A/N-Thanks as always for all of the reviews, favorites and follows. I really appreciate each and every one. Thanks to all who commented on the last chapter here: BabalooBlue, KiwiClare, jaybe61, jkarr, JM, OldSFfan, the Guests, Little Greg, ikissedtheLaurie, IHeartHouseCuddy, LapizSilkwood, JLCH, Abby, lenasti16, Alex, HuddyGirl, freeasabird14, linda12344, CacauHousemaniaca, grouchysnarky, Suzieqlondon, hfspc, Boo's House, Mon Fogel, dmarchl21, karolprado.

-Washergate-

They'd had an alright evening so far. They often took turns planning their Friday nights because they liked to do different things. House chose a movie for later that night, and they sat at the bar, enjoying drinks while they waited for a table at the upscale place Cuddy had selected for dinner.

She toyed with her glass and he pushed around coarse crystals of salt that had fallen from someone's margarita, and they flirted like they'd just met, although it was obvious from their conversation that they knew each other quite well.

They sometimes talked about medicine on their dates, but rarely Princeton-Plainsboro, parenthood or issues of homeownership. They had never made a specific agreement to avoid those topics, but for some reason, it had always been implied. He was in the middle of telling her about a mysterious case when he saw the familiar twitch in her forehead that would accompany the careful placement of her hand over her lips when she'd try to stifle a yawn.

He thought about asking her if she was bored, but clearly that wasn't the case. She was tired. As delicious as the overpriced meal they were about to order would probably be, going home, finding a spot on the sofa and spending the night in a more intimate setting sounded infinitely more alluring. "This place sucks," he said suddenly, interrupting his own story.

"Because I picked it?"

"Because our place is empty and I'd rather spend the evening there."

"You want to go home?"

"You could come too."

"You're going to skip the movie?"

"Unless they want to show it in our living room…yes."

Just as she seemed on the verge of an argument, she shrugged, "Sounds great. Let's go."

The talk in the car on the way home became more suggestive, as it often did. They spent much of their lives as single people, and they each found themselves in a relationship with the subject of so many of their fantasies, so they still had equally intense appetites for each other.

They kissed as she stepped back into the kitchen at home, his hands busily moving against her body until she unexpectedly pulled back. He could see from the light on the porch that she had a look of confused disgust on her face, and he responded, "Not the look I was hoping to see at a moment like this."

"It feels gross."

"Oh good…the words that accompany the look."

"Not you. The doormat," she answered, pulling completely away from him and looking down at the floor.

House flicked on the light, revealing a kitchen covered in water that flowed from the adjacent laundry room.

"I forgot it was on!" Cuddy yelled, exasperated. "I put Rachel's clothes in to soak…she had paint all over them."

"You left here with it on?" he asked, proudly.

"Yea…I break my own rule and this is what happens." She confessed, "I never would have left it on intentionally. I forgot about it. I was in such a hurry to get her ready to go. It completely slipped my mind."

Cuddy stepped carefully through the kitchen, grabbing old towels from a linen closet while House looked at the broken seal on the washer. When he joined her in the kitchen, she was sopping up towel after towel of the mess. House stood along the edge of the room, pouring himself a drink.

"It would be really great if you could help me," she said after wringing the towels into the sink, taking his scotch from his hand and stealing a sip before returning to the floor.

"I'd love to, but you broke the rule about leaving the washer on when we aren't home. And with my leg, I'm not crawling around on a wet floor."

She watched him disappear into the garage and was ready to scream while she looked out at the mess in front of her. Her mind weighed the possibility of negotiating for his help while she began to seethe with irritation that he would leave her to clean up such a mess on her own. Something started rolling loudly across the floor and then she saw House peek around the corner, "You look extremely pissed off," he nodded, smirking.

"I'd like some help. That would be the nice thing to do."

He grabbed the edge of a hose and pulled until a wheeled object rolled in front of her.

"You can't vacuum water," she dryly answered, "but nice try."

Using his cane, he pointed to lettering, and read, "Wet-Dry Vac."

"You have one of those?"

"I do."

"Why would you have something like that?"

He plugged it in as he answered, "Ever have pipes burst?"

"No."

"I have."

House started to vacuum up the puddles while Cuddy finished drying the remaining damp spots that were left behind. Within an hour, they were finished. He was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, leaning against some cabinets and staring straight ahead. She piled her sopping wet clothes on the dryer and talked about hiring a repairman until she realized that House wasn't listening. He wasn't watching her either, and usually if she was naked or nearly naked in an area of the house where she would normally be clothed, she had his attention. She wondered if he was finally getting used to her, a fact that she wasn't sure she was happy about, and then she realized he was working on a problem.

"You don't want to get this one fixed?" she asked as she came over to take his shirt. It was wet after dumping buckets of water from the vacuum. After she put it with hers, she took a seat on the floor next to him.

