A/N: Better late than never, right? As always, thank you for staying with this story:).

You might notice that the first few lines are the same as the prologue; that's because the timeline is catching up to the beginning of this story.

Chapter 9: The Morning After

Now…

Cuddy rolled over on her right side with a distinctly ominous feeling. Her feet tangled slightly in the warm, wrinkled sheets. She kicked out lazily, wondering why the sensation of a stranger weight on the other half of the bed brought such an odd mixture of unease and excitement to her. It was certainly not what she usually experienced the morning after. In fact, she recalled apprehensively, as she brushed the tousled hair out of her eyes to clear her field of vision, there had been one other time—

"Ohh, I missed this scalding glare first thing in the morning."

She groaned inwardly as her colleague and subordinate, Dr. Gregory House, flashed his trademark smug grin from the other half of the bed.

Memories from the previous night rushed back, and it was all there in her eyes for one second, before she shook her head to push them away, honouring an unstated agreement between them. House didn't seem to notice her flicker of apprehension before she regained composure for good. He stared at her from across the bed.

"Soo…" he batted his eyelashes as fast as he could, "was I any good?"

So they were back to that. Cuddy felt a small smile form as she comfortably slipped back into their old routine.

"Almost six hours in the same room with you and not a single wisecrack? It was fantastic."

"I can go for more than six hours on my good days," he shared with a naughty wink that made Cuddy roll her eyes. "Closing in on fifteen!"

"Be still, my heart," she retorted dryly. "If only I could get you to do work for half that long."

He propped his body up on the left elbow and let his eyes slowly wander over her with an overly appreciative hiss.

"Show up like this in an exam room and I'll take all the clinic hours myself."

"Don't push it, House."

She flashed another glare as she slid out of bed, yanking the sheet to wrap it around her body.

"Aww, shucks," he brought both knees together in feigned embarrassment, "you strip me of my clothes first, now my dignity…is nothing enough for you, woman!"

She rolled her eyes and walked to the window to pull the curtains. The view was desolate at best: a shabby hotel back-yard with some used cars scattered throughout.

"I don't see any auto-service car," she frowned. "It's almost seven, they should be here by now."

"I say go flash that young man at the reception desk. Judging by the looks he was giving you last night, he'll be glad to service you. Auto, manually, whichever way—"

"House—"

"Fix the car, I mean, of course! Christ, what did you think!" He shook his head as he slid his legs over the edge of the bed. "Besides, if I couldn't have the hot underage stalker, you can't have him. I'll get a restraining order."

With one last look of exasperation, she picked her clothes off the chair and went towards the bathroom.

"I'm taking the shower first," she announced, and House feigned a loud gasp.

"Shower?! You mean water doesn't melt you?"

Since he got no reaction out of her other than an eyeroll, he continued:

"Can I join you?"

One hand on the bathroom doorknob, Cuddy looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Try, and you'll end up in the opening scene of one of those prime time criminal dramas."

His next reply was cut off by the sound of the door sliding shut. House stared at it for a moment, wearing a mischievous grin, then proceeded to get out of bed.

Though he would never admit it, he had spent some time the previous night pondering what had transpired between them (and if he was going to be honest, there had been the occasional regretful thought of what had, sadly, not transpired between them.) But it was morning now, and last night was behind them, and he was not about to about that can of worms. And by the looks of it, neither was she. Thankfully.

Then all that was left for him to do was milk their car-breaking, overnight-motel incident to the last drop. To think that Cuddy had actually insisted on driving with him to the man's vacation house. House stifled a malicious chuckle: he would never let her live it down.


When Cuddy came out of the bathroom, House shook his head at the striking change in appearance. Gone were the tousled hair and the bleary eyes, as well as the (he let out a regretful sigh) scanty two-piece lingerie she had been forced to sleep in. Instead, she was wearing the office outfit from the day before, and a determined expression in her eyes.

"The car's here," he decided to inform her before she called in the hospital helicopter just to make sure he made the damned conference. "And they'll have Wilson's car ready by tomorrow. Meanwhile he can use the Royce," he indicated with an ironic nod towards the window.

"God…" Cuddy groaned at the sight of the rundown car bearing the name of the auto-service company. "Well, Wilson will never lend you his car again, that's for sure."

"Ah," House waved a dismissive hand, "he won't even notice. His mind's too caught up on other things."

"Too caught up to notice his car is gone?" she asked with a sceptical arching of her eyebrow.

"Well, it will be once I tell him I spent the night with you in an off-the-road love motel…"