A/N: I know you all probably think I forgot about this, but fear not, for I have FINALLY finished this story. After starting this epilogue several times and going in different directions with each re-write, I finally settled on this. And it's a little bit different than what I imagined, but I think it works. It's focused heavily on Rachel, and there is a MASSIVE time jump, but I added in quite a bit of backstory to what has happened between the end of the last chapter and now. And I gave just enough information that if I wanted to, I could write tags to certain scenes (you lucky readers you).

Thank you all so much for the continued support and love throughout the duration of this story. I am so glad I decided to venture into the world of Huddy fanfiction, and I know this story will definitely not be my last.

Epilogue

Eighteen-year old Rachel Cuddy marched through the kitchen, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor and her arms folded across her chest as she glanced at the clock. She sighed, blowing a lock of her long brown hair out of her face as she realized the time.

They were going to be late of they didn't leave now.

She caught a glance of herself in the mirror that hung on the wall as she passed through the kitchen. Her normally straight hair had been curled for the evening, although the effort she had put into it was essentially useless—the humidity that often accompanied DC summers practically ensured that her curls would not last the night. Her makeup had been meticulously applied, though she did not need much. The thickness of her eyelashes required just a tad of mascara, and her green eyes shone brightest underneath shades that were more kin to earth tones than anything else.

A candy apple red stained lip—her signature color—polished off the look.

She smirked to herself when she spotted him in the living room, his nose in a book and his feet propped up on the coffee table.

"You're not ready," she stated, slamming the book shut. House jerked his hand away just in time, his eyes meeting hers as he glared at her.

"For the end of days?" he quipped, leaning back into the couch with a smirk on his face. "Can't say that I am. But then again, are any of us?"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"We were supposed to leave five minutes ago. Mom is going to be pissed if we're late."

"Your mother was supposed to come home and make sure that I made it out of the house on time. Since she failed to do her part, I don't see why I have to keep up my end of the bargain."

Rachel raised her eyebrows and cocked her hip out to the side in a very Lisa Cuddy fashion, and House groaned to himself.

"Mom is stuck at work, which I know you know, because you work at the same place. On the same floor, no less. And she didn't fail to do her part, she simply passed on the responsibility to me," she answered, holding her hand out to help him up. "So move your ass before you get the both of us in trouble."

House waited a few moments, then moved his leg off of the coffee table, taking Rachel's hand as he stood up.

"Haven't we had about a million parties for you already?" asked House as he slipped on his jacket. "I'm worried you're becoming a bit self-absorbed."

"We had one party when I graduated three months ago," she answered as she ushered him out the door. "And we're not going to a party, we're going to dinner," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders and smiling widely at him.

House shut the door behind him as they made their way down the steps.

"A dinner party," clarified House.

"Yes, a dinner party where we will be celebrating my upcoming departure for college and marveling over the fact that Mom has managed to put up with you for ten years now."

A small smile crept across House's lips, and Rachel sighed, mocking him as she placed a hand over her chest.

"You're growing soft in your old age," she said as she got into the car.

"There is nothing soft about me," he fired back. "Just ask your mom."

Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You're disgusting," said Rachel.

"Speaking of your mom," began House, a wicked grin on his face.

"Dear god please no—"

"I've made a list of all the times I've covered for you in the past couple of years, and I thought now would be a good time to go over it, make sure we don't get our signals crossed."

"Signals crossed?" asked Rachel, shifting in her seat as she turned towards him.

"Well yeah," said House, his eyes never leaving the road. "I wouldn't want to accidentally tell her about the time you stayed out until three in the morning when you were supposed to be spending the night at Emma's, or the time you skipped school to go see that art exhibit in New York, or the time you went to that concert and the only way you got in was because you had a fake ID."

"Okay, okay," said Rachel, lifting her hand up. "I get it. Just assume that she doesn't know about anything and we'll both be safe. Because face it, if she finds out about any of that, you're going to be in so much more trouble than I will be. I'm her kid, I'm supposed to lie to her. Besides, it's going to be a little hard to punish me if I'm hundreds of miles away, and you're, oh what's the word…not."

