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House leaned against the threshold, head tilted. A small smile crept up his face as he realized that Cuddy was splayed across his doorstep on all fours, her head turned to face him while her backside lingered in his direction.

"Wow Cuddy- you really know how to put the booty in 'Booty Call'!"

Cuddy gritted her teeth. "I am not here for a booty call House."

She sat down, rubbing her palm over her bruised knee. "I'm not sure why I'm here actually". Cuddy's voice was soft, quivering.

House looked at her. Her hair was tousled. Little wavy ringlets rested over the corner of her right eye. Her stockings were torn and there was a dusty residue on the hem of her skirt. Her lips had curled into a remorseful pout. Her hot flushed cheeks formed a stark contrast to her icy blue eyes, which were now staring at House, willing him to understand.

House swallowed hard. 'Strong Forceful Cuddy' was hot, 'Angry Heated Cuddy' was gorgeous, but, House noted to himself, 'Troubled Sensitive Cuddy' was probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

And it scared him to death.

"Can I come in?", Cuddy wasn't sure where this was going, but her knee was bleeding, it was the middle of the night, and it seemed the can of worms had already been opened.

House nodded silently, and offered her the end of his cane as a life preserver – in more ways than one.

Together, they both limped into his apartment.

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Cuddy was hobbling over to House's couch as he came out of the bathroom with his makeshift first aid kit.

"Hey! No making fun of the cripple!"

Cuddy rolled her eyes, and allowed herself a brief smile "I'm injured house. I'm not making fun of you."

She glanced at the medical bag in House's hand and took a mental inventory of its components: band-aids, gauze, antiseptic, a bottle of scotch and six vials of Vicodin.

"House!" Cuddy shrieked, "You call this first aid?!"

"You obviously haven't tried the House method of paid management"

"Narcotics and alcohol are not emergency items"

"Maybe not for you."

They laughed, each relaxing a bit and allowing themselves to enjoy the moment, taking refuge in their natural banter.

House lifted Cuddy's leg onto his lap, suddenly very aware of her presence in his apartment. They sat in silence as she allowed him to examine her injury, though it was nothing more than a bruise.

He danced his fingertips over the soft fabric of her stocking making his way up from her ankle. They looked at each other, memories of the other night flooding them instantly. The moist warmth of each other lips, the sound of hearts racing, the familiarity of each others arms, the shelter of their embrace.

Slipping a finger underneath the tear in the stocking, Housed tugged, ripping off the remainder of material.

"House!"

"Relax Cuddy. Can't get a band-aid on you wound through all this girly nylon"

Their eyes met as his hand continued to stroke. He painted soft circles around her knee and up to her thigh and she released a soft breath. The warmth of his palm melted into her skin and she relaxed under his touch. He wanted to make her feel better. Make her bruise better, Make everything better. He never wanted to let go.

Cuddy relaxed her body into his touch. The dull ache in her knee had long disappeared. She nuzzled up to Houses couch pillow and inhaled his scent deeply as he took her other leg into his hand. Her eyelids grew heavy. The sleep that had evaded her for so long washed over her. In that moment no conversation was necessary. In that moment everything felt just right.

House smiled as cuddy drifted to sleep beside him, whispering her final waking thought so quietly, he almost missed it.

"more…"