Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be.

Chapter One: Good For You

"Good for you," Wilson said, hesitating slightly before walking out the door of the apartment. House could tell his friend was in need of a good, stiff drink or five, but he had just gotten Cuddy back. There was no way he was going to tell her not to come over or, even worse, have her make sad, sympathetic eyes at Wilson while he talked about Sam and how it was his last chance at a happy marriage all evening. Not when he hasn't had sex with Cuddy in two weeks. Wilson understood the 'bro code' and knew House would make up their drinking binge at a later date.

House stood there hearing the last echoes of the door closing. His apartment was silent except for the soft vocals of Jude playing on his stereo. He stood taking in the street light flooding through the windows. He felt his chest tighten as he recalled Wilson's parting words. He was not going to feel guilty for lying to Cuddy. Not now. Not when he got everything right with her. He did the right thing and saved his patient. He lied to his boss, not his girlfriend. Well, he did lie to his girlfriend now, but… He willed his obsessive brain to stop thinking of all the tangents. His leg gave off a twinge of pain.

Trying to distract himself, he limped into the kitchen and pulled out the bottle of Cuddy's favorite wine. It was too sweet for his tastes but he drank it with her all the same. It was overly fruity in flavor and not dry at all. It was a drink a woman could enjoy without guilt or regretting the second glass. He knew she liked it best when they kissed and she could still taste it on his tongue. He uncorked it and set it back in the ice box. Glancing at the clock, he saw she would arrive in ten minutes. Cuddy was always punctual. He reached into one of his cabinets and set their glasses on the island. It was best he was ready when she walked in. He knew she would take it as a sign that he missed her. He did. After their two months of dating he was used to waking up with her there, using his arm as a pillow or cuddled so close to him, her nose was tickling his neck. He was used to settling down on the couch with her after work, watching television or continuing their game partnership. He missed seeing her smile and hearing her laugh as he annoyed her or bitched about his team. Hell, he'd even admit he missed her brat a little. Walking back into the living room, he settled himself on the couch to wait.

Eight minutes left.

The look on her face when he apologized had made his day. That simple act of forgiveness had done more for him than her show of bending over her desk in that tortuously sexy dress and her grinding on him at the wedding reception. He was still a hot-blooded male and had thought both actions were ridiculously hot, but at fifty one, that smile meant more to him. It gave him hope that he wasn't going to die alone. Ugh, he thought. He felt hope, one of the basest emotions that served no purpose other than to help with survival, giving a person the will to fight for themselves and those they cared for and loved. He was more rational than that. He would fight for those he cared about. He would do almost anything for Cuddy and even Wilson. Honestly, he loved them both, differently, of course. He wasn't going to be misled into thinking that it will all end happily ever after though. Ultimately, it was never going to be okay. No matter what Nolan said, he was always going to be a fucked up, misanthropic bastard.

Five minutes left.

What was he going to do the next time he needed to lie to Cuddy because it was the right thing to do? Was he going to let his patient die just for an imbecilic administrative rule? Would he let that person die just to save the hospital's ass and still maintain the trust of his girlfriend? He didn't even need a second to think about it. He would do whatever needed to get his diagnosis and save the patient if he/she were still savable, even if that meant cheating, blackmailing, lying, etc. House was by far not a coward. In simple black and white terms, it was the trust of his girlfriend versus the life of a human being. He knew which the right choice was. Cuddy would argue that the world was not black and white but gray. House had no doubt that she would try to help him with a loop hole or a blind eye if he explained himself thoroughly. She had done so in the past. The only solution he could see for the future would be telling her that he was going to do something dangerously illegal and ask her nicely to turn her back. She would either let him do it, trusting him, or have him escorted out of the building by security and handing the case to Foreman. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Three minutes.

He rubbed what remained of his thigh. The pain was manageable and had never been better. Since his first day with Cuddy, it would amaze him to wake up and only feel his leg stiffen a little. That would usually be forgotten as soon as Cuddy started working on his other stiffness. He smiled wolfishly. His leg felt like a 2 on the pain scale, not the 7 or 8 of yesteryear. At times, he would forget about it entirely. It was a thrilling and frightening feeling. He would blame its current irritation on the weather. It was icy outside. It had nothing to do with the slight guilt he felt. He smirked. Wilson would have a field day psycho-analyzing his condition and the strange "connection," he had to add the quotes mentally, between his leg and his emotional state. His leg hurt because it was cold out. Period.

One minute.

Closing his eyes, he could picture her getting out of her car gracefully from where she parked at his curb. She would probably be wearing the same purple shirt that perfectly displayed her breasts. In his imagination he could see her swinging her hips as she climbed the stairs to his building's front door. He heard the actual door slam shut. He opened his eyes and got to his feet. He could hear the click of her heels on the floor outside his door. She knocked twice before he swung the door wide.