House paused as he pulled into the hospital parking lot, parking in the spot next to Cuddy's SUV. She had a good point.

He hated that she had a good point.

"Besides," said Rachel, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, "if you tell mom about anything you've filed away in that brain of yours, I'm going to be forced to tell her that you're the one who spilled that expensive wine on the carpet, not Grandma."

"Blackmail," said House as he put the car in park. He turned towards Rachel, who was smiling fondly at him. "I've taught you well."

They got out of the car, and Rachel walked over to where he stood.

"You have no idea," she answered, looping her arm through his as they began to walk towards the hospital doors.

The wand of her mascara was running through her lashes when she heard him barge through the door to her office. She smiled into the mirror as she set the applicator down on the bathroom sink and pursed her perfectly glossed lips, simultaneously running a hand through her slightly curled hair.

She heard him rest his cane against the wall to the bathroom, and she could feel his eyes on her from the doorway.

Lisa Cuddy leaned slightly forward, smirking to herself as she gave him a better view. Her dress was only half zipped, and she was sure that the black lace bra she had put on this morning was showing.

Her blue eyes widened as she felt his hands on her back. The zipper of her dress was suddenly being pulled down, the cold metal juxtaposing against the warmth of his hands. She bit down on her lower lip, straightening up as she slightly turned her head to face him.

"I think you're confusing up from down again," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and turning around in his arms. His hands fell to her hips, pulling her closer to him.

"I think you're confused about me being confused." He gently pushed her backwards, pausing when she collided with the sink. "I feel that my intentions were pretty clear."

She raised her eyebrows and then reached behind her, pulling the up the zipper to her dress. His face fell and she patted him apologetically on the shoulder before moving her hand to the base of his neck. She pulled him down towards her, pressing her lips to his in a slow, tantalizing kiss.

"We're going to be late," she said, pulling away from him and untangling her arms.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back, and she smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "We're already late."

Cuddy paused, her eyes darting around her office as if a sudden realization had hit her. She folded her arms across her chest and backed away from him.

"Aren't you missing someone?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

House shrugged.

"I let her go bother the interns," he answered. Cuddy rolled her eyes and walked out of her bathroom and back into her office. House followed as she walked over to her desk and began to rummage through her purse. "I think she's trying to convince the shy one to ask her to marry him."

"You know I hate it when you let her do that," she said, throwing her purse over her shoulder. She tried to hide the amused look on her face, but House caught the brief smirk that had escaped her lips.

"Let me do what?" asked Rachel as she bounced into Cuddy's office, her hair spilling over her shoulder. She turned towards House, smirking at him. "You owe me twenty bucks."

He scoffed.

"There is no way you managed to pull that off," he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Pull what off?" asked Cuddy, raising her eyebrows. Rachel winced at the tone in her mother's voice.

She decided to ignore it for the time being.

Rachel shoved her left hand towards House, beaming at him as she displayed the newest addition to her dainty hand.

There, on the fourth finger of her left hand, was a bright, cherry-red ring pop.

"We're to be married next June," she joked, her voice going up an octave higher than it usually was.

House shook his head.

"The bet did not include fake marriage proposals, let alone a fake ring. You lose."

"There were no stipulations to the bet," said Rachel, folding her arms over her chest. "Pay up."

"Sorry," said House, shrugging his shoulders. "I left all my money in my other wallet. You know, the one that doesn't actually exist."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and dug through her purse, pulling out a crisp twenty-dollar bill and handing it to her daughter. "Here," she said, ushering Rachel out the door. "We're late enough as it is."

Rachel shrugged, tucking the money into her designer clutch. She lifted the ring pop to her lips, sucking the flavor from it. House nodded curtly at her, and she smiled as she removed the candy from her mouth.

Cuddy sighed, shaking her head when she realized that this had been their plan all along.

House joined her at the door to her office, but she held out her arm, stopping him from going any further.

She took him by the hand, lifting up on her tiptoes and whispering into his ear:

"You're going to have to pay me back later."

"Okay," began Amelia, clapping her hands together excitedly—which of course, caused House to groan—" I think it's present time," she finished, looking at Rachel who sat across the table.

