House flopped down on the couch, completely exhausted. He stunk of grit and dirt and sweat, and looked like he'd been dragged through a dust cloud - which, let's face it, he had been. On top of the physical frustration and pain, his thigh throbbing exceedingly painfully, there was the emotional stress as well.

Now, House was not the kind of person to put the words 'emotional' and 'stress' in the same sentence, unless that same sentence or one leading on from it happened to be mocking someone. So, it came as a great surprise to himself when those were the words that jumped to his mind to summarise the last twenty four hours.

However, that was nothing compared to the stress of getting Cuddy out of the hospital, into the car, and then into her house.

Dear God, it was utterly chaotic.

They left the hospital early, at around seven thirty. Well, Cuddy was discharged at seven thirty, was dressed by eight, and out the door by eight fifteen - though not without her nervous assistant doing a Starbucks run first. The poor women had obviously been trying to not look at either of the senior doctors in front of her - one covered in obvious cuts and bruises and the other shooting a death glare to not mention the cuts and bruises. She'd scurried off at 100mph as soon as she'd delivered the drinks.

House was grateful for the coffee delivery, though. Injured or not, Cuddy was unbearable without her caffeine fix. As soon as her skinny latte was delivered and consumed, she was in a significantly cheerier mood - even finding the energy to make a snide remark. House felt a weight lift when she did that, she evidently had her brain working properly.

Not that he was going to admit this to anyone, but he had worried - briefly - that her spontaneous declaration of love wasn't necessarily prepositioned by her own wants and needs, but by lumps of grit and rock falling on her head. Of course, no matter what even preceded it, the feelings were there... It was just whether she was in the right mind when she chose to share them.

Fortunately, she seemed fine. He was checking her pupils every hour, and had nicked a blood pressure machine and was going to continue checking her vitals religiously until he was satisfied that she was completely fine. Partly, it was because he cared for her - he guessed - but also, how was he supposed to show off to Lucas if she wasn't there? Well, that was the reason he gave himself. The thing was, not even he believed it.

Wilson had come down to say goodbye and check on Cuddy before they left. He raised a significant eyebrow when he saw House carrying Rachel close to his body, her little pajama-ed arms wrapped around his neck and head on his shoulder. He had no desire to deal with the spawn, but since Cuddy was practically catatonic with one arm out of use he decided to be nice. Ergo, the child was currently moulded to his body. And he had to admit that she was doing an excellent job of keeping him warm, although the constant snuffling in his ear was getting annoying.

But he knew that waking her up would result in Rachel wailing, Cuddy crying, and House having a sense of humour failure, so he suffered through, and made it out alive. Just.

Then the drive home had been stressful too. Getting Cuddy in the car had been a feat to start with. Her prescription was for heavy pain meds and a week of rest - though House had no doubt that she would end up resting for a day and then starting on the mountain of paperwork she surely had to complete. But anyway, she was tired beyond belief and very cranky, much like the baby who'd spent the night crushed in a preemie cot and the other baby who's thigh was killing him and was grumpy to start with.

You've got two technical cripples and a baby all trying to get in a car with minimum damage... And failing miserably. House was helping Cuddy, when Rachel's foot accidentally connected with his thigh. He swore very loudly, Cuddy turned and whacked her shoulder, burst into tears, like the baby.

House was this close to crying himself.

But he managed to calm down enough to put some order into things, and page Wilson.

So... One grumpy cripple, another crying cripple, wailing baby and a bemused and frightened oncologist later, everyone was belted in and relatively dry eyed. Biding goodbye to Wilson, House started the ignition and began driving out of the parking lot. Here's how that endeavour went:

"Turn left."

"I know."

"You missed the turn!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Okay okay, you want me to turn around?"

"Yes."

"But the real turn is coming up."

"No, you already missed it."

"No, I did not."

"You did!" She begins to cry, again.

"Okay okay, I'm turning."

She seemed satisfied with that answer, until she realised that he was lying through his teeth and had no intention of turning around at all.

