You guys! Thank you for the reviews. Here's another. It's longer. And it rhymes (kinda), and it's set in season 7 (definitely).

4. Come here. Let me fix it.

He watches her get ready, standing beside her in the bathroom, mesmerised by the amount of creams and cosmetics she rubs into her face and down her neck – lotion, concealer, foundation, and – just when he thinks she's finally done – some clear powder.

"I'll just be a minute," she tells his reflection in the mirror as she catches him staring at her.

"No you won't."

She smirks. "No I won't."

"I know women." She rolls her eyes, applies flesh-toned eyeshadow. "Although I will never understand why you need to put so much makeup on."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing." Cuddy turns to look at him as she fishes in a drawer for her mascara. "And you could have put a little more effort into tying your tie."

"It's a charity gala, not a funeral," he mumbled.

"House, you wouldn't even wear a tie to a funeral!"

Reluctantly, he unties the black ribbon and gives it another try. He looks at himself in the mirror, slightly aghast. He's clad in a black tuxedo and an ironed crisp white shirt. Although he did not bother to comb his hair and shave, it's a far cry from his rumpled button-downs and worn-out jeans. He looks like a whole different person.

Cuddy, on the other hand, looks absolutely stunning; she is wearing an ivory wrap dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and underneath that – he didn't see it, but he knows – a garter belt with sheer stockings, because that's the kind of lingerie she wears when she wants to feel particularly confident and awesome.

"Screw it, why don't we just blow this off?" he asks as he dives for her neck. "Emphasis on screw. And blow."

"Don't smudge my makeup," she whines as she squirms away from him. "Plus I can't touch you, I have foundation all over my hands."

"That's okay, you don't need to use your hands."

She shakes her head and turns back to the mirror as she rubs – what the hell was it this time? Lip balm? – into her lips. "By the way, your tie is askew."

House sighs, nevertheless tries again. Cuddy watches him fumble out of the tail of her eye, mildly amused, while she paints her lips red; which he seems to approve of, as he loses all focus when he catches a glimpse of her.

"You're hopeless. Come here. I'll fix it," she says, reaching for his collar. He lets her tie his tie expertly, all the while contemplating her face adorned with a focused pout. "There you go," she says as she smoothes it out against his chest.

"Do I have permission to kiss my girlfriend now?"

She grins. "You do have permission."

"Cuz I wouldn't want to smudge her makeup." His hands cup her waist as he leans into her.

"Your girlfriend doesn't care."

"Excellent." He kisses her lips softly, quickly reaching under her clothes to grope her.

She pulls away with a smirk. "Hold that thought. I finally tied your goddamn tie." His face falls. She wipes with her thumb the spots of red lipstick around his mouth. "You clean up pretty nice, Dr House."

"Thanks. I moisturize daily," he quips. Cuddy smirks and drags him out of the bathroom.