Cuddy sighed, shooting her friend a look. In the past three months, Amelia had managed to buy everything that Rachel could possibly need in a dorm room. "I told you to stop buying her things," said Cuddy.

Amelia rolled her eyes.

"I didn't buy it," she said, a wide smile on her face. "I made it."

"I tried to stop her," said Joey, placing a loving hand on her shoulder and smiling over at House and Cuddy.

"You did a great job!" said House sarcastically.

"Can I please just give her the present?" asked Amelia, exasperated. She looked over at Rachel, who was grinning excitedly at her. Amelia smiled—Rachel had aged beautifully over the years, but every once in a while, the four year old that captured her heart over a decade ago came out.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh, placing her hand on House's forearm as she lovingly rubbed it up and down. She knew this wasn't exactly his cup of tea, but Rachel was leaving for college in three days—this was probably the last time they would all be together like this for a long time.

Rachel took the bag from Amelia, her eyes widening as she pulled out the contents.

Inside the bag was a corkboard with pictures and mementos glued together, creating a collage of sorts. In the middle was a picture of her, House, Cuddy, Amelia and Joey at their wedding this past summer. Other pictures were scattered about, but they all connected in some way.

"It's beautiful," said Rachel, running her hand over the various pictures. Amelia and Joey smiled at her, and Rachel turned towards House and Cuddy, showing them the pictures. "I didn't even know you had all of these," she said, beaming.

The pictures varied in age; there was one of House and Rachel when she was about seven, and House was teaching her how to play chess.

"I think that ended with you throwing a bishop at him," said Cuddy, laughing.

House rolled his eyes and moved his hand to the back of his neck—she'd had good aim, even at the age of seven.

"I'm sure he deserved it," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders.

She'd eventually perfected the game, and nights during the summer, when she didn't have to worry about school the next morning, she and House would pop in a movie—usually some type of Tarantino film, or the occasional Hitchcock—and play chess into the wee hours of the morning while the movie played in the background.

It used to drive Cuddy mad—which, if they were honest, made the two of them want to do it more often than they did.

"I think this one is my favorite," said Amelia, pointing to one in the corner. It was the three of them on the night of Amelia and Joey's joint bachelor/bachelorette party. Rachel was holding on to both Cuddy and Amelia, who were more than just a little tipsy.

They were all laughing about something—none of them seemed to remember what it was.

"I can't believe you took that picture," she said, glaring at House. She'd decided to go drink for drink with House that night, momentarily forgetting that he was twice her size and had built up a steady tolerance.

He smirked at her.

"I saw an opportunity," he began, turning towards her, "and I capitalized on it."

"Is this from your honeymoon?" asked Rachel, pointing to a picture of House and Cuddy.

Cuddy nodded and House rolled his eyes—he hated the word "honeymoon." They didn't have a honeymoon, they went on a trip.

A trip that took them all over the states, where they went to concerts, toured national landmarks, stayed in lavish hotels and countryside inns. They had no real agenda, which made it all the more fun.

In the picture, House had his arm around Cuddy, and she had her hand on his chest, beaming into the camera. Her hair was curled more than usual, and she was wearing double the makeup she usually did.

Rachel looked closer at the picture, covering her mouth and letting out a slight gasp.

"Mom, are you wearing a leather mini skirt?" asked Rachel

"Yes she was," said House triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear.

Cuddy blushed.

"We were at a Rolling Stones concert," she said defensively, "I had to look the part."

House leaned over the table, his eyes moving towards Joey.

"You should have seen what was underneath," he said, just loud enough so that everyone could hear.

Cuddy swatted his arm disapprovingly but slightly amused, and everyone laughed, including Rachel.

After years of living with House, she was used to his colorful antics and frequent talk of her parent's sex life. Sometimes she would let him hang around when she had friends over, just to see the mortified looks that would come across their faces.

"Oh this one is cute," said Cuddy, pointing to a picture of Joey and Rachel.

It was a picture of Joey and Rachel at House and Cuddy's wedding. The picture itself was focused on an eight-year old Rachel, who was sitting on Joey's shoulders. But blurred in the background, you could make out two huddled figures sharing a kiss.

