A/N: Just to say I can't believe I named this fic after Cliff Richard lyrics, but, hey, it fits so what ya gonna do?

Read and enjoy (hopefully!) and feedback would be appreciated.

Mistletoe and Wine

'Never bet on whether or not you will attend a social event' were the words that reverberated inside Gregory House's head as he sulked in the corner of the room, armed with a glass of wine and Vicodin pills a reassuring weight in his pocket. The music playing combined with the mindless chatter of the rest of the hospital staff created an indistinguishable roar of sound; a dull throb was forming above his right eye to join the pain of his ever-aching leg.

The Christmas party - Wilson was ruthless. Still, at least there was alcohol.

Greg was trying to make himself look as unapproachable as possible. It had worked on Cameron and Chase who, after throwing looks of incredulity his way, scurried away into the throng of yuletide merriment in the wake of his scowl. He had yet to face Cuddy's amusement at the expense of his misery, the impossible might happen and he might get sympathy: she might be tipsy. He smirked at the thought. Either way, that confrontation was inevitable; he couldn't simply scare her off. Wilson was also suspiciously absent so far. Foreman, however, could not pass up the opportunity, and strolled over jubilantly with an amused eyebrow raised. It was much the same manner that he expected of Cuddy: she could pull it off better, though.

" To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

" That would be your own curiosity. Until this moment I was trying, and succeeding, to avoid impressing my company upon anybody." He fixed Foreman with an implicating stare, " Kinda annoying when it's unwanted, don't you think?"

" Yeah, wouldn't want to be miserable at this time of year…" Foreman was smirking; oh, he got the hint and was promptly insulting him back, " Are you, maybe, going to venture out and talk to someone besides me?"

" As grateful as I am that you took pity on me, I like my corner, thanks - has a nice homely feel to it now..." Foreman rolled his eyes but smiled, " Besides, Wilson's motives are still unclear." Greg faked a panicked, paranoid expression, his eyes darting about the crowded room.

" Wilson?"

" What if he tries to take advantage of me?"

Foreman sighed despairingly and Greg felt the warmth of smug satisfaction.

" What's Wilson done? If anything…"

" He's lured me here under false pretences. He promised me a kiss under the mistletoe. So far, not only has he not put out, he's also done a vanishing act! I'm distraught!"

" I give up." Foreman shook his head, laughing nonetheless, and clapped Greg on the shoulder, " Merry Christmas, House." And vacated the corner.

Greg had considered telling him what Wilson had actually done and how it related to his being at the party. In truth, there were worse people in the world to have a conversation with than Foreman, and Greg was getting bored. However, on reflection, revealing his lapse of judgment concerning his rep at the hospital to Foreman was potentially embarrassing, and it would be explaining that, in this instance, his ego was his downfall.

James Wilson, in his eternal quest to make Greg socialise, had proposed a bet…

" So…are you going to the Christmas party?"

The question had caught him completely by surprise, mainly because Wilson was the last person he expected to ask him such a thing, and, for a moment, Greg simply stared.

" Well?"

Greg blinked, " Oh, you were being serious!"

Wilson snickered, but persevered, " Well, I knew the chances were slim-"

" I'd say there was a higher chance of Cameron taking Ecstasy and sleeping with- oh, wait…"

" And I do foggily recall a time when you attended staff social events."

" Are you sure it wasn't a dream?"

" It might as well be," Wilson sighed, " Nope, 'actually happened'."

" Huh…" Greg popped a Vicodin, sensing he might need it, " Well, to push away those oh-so-fun memories just a little bit more, my answer is no. I have a rep to maintain and, apparently, work on since even you still don't get the hint."

He watched Wilson's shoulders sag slightly in long-suffering resign which was covered effectively by a sceptical, amused expression.

" Your 'rep' a firm understanding throughout the hospital then?"

" Well, there might still be a few residents who don't scurry fearfully away as soon as they hear the click of my cane in the hallway."

Wilson smothered a laugh, " So, I'm the first person to ask you if you're going?"

" Yes, you're the first deluded idiot to ask me if I'm going."

" Not even Cameron?"

" Cameron doesn't count, her sickening sweetness intensifies at Christmas."

Another sigh, Greg knew he was biting back a retort in Cameron's defence.

" Okay, so, considering you don't actually have faith in anything, you're suddenly misplacing it in your reputation?"

" Misplacing!" He pulled an over-dramatic wounded expression.

" I bet you get asked at least…six times!"

Greg frowned, " Define 'get asked'. One person should only be able to ask once, otherwise Cameron will lose it for me."

" Fine."

" Fine, and when I win you can have a weeks worth of my clinic hours."

" You're so predictable. And if I win you have to come to the Christmas Party."

" You're so predictable. And you wont win."

A pause.

" My asking you counts, by the way." Wilson smirked, " Oh, and Cameron."

" Did you lose a bet, or something?" He spun around to see her blue eyes sparkling with amusement, " Cos, that's the only reason I can think of for you being here."

