A/N-Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter: Huddylovelover, JM, BabalooBlue, JLCH, jaybe61, linda12344, lenasti16, Robin, freeasabird14, ikissedtheLaurie, IHeartHouseCuddy, hfspc, Boo's House, Huddyphoric, Abby, HuddyGirl, Tamires, grouchysnarky, Alex, THE Nick' Amaral, CacauHousemaniaca, HuddyAleja, Paula, Suzieqlondon, LoveMyHouse, dmarchl21, and LapizSilkwood.

I don't expect this story to be of epic proportions, but I have the outlines written for 3 chapters after this. I'd like to cover some of the things that could have happened in a relationship between them if they were both willing to work on keeping it.

-Having-

House was awake for nearly an hour before Cuddy began to stir. For a long time, he stayed exactly where he was, allowing her to rest against him. Although so much of their relationship was defined by the ways that they clashed, they fit just as aptly. While she slept, his hands brushed the long stretch of her back, his fingers traced her arms and his leg followed hers as he tried to adjust to the feeling of having.

Having was different. He understood chasing, missing and desiring, those were familiar sensations. As satisfying as finally having was, it was also unsettling. It was change. His mind went immediately to whatever would happen next, unable to enjoy the sensation of having for very long before he began to wonder about the point when having would become losing.

Cuddy grabbed the hand that was on her back and pulled him around her. She was still mostly asleep, so when she mumbled his name and curled up closer, it seemed strangely natural. Once he was wrapped around her again, absorbing the way that she felt, he tightened his arms so he could hold on to the feeling of having her for a little longer.

Over the next two weeks, House began to consider ways to continue having what he wanted. He still hadn't really returned to his apartment. Most nights he would go to Cuddy's for a while, usually returning to Wilson's in the early hours of the morning to get dressed and go to work. Cuddy said she wanted to wait a few weeks before Rachel realized that House was staying the night. He usually got up when he heard Rachel begin to toss and turn over the monitor, but Cuddy never asked him to leave even a second earlier. Still, he disliked the pointless line that was drawn around five-thirty or six each morning.

One morning when he went back to Wilson's, Sam was standing in the kitchen making breakfast. House and Sam exchanged obviously unpleasant glances before he poured himself a cup of coffee. "We need to talk," she said while she flipped egg whites in the skillet.

"I told you, I won't have sex with you. So stop begging," House yelled so he could be heard in other rooms.

Sam snarled her lip and continued, "Greg, I'm not really a kid person."

"All of those children who are up for adoption just breathed a collective sigh of relief."

"And Lisa's little…girl."

"What about her?"

"After a long day, I don't like to have to hear children whining when I just want to relax."

"I'm not fond of hearing adults whine before seven am either-"

"Greg," she interrupted, "Lisa and Rachel don't live here."

"Technically neither do you. Rachel's been here three times. One of those times, we all left as soon as you got here." He mumbled additionally, "What a strange coincidence."

"Twice just this week."

"We stopped by, we're usually at Cuddy's anyway. So stop using the kid as an excuse to complain and say what you mean."

Sam turned off the burner and folded her hands politely. "James and I are getting remarried."

"What?"

"For now, we're moving in together. If we decide to live here, I think that's too many people in one apartment. If we decide to live somewhere else, this place will have to be sold. James isn't your frat boy anymore. He's all grown up. If you want to keep a woman like Lisa…" Sam sort of chuckled snottily at the end, "never mind. I'm telling you this to save James the heartache. He likes you, god knows why, and I think asking you to leave would hurt him more than it would hurt you. If you care about him, I think you should do the right thing so he doesn't have to go through with kicking you out."

Wilson came in the kitchen before House could answer Sam's request, "Oh, hey House." Wilson smirked knowingly, "How's Cuddy?"

"Fine," House answered quietly.

"Is…everything OK?"

"Yup," House replied after a four-second pause, "I'm going to work."

Wilson looked at Sam, questioning House's abrupt and quiet departure. "Is he OK? Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened," Sam answered innocently, "I think it's just hard for him to share you."

Driving to work that morning felt a lot like the night Cuddy had originally asked him to go out to dinner. Once again, it was as if he didn't have a home. He started to consider a return to his own apartment, but he hadn't truly lived there since he left Mayfield. His mind fell into a familiar pattern and began to look for all of the things that were going to go wrong. He started to picture the end with Cuddy, the loss of Wilson, and long nights in his apartment.

When he walked into the lobby, Cuddy was waiting for him, signaling him to her office. He closed the door and flopped into a chair in front of her desk. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Right, I'm sure."

"It's nothing. What do you need?"

"It's a bad time for you, don't worry about it," she said, sounding dejected.

He shifted forward to leave but his annoyance abated slightly, "Did you know Wilson and Sam are getting married?"

"No, I didn't hear that. When did Wilson tell you?"

"He didn't."

"So who told you?"

"Sam."

"Oh," Cuddy said, dragging out the word. She leaned back against the desk in front of his chair, "House, there's something you should know about Sam."

"She's a manipulative friend-eater who is trying to destroy Wilson one bite at a time?"

"Apparently you already knew," Cuddy teased. "Look, she would probably say that she's worried you'll sabotage their relationship or something like that. But when it comes down to it, she is jealous of your relationship with him."

"He won't even snuggle with me anymore, so what does she have to be jealous of?"

Cuddy grinned, "Poor House. Seriously though, Sam will destroy this relationship on her own without your help. Let her go. You will have Wilson long after Sam is gone. Just wait."

"Waiting sucks."

"If only you could find something or someone to help you pass the time."

