The morning started off as violently as possible, with House leaning off the bed, vomiting into the bucket that he had always kept there since he had stopped going to work and been on this drinking bender. He was only thankful that he was able to pinpoint exactly where it was now so he didn't end up puking on the carpet. Again. He groaned, still leaning off the side of the bed, not ready to accept the fact that he was awake and was going to spend the entire day rotting around the apartment. House knew that Cuddy was saving his job, hopefully. Vogler had called him once or twice, which made House want to throw his phone from the third-story window. The last thing he wanted was to actually lose his job, though he felt like he already did. And having to report to Wilson, who was once his equal? Absolutely not. He could get into any hospital he wanted. Though, only if they were willing to look past the records upon records of malpractice that was against him.

Swearing under his breath to erase the thoughts in his head, he pushed himself up again, looking around the room. House swore he was going to puke again with how it felt like the room was spinning and how upset his stomach was. Every morning, he told himself he wouldn't drink as much as he did the night before, only to ignore his past self and cause his future self to suffer. Once he was able to see clearly, he forced himself to stand up, groaning again as he had to use the side table as support.

House thought this was just like any morning. Almost.

There was a clinging noise coming from his kitchen that caused him to stop in mid-yawn. He stood there, not daring to move, as he heard shuffling coming from the other side of the apartment. Oh god, what did he do? He couldn't remember. God, why did he drink so much?

Ripping the bandaid off, he left his room, fully expecting Wilson or Cuddy to be the ones making all the noise in his kitchen. House mentally kicked himself if that was what he was about to see. He was purposely ignoring them and didn't want anything to do with them until he decided enough time had passed or whenever they tried to beg for his forgiveness. Whatever comes first. So if they were here, then his plan was ruined. What he didn't expect was Stacy standing in the kitchen in his shirt, looking at him with a smile.

"' Morning," she said sweetly, the tone she always used around him that made him want to puke up his heart and give it to her. "How's that hangover?" This time, there was more of a teasing undertone that he loved.

"Uh…." He couldn't help but say, trying to find the words he wanted to say. Did he call her? No, he was sure he didn't have her number. "It's, uh…." He rubbed the side of his head, massaging the temple to help relieve the headache that was forming. "It's certainly a hangover." He watched cautiously as Stacy walked up to him, handing over a fresh cup of coffee. "My first thought was that we had sex…. You're still here, so unless you're actually overly clingy, or we didn't have sex."

"Only cuddling," she corrected before going back to the kitchen.

"Right…." He was wracking his brain trying to remember the events that led to this morning, but he was having issues recalling anything that would be useful. Surely, he'd remember cuddling with Stacy; hell, he would have remembered having sex with her. She was all she thought about, excluding Wilson, of course. "Did I call you or something?"

"Nope," she said, going back to whatever it was she had over the stove. "I thought you'd be happy that I'm here."

House's face turned red; she would be stupid if she didn't catch on that he had feelings for her. It wasn't like he hid it well; Wilson had to put up with hearing about everything he thought about Stacy. Did he have thoughts of having sex with her? Of course, he did. Why wouldn't he? She's hot. Did he recently have thoughts of having a more… domestic relationship? Strangely, yes. Something like this was close to something he daydreamed about. The two of them cooking together, teasing and kissing each other until they noticed that whatever they were cooking burned. House shook the thoughts of his past thoughts away, watching her.

"I am. I mean-… I just don't remember-"

"I was worried about you, okay?" Stacy said, sounding like he was ripping her own bandaid off, her eyes still locked on the pot in front of her as he continued to stir the food. "Is it a crime to check in on someone that I…." Stacy cut herself off with a huff, trying to focus on the food prep. "God, you make this difficult," she added under her breath, turning off the burner.

House tilted his head to the side a bit, confused what she was talking about. Did he do something? Or was it something on her end that was holding her up from saying what she wanted to say? So House just stood there, still groggy from the hangover and just waking up, waiting for her to finish her sentence. While waiting, he moved to the kitchen, opening the medicine cabinet to grab the bottle of Zofran he had lying around. The only way he could survive these hangovers from the past few mornings was from this miracle drug.

