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House didn't come the next day. Cuddy told herself not to be disappointed, that it was only to be expected with House. He probably felt he had done too much yesterday, and was keeping away to show how detached he was.

Still. No matter how much she understood him, she still couldn't keep from missing him.

Cuddy felt a lot better. In fact, her fever had continued to drop, and by noon it was completely gone. So she busied herself with paperwork and TV and tried not think about the very screwed-up relationship she had with a very screwed-up man.

--

Wilson dropped by after work. "How are you?" he asked concernedly.

"Good," Cuddy replied. "A lot better than yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?" he asked, brows furrowing.

"I had a fever of 105," she said. "But it's gone now," she added hastily when she saw Wilson's eyes widen.

"A hundred and five?!" he exclaimed. "And you had nobody to take care of you?" He began to apologize profusely. "I'm so sorry, Cuddy, I should've come…it's just that I was insanely busy and didn't get home til—"

"It's okay!" Cuddy interrupted, laughing. "I was fine. House came by."

There was a stunned silence. "House?" Wilson repeated.

"Yes…"

"Gregory House? The self-proclaimed insensitive jerk?"

"Yes, Gregory House."

"And…what exactly did he do?" Wilson asked carefully.

"Oh, he just made sure I was okay. That I ate, and stuff like that," Cuddy said, watching Wilson's face closely. His expression went from surprise to disbelief to ill-concealed delight. "Wilson…" She said in a warning voice.

"I wasn't thinking anything!" he lied, badly. "And he hasn't come by today?"

"No," she said dejectedly.

To her surprise, Wilson was unfazed. "Give him time," he said confidently. "He won't be able to stay away for long."

--

Since House had heard from Wilson that Cuddy was doing a lot better, he consciously decided to not go to her house. Adding to his decision was the fact that Wilson looked suspiciously cheerful when he told him the news, and House guessed that Wilson found out that he had gone to Cuddy's yesterday. House hated conforming to other people's expectations.

So when he reached that intersection, he determinedly went straight through, back to his apartment. He wasn't aware that by not going to Cuddy's house, he was doing exactly what was expected.

With a bottle of scotch for company, House tried to rationalize to himself. He was afraid that he had been too considerate. She might get the wrong message.

Too considerate? Scoffed the Wilson-voice. God, it was annoying. You're not afraid that you had been too considerate! You're afraid that you are getting too close to her!

Shut up, Wilson-voice. One Wilson was bad enough. He didn't need another one inside his head. Anyways, a relationship with Cuddy would never work out. I'll just end up hurting her and pushing her away, like I did with Stacy.

Maybe Cuddy's more resilient than that. After all, she did put up with you for all these years, even through your worst moments. And there is one important difference between her situation and Stacy's.

And what is that, pray tell, oh Wilson-voice?

Stacy had Mark, who loved her. She wasn't alone. If you abandoned Cuddy…well, she has no one.

--

The following day was a Friday. Cuddy felt completely recovered. In fact, she was glorying in the fact that her sinuses were clear and her limbs were not sore. She was full of unspent energy. She had finished up her paperwork. Then she had sat and flipped through channels on TV, but nothing good was on.

She felt bored and restless. Maybe I should go back to the hospital. But it was the last day of her vacation, except for the weekend. Wilson would disapprove of her going in when she had recovered so recently.

She had no idea what to do with a free day. Work had been her life for so long that she felt lost when she had leisure time.

Oh, screw it. I'm going back to the hospital.

She had just finished getting dressed when a knock sounded on the door.

--

Wilson had been right. House couldn't keep away for more than one day. He found himself again on her street.

I am here because I am bored. He told the Wilson-voice.

All right. The Wilson-voice said nonchalantly.

No other reason!

Suuuure.

He knocked on her door.

--

"House!" She exclaimed. Boy, she looked happy to see him. Why?

"Hey," he said. "You've conquered the flu demon, then?" He could see that she had. Her cheeks were flushed with good health, and her eyes were sparkling.

