What I forgot to mention last time: The chapters have headings now. I made a time line at some point, and needed descriptions for the chapters. I've decided to keep them.

This one might just be my favorite chapter. I had so much fun coming up with it and writing it. Moments and ideas kept popping up in my head, which is why it ended up being this long. It's quite the rollercoaster chapter. You'll love it (and maybe hate it a little). Let me know. X-D

Chapter 28: Cuddy's Birthday

House is not sure Cuddy forgave him, but a while after their conversation he notices some changes in her behavior. She touches him more often and has started to offer him the guest bedroom when he is staying particularly late or when the weather is bad. He spends many evenings at their place, and occasionally he takes her up on her offer, especially when his leg is hurting. He loves being with her and the kids.

Lately, he catches himself seeking out Cuddy's proximity or purposefully standing in her way, unconsciously hoping for her to rub his back or give his arm a brief squeeze when brushing past him. He longs for her, but tells himself to focus on their friendship. He has no trouble holding himself back, except for in the more quiet moments they share, for example, when they are on the couch and she falls asleep on his shoulder, or when she graces him with one of her broad smiles emanating unconfined happiness. In those moments, he grips his cane more tightly or balls his hands into fists in his pants pockets, stopping them from reaching out to her.

On her 55th birthday, Cuddy throws a big party. It has been a little over three years since her husband died, and one and a half years since they are living back in the Princeton area. Feeling settled, Cuddy decides to celebrate big, which she has not done in ages, and invites pretty much everyone she knows: family, colleagues, old friends from back in the day, friends from New Haven, and new friends she made here, which mostly consist of parents from Rachel's or John's friends. Cuddy also encourages Rachel and John to invite their friends, and in the end the three of them gather quite a crowd of people across all ages.

House arrives three hours after the official start, which was at 6pm, because, first of all, he hates all forms of events with many people who expect him to act according to the social norm, second, his leg has been hurting a lot all day, and third, he is afraid he might get introduced to a significant other he wishes he would never have to meet. Cuddy has been especially chatty and aglow in the last few weeks, and he assumes she has met someone. He has actually considered not attending at all because of how shitty he would feel, but John kept texting him, and House knows his son would be upset if he failed to show up.

When he arrives, he has to drive his car a couple of blocks further down the street, because everything in front of the house is parked full. He can feel the buzz of the party as he approaches on foot. The house is illuminated inside and out. There are lampions hanging from trees and bushes, and the front porch is sweetly decorated. He sees people passing behind the windows, and hears the beat from the stereo.

He decides not to use his key and ring the doorbell instead.

Cuddy opens up, a mixture of joy and confusion crossing her face when she recognizes him. "House!" she exclaims gleefully. "Did you lose your key?"

She looks simply stunning, and House is slightly taken aback for a second. She is wearing a black dress that straps around the neck and leaves her shoulders bare, she has put up her hair beautifully, and her make-up is highlighting her big, blue eyes. Everything about her is shining. "Tossed it at some homeless guy and told him to stop by later. For the leftover booze." She chuckles and ushers him inside. House can tell that she has had a couple of drinks already. "Judging by the rate you're going at it, he'll be outta luck."

Cuddy shuts the door behind him, ignoring his remark. "You came," she beams at him.

He shrugs. "Wouldn't miss the big five-five. You realize you are five times John's age now?"

"Oh, shut up." She slaps at his chest playfully. "This ratio is actually decreasing. When he was born, I was 43 times his age. When he turns 43—my age when I gave birth—I'll be only twice his age."

House unbuttons his coat. "Means you'd be 86. Let's talk then if you still thinks it's the better ratio." She smiles. He looks her up and down with emphasis this time. "If someone were to break a leg tonight, we could use you as an x-ray machine."

"I'll take medicine for one hundred, Alex," she jokes. "You were looking for the word 'radiant'?"

He smirks and pulls out his gift for her from his coat pocket. "Happy birthday," he mumbles, thrusting it at her.

She seems touched and surprised. "Aw, that's sweet. I'll put it on the table with the others, unwrap it later." She inspects it more closely. "No card?"

"Trust me, when you see it, you'll know it's from me." He winks at her, and she chuckles.