The kitchen was small, so being in such close proximity was almost intoxicating. She wanted to hold onto him and be held by him. Last night was something that she didn't quite imagine, but she was already missing it. Being in bed next to him, holding him while he slept the alcohol off. Whether or not he would admit to it happening, Stacy knew he was too proud to do that, but she knew the truth, and she couldn't help but smile a bit.

"You hog the bed, by the way," Stacy added, the smirk on her face, knowing that the statement would get underneath House's skin. He looked at her, a look that screamed I do not, shut up. That only made Stacy want to tease him more. "Don't look at me like that. You totally do."

"No, I don't."

"How would you know? Sounds like nobody stays around after you bring them home."

"I mean…." He shrugged. "You're right." He was silent for a moment, tapping his fingers against the cap of the medication. "You came over to see if I was okay… and still stayed even though I was drunk?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Stacy asked, moving closer to House until they were practically touching. She had to look up at him to meet his eyes. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't choke on vomit in your sleep."

House couldn't help but scoff at that.

"Yeah. Right."

"I'm still here, aren't I? Unless that bothers you?"

"No," House said a bit too quickly, causing Stacy to giggle. House's face scrunched up a little bit as he could feel his face turning red again. "I-"

He was cut off when Stacy reached up, resting her hands on his upper arms; he could feel his muscles tensing up out of habit. House hated physical contact unless, of course, it came from Stacy or Wilson and tolerated when Cuddy touched him. He put up with it with whoever had to touch him when he was having his one-night stands; thankfully, they all took the hint and left afterward, so he didn't have to deal with the unnecessary cuddling at the end.

"Did we really cuddle last night?" He couldn't help but ask, though Stacy had no reason to lie about something like that. "Or was that some lie to get me to let my guard down?"

Stacy rolled her eyes. Of course, he could try to turn this around where he could possibly be a victim or to see that somebody was out to get him or use him. She didn't have a reason to use him; she had feelings for him, that much was obvious by now that she couldn't even pretend to deny it by this point, she just wanted to be close to him and hope that he wanted the same thing.

"Why would I want that? You let your guard down around me, and as mean as this sounds, there's nothing I gain from this."

"Nothing, huh? Not even some lawyer… evidence… stuff?"

"Now, who sounds ridiculous? I'm a lawyer. Not a private investigator."

"… you're annoying."

"Look who's talking."

House couldn't help but just study her; the way she didn't move her hands from his biceps, not backing down from him studying her face. Most people would have looked away by now, uncomfortable from the silence and him staring at them. It was like she was doing the exact same thing to him, and he was loving every second of it. Nobody challenged him as much as Stacy did, almost like she stepped up to his level and only raised the bar for him to match it. Almost like what Wilson did, though Wilson had a cut-off point, Stacy didn't.

God, he was in love with her.

The silence staring contest came to an end when Stacy stood up on her toes, pressing her lips against his cheek in a quick kiss, from what House would only assume was a way to distract him. Nobody's ever kissed him on the cheek before, so saying that it caused him to freeze was an understatement. Stacy could feel his muscles tense up underneath her hands, causing her to giggle a bit, satisfied that she was able to catch House off guard.

"Breakfast is ready," she said quietly with a smile before moving away from him and going back to the stove, leaving House stunned and frozen into place. "Want some or not?" She called playfully, searching for bowls in the unorganized cabinets.

House let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding before opening one of the cabinets, taking out two bowls, moving so he was in front of the oven. He didn't have anyone who shared a bed with him stay at his place this long, and they certainly didn't make breakfast in the morning. It almost made House feel bad. He was drunk enough where Stacy felt the need to stay over and take care of him. It wasn't like he asked for this. Though, there was something tugging at his heart.

"Thanks…." He mumbled, putting oatmeal in her bowl before passing it towards her. "You didn't have to do this, y'know."

"Yeah." Stacy lightly poked his ribs which caused him to squirm in response. "I didn't have to stay over. I didn't have to make you breakfast. I did it anyways."

"It feels weird to have someone care about me," he joked dryly, leading Stacy to the living room, where they sat on the couch to eat. It wasn't the most romantic setting, but he didn't have a dining room table.

"Don't say that," she said, stirring the food in the bowl. "Wilson and Cuddy care about you."

House scoffed.

"Is that why you're really here?"

"I thought we had that back and forth. I came here because I was worried about you, is that a crime?"

