A/N: Well folks, I think the story has run its course. The next two chapters will be the last. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. You guys are the best!
The day-long indulgence of good booze, good food, good sex and good company had put House on Cloud Nine. He and Cuddy were back at the piano. He gave her in impromptu piano lesson, teaching her a few short verses, or at least tried to teach her. She just couldn't get the hang of it and declared that the music should be left to the musician before going to the kitchen for another slice of pie.
The evening was still young, but House found himself glancing at the clock with a twinge of regret. All good things had to come to an end, always too soon. Tomorrow it was back to screaming brats, patients with room temperature IQs, clinic duty, the works. He stole a look at Cuddy, who was flipping through the sheet music with one hand and holding a fork-full of the overpriced dessert with the other. Without a doubt they were going to have another one of these special days. Maybe, with more than a little good old-fashioned nagging, he could convince her to make it an entire weekend.
"Anything catch your eye there, boss?" he asked while tapping out 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' on the keys.
"I'm still looking."
"You can't read music. Just what are you looking for?"
"A name that I'm familiar with. Here, would you play this?" She put some shuffled pieces of sheet music in front of him. He could see the name Mozart on them.
"More Mozart, huh? Child's play," he muttered. "Watch and learn."
Classical music filled the apartment, notes floating through the air like feathers on a soft ocean breeze. The only thing he enjoyed more than playing the piano was playing the piano for her. He would play for her as long as she would listen.
Night had fallen, the days getting shorter as last remnants of summer crept their way across the calender. Steady rain continued to patter all around. Cuddy didn't notice, she was too busy watch her lover's fingers effortlessly glide across the ivory keys, every note perfect. House didn't notice, didn't glance up to check the time, nothing else existed except for him, Cuddy and the music. The perfect world. An annoying little voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him that eventually he would have to leave that world and come back to reality. I'll come back to reality when I'm damn good and ready, he thought, until then I'm going to enjoy every last second of this day, and kicked the annoying voice good and hard to make it shut up.
The inevitable came around, much to his chagrin. It was getting late. Both of them had long hours waiting tomorrow. Sheet music was put away. Dishes were washed and stacked. They covered each other with kisses and got tangled in each others naked limbs, their sweat and heat mixing and binding. Outside the night didn't seem to change. House didn't want anything to change. House wished the day and night could have lasted a little longer.
"Did I grow a set of horns or something? Why are you staring at me?" House scowled as he unlocked his office, a perplexed Wilson following in his wake.
"You..." the oncologist trailed off, his brow knitted in confusion.
"What?" House asked, exasperated, tossing his knapsack on the desk. "What about me? What are you looking at?"
Wilson grinned. "You're...different."
"How? As far as I can tell I'm the same forty-something limping white guy I was yesterday."
"You're glowing. Ah-ha, I get it now. You and Cuddy took the same day off. Interesting. I take it you two didn't spend the last twenty-four hours tatting doilies."
"Oh, we doilied all right, if you get my meaning. What's the matter, Wilson? Are you jealous?"
"A little," Wilson sighed. "Last night Julie had a headache...again."
House flopped into his chair and leaned back. "Jimmy, you do realize that you're a doctor and doctors can get pills for headaches."
"There aren't any pills for wives who can't just come out and say they're not in the mood," the younger doctor frowned and sat down.
"Poor little Jimmy. All those marriages and you still can't get laid."
"I'll bring her some extra-strength migraine meds. Unless she comes home missing a limb or riddled with silver bullets tonight she's not going to have any excuses."
"You're so clever," House said. "It's almost a shame I had to give you the idea."
"I'm too sexually frustrated to think."
"Yes, I noticed."
"If you ever decide you're just plain tired of sex, House, get married. I can personally guarantee that you will never get any ever again."
"I'll be sure to write that down." The diagnostician twirled his cane like a baton. "Maybe you should let Julie beat you at a game of checkers. It worked for me."