If you squinted hard enough, you could see the floor length white wedding dress that Cuddy had worn.

"If you two had gotten married earlier," began Rachel as she looked over at Joey and Amelia, "we might have been able to recreate that same adorable image."

"Don't look at me," said Joey, placing his hand on Amelia's shoulder, "she's the one who needed convincing."

After they had been dating for around three years, Joey had finally worked up the courage to ask her. It had been a spur of the moment type of deal, so he didn't have a ring. Which, given her response, was actually a good thing. She had responded by saying "At some point in time, I would love nothing more than to marry you. I will let you know when that time is."

Last winter she had come home and wordlessly taken his hand, letting him run his finger over her left ring finger. On the inside of her finger was an infinity tattoo. Her skin was still red and she had winced when he touched it, but she had a bright smile on her face and a hint of tears in her eyes.

He kissed her, told her he loved her, and taken her out to dinner. They'd ended the night at the very same tattoo parlor where she'd gotten hers done, and he let her hold his other hand as he got the tattoo—something he'd never let anyone do for him.

He'd given her an actual diamond ring on their one-year anniversary in June, which she wore around her neck.

"I did not need convincing," she stammered out, her hand toying with the ring around her neck. "I just wasn't sure I was ready for the whole marriage thing. It had nothing to do with you."

"Which suggests you needed convincing," said House

"Should we talk about how long it took the two of you to get married? It took you double the amount of time it took me."

"We knew each other longer than the two of you, it doesn't count," said House.

"A fact that only backs up my claim," Amelia retorted.

Joey and Cuddy looked exchanged knowing glances and rolled their eyes simultaneously. The five of them could rarely get through a meal without House and Amelia going head to head.

Rachel ignored them, turning her attention back to the pictures in front of her. She would smile or laugh as a memory came flooding back to her, and Cuddy placed her hand on her daughter's back, rubbing it lovingly.

"I hate to break up this little love fest," said Joey, clearing his throat, "but uh, I think Rachel has a visitor."

House and Amelia stopped their conversation, and Cuddy and Rachel looked up, Rachel's eyes widening. Her on-again-off again boyfriend Drew—who after graduation three months ago was suddenly off again—was standing in front of them.

They'd broken it off for good when he suddenly announced that he was going to stay in DC and go to Georgetown, while she was headed for Columbia in the fall.

They hadn't spoken since.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cuddy saw House clench his fist, and she raised her eyebrows and shook her head, silently begging him not to say a word.

"What are you doing here?" asked Rachel, after what was possibly the most uncomfortable silence of her entire life.

"Same thing you are," said Drew. Rachel gave him a blank stare. "Going away dinner with my family."

"But you're not really going anywhere, are you?" said Rachel snidely.

Drew shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.

"Can we talk outside?" he asked

"I'm busy," she said, taking a sip from her water glass. "Besides, we haven't spoken in three months. Why change all that now?"

Cuddy placed her hand on her daughter's forearm. "Rachel," she said quietly. "You should go."

"Mom," she hissed, her eyes pleading with her.

"You're leaving in three days," whispered Cuddy. "You're going to regret it if you don't at least go talk to him."

"She's right kid," said House. Cuddy and Rachel turned towards him, both of their eyebrows raised. House wasn't one to get involved with her personal life—that was more of Cuddy's territory. "But feel free to slap him if need be," he said, just loud enough so that Drew could hear.

Rachel let out a slight laugh and then sighed, getting out of her chair. She walked past him without saying a word.

Drew hung back awkwardly and then gave them all a slight wave. "It was nice seeing you all again," he muttered before walking away.

Once he was out of earshot, Amelia lifted her drink to her lips, smirking to herself.

"Damn," she said, setting the drink back on the table. "I forgot how cute that boy is."

After Rachel had been gone for about ten minutes, House and Cuddy migrated over to the bar while Joey and Amelia hung back at the table. Even though it was half full, Cuddy had insisted that her drink needed freshening up, claiming that the ice had "watered it down."

