Cuddy woke up to a tickling sensation along her neck and shoulders. House was playing with her hair.

"Morning," she heard him say as her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. Sometime over the last hour or so he had joined her under the comforter, the spare blanket spread back over the top of them.

"Good morning." Cuddy blinked the lingering sleepiness away. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough," House answered with deliberate vagueness, nothing in his voice indicating if he really cared about how long he had been up or not.

"Do you always play with my hair when I'm sleeping?" she asked as he continued to wrap and unwrap his fingers around her long dark curls.

"I don't know, do I?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

His face was almost hidden in a shadow, but she knew he was smiling. Any remaining anger appeared to be hiding out for the time being. Cuddy decided to wait it out and see if he brought up the events of the previous day first.

Only ten more minutes until the alarm was set to buzz. She reached over and flicked the switch to OFF. House despised her alarm, and Cuddy didn't want that day to be the day he snapped and hurled the clock through the window. Let him save his energy for something actually worth going temporarily insane over.

"Staying for breakfast?" she asked innocently, wanting him to keep his good mood.

"What's on the menu?"

"There's a full package of blueberry waffles in the freezer."

"Yummy. Let's fire up the toaster, boss."


"How many waffles today, miss?" House asked as he handed over a glass of soy milk. The multi-grain waffles and sugar-free syrup were tolerable, but he drew the line at soy milk, declaring he would drink only 'real milk from real fucking cows that moo and everything'.

"Three. I'm starving."

"Three waffles for the Dean of Medicine it is."

Even with the limp and the cane, there was still an element of grace to his movements. Cuddy enjoyed watching as he shuffled back and forth across the linoleum in his bare feet and rumpled clothes. He brought the syrup and margarine to the table, then switched on her new coffee maker.

"You should get a cappuccino machine," he mused as the coffee began to stream into the pot. The waffles popped up with a ding, the scent of blueberries filled the kitchen.

"Why, you don't even like cappuccino. You call it 'coffee for pussies and yuppie scum'." She paused and smiled as he set her breakfast on the table. "Just take the espresso machine from the clinic waiting room," she added, referring to last spring when a phantom prankster kept taping up a sign that read: "Unattended Children Will Be Given a Double Espresso and a Free Puppy". Cuddy knew it was House but could never prove it. The signs stopped appearing around the time his random visits to her home began.

"Who gets the puppies?" he smirked, stuffing four waffles into the toaster, eyes glittering in the morning light. Of course it was him. Case closed.

House joined her at the table and plowed through half his waffles before stopping for a breath. "There's a couple of very nice people who want to meet you and Wilson," he said with a gulp of coffee.

"Hmmm?" Cuddy was still chewing.

"You'll love them, I promise."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Detective Goren and Detective Eames."

"You're joking," she gasped, almost spilling her glass.

"Hardly. Bobby emailed me last night. He and Alex would love to have dinner with us Friday or Saturday if that's possible."

"Saturday. Saturday would be better." He didn't want to talk about Stacy right now. She couldn't make him if he didn't want to. That was fine for the moment. Her mind was going a mile a minute, making plans for the New York City cops. "What should I make?"

"You don't have to make anything. We'll go to a restaurant."

"No, they'll have a real meal here. I'll make spaghetti and potatoes and garlic bread–"

"Lisa, are you sure–"

"Yes! What about dessert?"

"I'm sure I can talk Wilson into providing dessert." He smiled at her enthusiasm.

"Great!" She beamed. "I'm so excited! I can't wait to meet them!"