" Cuddy." Greg's eyes travelled their usual route over her form, taking in, with appreciation, her elegant, figure-hugging black halter-neck dress, " I'm here for the twins." He nodded, grinning, at her cleavage.

" Why are you here?"

" Free booze, entertainment that costs less than a hooker…" he wasn't looking her in the eye, " And your wickedly gorgeous self of course."

" Anytime you wanna be the slightest bit polite and address me to my face is fine by me."

" Yeah, but I know you're frowning right now without having to look. The view down here is much more easy on the eyes…"

" House!"

He looked up then, smirking at her irritation.

" See what I mean: entertainment."

" What?"

" Well, annoying you ranks highly on my leisurely pastimes…great fun, I assure you."

" I'm sure. Maybe you should get out more then." She began to walk away, taking a few steps when Greg saw her stop and followed her line of sight to see Wilson swiftly making his way towards them. Greg limped forewords to stand by Cuddy once more and glared at Wilson as he reached them,

" Bout time! The only thing I thought would make this bearable was the knowledge that I had you to torture if I was bored and you show up half way through!"

" I'm very sorry to have deprived you of your fun…divorce lawyer called. We got to talking things over and I lost track of time."

" You can make it up to me…" Greg wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

" You look nice." Wilson ignored Greg and smiled courteously at Cuddy who offered a smile of thanks in return. Greg watched the exchange, rolling his eyes.

" Yeah, yeah, yeah…Give it up, Jimmy. She's wise to your sweet-talking ways."

" Well, sweet-talking is better than anything I'd get in your company!"

" Please you figured that out a long time ago. You've had plenty of time to stop further interaction with me…" he paused, " Oh, but then you hired me." Then, as an afterthought, " You also didn't need to come over and speak to me tonight."

" And you didn't have to come to the party and enforce your obvious 'seasonal goodwill' on everyone!" Cuddy shot back, and Greg realised that, as usual, the space between them had lessened during their bickering. The distraction her close proximity caused prickled with heat in the back of his mind.

Then Wilson chuckled.

The arguing pair turned as one to fix their stares on him. Greg frowned, irritated, and beside him Cuddy asked confusedly,

" What's funny?"

Wilson gave another breathy, little laugh and shook his head. He began to speak and Greg knew the jig was up.

" Well, two things really. Firstly, he did actually have to come here tonight; it involves a little wager of ours and the fact that he lost-"

" Ha!" Cuddy turned on Greg, triumphantly, " I knew it! I knew that was the only rational explanation-"

" Yeah, have your laugh about how crappy these things are that I have to be forced to attend against my will." Greg growled, but Cuddy continued to laugh.

" What were you betting about?" she asked, looking to Wilson eagerly. He grinned and, as he launched into it, Greg's eyes turned to the floor, exasperation rolling over him in waves.

" You just had to say it, didn't you!" Greg yelled, and the child before him began to dissolve into tears. The horrified and angry mother proceeded to run across the clinic waiting room to swoop her daughter away, only pausing to yell, " What the hell is wrong with you!" at him. However, the grimace on Greg's face was due to the knowledge of who he'd find behind him when he turned around. Sure enough, there was Wilson, his expression alternating between reproachful and smug.

" You yelled at a child, House!"

" She just condemned me to at least four hours of crappy music, fancy clothes, boring colleagues and stupid, fake, nauseating Christmas joy!" Greg yelled, miserable, " And I couldn't even pretend it never happened because you were standing right next to me!"

" 'Fraid so. I do believe the great Gregory House has lost."

" Because my staff are idiots, you and Cuddy are too damn persistent, and small children have to listen to the nurses gossip around the water cooler! See, this! This is why I avoid clinic!"

Wilson smirked, unmoved.

" Party's tomorrow night at eight, House. Don't be late." He clapped Greg on the shoulder and walked away, missing the crude hand gesture Greg directed at his retreating back.

He was not going to go, he was not going to go…Greg's mantra was sound and resolute. To hell with Wilson and his goddamn bet! He had better things to with his time. The carpet of his office was taking a beating as he paced back and forth. He felt restless and twitchy, so moved to his desk to reach into his bottom drawer. He frowned, then, after a minute, swore.

In the place where his gameboy usually rested there lay a short, concise note:

" Just for insurance. You'll get it back after the party.

Wilson"

" And the second thing, Wilson?" Greg interrupted finally, ignoring Cuddy's satisfied smirk.

" Sorry?"

" You said two things. You were amused about something besides your insignificant success that you're all celebrating more than the real reason we're supposed to be here?"

" Oh, that. That's…" he pursed his lips, " You guys are standing under something…interesting."

Greg looked up, knowing Cuddy was doing the same, and almost instantly closed his eyes again, regretting it immediately. He felt like a man on his way to the gallows, and above him, the deceivingly innocent looking sprig of mistletoe hung there like the hangman's noose. Strangely enough, at the same time, his stomach did something he had hardly ever felt it do…it flip-flopped; the feeling of butterflies. The idea…what it implied he had to do with Cuddy…to Cuddy. Lisa Cuddy.

