A/N: Drabble written for a friend. This is my first House fic, so please be kind :P.
"You should tell her how you feel."
House immediately frowned with annoyance, not even bothering to look at the younger, boyish-faced doctor who was now standing next to him in the hospital hallway. Wilson could never keep his nose out of anybody's business, especially not that of his oh-so-needy, crippled friend.
"I have, many times in fact," he grumbled, his eyes following Cuddy as she disappeared around the corner. "My feelings for her huge tits and ass have never gone unsaid, but for some reason she can't seem to take a compliment…"
Wilson rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Stop avoiding. I know happiness is a scary, scary thing, House, I mean, it terrifies millions around the globe without end, but maybe you should try it out some time… you know, indulge in a little dirty thing called honesty, have one of those deadly 'relationships' everybody's been talking about lately… they're all the rage."
"Not listening," House shouted, limping away from his annoying counterpart and towards his office. He slammed the door behind him, hoping it would make a point, and heaved himself into his chair, straightening out his leg on the foot rest. Thankfully, Wilson did not follow.
Tell her how he felt? House wasn't even sure how he felt. Of course, she was sexy, and he'd do her in a heartbeat, but anything beyond that was foreign territory, intimidating and promising of pain, a territory he hadn't explored since Stacy, and, well, we all know how that ended. And now there was Lucas… and Cuddy was happy. She was happy, and despite House's roundabout efforts to get rid of him, he was staying. And honestly, what right did he have to disturb her happiness? Of course, Wilson would just go all therapist on him and say that he was making up excuses to get out of coming to terms with anything and being direct and honest would do a hell of a lot more than playing stupid games and blah blah blah, but the Wilson in his head could just go to Hell.
House was startled back into reality when the door to his office clicked open and in came Cuddy, a case file in her grasp, and upon seeing her face framed by her wild black curls, House felt his resolve falter. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, and his first instinct was to comment on her fun bags (which she really wasn't making much of an effort to hide), but in light of his recent thoughts he quashed the urge and took the file from her hand silently.
Cuddy went from looking wary and authoritative to taken aback. "You're not even going to ask me about the case?" she asked, incredulously. House merely shrugged in response, flipping open the folder. "I probably would have had to take it anyway," he grumbled, scanning the page and avoiding the intense blue of her eyes.
"House."
House reluctantly lifted his head to meet her gaze, pursing his lips in a way that highlighted the dimples in his cheeks.
"Are you okay?"
He paused for a second before rolling his eyes and dropping the file in his lap. "Fine, mommy," he whined.
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyebrows creased in concern, before slowly turning to leave. She was halfway out the door when despite himself, despite every ounce of self-control he was sure he had in his body, House found the words tumbling from his mouth.
"Cuddy… wait."