He leered at her, feeling a little better but still a bit unsettled. "What did you want when you called me in here?"

"I needed a favor, I'll figure it out."

"What do you need?"

"Rachel is with my mother. But Mom has to run to Julia's tonight to watch her kids because my sister is sick. Mom offered to take Rachel along, but I don't really want her exposed to whatever they have."

"Are you asking me to babysit?"

"For about a half-hour until I get home. That's it."

"Sure."

"Well, that isn't the big part of the favor. You'd have to pick up Rachel at my mother's. I realize that I haven't exactly introduced you, and my mother is good at…provocation. So I'd ask that you try not to let her get to you and try to avoid any arguments. I'd go but I have one meeting to deal with this afternoon and then I don't have to work at all for the rest of the weekend. I could make it up to you."

"You would owe me?"

"If you prefer to say it that way."

"I really do prefer to say it that way."

He was getting ready to point out the inherent hypocrisy in the fact that Cuddy would allow him to pick up Rachel and take care of her, but he had to sneak out every morning before the kid saw him, when Cuddy said, "I thought maybe you'd like to bring a few of your things over. Maybe some clothes. I made a spot in my closet and you can have that tall a dresser. Don't feel pressured, I thought it would be nice if you could stay sometimes, if you wanted to."

"What about Rachel?"

"She can stay too."

His shoulders shook at her joke and he offered a bit of a smile, "I'll pick up Rachel at your mother's."

"You can take my car because of the car seat."

"You're alright with me driving your almost new luxury-mobile?"

"You think I'd be more worried about my car than my daughter?"

"How are you getting home?"

"I'll drive your car."

He closed his eyes, relishing the image with a devilish grin, "You are going to drive my Dynasty?"

"You don't trust me with your car?" she scoffed.

"Oh I do. I just want pictures of you in your perfectly professional suit and flawless hair, getting into that car and driving it home."

"Fine," she answered, walking back behind her desk and getting to work. "I'll email you directions to Mom's."

"I'll email you what I expect in repayment."

"Not to my work email."

She was looking for him to agree to the last thing she'd said, but she could tell he was deep in thought. And then she could see the exact moment when an answer dawned on him.

"Did you just solve your case?" she asked.

"Better. I need you at lunch."

She bit her lip, anticipating something sexual and exciting, and answered, "Yea, sounds good to me. As long as I'm back here by one-thirty."

She had been thinking about lunch since he mentioned it. They'd already enjoyed a few noontime trysts, and she certainly wasn't opposed to them. Sex with House was consistently amazing, and she wasn't about to deny the fact that she enjoyed it.

He drove them to his apartment. When they pulled up to the curb in front of his doorstep, she leaned toward him and asked, "Is there going to be some sort of costume I need to wear?"

"Not today."

They walked into his apartment. He looked around and allowed the memories he had of her there to surface, memories that were mostly born of hallucination. He wanted her there with him in a moment that was real. She slid her fingers down her neck, dragging them along her chest through her cleavage to the top button of her shirt. "What should I do?"

He stared out the window for a moment and said, "I want to give you something."

"OK," she answered, dropping her hands to her side when she realized the purpose of their meeting was serious.

He took her back to his bathroom and, with his hands on her shoulders, directed her to stand in the doorway. After disappearing for a moment, he returned with a screwdriver and walked to his mirror. He stared at his reflection while she waited behind him. Lifting the screwdriver, he angled it behind the mirror and used its leverage to pry it away from the wall. He could see Cuddy's confusion in the glass before he pulled it down and leaned it against the side of the tub. She peered around his shoulder and he stepped aside so she could come closer.

They looked at the exposed wall, at the hole dug there and the two bottles of Vicodin that were stashed with obvious premeditation. "That's the last of it," he commented.

She didn't try to grab the bottles, she slid her hand down his arm and laced her fingers with his. "Are you OK?"

"I'm very OK. If I wasn't, you wouldn't be seeing this."

He reached in, grabbed both bottles with his free hand and they walked over to the toilet. He lifted the lid, opening one bottle to hand to her, and then opening the second one for himself. They each held one, but he tilted his over the toilet to dump it, waiting for her to join him. She mirrored him, extending the bottle and waiting. "This has to be your choice, not mine," she cautioned.

"It is my choice."

He took one pill between his fingers and they both dropped the contents of the two orange bottles into the water. He held the last pill up in front of his eyes, looking at the shape, at the powdery texture of the outside, regarding the tablet like someone who was once very cherished that he had outgrown. He opened his thumb and forefinger and they watched while the pill spun as it fell into the water with the rest. Everything had been done with such precision and thought, each step carefully executed, but he suddenly reached out and pressed the lever to flush the pills out of his home.

"I didn't even know you had them," she said.

"I know. I don't have any more. Well, the hospital is full of them, but…that was my safety net."

"Why did you decide to get rid of them?"

"Because I could."

He waited while she processed, and there were a few moments where she considered everything that she had learned. She didn't seem to know what to say to him, but the acceptance on her face was all the response that he wanted, and they both seemed to know that nothing else needed to be said.

"While we're here, do you want to get a few things to bring over?" she offered, giving a response that was a symbol of the acceptance that was offered implicitly within an ordinary invitation.

Relief coursed through his veins when he realized that he had given her another peek into him, but he still hadn't lost what he wanted to keep. He answered as casually as he could given the way that he felt, "Yea, I'll grab some stuff. But we have an hour before we have to go back to work. Besides picking out an appropriately offensive tee shirt to wear to your mother's, can you think of anything you'd like to do while we have an hour all to ourselves, alone in my apartment?"