" You have got to be kidding me." her voice mumbled despairingly, and he saw she had half-directed this comment at Wilson, who was standing there attempting to stop himself grinning. Greg wanted to hit him. He felt the firmness of the cane in his hand and considered it's potential as an effective weapon.

" Oh, no. No way…This is insane…" Cuddy was still talking in an annoyed, worried and slightly breathless way that intrigued him as he looked around and saw more than a few heads of party guests nodding and whispering, looking in their way. Greg almost grinned. Oh, it would shock them! And possibly prove right what a lot of them had been saying for years…And still Cuddy's quiet words to herself cut through his haze of contemplation. She had a knack for doing that. Greg turned and looked at her and saw her body turn towards him.

Greg didn't know why he did it. Afterwards, when his brain had fully engaged, he would blame it on the wine; the influence of the alcohol catching up to him at last, making him more reckless, if that were possible. Or perhaps he wanted to shut Cuddy up and get out of his predicament and saw this action as killing two birds with one stone. Whatever the reason for it, he found himself merely watching her lips move rather than registering the words flowing out of them. The urge swept through him like a jolt of adrenaline entering his system and he couldn't resist. His lips were suddenly on hers, warm and soft, and his tongue was in her mouth, opened in shock, tasting her daringly. Eyes closed, he wouldn't deny the fact that he was enjoying it. He had won one over her and smiled, knowing she could feel it.

He expected her to pull away, to shoot him a furious look, to even hit him, but Greg should have known not to presume anything on her part for sure. If he hadn't, he mightn't have been so surprised when she began to kiss him back.

Greg almost pulled away in his amazement, but he had faltered for a second and she had taken control. She bit his bottom lip slightly, as if to make it understood that there was, and would be, no tenderness behind their kiss. Then he understood her game; and he knew it was dangerous. Like their every interaction, their kissing was turning into a fight for dominance. He knew the truth in the way they were with each other; he also knew that she knew. It was an understanding, and that was why he was being drawn into the dance. He wondered, for an extremely brief moment, how this development between them was being received by those around him. How they interpreted it. Greg did not care, yet it was a wonder that Cuddy didn't…at least not yet. He wondered who would win. He wondered how either of them would win.

He wondered when his hand had moved to her waist.

One could not mistake it for slow and loving, their mouths moved feverishly, suppressed attraction encouraging the raw passion. Something that wasn't a physical reaction stirred within him and it disturbed him because he undeniably felt it. He wanted to slow it down, commit the taste and feel of her to memory. There were feelings buried deep behind their roughness and Greg's hands itched to touch more. The dance he initiated had turned against him; he was losing himself, he wanted it to become something more. It had to stop because of this. With a mental wrench he broke away, sucking in oxygen, lips tingling, the taste of her lingering. This was why he had lost.

Cuddy was also out of breath, and Greg found her heaving chest a distraction before jerking his eyes up to hers; blue met blue in an intense gaze, and he fancied he saw the remnants of clouded desire fade. Then an expression fell into place which held volumes of smugness, triumph and traces of unease yet approval, amusement and…affection. She knew what he had felt. Greg felt bare in front of her but he didn't hate it as much as he thought he would. Their silent exchange lasted only a minute, then Cuddy smiled and shook her head. She leaned closer and for an unpredictable, fleeting moment, Greg thought she was going to kiss him again.

" I win." She said it loud enough for anybody nearby to hear and he smiled and raised an eyebrow in reply for her to acknowledge, before she turned on her heel and stalked confidently away. He unabashedly watched her go, before turning to look at Wilson who's mouth was hanging open. He suddenly became aware of the hush that had fallen over the room and the many pairs of eyes trained on him.

Glancing around quickly, he picked out his juniors faces: Chase's eyes were wide, it looked as though the world as he knew it had crumbled; Foreman was suppressing the urge to laugh, he was obviously surprised and deeply amused; and Cameron wasn't attempting to hide the shock and disappointment painted clearly on her face.

"Christmas is a time of giving and incredibly inappropriate public gestures! Go forth and gossip!"

Greg's rough tones cut through the stillness and everyone seemed to snap out of a trace. When the noise had risen to a low murmur he turned back to Wilson, who, unlike everyone else, was still trapped in his state of shock, his mouth open.

" You know, that is a really unattractive look for you." Greg said.

" Wha… You…?"

" Can't… form… sentence." Greg replied mockingly. Wilson breathed deeply,

" What the hell was that?"

Greg allowed a small smile to himself before replying cryptically, " A dual."

" A…" Wilson didn't even bother repeating Greg's answer, knowing that it wouldn't be explained anyway, and watched as Greg grabbed a glass of wine from a table nearby, drained it in one. Greg nodded with resolve as he set the empty glass down again. He looked at Wilson, eyes wide, with a wicked grin and a look of intent. Then he turned and limped away…

…to find Cuddy.

TBC?