Silence.

"You're not used to people outside of them caring for you," she said this as a fact and not a question, something that House picked up on quickly. "Your team is worried about you, too."

"They'll be fine."

"They need you."

With a huff, House put his bowl on the coffee table, no longer hungry as he pouted like a toddler. They didn't need him. Wilson and Cuddy didn't need him. Vogler certainly didn't need him, but he was able to throw his weight around and manipulate the board to force him to step down from his position. Basically, the choices were to step down or be fired. It should have been an easy choice, but it wasn't easy on his pride. This whole situation was messed up. This whole thing started with Vogler. If Cuddy hadn't struck that deal with him, then none of this would have happened to House. He'd still be in his position, happily hiding away from his clinic duties while making his team do all the work that he didn't want to do. House felt like he was back at square one in his career; at least when he first got his foot in the door, he was able to claw his way up to get to his position as a department head, now he had nothing to show for it, and he was drinking himself into killing his liver. Great.

"They don't-"

"Then you're an idiot."

"I'm not-"

"Stop."

For once, House kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to continue, but it seemed like Stacy was caught off guard by his silence. He always had something to say. Even when a situation didn't involve him, he had to put in just to hear himself talk. Stacy could only assume that he needed to hear something specific. Something that nobody had said to him before, and that made Stacy a bit nervous. She didn't want to say the wrong thing and get closed out again; from what she gathered, nobody else really got to see the real House for what he was. Well, besides Wilson and Cuddy. Those were the only people who 'got' him, it seemed like. Stacy wanted to be included in that group, though she would never admit it, fearing that House would purposely keep her at arm's length just to prove a point. Walking on eggshells was an understatement.

"You think you're alone, but you're not, okay?" Stacy started, using her 'lawyer' tone. "People care about you. You seem to think people only want something from you, but that's not true. Y'know, what that is? Your pride and inflated ego."

House frowned at her words, though they were making him think. Stacy wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Would he close her off, or would he keep this conversation going as they should? He needed to be an adult about this. Stacy didn't have to come over to his apartment last night to check up on him. She didn't have to say anything, make him breakfast, and give him a reality check.

God, she was good.

"I'm used to people being nice to me if they want something from me-"

"That's not the case with your team or Wilson or Cuddy, right?"

"Wilson and Cuddy? No. My team. I dunno. Maybe."

"What could they want from you?"

House was silent again before shrugging.

"I dunno! Recommendation letters?"

"You're grasping at nothing."

"Whatever."

"Don't shut me out, please." Stacy put the bowl on the table before taking his hands into her own, gently stroking the top of his hand with her thumbs to try to calm him down. She could see how tense he was getting again, yet he didn't pull away. "What could I possibly want from you?"

House looked down at their hands, not knowing where else to look.

Stacy was right. What could he think she wanted from him? She was the new lawyer that happened to be hot and had an interest in him after Vogler's stupid dinner party thing. They clicked instantly, that was for sure. It was something that never happened to House before; hell, even though Wilson was his best friend it took him months before telling Wilson his own name.

"House-"

"Greg," he mumbled, still not looking her in the eyes, his fingers fidgeting against her hands.

"What?"

"You can… call me Greg."

It was Stacy's turn to be stunned into silence. Did he mean that? The first thing that Cuddy told Stacy when she started working on all of House's lawsuits was that when addressing him that she couldn't call him Greg. Cuddy didn't have the answer as to why he hated being called by his first name, but she knew enough to warn her to not do it. So, hearing that he was giving her permission to call him that was a huge step.

"Are you sure…?" Stacy asked quietly, squeezing his hands a bit. It was a small gesture, but it meant so much to her. "You don't have to-"

"I trust you. I… care about you…." He mumbled, slightly squeezing her hands in return, yet he was still tense.

"Thank you."

Stacy didn't know what else to say but to thank him. This was amazing. Not only was this a great thing for their relationship, but a sign of trust and maturing in his own way.

"I…" House said before huffing in annoyance with himself. Why couldn't he just say what he wanted to say like everyone else seemed to be able to do? People threw their feelings around left and right while he struggled, only turning what he wanted to say into a joke. "Since we… talked… at Vogler's, I've had… like… feelings for you. Not like…" House forced himself to look up, meeting Stacy's eyes only to be greeted with warmth, patience, and understanding of his struggle. "…normal ones, I guess."