"I am so glad you came," she says again, still smiling. He expects her next words to be 'Because, actually, I want you to meet someone', but she simply offers to take his coat.

"I'll find a place for it. Go party." She pats his arm briefly and is about to turn away when he stops her. "Hey, what if someone asks how we're related? 'Friend' sounds so boring. How about I was your sperm donor? Or gigolo? Or plumber?" He grimaces suggestively.

Cuddy laughs. She looks around the entrance hall and stops the first person brushing past them. "Hey, Sarah, this is Greg House. He's John's dad. We stayed good friends. He works at Princeton Plainsborough." She looks from Sarah to House, gesturing between them: "House, this is Sarah, one of my best nurses." He shakes hands with Sarah while Cuddy gives him a look that says 'See, it's that simple' before she makes her way into the living room and through the crowd, heading for her gift table.

Sarah wraps House into a conversation and introduces him to a bunch of her friends standing around a bar table. He chitchats with them for a while until he spots John making his way to the kitchen, and he excuses himself.

"Hey champ, you're not sneaking away any beers, are ya?" House approaches him as John pours himself a cup of soda.

"Hey Dad!" John sounds excited to see him. He seems a little hyped up, probably from the party and too much coke. "I think you're confusing me with Rachel." He grins. "When did you get here?"

"Not too long ago. It's hard to find anyone your size with hundreds of people in the house. Your mom sure knows how to party."

John smiles. "I heard someone throw up in the back yard outside my window half an hour ago. It was gross."

House smirks. "No sneaking away through that window tonight, then. Or opening it, for that matter." He pours himself some juice. "Did you play your gift to your mom, yet?" John had rewritten the lyrics to a song he had been learning on the guitar, and had asked House to give him feedback on them.

John nods with emphasis.

"And?"

"She cried," he says, looking proud and happy.

"Up high!" House holds out his hand and John gives him a high five. They smile at each other for a moment. "So, Rache is having a bit too much fun?"

"She's no fun, Dad, she's cool." He uses air quotes on the last word and rolls his eyes sarcastically. Rachel is in her freshman year of High School and turned fifteen a couple of months ago. John has trouble relating to her in her stage as a teenager, and they are momentarily less close than they used to be.

"It's a phase. She'll get over it. And then you'll be in that phase." House winks at him.

"Not ever!" John shakes his head defiantly.

"You know I'll rub this in your face three years from now, when you're having your first puke in the back yard."

John laughs.

"Did you eat already?" House asks.

"Yeah. I actually gotta get back to my room. I'm trying to teach my friends how to play poker. So far, they suck."

"I'll stack some food and throw a few people off the couch, play my cripple card." House briefly holds up his cane, finishes his drink, and heads for the plates. "Catch you later?!"

"Yup."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

House sits down on the couch, which is, in fact, hardly occupied. People are mostly standing at the bar tables that are scattered around the room, and some already started to dance. The lights are dimmed and Cuddy has put up Christmas lights around the walls, giving the room a warm and colorful glow. House feels unnoticed and eats in solitude until Foreman shows up and slouches down beside him, a bottle of beer in his hand. They chat briefly until Forman finishes his drink and announces that he wants to head home, where his eight-month pregnant girlfriend awaits him.

House considers wandering around to see if he runs into someone he could talk to—earlier, he had spotted a few parents he knows from dropping off or picking up the kids from their friends—but his leg is still acting up, so he decides to stay put. Furthermore, Julia and Bill must be lingering around somewhere, who he still prefers to avoid.

He watches people chatting and dancing, and keeps an eye on Rachel who is standing near the music system, surrounded by friends. Rachel had asked one of her friends to perform as a DJ tonight. Thus far, she has not come over to greet House. It was obviously uncool to be seen with people older than twenty, and the two of them had just nodded at each other from afar.

Cuddy keeps buzzing around, stopping here and there, chatting with new guests or saying goodbye to ones who came early and brought small children they need to get home and into bed. Eventually, she walks over to House and sinks down next to him on the couch with a sigh. "Oh God, it feels good to sit." She cranes her neck. "I'm not equipped for this anymore. You think anyone will notice if I just sneak into my room and go to sleep?"

He smirks. "Probably the couple who just snuck in there for some play time."

She looks at him with wide eyes. "Are you serious?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Isn't that what empty bedrooms at parties are there for?"

