"There's still an hour before the alarm goes off," House grumbled as Cuddy switched on the lamp. The light flooded the room, making him squint. He grumbled at that too.

"I'm aware of that," she replied blithely, turned back and propped up on her elbow, staring down at his scruffy, tired face. He had slept all of four and a half hours and would be up for the next twenty whether he wanted to be or not.

He stared back up at her and didn't reciprocate her faint smile.

"You are aware that you're allowed to sleep for that hour," he said. "That's why alarms were invented, so you don't have to constantly wake up and check the clock."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. I learned how to tell time before kindergarten."

"An overachiever even at that young age. That's so you."

"And I could count to fifty."

"You would have taken SAT prep courses then if you could. You would have taken the SAT and picked out a college then if they would have let you." He finally caved in and gave her a reluctant smile. "Lisa, you don't have to be awake just because I am. You keep it up and you're going to find out that insomnia isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"How so?"

"It's boring for one thing."

"Surely a brilliant doctor such as you can find something to do to pass the time," Cuddy pointed out, and bent down to give him a light kiss.

He grinned wickedly. "I can think of one special activity I like that passes the time in a very nice way, but you're usually asleep then. And it's no fun by myself."

"Is sex all you ever think about?" she teased, knowing full well it was on his mind at least eighty percent of the time.

"Is there something else worth thinking about? Please tell me, I'd like to know."

"I'd like to think so. Since we're both up, how about a little treat?"

"A treat? For me?" House sounded pleased and pushed his restless hands under her shirt. Cuddy caught his wrists and refused to let them go any further. "Oh, damn," he complained, "I take it you didn't mean this kind of treat."

Cuddy gently pushed his hands away. "Not right now. Can you and your libido calm down long enough for me to take you out and buy you some breakfast?"

"Buy breakfast, not make? My, aren't you full of surprises this morning. Maybe you'll do well with insomnia after all." House was already throwing off the covers and reaching for his cane. "Was the store out of your blueberry waffles?"

She got up and stretched, well aware that he was enjoying his Jim Morrison shirt hugged her curves. "As a matter of fact, yes. Plus I have only two eggs left and the only cereal in the house is Grape Nuts."

"Rocks and soy milk aren't my idea of a good, nutritious breakfast, boss."

"Then hurry up and take a shower. I'm famished."

As House limped out of the room, he called over his shoulder, "I want strawberry pancakes with whipped cream. Yummy!"

The heaping plate of strawberry pancakes piled with an avalanche of whipped cream was set down and House's face broke into a face-splitting grin, making him look like a kid who just got a shiny new red bike for his birthday. All Cuddy could do was shake her head and turn back to her plate of fruit. House didn't talk about his childhood much, make that never, leaving to wonder if he did ever get a bike for his birthday or Christmas, or did traveling all over the world put a cramp in some of the usual childhood rites of passage. She made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"How come you never make stuff like this?" House asked, peering at her over the mountain of his breakfast.

Nibbling on a chunk of watermelon, she said, "It's fattening and it's not good for you."

"So why did you buy these for me then?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"Because that's what you wanted. That's your treat."

"What brought this on?"

"I wanted to do something nice for you, and you wanted that strawberry stuff."

"Actually, I wanted something else." His eyes glinted with mischief. "Breakfast was your idea, remember?"

"Tell your raging hormones to cool off for a while, Dr. House," Cuddy said, even as she began to playfully run her foot up and down his leg. A fork of pancakes dripping with strawberries and cream froze in midair as House stared wide-eyed at his lover across the table. "We still have a long day ahead of us."

"Would you stop doing that with your foot, please?" the diagnostician said in a low, shaky voice. He threw a quick glance around the rapidly filling restaurant, grateful that no one was sitting next to them and the table blocked out the view from the rest of the bleary-eyed public. But they couldn't stay there all day.

"I don't want to."

"Lisa, please, I'm being serious."

"You're actually being serious? Why?"

"Because I won't be able to leave this place without causing us a whole lot of embarrassment, that's why."

Thankfully she got the point and slipped her foot back into her shoe before things got out of his control.

House let out a breath and muttered, "Damn, and you complain about my raging hormones? Why couldn't you do that earlier?"

"I wanted something to eat first," she answered simply. "I'll make it up to you later."

"Damn right," he said. "I'll bring the whipped cream."