First, I don't own House. If I did, I would have offered Lisa Edelstrein everything and anything to keep her in the final season. Also I wouldn't have messed up Huddy so bad.

Second, this is a multi-chapter story. I have a lot of it fleshed out and written, so updates will hopefully be steady until I run out of material. This first chapter started in season 2 after House ends things with Stacy and wants morphine from Cuddy. It's basically going to be my take on things until my well off inspiration runs dry.

If you like what you read... have comments or whatever, please feel free to leave a note.

Huge thanks to love-hope-faith-fills-like-a-lie from Tumblr. She's been taking all my gazillion ideas from this fic and another one I'm working on and giving me feedback and positivity.

It was a steady knock on her door. More a thump, really, instead of a knock. Sighing as she got out of bed and pulled on her robe, she worked on tying it as she moved to her front door before he resorted to anything more dramatic that might disturb her neighbors. House never just went away until he got what he wanted.

His cane almost fell through the door as she pulled it open mid knock. "Dr. Cuddy," he stated simply.

"Dr. House," she crossed her arms in response.

"Are you alone?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you mean is there a man in my bed, no."

"Who said I was looking for a man?"

"You'll be disappointed to know the only thing you interrupted with your midnight visit was my sleep." This was ridiculous. She moved to shut the door, then, only to be stopped by his cane. "What do you want, House?"

"You."

The admission shocked her. It took a moment before she could even form words to speak. "I'm not going to be your rebound from Stacy."

He almost laughed at her reaction. "Relax, Cuddy," he pushed past her through the door. "I don't want you in the sense that I want you. I want you to give me a shot."

"I already did," she crossed her arms. She could strangely feel the disappointment wash over her at his words.

"You gave me a placebo. This time I brought the good stuff," he pulled out a vile from his pocket.

"Where did you get that?" She immediately reached for it.

He pulled it just out of her reach. "You don't really want to know the answer to that question." He drew a deep breath. "Just give me the damn shot and I'll be out of your hair."

"I'm not giving you a shot of morphine."

"Don't worry, I won't tell," he started. "Unless my drug dealer won't give me my morphine!" He started to yell. "Sure your neighbors can't hear me screaming, though," he stated smugly.

"The placebo proved that it's in your head..."

"No, the placebo proved nothing. My leg hurts. I told you, that's not in my head."

"This is about Stacy leaving," she insisted. "It's psychosmatic."

He rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. "My leg hurts!" He yelled. "It's not in my head."

"You want me to get you high so you don't have to deal with the way you feel about Stacy."

"It's not about Stacy!" He growled. What was with her and Wilson? Dropping his pants as he had earlier in her office, he stood there. "Look at this," he pointed. "You did this to me. You cut away my thigh muscle. And guess what...it hurts!" He decided to try guilt. It had worked earlier... or at least it probably would have if he'd pushed harder. "Give me the damn shot."

"Pull your pants up. I'm not giving you the shot," she stated stubbornly, her arms crossing once again.

"I'm not going away."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Stand there with your pants around your ankles. I'm going to bed," she turned to head back for her bedroom then.

He opened her front door, his pants still around his ankles. "Dr. Cuddy, shoot me up!" He yelled. "Morphine, you say?!" He continued to yell. "You want a shot too?!" His words were only getting louder.

She quickly spun back around and grabbed the vile and syringe from him. "You're an ass," she growled, closing the door.

"You knew that when you hired me."

"You're an addict, looking for your next fix. Bend over."

"You knew that, too." He jumped as she jabbed the needle into his body.

"Why, Cuddy, I had no idea you liked it so rough," he smirked over his shoulder before bending down to pull up his pants.

She handed him the syringe. "You want to be high as a kite so you don't have to think about Stacy, fine. Just let me go back to sleep," she said tiredly.

He was quiet for a moment as he fastened his pants. "Thank you." His voice was low and gravelly.

She softened slightly then. "You're welcome. Do you want to talk?" She found herself offering.

He shook his head. "Nothing to talk about. I needed a shot, you gave it."

She studied him, but accepted his answer. Pushing wasn't going to get anything out of him. "Goodnight, House," she murmured.

He nodded his appreciation for not prodding him. "Goodnight, Cuddy."