She shakes her head, mildly annoyed. "Oh well. Remind me to throw out my comforter tomorrow." She sips on her drink and settles against the cushions. "So, what did you find out?"

He is not sure what she means and looks at her quizzically.

She gives a general nod towards the crowd of people.

"Ah." He scratches his head. "See the kid in the white hoodie, standing about six feet behind Rachel?"

"The skinny one with blond hair?"

"Yeah. He has the hots for her. But she has no clue, because she only has eyes for the DJ."

Cuddy chuckles. "Which teenage girl doesn't, right?"

"And that's definitely not apple juice in their cups."

"Yeah, I figured they'd been sneaking beers. I saw two of her friends walking like monkeys, trying to hide the bottles up their sleeves." She imitates them with her arms swinging stiffly from side to side and laughs. "Are you keeping an eye on them?"

"You're asking someone with the responsibility level of a 6-year-old to break the groove of partying 16-year-olds?" Cuddy smirks, raising her eyebrow. House turns earnest and gives her a brief nod. "I will. By the way, Mr. Marco Polo over there—" He points his head towards his left, where a middle-aged man in a shirt by that brand is sipping on a glass of wine. He is listening to a woman about his age standing next to him, looking bored.

"Dr. Albert?"

"—he's cheating on his wife."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Saw him vanish into the bathroom about half an hour ago. Shortly followed by a member of Sarah's club of the hot nurses." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Oh my God. I always thought they were happily married."

"They are. She is cheating on him, too."

Cuddy's jaw drops for a second. "Did she also vanish into the bathroom?"

"Not yet. But she's definitely on the lookout." They both observe the couple for a few moments. "Trust me, if she only had eyes for her husband, she'd notice him sneaking away for over fifteen minutes and return with a smug smile on his face."

"Maybe she thought he took a successful dump," Cuddy jokes, and he feels the corners of his mouth lifting.

"By the way, he wouldn't say no to you following him into the bathroom."

Cuddy looks at House with a doubtful but amused expression on her face.

"I noticed him repeatedly check out your ass. Him and three other people, actually," he states matter-of-factly. "At least thus far. The list might get longer as the alcohol level rises and social conventions plummet to the ground."

"Who?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"Dr. groomed and well manicured over there, with a stick so far up his ass I'm sure he only ever touched a woman wearing gloves."

Cuddy turns her head in the direction House is looking and starts to giggle. "That's actually our head of pathology."

House chuckles. "Then, there's that young and horny first-year intern who came here with her boyfriend, but only to prove to herself and to the world that she's straight, and deny her secret crush on you."

Cuddy follows his gaze again and catches the young woman House is talking about staring at her. The woman's face turns into an embarrassed grin when she realizes she got caught. Cuddy smiles back at her before she turns toward House again. "Wow! I had no idea."

"Number three is also at least twenty years too young for you. That shy guy, with glasses and a tweed jacket. No doubt he's a huge Harry Potter fan."

"Yeah, that's Dr. Harrison. He's our new oncologist." She seems to have been aware of his infatuation with her.

"He persistently stays within a twenty feet radius of you, hoping to get your attention."

"He's new in the city, new at work. He just misses his mommy." Cuddy finishes her drink and leans forward to set it down on the coffee table. He is surprised when she leans back into the cushions with a sigh.

"So, you're done with your first round of small-talk and letting everyone get their fair share of you?" He had assumed she was just checking in with him briefly and would rush back to being a good hostess, making sure everybody's glasses were filled.

"For now." She gives him a small smile and slips out of her high heels. She pulls up her knees sideways so her feet dangle off the edge of the couch, her whole body turning toward him.

"I was the last one on the list?"

Her eyebrows furrow, and she looks at him mildly puzzled. "You weren't on the list," she states hesitantly.

"Hm." House focuses his gaze on his leg and rubs it gently, all humor gone from him. "I'm sure everyone watching us thinks you only invited the lone gimp doctor out of guilt, and now that you did, rules of politeness dictate you to talk to him."

His statement increases the baffled expression on her face. "If anyone was watching us, which I doubt because they're all way too self-absorbed and busy with their own appearance, they saw me laugh with you more than with anybody else tonight." Her face softens and her voice rings with concern: "What's this about, House? You don't actually believe I only talk to you out of pity?!"

