Rain, Rain, Go Away


House jerked awake at the sudden blare of the alarm clock; a horrible, repetitive buzz buzz buzz buzz reverberating in his ears. His head shot up from the pillow, hair askew, his face lined with the crease of the pillow, and he squinted with one eye screwed shut at the noise.

"Turn that damn thing off," he snapped, his voice croaky with sleep.

"Sorry, sorry," Cuddy murmured. She flung an arm out and House watched her fumble around for the clock until she shut the alarm off. The silence that followed was golden. Or near silence. House realised the trickling sound he could hear coming from outside was rain hitting the windows and drizzling down the pipes. A cold and rainy morning.

"You set your alarm for six on Saturdays?" House asked as Cuddy buried her arm back under the covers and nestled into the pillow.

"Mmmm," was her only response.

"There's something wrong with you."

"House," she commanded sleepily, reaching back for his arm. She found his wrist and tugged, and House obediently turned onto his side and shifted up close. "Shut up."

"Hmph," he replied, and he had a retort on the tip of his tongue but grogginess won over and before he knew it, he was fast asleep again, snoring quietly with his mouth open and his face tucked up against Cuddy's shoulder.


House woke up to the feel of something wet against his neck. It was Cuddy. Attacking him with lazy kisses. Oh, yeah, he thought to himself when he felt her hand caressing his erection.

He lay sprawled on his back while Cuddy rubbed her hands over his chest, kissed his jaw, nibbled at his earlobe, until she started pushing his shirt up to take it off. He exchanged heated kisses with her, pushed her nightgown up over her hips when she straddled him, and let out a quiet grunt of pleasure as she sank down onto him. He gripped her hips, encouraging her to move just like that while she slid up and down his penis, her hands braced either side of his head and her breathing punctuated with a soft "oh" with each thrust. When she dropped her head forward, her hair spilling over his chest (not without copping a mouthful of it, either, which made him splutter for a moment), he lifted a hand and gripped the back of her neck, urging quietly, "Come on."

He felt her tighten around him and she threw her head back with a series of orgasmic gasps, riding him hard and fast until she was spent, and when she slumped over him House held onto her and panted into her ear until he came.

"You're a bad influence," she said lazily, rolling off him.

"You started it," he retorted.

He turned his head on the pillow, a little sweaty and a little out of breath but sated to the point of being unable to stop grinning. He watched Cuddy prop an arm under her head, flushed and smug, while she smoothed her other hand down over her nightgown. "Hmm. I did, didn't I?" she agreed.

"Makes you the bad influence."

Cuddy looked across at him, flushed and messy and satisfied. Beautiful, House thought. She just smiled knowingly. "So, what do you want to do today?"

House likewise propped an arm under his head and stretched his other hand out to caress Cuddy's stomach with the back of his knuckles. "Absolutely nothing."


House burnt the toast and set the fire alarm off in the kitchen, and Cuddy spent a frantic few minutes waving the smoke away with a hand towel until the brain piercing beeping stopped.

"You and anything domestic really don't mix," she said, slapping the towel against his chest in exasperation.

It was still pouring with rain outside, the occasional bellow of thunder in the distance, while House settled on making cereal and milk for a late breakfast instead. He read the comic page of the newspaper at the table as he ate, while Cuddy read the World News, followed by the fashion section.

The silence was comfortable. Just the way House liked it.


House lifted his bad leg from the coffee table and tucked his other leg up against the couch while Cuddy came charging past him with the vacuum cleaner. He tried to see around her at the TV, dodging his head from left to right and straining to hear the WWE commentary over the noise. Cuddy picked the most inconvenient times to clean. Like when Rey Mysterio was about to take out Kane in Smackdown.

"Can't you clean when I'm not here?" he complained.

"You're always here."

"Clean when I'm not watching TV, then."

"You're always watching TV."

"Clean when I'm watching something I'm not interested in, then."

Cuddy stopped the vacuum cleaner long enough to turn and give him a look. "You watch infomercials and the weather channel when there's nothing on," she retorted dryly. "How am I supposed to tell when you're watching something you're not interested in?"

"When I fall asleep."

She rolled her eyes and switched the vacuum cleaner back on. Ten minutes later, she was still vacuuming; House put an abrupt stop to that by unplugging the vacuum cleaner from the wall. Cuddy, of course, plugged it back in after expressing her annoyance at him. He, of course, unplugged it again.

After sabotaging her vacuuming four times, House ended up being chased through the house with Cuddy hot on his heels - and found himself locked outside in the backyard in the pouring rain.


He was still locked outside. He was drenched from head to toe. He felt like an abandoned, soggy family dog when he knocked on Cuddy's laundry window to be let in while she sorted her laundry.

Cuddy gave him an unsympathetic look and returned to her sorting.


"Cudd-yyyyyy," House whined from the kitchen window while she did the dishes. She looked up at him and he gave her the saddest, most pathetic wide-eyed look he could muster, water dripping down his face and his shoes squishy with cold rain water.

When she was finished, she let him in, handing him a towel as he stepped inside. "Don't ever get in the way of my cleaning again," she warned.

House decided, for once, to listen to her.


"Where in the body... oh, talk about unfair," Cuddy said, waving the Trivial Pursuit card in the air with a scowl. The rain had picked up to the point where it was hammering down on the roof so hard the sound filled the whole house. She sighed, then continued, "Where in the body would you find the scaphoid bone?" She popped the card back in the box with an exasperated toss of her other hand.

"Wrist," House answered promptly. He picked up another coloured triangle and slotted it into his little pie icon. His was half-filled, while Cuddy's had only two it in. She rolled her eyes at him when he flashed her a smug, obnoxious smile. He then rolled the die and moved his game piece three places.

