It was supposed to be just sex.

That's what Cuddy remembers the two of them agreeing to a month back. It had been late and House had found her in her office, sitting with her legs crossed on her couch, papers and forms strewn around haphazardly on the table before her much like the way her thoughts were flitting around in her mind. She couldn't remember the last time she had been an actual doctor, she couldn't remember the last time she had gone out and had a social life and worst of all she found herself unable to go home and face her empty bed once again.

And then House had been there, sitting beside her on the couch and talking about how his recent case had gone, about the latest prank he had played on Wilson, and all the different ways he had managed to joke about Thirteen's bisexuality during the differentials. And Cuddy had found herself laughing, the smile blooming on her face and making all traces of regret and tiredness disappear. And House had smiled along with her, happy to see her momentarily distracted from the pain in her life. And when Cuddy had looked up at him, she saw not the misanthropic bastard that made her life hell but just House, someone as lonely and in pain as she was.

So she had kissed him.

And he had kissed her back.

She couldn't remember how they had even made it back to his apartment. All she could recall were lips, tongues, hands and, God help her, the gentlest caresses she had ever felt on her body. And when they came together, she felt as though all her troubles would never bother her again.

But that was short-lived and Cuddy had found herself dashing around his bedroom gathering her clothes and shoes and throwing them all on before leaving his apartment as quickly as she could, vowing it would never happen again, not noticing the look in his eyes as he silently watched her go.

But of course it did. They needed each other. That was what she discovered. But she also knew that she was vulnerable. She didn't want to get hurt. And that was why she made sure that it was just sex and nothing more.

And he had agreed.

It had started off well. They didn't spend the nights at each other's places. There was no cuddling afterwards and there was definitely no resemblance of any type of a couple's life between them.

But then there had been that one night.

She had been getting out of his bed to return back to her home and his arm had shot out and his warm, rough fingers had curled around her wrist.


It was just one word but she knew it would change everything. So she shook her head and tried to pull her hand from his grip, but he could tell her heart wasn't really in it.

"Please Cuddy, stay." he had whispered.

And she had looked down at him, her smoky eyes colliding with his piercing, almost desperate ones and she had let him draw her back into the bed, tensing when he had drawn her against his chest and laid his arm over her waist.

But then he had kissed her neck and then her shoulder and then leaned over her to kiss her cheek and she had found herself slowly relaxing, revelling in the feeling of finally falling asleep next to a warm, comforting body.

And so it had continued. She found herself spending more and more nights at his apartment and when she had to work late and was too tired to go to his place she would return home only to find House waiting for her on her couch, having let himself in with one of her keys which she still had no idea how he could find even though she had changed their hiding place over and over again.

And he would hand her a cup of her favourite camomile tea and she would sit next to him on her couch until he felt her dozing against him and then they would move into her bedroom where he would always wrap her up in his arms and she would feel safe, secure, content and loved.

So she knew they had agreed it was supposed to be just sex.

And she was pretty sure he remembered it too.

But hell if she was going to remind him.