He looks at her, his eyes sad and sincere. "No." He hangs his head, not quite sure what to say to her. "I guess I was projecting." He sighs, searching for words. "You know I hate these gatherings. All the hypocrisy, pretentiousness, acting to the social norm… Parties are so much more fun when intoxicated. It's easier to ignore all that B.S. Easier to fit in. Pretend to be a normal and happy and decent human being." He never meant to be this bitter and is unsure about his sudden mood switch.

Cuddy seems similarly perplexed by his admission, but recovers quickly and reaches for his hand. "House… You are smart, funny, and interesting to talk to. Just because half the people in this room can't keep up a conversation with you doesn't mean you're awkward. Or an outsider." She raises her eyebrows at him, underlining her point. "Go talk to Rachel. I'm sure she'd love to know about the boys who have a crush on her. Also, Mr. stick-up-his-ass has some interesting ideas about growing and implementing brain matter that you could trash. And, if you want, be my guest to trick Mrs. Albert into a visit to the bathroom next time her hubby is in there, canoodling." She smiles and squeezes his hand gently before letting go.

"Wow, you are seriously giving me the green light to destroy a marriage?" He pretends to be outraged, but enjoys her suggestion. "You really are a fun drunk. Thanks, Mommy." He gives her his evil grin.

"Speaking of bathrooms…" she says, sliding her legs off the couch and stepping back into her shoes.

"You want any company? I could give little Harry Potter a small hint."

Cuddy laughs. "No, thank you. I don't need a fourth kid in the house." She picks up her empty glass as she gets up and gives him another smile. "Now, go play."

He follows her advice and tries to enjoy himself. He joins John and his friends playing poker, pointing out their tells and weaknesses in order for them to improve their bluffing skills. He plays them for real money, and one of John's friends must have been pumping his mother for some cash, because at some point an outraged woman waltzes into John's room.

"Are you playing poker against fifths-graders, snatching away their money?" She is meticulously dressed and tries to look younger than her age—her hair bleached, her body trimmed—carrying her nose up high. Her expression is serious and indignant, and House concludes she has absolutely no fun in life.

"I am teaching them a valuable lesson. Don't you agree they should learn, early on, that in a gamble for money, in all likelihood, it will be gone?" He gives her his 'duh'-face. "Hah, I even turned it into a rhyme. Makes it easier for them to remember." He nods towards the boys.

The woman has no retort and just stares at him, dumbstruck. "Does Lisa know about this?"

"Oh, come on, seriously?" he groans, but she has already turned on her heels and is storming off to rat him out.

As expected, Cuddy shows up about three minutes later. "House!" She stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "Talk to you for a minute? In the hallway?" Her eyebrow shoots up.

"You're in trouble," John mouths to him, looking somewhat amused. He is probably glad it hit House and not him this time.

House gives him a worn look. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me for a tiny moment. The mistress needs some handiworks," he says to the bunch as he pushes his chair back and gets up from the table.

Most boys look puzzled, some of them are grinning.

Cuddy steps out into the hallway; he follows her. "I let you out of my sight for ten minutes and you're turning our son's room into a casino?" she hisses.

"You said: Go play!" he reminds her cockily.

"As I'm sure you know, New Jersey state law prohibits underage gambling. What are their parents gonna say when they hear their kids lost all their money to you?"

"Oh, would you give me a break? Stakes were as high as two quarters. Little Tom over there—"

"Tim," she corrects him.

"—who, by the way, I think should get tested for a brain malfunction, lost like five bucks, max. The kid gets ten times as much pocket money. Each week."

She sighs, and he can tell she is not truly mad at him. "I told Charlene you were planning on returning it at the end, which I'm assuming you're not."

"A lost gamble is a lost gamble. I have principles."

"Then let her son win back the money he lost," she suggest, trying to come up with a solution.

"Let him win? I just said—"

"Fine, do what you want, I don't even care. Think of something, don't think of something. So what if John is out one friend by the end of the night. It's not like I'll miss listening to Charlene preach about the virtues of a vegan diet." She looks at him and adds: "Just make sure this doesn't accumulate to more than one lost friend. Unless you want him to end up like you." With that, she turns around and heads down the hall.