House mentally punched himself in the face. He knew what he wanted to say, but his mouth couldn't catch up with his emotions and his brain, only causing him to make a fool of himself. Goddammit. Why couldn't humans just be able to transmit their words telepathically instead of using stupid words?

"I like you a lot, more than the normal amount is what I'm trying to say," he tried again, but it still didn't seem to come out quite right. His face turned red when Stacy giggled a bit, squeezing his hands again. "Don't laugh at me," he whined.

"I'm not laughing at you!" Stacy said, a small smile on her face. "I swear, I'm not laughing at you, Greg," she paused, saying his name almost felt foreign, like a word that was forbidden to use. "It's sweet. You're really cute."

"God…."

"I'm serious…"

Stacy's hands gently pulled away from his, slowly moving up until her fingertips brushed against his cheeks. She looked into his eyes again, trying to find any trace of regret or feelings of discomfort. What she found was curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

"I like you too," she whispered.

Stacy took the opportunity to slowly close the space in between them, giving House many chances of moving away or telling her to stop, but none of that even crossed his mind. He wanted this. He's daydreamed about this for months, like a teenager with their first crush, and it only made him kick himself harder for acting so childish.

Surprisingly, House was the one who completely closed the space, pressing his lips against Stacy's, feeling her melt into him, leaning against him as she cupped his face in her hands. It was slow and it was soft, both giving the chance to pull away if they needed to, but they didn't. They wouldn't have dreamed of moving away from each other, not when they were close like this. House had been thinking about doing this again ever since Stacy kissed him in her office when he was having his meltdown and venting to her. It was just as amazing as the last time. House groaned in pleasure against her lips, his hands coming up, carefully placing them on her hips, bringing her in closer until he was lying on the couch with her against him, not once breaking away.

"God…." Stacy sighed once she pulled away, still only inches away from his face as she needed to catch her breath. "This isn't a mistake, is it?" She whispered, looking into his eyes again, hoping to find answers.

"Why would it be a mistake?"

He didn't like that question. He didn't want to this end. He didn't want this to stop. He wanted her to stay with him. Stay in his arms like this forever. That small scoff she let out only caused his heart to slam against his chest; a wave of anxiety rippled through him, the feeling of pins and needles back underneath his skin.

It's not a mistake. Please don't say this is a mistake.

"I'm the hospital's lawyer. You have the most cases I've ever seen."

"That doesn't mean anything."

Please, please, please.

"They may see this as a conflict of interest."

"It's not. Separate work from home."

"What are you trying to say?"

Stacy knew what he wanted to say; the way he was acting and the tone of his voice were obvious, but she needed to hear him say it.

"I…" House's words were trapped in his throat, his brain twisting and turning them into something unrecognizable. Just for once, couldn't he be normal? He had to try. "I… care… about you more than I do other people."

Stacy only looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate, which made him curse under his breath. He knew she knew what he was trying to say, but she was waiting to hear something specific.

"I have… feelings for you…."

"Do you? Or am I just going to be another fling?" The sudden seriousness in Stacy's tone caused him to flinch.

"Of course not!"

"'Cause I've heard the rumours."

He shook his head.

"No. You wouldn't be a fling, I swear."

"And if I said I had feelings for you? Then what would happen?"

"I'd like to take you out sometime."

Stacy hummed in response, hooking her arms around the back of his neck, searching his eyes for any doubt, but found nothing.

"I'd love that. On one condition."

"I don't think I'm gonna like the condition."

"Please come back to work."

House groaned, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. He had a strong feeling that's where the conversation was headed. How many phone calls and texts did he get about his well-being and if he was going back? Too many. The last thing he wanted this conversation to go was about work.

"I just need more time-"

"You've been gone long enough; getting drunk every night and rotting in bed during the day isn't going to help you. Please?"

House sighed. He had no idea how Stacy was able to wrap him around her finger, but whatever it was was working. All of those texts and phone calls were outdone by Stacy asking him sweetly to come back to work. It was going to be awkward for a while, though House was hoping that nobody else knew that he had gotten demoted, and they could go on like nothing ever happened.

"Fine."