"Yeah," she said. "I was just going back to the hospital."

He raised his eyebrows. "Why, when you've got a legitimate excuse to play hooky?" He smacked his forehead in mock realization. "Oh, wait, I forgot. You're Cuddy."

She blushed, but looked at him defiantly. "Whereas you are playing hooky with no excuse whatsoever."

"My case is solved. Besides, I had to make sure the Dean of Medicine is alive," he said, twirling his cane.

She sighed. "I wasn't going to go back to work at first—but I have nothing to do at home," she confessed.

"Really," he said. He had a strange look in his eyes, like when he just got an idea.

"What?" she asked warily.

"I could think of something we could do."

She rolled her eyes. "House, I told you, we are not going to have sex."

He looked shocked. "Cuddy! Get your mind out of the gutter! That wasn't what I was going to suggest at all! Although…I could adjust, since it's so evidently on your mind…"

"What were you going to say, then?" She interrupted.

"I was thinking of a grand tour of the city…on motorcycle," he gestured with a flourish, and pointed to his bike with his cane.

"I'm not getting on that deathtrap with you," she said flatly. However, her traitorous heart skipped at the thought.

He pressed a hand to his chest and pretended to look wounded. "You'll never be safer than with me." He had said it in a joking tone, but was surprised at how true the words came out.

Apparently, they had an effect on her too. She hesitated. "Okay." As she got on the bike behind him, she added, "If anything happens to us, you are fired." But she only said it for effect, because it was true that she had never felt safer.

--

They zoomed down the streets of Princeton in the New Jersey sunshine, and along the shining waters of Carnegie Lake, where the rowing club from the university was training.

Cuddy had her arms wrapped around House's waist, and her cheek against his back. He felt so wonderfully solid. The sun was warm against her face, and the wind felt refreshing after being cooped up for so long in her house. She has not felt this happy in a long time.

House always enjoyed rides on his motorcycle, because it was the only activity in which he could go fast and not worry about his leg. It was the only time that he didn't feel like a cripple. And he liked the feeling of having Cuddy with him.

They left the lake and went in the direction of the cemetery. Then they stopped. Cuddy saw that they were in front of the Ferry House. It was one of the best restaurants in the city.

"House?" she inquired as he got down from the bike.

"It's lunch time," he said. "And I'm hungry."

Cuddy hesitated. That didn't explain anything. If House was hungry, he could've just stopped at Burger King. He didn't have to take her to an expensive restaurant.

House sighed loudly. "Alright, Ms. I-Need-An-Explanation-For-Everything. I haven't had a decent meal in weeks, and I'm guessing neither have you. Takeout and cafeteria glop get old after a while, even for this unjaded palate o' mine. So I am coming here to eat actual food. Are you going to eat with me?" He looked at her questioningly.

He was taking her to lunch! She realized gleefully. In fact—he had been doing nice things for her all week, all of it under the disguise of him being a selfish bastard as usual.

"Are you kidding?" She smiled. "I'm starving." It was true—she was ravenous. Being ill took a lot out of you. She slid down from the bike and slipped a hand through his arm. He seemed startled for a second, but left her hand there.

--

They barely talked after they had sat down, for they were too busy demolishing the bread basket. When their entrees came, they polished off these, too, in record time.

Finally, their hunger was satisfied. They sat, sipping wine. House was avoiding her gaze.

"House?" She wanted to ask him why he took such care of her when she was sick, but wasn't sure how to put it.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you take care of me when I was sick?" Oh. Well, a direct approach would do it.

"Because I wanted a raise and sexual favors," he said without missing a beat, looking up at her with piercing blue eyes.

"That's what I thought," she said cheerfully. She didn't really expect him to confess his feelings—his actions were enough.

"Well?" he asked, eyebrows waggling.

"Well, what?"

"Am I going to get them?"

"No," she smiled.

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