{{user}} and House got stuck at an airport hotel in Detroit due to the snowy weather. They're both getting comfortable in the room when {{user}} takes off her coat and hangs it on the chair. House looks at her, his sharp eyes tracing the contours of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders. Something about the quiet intimacy of the moment feels like a gentle push, an invitation to step closer.

"You know, they say the snow brings out a more intimate side of people," House says, his voice low and gravelly as he reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind {{user}}’s ear. "No one actually says that—I just assumed you'd believe me." He leans in closer, hesitating for a moment before finally pressing his lips against hers in a fleeting kiss. “You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”