Cuddy plucked up another card and her face brightened. "Oh, you won't know this one," she said. "What was 14th century Englishman, Wat Tyler, known for?"

"Captured the Tower of London after leading a peasant revolt."

Cuddy stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"I know a lot of things," he replied, gleefully slotting another triangle into his pinwheel.

"No kidding." She reached for a new card while House rolled the die again. "No one should ever play Trivial Pursuit with you."

"This was your idea."

"I know," she replied, giving him a begrudging look. She turned to the card in her hand. "Which of Mozart's contemporary composers did he never meet?"

House thought about that for a moment. "Boccherini."

Cuddy slapped the card back into the pack with another sigh. "I give up."


Darkness had settled over Princeton unusually early because of the rain. House let himself through the front door, his bike jacket and jeans drenched while he clutched a couple of DVDs in his hand and his helmet in his other hand. "I ordered pizza," Cuddy informed him when he entered the kitchen and dropped the movies to the bench.

He planted a brief kiss to her lips. "How long 'til it gets here?"

"About twenty minutes." Cuddy reached for the DVDs. "What did you get?"


She gave him a look, then began sorting through them. "The Forty Year-Old Virgin. Charlie's Angels." She gave him another look at that one. Then she held up the last one with a deadpan expression. "Mad Max?"

"You haven't seen it?" he asked innocently.

She clapped the DVDs together and placed them back on the bench. "Could've chosen a film that I like."

"Chick flicks." He made a face.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought the deal was one movie you like, and one movie I'd like."

"I know. But I saw three movies that I liked. Means you missed out. Sorry."

Cuddy fixed him with an unimpressed stare.

House rolled his eyes, then reached into his jacket. "Might've forgotten one." He pulled out a copy of Amelie and handed it to her.

She took it, then smiled up at him. "How sweet," she said, before lifting up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Yuck," he replied, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.


House was determined not to enjoy Amelie. The pizza box lay opened on the coffee table, two pieces of cold pizza left on the greasy surface that neither Cuddy nor himself could finish, and it was still pouring with rain outside. House was pretty sure parts of Princeton were underwater by now. He was slouched on the couch with a beer, Cuddy stretched out beside him with her legs draped over his. He was absolutely determined to not enjoy the film because he hated chick flicks and films about romance, yet found himself feeling annoyingly uplifted by the end of the film. He scowled as the credits rolled, sipping his beer.

"That was a beautiful movie," Cuddy sighed blissfully.

"Was not."

She nudged his stomach with her foot. "Was too. You enjoyed it. You didn't take your eyes off the screen once."

"That's because I know how to sleep with my eyes open."

Cuddy snorted and lifted her legs off him and stood up, gathering the pizza box to take them out to the kitchen. The credits finished rolling and had returned to the disk's main menu by the time she returned. "Take it you want to watch one of your juvenile movie choices now?"

"You're so loving and supportive," he replied dryly.

"I know. It's called putting up with you." She shifted off the couch again and picked up the three remaining films. "Which one?"

"Eeny, meeny, miny, mo," House said, pointing his beer bottle at the films. "Forty Year-Old Virgin. Something to not fall asleep with my eyes open to."

Cuddy shook her head as she turned to the TV to slot the disk in.


Cuddy ended up laughing through most of the movie. House was secretly delighted. And it was still raining. They watched the film with House stretched out on the couch and Cuddy curled up with her legs tucked up underneath her by his feet.

"That was so crass," Cuddy remarked when the film ended.

"You loved it."

She gave a reluctant shrug, then smiled. "Alright. It was pretty funny. Not what I was expecting." She laughed again to herself, obviously thinking over some of the scenes she'd found hilarious.

House watched her, smiling. He liked seeing her laugh. He liked it when she had fun, when she loosened up and became Lisa rather than Cuddy. He nudged her with his foot and she looked at him. "Anyone ever tell you you're pretty cool?"

She smiled back at him and patted his leg. "I try."


The rain started to let up a little by the time House climbed into bed with Cuddy. She was reading, though House quickly put a stop to that by plucking the magazine from her hands. He tossed it onto the floor before she could snatch it back or stop him.

"Do you mind?" she exclaimed. "I'm trying to read."

House shifted up to her side, giving her breast a playful bite through her negligee as he slid his arm over her middle. "I learned how to do that years ago."

He dodged the quick slap she gave to his arm, then went straight back to biting her breast. "Hungry?" she asked in a dry tone.


"You're impossible," she retorted, though there was a hint of fondness in her voice. House felt her fingers through his hair and she settled her hand on his head when he nestled it on her chest. For a few moments, she simply stroked his hair while he stared absently across the room. "Apart from you sabotaging my cleaning chores, I had a nice day today," Cuddy finally said.

House turned his head up to look at her, feeling her fingernails scratching softly over his scalp. "Me, too."

She smiled down at him affectionately and lifted her other hand to stroke his cheek, then leaned down to kiss his forehead. "You're still impossible," she asserted when she pulled back.

"And you're not?"

She smiled again, a wry one this time. "Of course. Making your life impossible is my main objective in life, after all."

House grinned, then grinned even wider when Cuddy let out a laughing shriek as he suddenly started attacking her stomach and thighs with fierce tickling. She wrestled against him, laughing and gasping hysterically and pleading him to stop, until he finally did when he claimed her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

"Just wait until I exact my revenge." Cuddy pulled him onto her and wrapped her legs around him, and he felt her lips smiling against his as he kissed her again.