The moonlight looks good on her, he observes from his side of the bed. Lying away from him, her spine curved gently against the contours of the mattress, she sleeps on, unaware of his scrutiny. His gaze slides from her hair – a dark pool splayed across the sea of white sheets – across her pale back to the curve of her hip, which disappears into the fold of a blanket. A smile plays across his lips as he uses his imagination to complete the journey.

He hadn’t known he would love her this much.

Of course, he had blatantly told anyone who would listen that yes, Lisa Cuddy had the best ass around, no contest. And her breasts weren’t half bad either. But love, well – That wasn’t something he’d been prepared for. It had crept up on him stealthily, trapped him like so much quicksand. She had been there, and she was beautiful and funny and suddenly he loved her. He wants to tell her so. He slides down further beneath the sheets, creeping over to her side of the bed and brushing his lips against her neck. “Cuddy.”

“Mmmm,” she mumbles, rolling away from him and pulling the blanket around her shoulders. “Cuddy,” he whispers more urgently.

“What?” She hisses into the darkness, thoroughly annoyed.

“Look at me.” She rolls over, faces him; her eyes are bleary and confused with sleep. “House, I’m exhausted. I have to work tomorrow. What is so damn important?”

His eyes start their journey again, beginning this time at her face, sliding down her forehead, across her nose and eyes, her perfect lips, her chin, and her creamy throat. “I love you.” She blinks, breathes in sharply through her nose. “I love you too.” He nods, satisfied. The clock in the hallway strikes one.

“Can we go back to sleep now?”

“Yeah.” She settles against him and is asleep in less than a minute. He pulls her closer, shuts his eyes, and smiles.