Hi guys!

So sorry I'm taking so long to update (this fic and other fics). I'm currently studying for finals and in the process of moving out. Sadly I haven't had time to sit down and write for some time. I really miss it though, I hope I'll be able to find some time soon!

This story was requested by my friend House-less. It's set in season 7. I hope you'll enjoy it!

78. I'll still be here when you're ready.

When Cuddy made her way up to House's office to let him know she was heading home, she found him standing in front of the white board, leaning against his desk. They had been planning this weekend for quite some time and had dropped Rachel off at Arlene's, but House had gotten a case the day before. Although she wasn't expecting him to come home on time this Friday night, she was hoping the case would be solved by Saturday.

He turned to her when he heard the door open. "I'm outta here," she announced as she walked to him.

He nodded. "I'll be late."

"I know," she said with an understanding smile. They hadn't seen each other all day, so as she kissed him, she even dared go in for a hug – save for grabbing her ass, he wasn't a fan of PDAs at work, surprisingly enough. When he held her a little tighter than usual, she knew something was wrong. Then he heaved a deep sigh, and there was no doubt possible.

She didn't let go until he let go first.

"You'll be home soon enough," she said.

"Yeah." But it didn't seem like it was what was bothering him. Maybe he was just having one of those bad days when he was tired and his leg hurt and his spirits were low.

"Want me to stick around?" Rachel wasn't waiting for her at home. She didn't mind.

"Yeah." It was said so low, like he didn't dare ask her to. But she was well aware that a few weeks, a few months before, he would have kept her at arm's length, rejected her presence. His newfound trust touched her.

She plopped down in his Eames chair and pulled out from her briefcase the folders that she had planned on taking home for the weekend. He didn't comment on it like he usually did, but she did see the tiniest smirk on his face.

They worked in silence for a while, Cuddy occasionally glancing at him to make sure he was okay. He was just standing there, sometimes stretching and rubbing his leg, but he didn't pace around or play with his tennis ball. His team dropped by the office for a second, let House know about the MRI results, and he sent them off for more tests. They weren't surprised to see the boss hang out with House after hours anymore.

"I'm taking you home," she decided as she stood up. Tonight would not be the night of the breakthrough. Much to her surprise, he didn't resist or protest – like he was waiting for her permission, or for her to make that decision. He grabbed his backpack and turned the lights off.

He didn't talk much on the way, nor when they arrived at her place.

He was glad he didn't have to face his sleepless nights alone anymore – but he couldn't find the words to tell her.

Cuddy took him to the bathroom and helped him take his clothes off – his shirt and tee-shirt, his sneakers and his socks when he sat on the edge of the tub while it was filling with hot water. He removed his pants and underwear on his own and she helped him into the bath, before bringing him a set of clean pyjamas.

"I'm making you dinner," she said as she leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Take your time."

Since she'd had dinner at the hospital, she only made a Reuben sandwich for him, with a glass of milk. He followed her advice and when he limped into the kitchen, the sandwich was cold, just as he liked it. She sat with him while he ate, and disposed of the dishes when he was done. As they headed to the bedroom, she turned off the lights in the kitchen and glanced at the clock – past midnight; time to sleep.

She tucked him in first, caressing his forehead, before she slipped under the covers next to him. He hadn't said much yet, nothing about what was bothering him so much. She watched him for a few seconds, eyes wide open, his stare lost in the distance. Whatever it was… it wasn't going to let him sleep.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I broke three of my mother's crystal glasses in two seconds?"

He had the tiniest smirk. "No."

So she told him old stories about herself, some he had heard before and some he hadn't, in a low voice, until he finally fell asleep, lulled by her voice.

The following morning, he felt better and knew what was wrong with his patient.

He didn't tell her what had been bothering him, and she didn't ask. They spent their weekend off together, just like they had planned.

"Thank you," he whispered once they were in bed and the lights were off. "For not pushing me to talk the other night. I know you want me to open up more, but…"

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'll still be here when you're ready."