Author's Note: Turn back all who didn't read the rating.


Working together wasn't nearly as strange as she expected. In fact, it was almost the same as it had always been. Maybe he was a little less bitter, maybe she was a little less sharp and maybe their snappy witticisms were a touch edgier, the result of a deeper bond than that of colleagues. When his fingertips grazed her hand when she was making coffee she definitely wanted to pin him to the conference table and do terrible things to him. But they were restrained, letting their eyes speak volumes. Same old challenge, extreme new tension.


When he commanded her to the sleep lab (alone, much to Chase' disappointment) it left her with a strange feeling of déjà vu. Or, at least, she had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what the future held. It wasn't sneaking for long.

"Chinese?"

She looked up at him from her desk, "Sorry?"

Leaning down he speaks deliberately, "What. Do. You. Want. To. Eat. For. Dinner."

"Oh... Chinese sounds... good?" Her eyes question him, trying to elucidate his intentions. He just nods and returns to his office.

Sighing, she follows him, "Are you going to join me, or are you just being uncharacteristically kind to your employees today?"

He faux-frowns, "Now that you mention it, I haven't been myself recently. Wouldn't want anyone to think I'm going soft on you guys. I wonder what could have changed."

It's her turn to lean over the desk, smiling sweetly, "Well, I don't mind as long as you don't go soft on me." She continues to smile at him, engraining the look on his face into her mind, feeling his eyes on her as she sashays back to her desk.


The patient is sleeping fine, as both of them knew he would. But it's a great excuse to eat (surprisingly good) takeout and be together. She pokes her chopsticks into the rice, sighing.

"Thank you for dinner. It was very nice."

His eyes flick up from his food, still eating, analysing her statement. Tone, inflection, stance, expression, nothing missed. Smiling, he nods and continues eating until he feels her gaze still lingering, smiling dopily at him.

"Could you pretend to be a little less pleased with yourself? You're making my sweet and sour pork one-sided."

It's a terrible joke and she still laughs, "Why can't you just be happy?"

He snarks automatically, "I'm allergic. Don't want to break out in hives."

Rolling her chair closer, she takes his food, setting it aside, kissing him forcefully. He blinks, then kisses back, tongue darting at her lips as she reclines. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"That's it?"

"Do you want some nurse walking in here and catching us making out?"

He shrugs, "Threesomes are fun."

"You're terrible." Watching him, she starts to wonder, was that a hint? Did he want more?

Her smile is hard to contain, "Do you want people to know about us?"

Shrugging again, "Know what? Unless you count this, we're not exactly going 'out', we were both here anyway. Besides, I don't see why it's any of their business." Idiot! He can already see the frown forming over her delighted features like a cold cloud to rain on her burning heart.

"Ok." It's the wateriest one syllable he's heard in a long time.

"Ok? I didn't answer your question."

Now he's just being obtuse. When they're working, it's almost amusing, always educational, but now...

Her voice is strained, "House, I don't want to play games."

"What do you want me to say? I like having you around. If you want to tell people that, then that's fine. Other than that..." His fingers are on hers, subconsciously trying to reassure, as everything his mind thinks of comes up short, not good enough, not what he means, potentially more than she wants.

His eyes follow her as she stands, full of worry. She just smiles, pulling him up and into her arms, squeezing tight.

"I like you too."

In a quiet voice he mumbles, "I never said that."

"I know."


As the night steadily flooded the hospital, silencing corridors, hushing staff and patients alike, their boredom increased. Nothing was happening. Nothing was going to happen. His EEG showed nothing out of the ordinary and as the patient passed into his second REM cycle, House stood.

"I'm going home. Coming?"

She nods. It's hard to imagine a situation where she would refuse.


They both have work tomorrow and she has a suspicion that there won't be time for a trip to her place. Wondering if this is his way of getting things out in the open, she splashes water over her face, feeling the day sluice off. After freeing it from confinement, her hair is everywhere, fingers constantly brushing it away. Stepping softly into the bedroom, he is lying on his back, eyes closed, but not asleep. She's sure of that. But he doesn't look, not even to peek, despite how much he wants to.

