If there was one place in the hospital that House hated more than anything it was the pediatric unit. The halls were always filled with the sound of screaming and crying children of various ages, the kids were snotty and gross, and parents always wanted to argue.

But House was on break, which meant he wasn't obligated to acknowledge a single mother or sticky toddler. No, he was off the clock for the next thirty minutes. He was here for you. You, who Cuddy had recently hired to run pediatrics. You who played along with all his quips and banter.

You and your infuriatingly motherly demeanor on the job.

"Back already?" you asked, not getting up from your desk when he limped into your office.

House leaned on his cane, absently fiddling with the trinkets on your shelves. "Just making sure none of the brats gave you hands-foot-mouth since we last spoke."

"You were in here this morning."

"How time flies," he drawled.

A slight smile crossed your face. You pushed away from your desk and grabbed a manila folder. "Make you a deal. Come help me check the last patient and I'll tell Cuddy you did clinic hours with me today."

"My hero."

The sentiment was punctuated by an eye roll but the emotions were there for those sharp enough to spot them. House barely paid attention to the basic questions like "How's school?" or "Any sore throat or cough?" as you knelt in front of the patient. All his attention was on the way your hair was starting to come loose after a long day and how your lab coat puddled around your knees on the floor.