A/N–I'd like to thank everyone for all the positive reviews. I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story.

"Why did I even bother to bring any clothes if you're just going to have me wear yours?"

"There's just something about an uptight lady doctor in a Jack Daniels shirt. It really gets the blood flowing."

"Yes, well, this uptight lady doctor is ordering a certain cranky diagnostician to get some rest" She playfully ran her fingers through his hair. No effort was made to push her hand away. "Sweet dreams."

"Sweet nothing. I haven't remembered my dreams for years."

"So you've said."

"So I have. And it's the truth."

"Get some sleep, Greg."

"Whatever you say, Doctor."

Twenty minutes later Gregory House was in a deep sleep.

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Cuddy didn't mention that she had heard everything Wilson said at the door.

Admit it, you're in love with her.

Like Gregory House ever would.

She knew full well what she was getting into when they became involved–his moodiness, his arrogance, his Vicodin addiction, driving everyone around him crazy just because he could. He still tried to duck out of clinic duty like a kid avoiding homework. He was still behind on his patient files. There wasn't going to be any big white wedding, no home with a white picket fence, no cat and dog and 2.5 kids.

Cuddy was perfectly fine with that.

House never asked for special treatment, not for himself anyway. Was it because he knew he wouldn't get it or because he didn't want it?

The only thing he ever asked from her was to be let in when he showed up on her doorstep. That and indulging his sudden tee shirt fetish.

Once again Cuddy was pressed up against the sleeping doctor, one hand around his waist, the other idly playing with his wiry hair. His shirt was pulled up a bit so she could feel his warm skin against her own. It was fair to say she was indulging her own little fetish.

Greg House was on his back, his head turned away from her. It was 12:30am. He had been asleep for two hours. Insomnia would find him again soon enough so Cuddy was careful not to disturb him. Aside from recovering from this latest blitz, she wondered how long it had been since he slept through the night.

For the time being he was having a few hours of well deserved peace. Sweet dreams, Dr. House.

Tomorrow was her day off. She planned to stay with him...if he wanted. Will he be tired of her company and want to be left alone? Only one way to find out.

"I love you, Gregory House," she whispered to the sleeping doctor. Maybe someday he will actually want to hear it.

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Piano music floated in. Not from a stereo.

It was still dark outside. A bleary-eyed glance at the clock told Cuddy it wasn't quite 6am. She was alone in the bed.

She followed the music out to the living room. Greg House was at his piano, oblivious to everything else around him. His long musicians fingers flew over the eighty-eight keys. Cuddy stood quietly by the sofa, and recognized the music as coming from the movie The Piano. There was no sheet music. He was playing from memory.

Ten minutes passed before there was a break in the music.

"Do you always play so early in the morning?" she asked.

House turned to her, surprised. He had obviously been awake for a while. He had shaved.

"I haven't played in a while. I was in the mood," he said, as if everyone played the piano at the crack of dawn.

"Don't your neighbors ever complain?"

"Not yet and I don't care if they do."

"In any case, you play very well."

"Thank you." A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. He spun around on the bench until he completely faced her. "I've made a decision. An important one, I think. Since you're up I should go ahead and tell you."

Cuddy straightened up, puzzled, wondering what he was talking about. "Decision? What decision?"

"I've decided Stacy and I should separate. What do you think?"

Somehow Cuddy made it to the sofa before her knees buckled under her. If House noticed, he didn't show it. His face was completely blank.

"What do you mean by 'separate'?"

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, House said, "You saw that meltdown I had the other day. That was just one of many since she left. Stacy hasn't come back. That bastard Mark won and I lost. And I'm really fucking tired of dwelling on it."

"And this is something you just decided to do...now?"

"It's something I've wanted to do for a long time. Up until now I never had a reason to do it."

"What reason is that?

"My scotch budget can't handle it anymore," he said, looking at the floor. "It doesn't really matter. I've made my decision."

"Well...uh, okay Greg," a flabbergasted Cuddy stuttered. "If you, uh...if you think that's for the best, then by all means...separate."

"I'm officially separated! Don't try to talk me out of it." Turning back to the piano, he said, "Let's see if I can wake up a few of the neighbors."

As he played, Gregory House mused over the real reason he decided to 'separate' from Stacy–that night he had dreamed of Lisa Cuddy and he remembered the dream.