Settling into her accustomed place at his side, she kisses his chest, happily draped down his body. His arm closes on her, savouring the feeling of so much of her skin so close to his. Of course he has to ruin it in his own special way by pinching her butt, eliciting a squeal.

"House!"

He remains, impassive as a fallen statue as the wind and weather wears it away. Only a slight twitch in his lips, the roaming hand and his undeniable warmth convince her that he still lives.

But why should he have all the fun. Closing her eyes, letting her skin guide her, she finds her fingers weaving across his chest and down his sides, exploring his wiry strength. Stopping abruptly, she feels the waist of his boxers against her wrist, tempting her to sin. That would certainly make tomorrow even more suspicious. Chase, at the very least, knew how she glowed (not Mr Right, but good enough at the time) and she would feel sorry for him. He was sweet. Were it not for House...

Stop thinking about Chase! Scolding herself she slaloms fingernails across his tummy, not sinning, but certainly encouraging sin. The rumble in his chest sounds good too, more lion than man. Her imagination drifts to House with a lions mane, a golden mullet worthy of the worst that glam rock has to offer. The image leaves her smiling even more. Pressing kisses lazily to whatever skin she can reach, she slinks over him, flicking her hair back over her shoulders only to have it pour down like black oil around him. His hand moves with her, smiling as she only just notices three of his fingers tucked into the back of her underwear.

Kissing a trail down his jaw to nibble at his ear, letting inhibitions go, his broad body spreading her legs wide around him, it's driving her mad. She needs release, something, anything, him.

Her voice is husky, "House..." Wiggling her hips she pulls her knees further forwards, pressing as close to him as she can, his desire betrayed, hard against her cotton panties. Swaying from side to side against him, she tests her own limits, the urge to tear the last of their clothing off almost too strong already. Her kisses persist, trying to elicit a response from the slumbering giant.

"Where do you keep your condoms? If you don't answer..." She leaves the empty threat in his ear with a kiss as she rolls off him, easily slipping out of her tank and boyshorts. She lets the garments dangle from her fingers, teasing them over his chest, intent on identifying a weakness in him, before flicking them off his side of the bed.

Curling around him, her fingers go straight down his chest, squeezing his shaft through mercilessly stretched fabric. Although it doesn't ease her need any, teasing him feels amazing, but it can't last, not for either of them. His hips automatically push up as she rids him of the tiresome garment, immediately sitting astride him, fingers touching, teasing, until she arches her back, sliding down onto him.

Unable to pretend she isn't there anymore, the sensation of abandonment completely overtaking him, he opens his eyes, staring up at her, hair writhing across her naked shoulders. His gaze flows over her, hands moving to rest on her hips as he observes, smooth skin flowing into small pert breasts, nipples hard against the air. Her tummy is taut, muscles contracting and relaxing over and over as she rocks her hips, eyes closing as she moans above him.

He begins thrusting up in time with her, her hands moving to his chest, pinning him as a slow, steady rhythm develops. Leaning forwards on him, she grinds, biting her lip, the sensation of skin against skin driving her mad, but it's not enough.

Her voice is a desperate whine, "God House," throwing herself down at him, tongue pushing into his mouth, dueling. His hands on her back, holding her tight, leg aching with every jolt, red hot fingers scorching her pale skin.

He gasps, coming hard inside her, howling her name like a curse. She whimpers, silently collapsing atop him, overjoyed, thankful, relieved, decimated. His fingers slip across her back, sweaty, feeling more alive than he has in years.


As the afterglow sets in he pushes her gently over, smiling as she reels, hooking her back against his side. As her eyes flutter open, he kisses her, prompting an immediate return to a closed state. Stubble scrapes her cheek as he pulls away, grabbing and downing a vicodin in one smooth motion.

He smiles at her, luminous in the witching hour air, "You're right. I like you."


Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed. Leave a review if you like. Also, I'm considering finding a beta for the stuff I post here, if any more experienced fic authors have any advice on whether this would be a good idea, it'd be much appreciated.