In reality, she wanted to be closer to the door to keep an eye on Rachel. House knew that, of course, but he let her think that he didn't.

He smirked to himself when she chose a seat that gave her a clear view of the pair outside.

Cuddy took small sips of her drink, her eyes darting to the door every thirty seconds or so.

She finally sighed and set her drink on top of the bar.

"Maybe I should do something," she said sadly. She furrowed her brow and turned her head towards House.

He shook his head.

"She's fine, let her handle it," said House, taking a sip of his drink.

Cuddy rolled her eyes, her voice growing louder and firmer with each syllable.

"He's yelling at her!" she exclaimed, pointing in their direction. House set his drink down and turned his head, sighing as their eyes met. "I can't just sit here and watch," she said, lowering her voice.

"She probably deserves it," said House with a slight chuckle. Cuddy glared at him. "If it bothers you that much don't look at them. Look at me instead."

House gestured to himself, smiling at her. Cuddy sighed, her face softening.

"You do look pretty good tonight," she said. "You wore the pink shirt." Her hand fell to his chest, tugging at it. "And you didn't shave," she said running her hand from his chest to his face, stroking his cheek gently.

He'd learned several years ago to keep his face at a decent looking level of scruff. He'd shaved his face entirely a few years back, and she had gotten irrationally upset. She refused to kiss him for three whole days.

"I told you I would learn eventually."

She smiled, her hand falling from his face to take his hand.

"Only took us about ten years," she said, smirking at him. "Thirty, if you want to go that far back."

"It's been a hell of a ride."

She smiled as she felt him squeeze her hand tighter.

"It's not over yet," she answered, their eyes locking. House picked up his drink and raised it to her.

"God I hope not," he answered. They clinked their glasses together and then took a sip, their eyes never leaving one another.

They set their drinks back on the bar, and then Cuddy pulled him by the hand, bringing him closer to her. She pressed her lips to his, leaning slightly forward in her seat. She ran her free hand across his cheek, tucking it behind his ear to grab on to the stray hair that lay at the base of his neck.

She regretfully pulled her lips away from his before they got too carried away.

"Just think," said House as he let go of her hand, "in three days we can have sex whenever we want whereverwe want, and we can stay up late playing strip chess."

"Don't we do that already?" asked Cuddy, furrowing her brow.

House paused, cocking his head to the side as he mulled over her question.

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head, "but at least now there is no chance of the little sea urchin walking in on us."

Cuddy scoffed at his unusual term of endearment.

"I'll drink to that," she said, clanking her glass with his once more.

"Uh oh," said House, setting his drink down and looking towards the door. "We got incoming."

"What's wrong?" asked Cuddy, her eyes moving in the same direction.

She saw Rachel walk back into the restaurant, with one arm folded across her chest and the other tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, staring at the floor as she walked. Cuddy sighed—it was her classic look of distress.

Cuddy saw her head for the bathroom, and she pushed her glass away and got up from her seat.

"I'm going to go make sure she's okay," she said, grabbing her purse.

House nodded and then got up, making his way back towards the table.

Cuddy took her time as she walked the few short steps that it took to get to the bathroom, trying to give Rachel enough time to compose herself and gather her thoughts.

She opened the door slowly, her face falling as she spotted Rachel sitting on the small couch in the waiting area by the sink. She locked the door behind her—as far as she could tell no one was waiting to use the bathroom, and even if they were, she didn't care.

Rachel was sitting back, arms folded across her chest as she angrily tapped her foot on the ground. Cuddy sighed—this wasn't going to be good.

"Everything okay?" asked Cuddy, sitting down next to her daughter.

"Peachy," muttered Rachel. Cuddy nodded, and leaned back into the couch, not wanting to push her—it was best to let Rachel do the talking in situations like this.

They were silent for about a minute when Rachel finally piped up, letting out a sigh.

"Mom?" she said sheepishly, turning her head towards Cuddy. "Do you think I'm a selfish person?"

"I think you're an eighteen year old girl who knows exactly what she wants."

"So that's a yes?" asked Rachel, sitting up straight and letting her mouth hang open slightly.

Cuddy shook her head, a slight smile on her face. "That's not what I said. Is that what Drew said?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders.