"House!"

"Cuddy!"

"If you're going to my house - "

"Then you take this turn."

Both of them stared up at the road sign which indeed was the right turn down to Cuddy's house. House looked smug, as always, while Cuddy merely huffed. She hated to be wrong, let alone wrong to House. She loved House - it felt nice to finally say that - but he was frustrating at the best of times... Especially so when Cuddy really needed a win.

She didn't want to sound ungrateful - she knew that she could have died, that one of the guys in the same predicament as her had - but she'd had a crazy twenty four hours.

Losing Lucas... She knew she'd made the right choice by ending that relationship. She knew that in the long run, she couldn't have lived the rest of her life without even finding out what her life with House would have been like.

It might be horrible. It might be full of conflict, might be a nightmare... But she had to know. It's better to regret doing something than to regret not doing it.

But still... Life with Lucas may have bored her and the prospect of retiring early and moving to Florida may have made her want to run a thousand miles in the opposite direction, but...it would have been nice. Rachel would have had a father figure who was normal, and Cuddy would have had someone to depend on.

She wasn't sure if she could depend on House in the way she might need to.

It took them another ten minutes of bickering to pull up outside her house, and another ten to get inside. (The Rachel/House/Cuddy logistics problem was still very much there.)

As soon as they crossed the threshold and entered the house, House said : "what do you need me to do?"

And then there was an unfamiliar glimmer of hope that everything might be okay. Cuddy was touched by his sympathy. "I need you to put Rachel in her cot," she replied slowly, still amazed and in shock that he actually asked how he could help.

But, typically, she noticed the look he gave to the half asleep baby currently on his shoulder. Apparently, that was not something he'd hoped her to answer with. "Uh..." He wavered.

"House," Cuddy said, in a voice she wouldn't normally use that sounded a lot like begging, "please?"

He could see the weariness, the pain and the vulnerability displayed in her eyes, so he nodded. "Okay," he said softly, hoisting Rachel up into a more comfortable position on his shoulder for carrying. He took a few cane-less steps - his was resting against the chair - before turning to look back at Cuddy. "Go," he said quietly, gesturing to the bedroom with his head.

She frowned. "Go where?"

"Bed," he answered, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Oh." Yes, bed. Rest, medication, and glorious glorious sleep... "Yes," she said dreamily. "Bed."

House just had to listen to her monosyllabic answers to know that if her body didn't hit a mattress soon she was going to collapse. "I'll be in in a minute," he told her, before limp sprinting down to the nursery.

He burst in through the door, preparing just to throw - well, not throw, but put down quickly - the kid in the cot, but instead he found himself captivated by the room.

The last time he'd been in here was about a year and a half ago, when he'd been inconvenienced by Cuddy because he'd inconvenienced her to start with. He smiled weakly at that memory. It was just so them to do that, to fight and bicker until neither of them could even remember what the original fight was about.

He didn't want that to change.

House was change averse, he despised change. It hit him suddenly. He was going to be doing the boss. He was going to be dating the boss... He hadn't even thought about how this was going to affect work.

Then again, if there was no change then he wouldn't be standing here right now, in this moment, with these people.

One day, one room.

He put Rachel down, easing her onto the mattress so as not to wake her. The last thing he needed was a crying baby, again.

Fortunately, she went down without even the hint of a fight, just twisted and snuffled until she was comfortable. To be fair, it had been a long day for her too.

House limped back down the hallway, closing the door quietly behind him then making his way into Cuddy's bedroom.

Oh Lord. Cuddy's bedroom.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened the door.

And the sight he was met with softened his gaze. She was sleeping on her back, arm still in the awkward sling, with her head turned to the side. She looked peaceful and content, but also...there. She was there, he was there... And he was pretty freaking tired.

So he carefully picked his way across the room and lay down, careful again not to touch her, wake her. But instead, as soon as the weight of his body lowered the mattress, she shuffled over, half asleep and placed her head on his chest, as if it was second nature.

He smiled. He could get used to this.