "Everything's perfect."

And yet, as he averted is eyes and stared into the fire, Cuddy knew it wasn't perfect at all.

Cuddy came to stand beside him.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No," he answered, turning to look at her in surprise. "Why would you think that?"

Cuddy sighed in frustration. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're shutting me out," she said. "I wanted this holiday to bring us together, but instead it's just made you miserable. I shouldn't have suggested it."

"This has been the best holiday I've ever had." His voice was heavy with emotion. "I didn't think it could be this perfect."

As Cuddy stared at him, it hit her.

"You're happy."

House swallowed hard and his lips parted slightly as if he needed the extra air.

Cuddy almost melted beneath the relief.

"You're afraid," she said. "You've never been this happy either and you're afraid it's going to end."

"It's only a matter of time."

"House," she tried to sooth him.

"You know I'm right," he said. "It's only a matter of time. I'm going to screw up and you're going to get fed up with me being selfish, and you'll dump me faster than Lucas."

Cuddy grimaced. Of course that would be his frame of reference. Lucas appeared to have been doing everything right and she'd dumped him rather abruptly. There had been a build up to it - months of introspection and internal battles - but it wouldn't have appeared that way from the outside. Instead of addressing this, she latched on to something else he'd said.

"You've not been selfish this whole season," she pointed out. "In fact, you've been so concerned with making things good for me and Rachel that you've hardly done anything for yourself."

"Everything I've done is for me," he argued. "Every surprise and gift has been about keeping you with me. It's about satisfying your wishes and dreams so that you won't leave me."

"If that's your argument then love itself is selfish," she said. "Don't you see? If making the person you love happy is what makes you happy, then nothing we do is selfless. There's always the underlying motive of making ourselves happy."

"You're making this too simple."

"You're making it too complex."

Their eyes locked in a stare-down as they both tried to come to terms with what had been hanging in the air between them for weeks.

"Do you know how happy you make me without even trying?"

"You're lying to yourself," he said it with a sigh. "You're romanticizing me, just like you did Lucas."

"Will you stop comparing yourself to Lucas!"

"There is no comparison." She didn't miss the disgust in his voice.

"Then why do you keep bringing him up?"

"Because it's about you," he said. "And the way you are happy to live in your little fantasy world until the delusions are shattered and you run away."

Cuddy stepped back, feeling the sting of his words as if she'd been slapped.

"All of this magic you're creating," he said. "This holiday you're building that's supposed to be about us. It's not us. It's not real. We're just playing at life. The New Year will come and you'll have to deal with me screwing up at the hospital and at home. You'll get angry because I won't be there when you need me and you'll feel alone, and then suddenly this happiness you feel will disappear faster than these decorations."

She felt the pressure building behind her eyes, but wouldn't give into the tears.

"You think I'm that shallow? That's how you see me?"

"I think you're that smart," he said, turning away from her. "You know you deserve better."

TBC