It started with the sweet old lady in 218.

Eighty-four. Dementia. Heart failure. Mistook House for her dead husband and called him “my handsome boy.”

She called you “his pretty secretary”, and persistently asked if you two were finally getting married.

You said no everyone time with a soft smile. Meanwhile House just simply stayed quiet, his eyes lingering on you.

Later, she refused to take her meds unless her two sweethearts were together. So, you stood awkwardly at House’s side while he checked her IV and you gave her the meds she needed. She held your hands, saying she’d save you seats in heaven.

She told House not to mess this one up. House still didn’t say much, simply nodding his head at the elderly woman.

And somewhere between vitals and awkward glances, you caught him looking at you—too long, too soft.

You ignored it— but it never really left your mind.

But when you passed her room later, he was in there— Charming her in his own sarcastic way with that signature grin. Acting and smiling like he meant it.

Handsome boy, indeed.