"Words can hurt, you know?" he calls after her.

She spins on her heels, a smile spreading across her face. "I'm going dancing!"

He makes a deal with the boys to refrain from asking their parents for money, and serves as their bank instead. Around 11pm, most of them are too tired to continue playing. House makes sure the ones who are sleeping over brush their teeth and the ones who are not find their parents.

On his return to the living room, he intercepts Rachel on her way to the kitchen, and she looks happy when she sees him approaching her. She seems slightly tipsy, but not too drunk to raise House's concern. He informs her about her admirer, and they share a laugh about Mr. stick-up-his-ass, who has by now hit the dance floor and is displaying some interesting moves.

Eventually, he ends up back on the couch to rest his leg, and Sarah and some of her friends join him, taking a break from dancing. He chats with them and occasionally checks out Cuddy.

To his surprise, she at some point comes up to him and holds out her hand.

He glances at her suspiciously.

"You owe me at least one dance," she claims, hinting at his loony casino idea.

He hesitates for a moment, but then lets her pull him up and into the crowd.

He manages to keep up with her for about three songs before the pain in his leg becomes too severe to ignore. Just when he is about to tell her, the music switches to a slow song rather abruptly. The movement on the dance floor halts for a moment and everyone is looking around, slightly perplexed. It is the first slow song playing tonight, and most heads are turning towards the DJ. House sees Rachel at the control panel, giggling with her friend. Cuddy is looking in the same direction, a suspicious expression crossing her face. Around House and Cuddy, pairs of twos are beginning to form, and people start moving again.

Cuddy grins at him sheepishly.

"We don't have to…" he proposes, giving her an easy out. "I'm sure Potter would be more than thrilled to jump in."

"My birthday, my pick," she states decidedly as she moves closer to him. She looks happy when she raises her arms and interlaces her fingers behind his neck. He sneaks his left arm around her and rests his hand on the small of her back. He needs his right hand on his cane for support.

She smiles her big smile, and he remembers the last time they danced this way. "What were the chances of this happening again?" he asks as they slowly sway from side to side.

She laughs. "Odds worse than Vegas? I wouldn't have bet a dime on it." She is still joyful, but her expression turns solemn.

"Yeah," he agrees, his mood dropping slightly as well.

"House, I still owe you an apology." Her voice is gentle and serious.

He looks at her expectantly, unable to guess the reason.

"I shouldn't have kept John a secret from you for so long." She takes a few deep breaths, holding his gaze intently.

He raises his eyebrows. "Morally, you were definitely far down the toilet," he taunts her. He has not been holding a grudge against her and had, at no point, expected an apology.

"I know," she mumbles, taking him seriously. She lowers her gaze guiltily and focuses on his chest. "I was way out of line." She presses her lips together, and tentatively meets his eyes again. "I'm glad you're a part of John's life now. You are a great dad! To him and to Rachel."

He lets her off the hook. "I appreciate the sentiment, but it's unnecessary. I assaulted you; you protected yourself. And your offspring." He shrugs. "Natural instinct."

She tilts her head. They both know he is downplaying her actions.

He is willing to let it go, though. She has forgiven all of his shit, and he had given her at least as much. "It was a win-win, actually. You protected me from all the crying and nagging. Never had to change a diaper. I'm getting only the fun parts."

Cuddy smiles weakly. "So we're okay?"

"Yeah. Of course."

She moves closer to him and rests her head against his shoulder. For the first time tonight, it dawns on him that he might be part of the reason for her current state of joy, and it frightens him a little. He has no mental capacity to delve into this train of thought, however, because his pain distracts him. Holding her close and feeling her warmth has kept his mind from the throbbing in his leg, but he has to stop moving about halfway through the song. He has pushed this too far already.

"What is it?" she asks, sensing his discomfort. She pulls back from him enough to see his face.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying to fight the aching flames that shoot up his spine and completely block his thoughts. "It's my leg," he presses out through gritted teeth, his breath shallow and uneven.

Cuddy looks concerned. "You need to sit down?"

"I think I'm gonna head home, lie down."

"You can stay here if you want," she offers.

"You have guests," he objects. Cuddy's best friend from New Haven came down and is staying in the guest-bedroom with her husband for the night. "And the couch is kinda occupied."

