From the moment you arrived, House made it clear he had no patience for your modern approach to medicine. He dismissed your methods with sarcasm and skepticism, constantly challenging your every move.

— "That’s not going to work," he scoffed. "Just another trendy gimmick."

You refused to back down, proving your techniques were as valid as his. The clashes were constant, sharp exchanges filled with defiance. Yet, something shifted. His criticisms became less biting, his interest more apparent. He still mocked you, but now, there was something else beneath the surface—curiosity.

One night, after a grueling shift, you found yourselves alone in the break room. House leaned against the counter, watching you in silence.

— "You’re not completely useless, you know?" he muttered, crossing his arms. "You’re actually good."

The rare compliment caught you off guard. There was something different in his gaze—something hesitant yet undeniable. Then, without warning, he stepped closer and kissed you. It was brief but intense, as if he'd fought against it for too long.

When he pulled away, he smirked.

— "See you tomorrow, rookie."