Cuddy looked up as the door swung open. She was in the same clothes she wore to work. Her white jacket was pulled close to her body, the belt of it tied snugly to her waist. Her bangs were swept over her left eye.

"Hi," she said throatily.

"Hi," he replied lamely. She was so beautiful. She smirked and lifted a bag in her hand.

"I have dinner if you haven't eaten yet."

He smelled garlic and fresh bread; Italian food made his mouth water. He stepped out of her way and let her in. House helped her out of her jacket, throwing it over to the couch. He locked the door and followed Cuddy into his kitchen. He stayed a pace behind her admiring his view. She laid the bag on his kitchen counter and started to take out the tinned pastas and the Styrofoam boxes of bread along with whatever else she had ordered. He kept out of her way, leaning on the door frame. Cuddy looked right in his kitchen, invading his cupboards for plates and silverware. She stopped momentarily when she saw the wine glasses already out. She glanced at him with a smile before collecting them and placing them near the plates.

"Dinner's served," she said quietly, moving to fill her plate.

"Hold on," House limped towards her.

Cuddy stood up straight, her eyebrows rising towards her hairline in confusion. House stopped directly in front of her. His sharp blue eyes moved all over her face. He could see her wondering what he was up to. Placing his hands on her waist, he pulled her in a bit more and kissed her. There was nothing sexual about the kiss. House didn't try to deepen it. It was sweet and a 'hello' kiss, lips meeting after a two week absence. House pulled away, still smiling. Cuddy smirked at him. She loved seeing him happy and so carefree. He would have never been like this at the hospital.

"I see someone missed me," she started as she piled gnocchi and some antipasto onto her plate. House fit himself next to her and reached over her to get his food, ignoring her eye roll.

"How can I miss you? I see you almost every day," he snarked at her.

She gathered her plate, silverware and glass and moved back towards the living room to eat.

"Sure, you only made puppy dog eyes at me in the clinic whenever I passed."

"I did not!"

House plopped himself next to her on the couch, fork in hand already.

"You and your hand were good company then?"

He gave her the evil eye and shoved a mouthful of the dumplings into his mouth. Cuddy ate hers civilly, savoring the flavors of the antipasto.

"I think I saw Wilson checking up on you earlier. Did he stop by?"

"Yeah, Sam moved out. They had a fight at the wedding and she split."

House made sure not to mention what the fight was about.

"Was he looking for a drinking buddy tonight?" asked Cuddy. "I hope we don't have to bail him out later on."

House laughed. His friend did have the penchant to get rip-roaring drunk and wander off to God only knew where until the police picked up.

"He was. I told him to scram because my woman was coming over. She should be here in a few minutes so you'll have to hide in the closet."

Cuddy laughed but still smacked his arm.

"I'd have your balls in my blender if another woman walked through that door. So what did Wilson and Sam fight about? It had to be something serious."

Damn it, thought House.

"Wilson proposed," he blurted out. Cuddy's eyes widened in surprise. "I know, I know, Wilson's a moron."

"Sam left him because he wanted to get married again?"

"Yep." Basically. "I told him he was an idiot."

"Wow. Maybe you should go out tomorrow night with Wilson?"

"Are you giving me permission to have a play date and get drunk?"

"You know what I mean. I'm surprised he didn't try to stay here longer."

"He didn't want to hear my witty comments on the bitch."

Cuddy smiled at him. Both had finished their food so she stood to pick up their plates from the small table. House seeing an opening, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. She made a small grunt as she landed across his legs. She moved into a more comfortable potion on him, resting most of her weight on his left leg, her right arm thrown over his shoulders.

"You jerk," she said, looking at him. He smiled.

"Your jerk." He leaned in kissing the nearest cheek and making his way down her jaw. She let out a breath, tucking her head under to capture his lips. His arms wrapped tighter around her waist, his left moving up her back slowly. Cuddy was holding onto him now, pressing her chest to his. Their kiss deepened; the sounds of their lips and breathing drowning out the music playing behind them. Before either knew it, Cuddy was straddling him, grinding into him in time with their kiss. House had one hand on her waist to keep her flushed against him; the other had made it to her breast.

"House," she gasped.

"Cuddy," he said against her lips. She turned her head. House returned to her neck, kissing his way down to her collarbone.

"We need to clean up and move into your room," Cuddy tried to move away from him. He let her up but tugged her away from the dishes and messy kitchen.

"Let's skip the cleaning and go to my room. Those will be there tomorrow," he answered huskily. She gave him a grin to match the hungry look in his eyes.

"Tomorrow then."

Author's Note: Another new story but I make no promises in speedy updates since I'm really bad at updating consistently. I'll try my best though. Reviews are very welcomed and through them the author can be swayed in certain directions, for example: what the next chapter starts out with… Thanks for reading!