"Hunh?"

"You want to buy a new washer?"

"Whatever you want," he answered with his thumbnail between his teeth.

"What's going on?"

"Just thinking about tonight."

"Next Friday will be better."

"Why aren't we married?" he asked as he faced her.

Her eyes widened, "We just…aren't."

"I get it if you wouldn't want to. I'm a risky choice."

"Not really."

"I am. And I find it unlikely that you'll be relaxing much any time soon…but yet…you forgot to turn off the washer before we left."

"A fact that you'll likely remind me of for the rest of our natural lives."

"It's significant. I like that you forgot. You were distracted from what you had to do because of something you wanted to do. "

"It's not the first time I've forgotten to do something."

"No, but the thing you wanted to do was go out with me. You ditch fun stuff all of the time because you're distracted by obligations, but tonight, you ditched the obligations for the fun stuff."

"I just forgot."

"Still. I was the reason for the forgetfulness."

"And this leads you to question the feasibility of marriage?"

"Not really the feasibility. We both know that it's possible…we could get married. We're better together. You can sometimes have fun. I can sometimes be responsible. I was just questioning the why-not of it all."

"There is no reason why we shouldn't. We just haven't."

"You've told me that people shouldn't get married because they feel they should. They shouldn't get married out of obligation. So if not out of obligation…why should we?"

"I haven't really thought about it."

"Ouch."

"Not because I don't want to. You just don't seem like the marrying kind. You did freak out when I asked you to move in with me."

"You think that I wouldn't want to find one women and make a commitment?"

"I didn't say that."

"After I got clean I set my sights on you and never turned away. I paid your ex tons of money to stakeout absolutely nothing…just for the chance to eat dinner with you. I challenged your ridiculous belief that we could be friends. You are why I initially learned to accept Rachel. It seems so normal now, trust me, she's one of my elite inner circle, but a kid was a pretty big change for me."

"It was. I just think you don't like change, and you like things as they are right now, so there's no reason to shake it up."

"I know what I want. I have it. Commitment's not about giving it up."

"So I'm like your takeout order or your evening drink? You've found one and want to stick with it?" she asked, amused. "Am I a…habit?"

"The withdrawal would be epic. And now you have proof that I actually do need to hit that daily."

Cuddy chuckled and leaned her head back against the cabinet as she thought. After a minute, she answered, with great consideration, "People should get married because they love each other. They want to tell each other, and everyone else, that they intend on spending their lives together. Instead of a month-to-month lease, they sign a lifetime contract."

"And the gifts."

"And the gifts," she confirmed. "We obviously need a washer."

"But then it isn't about what we need. It's about what we want."

"Yes."

"Of course, if it's about gifts, you could just give me a raise, which in some way gives you a raise. And then we could buy two or three washers. You wouldn't have to screw with all of the pesky commitment crap and the legion of donors, board members, department heads and family members who will ask why in the hell you're marrying me."

"Well…they aren't the ones getting married."

"It seems neither are we. Too bad, I'm sure we could use a set of etched glasses with 'Lisa and Lucas eternally' from your mother."

"She hasn't called you Lucas in months."

"Does that mean she likes me?"

"She likes you. She's just…Mom. She isn't the affectionate, lovey type, she never has been. I would think you'd appreciate that."

"She's not bad. She thinks you could do better."

"Almost all parents think their kids could do better. Your mom probably does."

"My mom's happy. I think she had visions of me, dying alone in a drugged out stupor. She gets to buy Rachel stuff. Her expectations were set at a different level than your mother's." When he saw a flash of sadness on Cuddy's face he asked, "You don't want my mom to approve?"

"I don't like the image…you dying alone in a drugged out stupor."

"Not my favorite either."

"Marry me," she said, clearly.

"Oh…I dunno," he answered lightly, covering her mouth with a subtle kiss.

His mouth barely moved against hers, grazing the sensitive skin of her lips with his. She was still a little stunned, uncertain if his rejection was a joke or a game. She could tell he was spinning the end of his cane in his lap. Initially she ignored his strange actions until she finally asked, "Why bring it up if you… What are you doing?"

He looked down toward his lap, but didn't answer. Her eyes followed to whatever he was looking at, eventually discovering the rubber stop from the bottom of his cane in his open hand. He picked up the cane and showed her the end of it, revealing a hollowed out space. She stared at it with confusion, so he explained, "After Tritter busted me, I found tons of places to hide pills. I had emergency stashes on top of my emergency stashes. My friendly neighborhood cane salesman had one like this. People use them to sneak stuff through security at shows or at the airport…anywhere that you need to bring in your favorite stuff and someone may try to take it."

"You're using again?"

"No. Well…not drugs. This is about my other habit." He held the end of the cane higher, revealing the edge of a small plastic bag tucked in the hollowed out space. "Take it. You can have it if you want it."

