They had put Rachel to bed and John Coltrane was playing softly on the stereo.
"Alone at last," House said, swirling his wine in his glass and leaning back in his chair contentedly.
Cuddy slid a wrapped box across the table at him and gave a sneaky smile.
"What's this?" House said, looking at it skeptically.
"What does it look like?"
"It looks like a Valentine's Day present. But I know it can't be a Valentine's Day present because you're a grown woman, secure in her relationship, who would never partake in such a mundane, commercialized declaration of love."
"Oh, try me," she said, still smiling. She had expected this.
He hesitated.
"I have a bad feeling about this," he said.
"Just open the damn gift, House. It's not going to bite you. But open the card first."
He frowned, opened the card. Read it:
House-
I promise not to tell anyone what a sweet boyfriend you are—unless you really piss me off.
Love,
C
"Part love letter. Part blackmail. Impressive work, Cuddy."
"I thought you'd like that."
She beamed at him.
"Now open the gift."
He shook the box.
"It's not a Whitman's Sampler," he said.
"True."
He unwrapped it. It was a harmonica, shiny, lean, and smooth—like a silver musical bullet.
House stared at it for a second, traced his finger over the mouthpiece, and, despite himself, gave a low whistle.
"A Hohner Super 64 Chromatica," he said.
"You like?"
"I like a lot," he said evenly.
"And yet you're not smiling."
"Because this is a trap," he said.
"A trap?" she said, wrinkling her nose. "It looks more like a harmonica to me."
"Because I'm not a Valentine's Day kinda guy. You know I'm not a Valentine's Day kinda guy. And yet you buy me this gift—this very thoughtful, very expensive gift—"
"It wasn't that expensive," Cuddy interrupted.
"—thus making me look like a chump and sending a clear message to me that ignoring you on Valentine's Day is NOT acceptable behavior now or in the future."
"You got all that from a harmonica, huh?"
"Yeah. It was practically engraved into the silver."
"Well read closer, House, because what it really says: I know my boyfriend wouldn't dare stoop so low as to celebrate Valentine's Day like the rest of us mere mortals but sometimes you just want a give a little present to the man you love."
She rested her hand in her chin and looked at him triumphantly.
"Well, when you put it like that. . ." he said.
He leaned across the table and kissed her.
"Thank you."
"You're not getting off that easy," she said. "Play something for me."
He sighed.
"Okay."
He removed the harmonica from the velvet cloth it was resting on in the box.
Played a few blues chords.
"My baby's got blue eyes," he sang.
Played a few more chords.
"I want to be between her thighs."
"You're such a romantic, House," Cuddy said, shaking her head at him.
"Our relationship is sacred."
He played again.
"Especially when we're both naked."
"Not since William Shakespeare has one man expressed notions of love so eloquently," she said.
"Some women got diamonds and rubies."
"My baby's got great boobies?" Cuddy offered.
He laughed.
"Bingo," he said.
He put the harmonica down, leaned forward and kissed her again, pulling her closer.
"C'mon Cuddy, let's go play hide the mouth harp."
######
He whispered all sorts of sweet nothings in her ear that night and Cuddy thought it was possible he felt guilty about not buying her a gift—not that she'd ever expected one.
Afterward, he stretched luxuriously.
"I'm famished," he said.
"Famished? You ate, like, half a chicken for dinner."
"I can't help it if you wear me out, woman."
"I don't have anything to eat—unless you want a bowl of Rachel's Rice Crispies."
"Sounds perfect," he said.
There was a long, expectant pause.
"And you think I'm going to serve you in bed, your Royal Highness?" she said.
"Well, I thought since it was Valentine's Day and you were feeling all mushy and all. . ."
"Oh, so suddenly you celebrate Valentine's Day."
"Nevermind, I'll get my own cereal," House said. "Next you ladies are going to demand the right to vote."
He started to get up.
"Stay put," she said, patting him tolerantly on the shoulder. "But only because my legs hurt right now. I can only imagine how yours must feel."
She padded into the kitchen. Got a bowl, some milk, the cereal.
The box was very light. She made a mental note to add it to her grocery list.
She poured the remaining contents of the Rice Crispies into the bowl.
A small, robin's egg blue box with a white ribbon dropped out.
She looked at it for a long time. Bit her lip.
"What's that?" House said. He had come up behind her—put his arms around her waist.
"A tiny box," she said, somewhat sheepishly.
"Hmmm, what kind of tiny box?"
"A jewelry box."
"Huh," House said, kissing the back of her neck. "Could it be from your caring, considerate boyfriend who would never, ever be dumb enough to forget you on Valentine's Day?"
She turned to look at him.
"You shithead," she said, hitting him on the chest. "I really thought you didn't get me anything."
He smiled at her.
"Open it."
She opened the box. It was a beautiful heart-shaped pendant on a white gold chain, encrusted in diamonds.
"Turn it over," House said.
It had an engraving.
She read it out loud, blinking back a tear:
"I lobe you."