"Not exactly. I don't think he meant to imply it, but I'm not stupid, I know what he was trying to say. I've been bitching for three months to everyone about how he is the one who lied to me about school, and how he is solely responsible for the end of our relationship, but I don't know, maybe-maybe I just didn't want to admit the fact that I'm a little responsible too."

Rachel stared down at her folded hands, fiddling with them in her lap.

"Breakups are hard," said Cuddy. "And there are always two sides to them, and rarely is there ever one person at fault. Blaming the other person is more therapeutic than anything else."

"He hates New York," began Rachel, looking up. "I mean despises it, but he applied to Columbia anyway, simply because he knew that's where I wanted to go. And he never showed specific interest in a school, so I just assumed that he didn't care." She paused, biting down on her lower lip. "Apparently he did."

"You can't sacrifice where you want to go to school just to save your relationship. And neither can he."

"I know," said Rachel, nodding her head. "Breaking up was the right decision. But I spent this whole year thinking about going to Columbia and studying Art History, and the only people who entered my mind were people like Warhol and Monet and Renoir, and I just—"her voice trailed, and she looked up at Cuddy, who had placed a comforting hand on her knee. "I probably could have thought about Drew a little more."

"You'll know for next time," said Cuddy, giving her a smile.

Rachel rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"This is all your fault, you know," said Rachel jokingly. Cuddy scoffed, shaking her head. "You've surrounded me with all of these damaged adults. Of course I screwed up my relationship."

"Well honey, we tried the Leave it to Beaver route, but frankly it was a little boring," said Cuddy flatly. "And you didn't screw up your relationship, you're eighteen—it was doomed from the start."

Rachel let out a slight laugh and unfolded her arms.

"Mom?" she asked again, "what if there isn't a next time?" she asked, her voice timid and afraid.

"There will be several "next-times", trust me," said Cuddy. Rachel looked up, turning slightly to face Cuddy. "And who knows, maybe you'll go to college, have a one-night stand with someone, he'll get expelled and you won't talk for years, until one day you're his boss. And then some twenty odd years later, you're happily married."

Rachel sighed, scrunching her nose up. "God, I hope my life doesn't turn out to be as dramatic as yours."

Cuddy laughed, wrapping her arm around her. Rachel leaned in to her, letting her head rest on her shoulder as Cuddy lightly kissed her forehead.

"I hope so too," said Cuddy, her words laced with laughter but not void of truth.

A few hours later, Cuddy found herself sifting through Rachel's room. After they'd left the restaurant, Rachel had decided to stop by her friends Emma's house, who was also leaving for college relatively soon.

Rachel had given her a pleading look, and Cuddy caved, promising her daughter that she would finish boxing up some of her things while she was gone.

She'd gotten most of her clothes together when she spotted something sitting on Rachel's desk.

It was a mirror that she had painted a design over, and then taken a black permanent marker to it, her loopy and artistic handwriting written all over it. Cuddy smiled; Rachel had always been intelligent, graduating at the top of her class and attending an Ivy League University, but academics were never as important to her as art was.

She dreamed of working as a museum curator, or owning her own galley one day, and to a doctor, that outlook on life could be refreshing.

Cuddy glanced back at the mirror. It was titled:

Things I Have Learned from the Ridiculously Cool People In My Life:

1) Pumps say professional, stilettos say professional hooker. (be sure to keep your audience in mind!)

2) Know your limits. But don't be afraid to try and surpass them.

3) Needing someone doesn't make you weak.

4) Always wear your watch on your non-dominant hand. Spilling your drink to check the time is never fun (and it's always messy!)

5) Love is always worth the risk.

6) Whatever you're dying from, it probably isn't lupus.

7) Patience is sometimes necessary for the people you love. But don't be a doormat—find a balance.

8) Families come in all different shapes, sizes, and bloodlines.

9) It's important to see the world as it is and to see the world as it could be. But don't forget to peak into the grey area every once in a while.

10) Sometimes, people do change. And if you find the right person, the change is usually for the better.

