So I kinda thought this was unnecessary, but a few friends—especially Maya and Yael—convinced me people might like it.

Somehow, the Horizon House ladies had finessed it so that they were lounging around in the living room while the guys were doing the dishes.

House was supposed to be on drying duty, but he had been holding one dish and a towel in his hand for a very long time as he watched Cuddy laughing with her new friends.

"How bout more drying, less ogling there, soldier," Barry said, with a grin.

House looked at him. Busted.

"Just making sure this dish was bone dry. I am nothing if not dedicated to the lost art of dish drying."

Barry shook his head. Took the (still water-spotted) dish out of House's hand, handed him a glass.

"Try harder," he said.

House began drying the glass, still not taking his eyes off Cuddy. Somebody was offering her more wine. She said no at first, then wrinkled her nose and held her thumb and forefinger together to suggest she'd take just a splash.

House smiled to himself, then stopped when he noticed Barry eyeballing him.

"I'm drying! I'm drying!" he said. Then he added, "I've been meaning to ask you: How'd you do it, anyway? How'd you get her to agree to come to dinner?"

"I didn't do anything," Barry said. "She called me and asked if there was room at the table."

"Really?" House said. He had been dutifully drying, but now stopped, trying to process this piece of news.

Finally, in mock disgust, Barry took the glass from him.

"Just go over there, Doc. You're totally useless."

"Sweet," House said—and limped into the living room.

He approached Cuddy from behind the couch.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" he asked.

She looked up, momentarily startled.

"Sure," she said.

He cocked his head toward the stairs. "Up in my room?"
She hesitated, looked at her watch. "I. . . should be going actually. Why don't you walk me to my car?"

"Okay," he said, disappointed. He had been thinking about getting her naked all night. Oh well, Cuddy wasn't conquered in a day.

They walked to her car.

"What did you want to talk about?" Cuddy asked, not that there was much mystery.

"Why you came tonight," he said. "Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you did. But. . . two nights ago, you could barely muster the energy to care whether I lived or died—"

"I never said that," she interrupted.

"Hyperbole to make a point," he said. "It's a known rhetorical device. . . Anyway, tonight you're suddenly having dinner with me. I mean, I hope this was about me. Barry doesn't strike me as your type."

"Don't sleep on Barry—Barry's hot," she said, smiling. "But yes, I came for you."

"So what changed your mind?"

"To be honest, Rachel changed my mind."

"Rachel?"

"She's been asking about you."

"I knew I loved that kid," House said.

"And she loves you too. But this wasn't about you. Not really. It was about me. . ."

"About you?"

"Rachel misses her mother."

"I don't understand," House said. "You're right here."

"The truth is, I haven't been truly present in a long time. Certainly not since you died—the first time. And maybe even before that. Since you crashed through my dining room . .. I've been a little. . . depressed. Or at least not fully myself. And she picked on up that."

"I'm sorry."

"She also picked up on the fact that I was finally happy again those last few weeks when I was getting close to Doc. That is, before I found out that you were big fat faker."

"Whoops," said House.

"And the common denominator, I realized, is that you make me happy, House. Whether you' re Doc or whether you're—"

On impulse, he caught her mouth in a kiss. He couldn't help himself. Seeing her lips utter the phrase, "You make me happy" was like an aphrodisiac to him.

She kissed him back for a second—long enough for them to start feeling that familiar ache—then backed up.

"What was that for?" she said .

"Nothing," he said. "I'm sorry. I just . . . really needed to do that. You were saying?"

She laughed.

"Lost my train of thought. . ."

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"So. . . can I call you?"

"I'm afraid not," she said.

He looked crushed.

"I blocked your number, dummy. Remember?"

He smiled, relieved. "I'll buy a new phone," he said. "A fleet of new phones." Then he said, nervously: "Actually, I'm getting together with a bunch of the Applied Physics Lab guys Friday night. . .they may seem like a bunch of wonky egg-heads who haven't seen the sun since 1984—and that's because they are. But they're a nice enough bunch. And they always buy the first round."

Cuddy nodded.

"I'd like that," she said.

"7 o clock? I'll pick you up?"

"Pick me up? With what?"

"Bertha!" House said, happily.

"What, pray tell, is Bertha?"

"She is." He gestured to a large, banged up motorcycle that was leaning against the garage. (It was leaning because it had no kickstand.)

"You've got to be kidding? Where'd you get that pile of scrap metal?"

"Craig's List. And I'll have you know, she's a classic."

"If by classic you mean—"

"Old," he finished. "Yeah. But she runs pretty well. . . once she agrees to start."

"How'd you even get a license, House? Do you even officially exist?"

"I know a guy," House said, with a shrug.

She shook her head, marveling at him. He always knew a guy.

"Tempting as it is, how bout I pick you up?"

"I think I'm secure enough in my masculinity to allow that," House said.

"Good," she said.

"Since that will officially be our first date as the new, improved House and Cuddy I was just wondering: Are we adhering to the dreaded 3-date rule?" House said. "Cause, I'm not gonna lie, that's gonna be rough. Especially if you keep wearing outfits like the one you're wearing tonight." He gave her a lascivious once-over.

"I'm wearing a tee-shirt and jeans," she protested, looking down.

"Exactly!" he said.

"We'll see," she said, not able to suppress a smile.

"Goodnight Cuddy," he said, smiling.

"Goodnight House."

He leaned down, gave her a hug.

From inside, the denizens of Horizon House were watching through a window.

Barry, who had the best view, was giving the blow by blow.

"Now he's hugging her goodbye," he said.

There were a few approving murmurs.

"Now they're kissing again!" Barry said. "Now he's got her pinned up against the car. . . it's getting kind of R-rated out there, that dog. . ."

Suddenly, the old military man in Barry took over:

"Disperse! Disperse! Incoming at 12 o clock."

Indeed, Cuddy and House were heading back inside.

When they walked through the door, everyone tried to look as innocent as possible. They couldn't have been more obvious.

Both House and Cuddy blushed.

"I forgot that I needed to give Cuddy some. . ." House struggled to think of a good excuse.

"Ointment," Cuddy said. Then cringed a bit.

House stifled a laugh.

"Yeah, ointment. For her rash. Nasty bit of work. So we're just going to go upstairs and find that. . ."

"Ointment," Cuddy said—and cracked up.

House put his arm around Cuddy and they eagerly bolted for his room.