"Right." Cuddy drops her head, thinking for a moment. Then she comes up with an idea: "Take my bed," she suggests. "I have to be the last woman standing, anyways. I'll just sleep on the couch when everyone's gone."

He is about to decline her offer when he thinks of the long walk to his car, doubting that he will make it. "You sure?"

"Absolutely! Go! You have your toothbrush, your PJs… There are ear plugs in the drawer of my bedside table."

"All right," he nods. "Thank you."

She leans into him once more to wish him a good night, her lips briefly brushing his cheek.

"Good night, birthday girl." He manages to give her a small smile before he heads towards her bedroom.

House is relieved when he sinks down onto her mattress, snuggling under the covers. He reviews the events from the night in his mind, listening to the noise outside the room: the dull beat of the music; the chattering. Cuddy had been exceedingly flirty, and he is not sure whether this was merely due to the alcohol or something else. He does not quite know what to make of her unexpected apology, either. Then he forces himself to drop all thoughts about her, and decides that it did not matter either way.

He focuses on the comfortable sheets and the smell of her, and waits until the pain in his leg subsides enough to finally drift off to sleep.

A few hours later, he wakes up with a jerk because there is someone in the room with him.

"It's only me," Cuddy whispers. She is holding her cell phone in her hand, the lit screen creating tiny rays of light. He sees her by the chest, rummaging through a drawer. "I just need some PJs. Go back to sleep."

"What time's it?" he asks groggily, wiping his eyes.

"About three o'clock. The last guests left half an hour ago."

House turns on the light on the nightstand, wanting to see her better. He squints his eyes. "I can switch to the couch. You take your bed."

She pushes the drawer shut and turns around, a stack of comfortable clothes pressed against her belly. Her hair and makeup are down, leaving only her dress as a remainder of the night. "Don't be ridiculous," she utters. "Just go back to sleep." She crosses the room and is about to reach for the door handle when she thinks of something. "Oh, but since you're up…" She walks over to him and gives him her back. "Would you mind…?"

At first, he does not know what she is referring to; then he sees the zipper of her dress starting at her neck and running down to the small of her back. He sits up and pulls it down halfway, not wanting to expose her more than necessary. He thinks she can reach the last part. His heart speeds up slightly, but he is thankful his hands have not started to tremble in the action.

"Thanks," she mumbles. Instead of heading for the door, she turns around to him again, her expression serious. "House." She pauses for a beat, her eyes downcast. "How come you never touch me?" She is still clutching onto her clothes, thus keeping her dress in place.

He looks at her quizzically. "Either you suffer from selective memory loss or your dictionary has a different definition of the term." He pushes his body backwards on the mattress so he can lean against the headboard. "I undid your dress five seconds ago. We danced tonight. We would have given quite the picture…" He holds out his arms as if he were hugging a big gymnastic ball, the circle he is creating big enough she could stand in it without any body contact.

She rolls her eyes at him and sits down on the mattress. "I meant out of your own volition," she clarifies.

He is uncertain about the motive behind her question and about what to respond. He shrugs his shoulders. "I wasn't sure you'd be comfortable with it."

She cocks her head, her eyebrows rising. "I touch you all the time. Do you mind?"

"No." He feels slightly cornered by her question. He could act like an ass and insult her; use words that would hurl her out of the room, fast. But it is late, both their guards are down, and it was her birthday, after all. He swallows hard and decides to go with the truth. "It might be hard to stop."

She takes this in for a moment. Then, in a quiet and cautious tone, she asks: "What if I don't want you to stop?"

If he was not sure before, he definitely is now. She has opened the door far and wide for him, presenting him a huge invitation. For a fraction of a second he contemplates whether or not he should walk through. After a beat he gravitates towards her. He closes his eyes as she meets him halfway, their lips touching gently. His mind shuts off, and he is drowning in the sensation of her. She feels so soft.

Their kiss quickly intensifies, all his pent up emotions for her spilling into the kiss and into his groin. He pulls her by the nape of the neck to draw her near to him. He is greedy for her, hungry to taste her skin, and everything seems to be happening in a rush. She is already sitting on his lap, straddling him, and he pulls the zipper of her dress down all the way, his hand coming to rest flat against her bare back, pressing her body against his.