Cuddy smiled as she wiped a stray tear from her eye. Sometimes, she couldn't believe how great a kid she and House managed to raise. Although judging from the mirror in her hand, Rachel had grown up with four parents, not two.

And Cuddy smiled again, because she could pinpoint who was responsible for each little saying.

She set the mirror back where she found it, and headed towards the door to her daughter's room. She paused at the doorway for a brief moment and took a deep breath before shutting off the light.

"Hey," said Cuddy, greeting House with a slight smile as she walked into their bedroom.

She removed the flimsy elastic that had been holding her hair up in a messy bun, shaking it out with her hand as she moved towards him on the bed.

"You okay?" he asked, noting the slightly pained expression on her face. He slipped off his glasses and cast the medical journal he had been reading to the side, and she smiled at him as she flopped down on the bed next to him.

"Yeah," she answered, moving a pillow out of the way and curling into his side. She let her head fall to the crook in his shoulder and draped her arm across his stomach, sighing contently. "I was just packing up some of Rachel's things."

"You didn't start crying, did you? Because I'm gonna be honest here, I might start thinking a little less of you if turn into a sentimental sap," he joked.

She swatted his arm, letting out a slight laugh.

"We did okay, don't you think?" she asked, lifting her head up to look him in the eyes. "I mean she got into a good school, she's not a serial killer or anything like that, so we must have done a few things right."

"Her not being a serial killer is definitely a plus," answered House. He began to run his hand up and down her arm, and she wrapped her arm tighter around him, nuzzling into his neck.

She kept her cheek rested on his chest as her finger began to play with the imaginary frays of his t-shirt.

"And you're…happy, right?" she asked, pausing all movements.

House looked down at her, his hand stopping to tug at her elbow.

"Where is all of this coming from?" he asked, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

"Nowhere," said Cuddy, shaking her head slightly. "I was just thinking too much."

"You know I hate it when you do that," he joked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She let out a slight laugh and buried her face into his shirt, breathing him in. He moved his hand back to her arm, pulling her closer. "Cuddy," he said, drawing her attention back to him.

"Hmm," she murmured into him, closing her eyes.

"You are the only person I want to play strip chess with, if that answers your question."

Cuddy's eyes fluttered open and she lifted herself up, moving her hand from the center of his chest to his shoulder as she arched herself on top of him. "I am so glad to hear it," she said, beaming down at him.

He smiled and she pressed her lips to his as she placed her leg between his, hovering over him. He ran his hand underneath her shirt and she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.

They both moaned when they heard a knock on their door.

"Are you guys being gross?" called Rachel from the other side of the door.

Cuddy, sighed, moving off of him. He reached out, trying to pull her back, but she swatted him away.

"Trying to be," said House out of frustration.

"Well could you stop for like five minutes? I have to ask you something."

She didn't wait for a response, choosing instead to open the door.

"Please, come on in," said House sarcastically.

Cuddy shot him a glare.

"I thought you were staying with Emma tonight?" asked Cuddy.

Rachel shrugged.

"I was going to, but she still has a lot of packing to do, and you know, I'm leaving in three days and I just…well I found that old Woody Allen movie that Mom likes, you know the one where Owen Wilson goes to Paris and somehow travels back to the 1920's? And I still haven't packed up my chess board yet, so I thought that maybe we could all just, I don't know, hang out or whatever."

"Sounds good," said House, pulling Cuddy back towards him. "Give us half an hour," he said, now halfway on top of her as his head fell to the space between her neck and shoulder.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh, pushing him away and squirming out of his gasp. She got off the bed and walked towards where Rachel stood.

House grudgingly followed, frustrated by the sudden change in plans. But then he saw Rachel let out a smile as Cuddy passed her, and the feeling quickly passed.

And he watched as Cuddy turned her head over her shoulder, pausing at the doorway before pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and smiling widely at him.

He walked past them, his hand catching Cuddy's elbow as he said:

"I'll make the popcorn."

A/N: Oh goodness, I hope you had some pancakes to soak up some of the sap I've thrown at you. Leave a review on the way out (it's you last chance!), and again, thank you so much for reading this story. It was certainly a highlight of my year.

-Alison