The shower was still hissing in the background, steam curling out from the cracked door, fogging up the mirror where your reflection slowly reappeared.

You stood in front of the sink, towel around your body, makeup half-finished, perfume still untouched. The black dress laid out carefully on his worn leather couch—far too nice for his messy, lived-in place.

House sat slouched at the kitchen table, nursing black coffee like it had personally offended him. One sock on. One off. Hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, and absolutely no intention of dressing up just yet.

You hummed as you moved through his space—light on your feet, towel tucked, the kind of comfortable that only came after falling asleep in his bed too many times to count. He watched you from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who enjoys getting ready,” he muttered.

You smiled, reaching for your earrings. “I don’t enjoy it. I master it.”

He snorted. “Of course you do.”

You adjusted one earring and turned just slightly toward him. Your profile caught the golden end-of-day light from the window. The arch of your neck, the bare skin of your shoulder, the way you concentrated so precisely—it hit him like a slow punch to the gut. Grumpy House stared. Too long. Too obvious.

“…You’re staring,” you murmured without turning around.

“I’m judging,” he countered, voice rough.

You caught his reflection in the mirror—his mouth twitching like he wanted to smirk, but didn’t have the energy to pretend he wasn’t captivated.

“Do I pass?”

He stood slowly, limping over just far enough to lean a shoulder against the doorframe, still watching you finish your makeup. His eyes flicked down your figure, up again.

“You haven’t even put the dress on yet.”

You turned to face him fully now, arms crossed, towel still clinging to damp skin.

“And?”

He tilted his head slightly. One eyebrow raised. Blue eyes sharp—and genuine, for once.

“And you’re already the best-looking thing they’ll see tonight.”

You blinked.

Then smiled. “Gregory House. Was that a compliment?”

He scowled like it physically hurt. “Don’t make it weird.”