Another one-shot. Sorry they're so short, I have limited writing time. I only get two or three sentences in between classes.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.

In the Wee Hours of the Morning

She liked to sleep on her stomach. Hm. He hadn't been expecting that. He'd always figured that she would sleep on her side or back. But now, as he lay on his side, watching her sleep, she slept on her tummy, face turned towards him, left arm curled underneath the pillow and right hand splayed lazily over his bare chest.

She was also a cover hog, and he made a mental note to tease her about it in the morning, for his own particular amusement.

Her dark hair had fallen over her face, and he reached over, smoothing it away, before his fingers strayed down the chocolate locks and to the creamy skin of her back. They traced between her shoulder blades, and slid down the curve of her spine, all the way down until back meets backside, before leisurely spider-crawling back up.

She stirred in her sleep, made a murmuring giggle. "Tickles."

He made a sound deep in his throat. "It was meant to turn you on."

She opened one blue-grey eye, looking at him. "Am I dreaming?"

He let his hand fall flat on her ass, emitting a loud smack sound. "I don't know. Did you feel that?"

Both her eyes opened wide and she let out a gorgeous laugh, throwing her head back, all those curls tumbling through the air. "Yes, I felt that!"

"Good. Then you're not dreaming." He grinned smugly down at her.

She let out another giggle and rolled towards him, wrapping her arm further around his chest and draping a leg over him.

He grunted. "Ow."

"Oh, sorry." She winced, carefully replacing her leg in a higher spot so as not to hurt him.

'S'ok." His right arm curled around her, sliding across her shoulders to trace small, undeterminable shapes down her arm with his fingers.

She lifted her hand to feel his stubble, then reached up to bury her fingers in his hair, playing with the curls. He closed his eyes and let out a satisfied sigh.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily, yawning.

House turned his neck and picked up the alarm clock to read the glowing green letters. "Three-thirty." He tossed the clock back to its home on the nightstand.

"God, we have to be up in three hours."

He shrugged. "We'll call in sick."

"Both of us?"

"Why not?"

"People will talk."

"Who gives a shit? Besides," he said, suddenly rolling over her to pin her to the mattress. He kissed her long, deep. "I'm making up for lost time."