(Author note: For those of you uncomfortable reading about sex, skip to the next LLLL-line.)

His desire for her has grown over the last few months, and all his suppressed feelings are coming loose. He draws the straps of her dress from her neck over her shoulders and down her arms, causing her shivers. Although he had certainly fantasized about it numerously, never in his wildest dreams had he imagined she would let him touch her like this again. He pulls the front of her dress down to her belly, exposing a black strapless bra and more of her white, meticulous skin. He plants gentle kisses on her chest and then her shoulder, his lips tracing a path up to her neck. She reacts with a gasp as her fingers slide under the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up on both sides. He lifts his arms and lets her take it off him.

His hands roam all over her body as his lips try to cover every inch of her skin, drinking her in. She stands up on the mattress, her feet planted on either side of his thighs, so he can free her from her dress. Her hips are so close to his face he can actually smell her. He cannot resist running his hands up her smooth calves, tickling the hollow of her knees briefly, and continuing their way up, his thumbs brushing over the soft skin of her inner thighs. She hisses when his right thumb continues its journey upwards and slips inside her panties. He finds her wet center and takes some of the moisture to grace her clit. He rubs it briefly, invoking another gasp, and pushes the fabric aside further to gradually slide two fingers inside her. He rests his other hand on her hip to steady her.

She buries one hand in his hair, gripping it tightly. "Oh God," she breathes as his fingers slowly glide in and out of her. Her other hand is pressed flat against the bedroom wall. "House."

Cuddy eventually stops him by lightly brushing his hand, and he lets go off her so she can take off her panties and sink back down on the mattress next to him. "Lift your hips," she whispers and pulls on the waistband of his PJ pants, showing him what she wants.

He presses his hands down on the bed, doing as told, and she slides the fabric down to his thighs. She straddles him again and kisses him deeply, her tongue slipping into his mouth. He is so aroused he hisses a sigh of relief when she finally touches his penis, giving it a firm squeeze. She searches his face briefly before she lifts her hips and guides him towards her center.

She sinks down on him tantalizingly slowly, her breath coming out in short puffs against his neck, and he is glad she is the one on top: He is not sure he would have had enough constraint, and might have ended up being too rough with her. He moves one hand to her butt and one to her hip, urging her to move. When she does it feels so damn good he thinks that somewhere angels must be rejoicing; he looks up at the ceiling to check. To his brief dismay, it only takes about two or three rolls of her hips before her breath quickens and he feels her walls convulsing around his penis.

"Oh my God," she gasps, panting into his ear. "I'm sorry." He feels her lips on the cartilage of his conch. "It's been so long."

"Don't ever apologize for that," he assures her. "Every guy who gets a woman to come in less than ten seconds feels like a total rock-star."

She laughs into his neck, still out of breath.

He glides his hands over the sides of her torso and reaches up behind her back, feeling for the clasp of her bra. He wants her naked, and only has refrained from removing it thus far because he thought she might get self-conscious about it. Now that she came already, he gives it a shot and unhooks it.

"House," she protests, warning him mildly. He was right. Her upper body tenses and she presses her arms against her sides, holding the garment in place.

"I know," he tries to ease her. "Breastfeeding and everything." He pushes her back slightly so he can see her face. "You are a massive turn-on," he assures her, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. "Like, blow-my-brains-out hot."

She exhales deeply and relaxes, her lips turning into a small smile, and she lets him slide off her bra. He cups her breasts from below, his thumbs circling her hard nipples. She closes her eyes and starts to move again, but only briefly. Apparently having changed her mind, she dismounts him, crouches next to him to pull his pants off completely, slides down under the blankets, and tugs on his hand, gesturing for him to follow. She parts her legs and guides him on top of her, wanting him to take the lead. "Come back inside me," she whispers as her hand travels up his back and cups the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

He does not need to be told twice and slides his way home.

"God, you feel so good," she mumbles.

"Right back at ya." He was thinking the exact same thing. Knowing that she is enjoying this, he lets go and finds a rhythm that brings him so much pleasure he is soon the one groaning into her neck. She pulls up her knees, her feet leaving the mattress. Her breath is coming out in short puffs, and he knows she is close. He traces one hand over her thigh and follows the curve of her neck with his tongue, and she comes undone again. It takes him two or three more strokes, and he bites into her neck to muffle his sounds as his orgasm hits him as well.