She pulled it out, hesitant to discover the contents. Inside the bag was a piece of black fabric. As she unrolled the fabric, something fell out and dropped onto her leg. Her eyes found it, but her brain didn't immediately comprehend what it was. Grasping the ring between her fingers, she lifted it, staring at the beautiful clarity of the diamond. It was sizable, but not gaudy, but it was probably the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen. "What is this?" she asked, still stunned.

"It's a ring."

"It's for me?"

"It was for me…but it didn't look right with my other jewelry. I figured I might as well give it to you so I don't waste it." She ignored the sarcasm as she thought, and he took it from her fingers, holding it up between them. He said, matter-of-factly, "I want to marry you. I guess the question is: do you want to marry me?"

She nodded once before she kissed him, happily lost in love and excitement for a moment before she pulled away, "You just had to have the last word? You couldn't let me ask?"

"Technically if I ask, and you say yes, then you do have the last word."

"Yes," she answered while he put it on. "It fits perfectly."

"Of course it does. I know everything about your body."

"You planned to do this tonight?"

"No. It wasn't a plan. I had it in case I needed it."

"Is this 'pick a date' serious?"

"I'll go tomorrow."

"Or we could compromise and pick a date tomorrow."

"That would work too," he answered while he let his hand begin an exploration of her body.

"Want to go to bed?"

"This floor is so clean you could eat off it," he said, looking at her suggestively while his hand slipped between her legs and pushed her panties to the side.

"The floor is…I need a shower."

His shoulder leaned against hers while he touched her, feeling the weight of her breast, tracing the shape and rigidity of her nipple once he talked her out of her bra. His finger bobbled along the shape of her ribs, grazing over her stomach and back down between her legs again. He watched everything he did, occasionally looking at her face to make sure she was watching too. He could still sometimes touch her like he had never known her before, like he was still marveling at an unfamiliar partner. But he had memorized her a hundred times and still liked to do it again.

"I think we should wait to have sex until we're married," he stated, attempting a look of innocence.

She laughed aloud for a second and answered, "I'm not sure how long I'd make it."

"We'd only have to be careful about resisting our wicked urges until tomorrow…if you agree to my date."

"Wait," she pulled his hand away from her body, "do you really want to get married that quickly?"

"We've decided. Why wait?"

"I won't elope. I just…I can't do that. I don't just want to hurry and get it over with. I want a wedding. But we'll do it soon. In the next couple of months."

He moved his hand away from her grasp and slipped his finger through the folds of her sex until he could press into her. "OK. I guess we're stuck messing around until then…or at least for the next two or three minutes until we decide that waiting is overrated," he answered before he started to patiently get her off with his hand.

She reached across their bodies, taking his cock out from his jeans. They were fooling around on the floor, not rushing to sex or falling into patterns like some partners who were too familiar, just slowly getting each other off while they shared kisses or stared at the beauty of the body before them. House smirked at her attempts to remain controlled, but as much as he was exploring her body like it was new, he knew what she liked, and he was a devoted student of her physical form. She stepped up her attention, proving to him that she knew his body just as well.

He watched her getting closer, trying not to come before he did. She was gasping into his mouth when she tried to kiss him because she was running out of control. "I was really hoping to fuck my new fiancée today," she sighed, shakily.

He pretended to consider it, but his attempt only lasted a second or two before he rolled her under him, wrapping her legs around his torso while they moved. "Hard to argue with that," he answered, like he was doing her a favor, before he thrust into her with one solid, smooth move of his hips.

They both gasped out loudly and exchanged a look for one final moment of guarded patience before they tossed patience to the side and screwed like there was no other choice in the matter. They were quick and almost furious in their passion, taking and claiming each other with every fiber of their being. Everything was so intense and the buildup so extensive that, as fantastic as everything felt, they really only lasted a few minutes before they were limp piles of sweaty limbs on the floor.

"You couldn't just say yes when I asked you?" Cuddy questioned, her tone happy and relaxed.

"You didn't show me a ring. I wasn't sure if you were serious," he teased.

"Really…how long have you had it?"

"A while. Since before we bought this place."

"You've been carrying it around in your cane just in case?"

"Carrying it around until the right moment."

She stared at it on her finger, "And sitting on the floor in our underwear after cleaning up from a broken washer is the right moment?"

"It would be easy to say yes if I flew you to some perfect destination, bought you a perfect dinner with a perfect bottle of wine and proposed on bended knee. If you want to marry me after a slightly disappointing date night, after we cleaned up a hideous mess that you were responsible for, while we're tired and sitting here in our underwear…then you really want to marry me. It's easy to say yes to some clichéd, rehearsed, nauseatingly romantic proposal. Life doesn't really exist in moments like those. These normal moments are what we're stuck with."

"What about the fact that this now seems really, really romantic?"

"Entirely accidental."