"Holy shit," she exclaims. He hears the smile in her voice. She rakes gently through his hair and caresses his back while he waits for his breath and heartbeat to return to normal. He eventually slides out of her and rolls onto his back, pulling her with him. "That was incredible." She grins at him before resting her head on his armpit, her fingers playing across his chest. "I think I actually passed out for a second."

"Happy birthday again," he smirks and reaches over to turn off the lamp. His hand returns to her back, and he gently strokes her there.

"This was my birthday present?" she mumbles affectionately.

"If I had known this was happening… Would've saved me a trip to the store."

"I'm taking both." She kisses his chest and nuzzles the skin covering his ribs.

"Get some sleep," he whispers, running his fingers through her hair. "John and the boys will be up in less than four hours."

"Yeah." He feels her lift up her head to look at him in the dark, and he thinks she is about to say more, but she settles it back down on his shoulder. "Good night, House."

"Good night, Cuddy."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

House wakes up about two hours later. Cuddy is fast asleep, her warm body pressed against his. He has his arm draped around her torso, and he tries not to move, wanting to hold onto the moment.

After a while, he steals himself from bed, goes to the bathroom to pee and to put on his clothes. Then he sits down on the edge of her bed, thinking and waiting. His chin is resting on his cane, which he holds between his legs.

He is unaware of how much time passes before he hears bed sheets rustling behind him. "House?" Cuddy asks sleepily, confusion ringing in her voice.

He refrains from turning around completely and only gives her his profile, staring at the headboard. He doubts he will be able to verbalize what he is about to say whilst looking at her.

Cuddy props her head up on one elbow. "Why are you dressed?"

"I'm on my way out," he says quietly.

"Why? What's the matter?"

He waits a beat, tracing a thumb over his forehead. "This was a mistake," he mumbles, still unable to face her.

For a moment all he hears is her breath. "What?"

Shaking his head slowly, he tries to elaborate. "Us. A relationship. It's a bad idea."

Out of the corner of his eye he sees her scrambling into a sitting position, her back leaning against the headboard. The sheets are bundled up under her armpits, and she draws up her knees protectively. Her voice matches her vulnerable posture. "You don't wanna be with me?"

That was beside the point. "I don't want us to screw this up."

He hears her taking in a deep breath. "House, this is different. We're different. You're not my employee anymore, and we're not just experimenting being a thing. We have a child together. Two children, it feels like. We're family now."

"All the more reason not to jinx this," he counters, unconvinced by her argument. "The stakes are too high."

"You're scared," she states matter-of-factly. "I understand. So am I, but—"

"Exactly!" he interrupts her, getting impatient. "And our feeling of fear is a functional warning. It's telling me not to risk this. Why would I give up something that I know works great—for everyone involved—for something that I know for certain hasn't worked in the past?"

"Is this you getting back at me for breaking up with you?" Her words sound bitter.

"God, no!" He cannot believe she would assume that. "You really think I'm that petty?"

She sighs, her hand coming up to rub her forehead. "House," she says, her voice turning gentle and empathetic, "I'm not going to dump you again."

He looks at her for the first time, a feeling of longing and sadness rising up in him. "You can't promise me that," he says quietly. "Same way I can't promise you I won't do anything insane again if you do." He hangs his head low, a sensation of defeat spreading in his chest. "You're not convincing me this time, Cuddy."

She fails to come up with a retort, and seems to realize that she already lost a battle she did not have any real chances of winning in the first place. "Why did you sleep with me if you'd already made up your mind?" He hears tears and hopelessness in her voice.

"I shouldn't have," he admits, feeling like shit. "I got caught up in the moment." He looks at her again. Pain is written all over her face. "Like I said, it's hard to stop… touching you."

She scoffs and raises her eyes to the ceiling, obviously regarding his statement as outrageous and pathetic. Tears are rolling down her cheeks.

He cannot stand seeing her like this any longer, so he gets up with the help of his cane. "I'm sorry," he states weakly in her direction before he turns away.

In a last, desperate attempt she whispers: "House, please don't do this."

But he does. He leaves.