Hi House fans! I'm brand new to the this site, and I already love it. This is my second fic, so I hope you all enjoy it! Please review as constructive criticism and comments are always helpful and fun. Happy reading fanfictioners! :)

In a Drunken Haze

Cuddy sat on a barstool as she swigged back another shot at the local bar downtown. She'd lost count of how many she'd drank, but judging by her spotted vision, she knew she was losing it. She didn't know how things had gotten to this point, and in all honesty she couldn't even remember. She demanded another shot and glanced up at the clock. 12:07AM. Cuddy began to giggle hysterically.

"IT'S... LIKE MIDNIGHT!" She laughed loudly. Others looked over at her suspiciously, watching her shake with laughter. "MIDNIGHT!" She yelled as she downed her shot.

The bartender walked over to her. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I have to cut you off. And these-" he took her keys from the counter. "Are gonna have to stay with me."

Cuddy frowned and wiggled in her chair. "So, your telling... me, I have no CAR to drive HOME?" She slurred, emphasizing her words as if the bartender didn't understand.

"I can't let you drive in your current state, but I can call you a taxi."

She frowned again, confused. "I spent all my damn money on your drinks! So... so you're tellin' me you're gonna take my keys, and, and steal my money, and then have the NERVE to offer me... a taxi? What the hell kinda bar is this..."

Cuddy's eyes narrowed at the man. "Ya know what? I... I won't trouble you, sir." She flashed her cell phone at him as she flipped it open. "I got connections." She began another laughing fit as the bartender walked away, a little freaked out.

She knew of one person who'd be awake at this hour. She scrolled through her contacts, squinting to see the names. Finally she came to the number, pressing dial.

House was watching an old movie with a glass of scotch in his apartment when his phone rang. Curious as to who would be calling at this hour, he looked at the number. Recognizing it as Cuddy's, he hesitated. He didn't want to be lectured about work; he threw the phone back on the couch.

After a few moments the phone continued to ring. House looked over at the phone, giving in. He picked it up, half irritated and half intrigued.

"House."

"Can you come pick me up? I'm at... Derian's." She paused. "Donovan's. My... My keys got taken. I don't even know why cause-"

House rolled his eyes; his boss was drunk. No, that was putting it lightly. His boss was wasted. "I'll be there in 10. Just don't leave, okay?" No answer. "OKAY?" He said loudly. This was hopeless.

"Kay."

And she hung up. Picking up his jacket and keys, he left his apartment. Revving the engine on his motorcycle, he sped down the empty streets, on a mission to retrieve his heavily intoxicated boss.

Pulling up to the bar, House parked his motorcycle and pushed through the doors to find Cuddy attempting to engage a strange looking man in conversation.

"Wouldn't you just find that the craziest thing? I mean... I can see why she might have done that but, like, in that circumstance... no. Just no." The man looked at her oddly and shuffled slightly away from her.

House rolled his eyes again, walking over to her. "Cuddy." She spun around, clearly too quickly as she gripped the counter.

"Look who it is! Hey," she nudged the strange looking man, "that's ma ride... gotta go." She said, pointing towards House. The man gave her a forced smile before turning the other way.

House could smell the alcohol on her; it was strong. "Cuddy, as much as I would love to see you humiliate yourself, you're completely wasted. Come on, we're leaving now." House gently grasped her elbow and began to tug her away from the barstool.

"I'm not wasted, I'm, just having some fun... Lettin' loose, ya know?" She said cooly, standing up.

"You're just jealous," she poked his chest, "cause you," poke, "are not," poke, "on my," poke, "level." Poke.

"Yeah, I'm jealous because no one is looking at me like I'm a psychopath, and can form sentences properly. You're right, my level is just not comparable to yours."

Cuddy stared at his chest, clearly confused about the point he was trying to make. Frowning, she cocked her head I the side.

"Okay..." House mumbled as he brushed by her, collecting her things. He quickly realized he wasn't going to get anything from her, so he decided to speak in as simple terms as possible.

"We are leaving now. I have your things, come on." He said loud and clear. "Kay!" She said happily. She began walking towards the door, but before she made it around the corner, she smacked her hip off the corner of the counter.

"SHIT!" She spat. "Ow, that hurt like a bitch!" Grasping her hip, she turned to see that House had seen the whole thing. He did not look impressed. As she stood there rubbing her hip in pain, he felt slightly sympathetic. That was going to hurt in the morning.

Sighing, he rested his hand on the small of her back, guiding her outside. He held the door for her as she stumbled through. Concerned she would fall, House wrapped his arm around her waist, allowing her to lean heavily on him for balance. "You smell really good," she said, pressing her nose into his jacket. "Like, really good." House just shook his head, looking up to the sky. However, he couldn't stop a smirk from forming on his lips.

Once they reached his motorcycle, he fastened the helmet strap under her chin, knowing full well there was no way she could do it on her own. He pushed a few rebellious locks of hair out of her face as she watched him intently. He let his hand linger on her face a second longer that necessary before retreating. He mounted the bike, and waited for her to sit behind him. Clearly not getting the point, she just stood there, looking a bit uneasy.

House motioned for her to sit down. "This doesn't look very safe." She said lamely. "It's only unsafe if you let go of me. Just get on and hold on tight." With that she stumbled on using his shoulders for support. When she was finally settled, she wrapped her arms tightly around him and rested her head on his back.

"Ya know, you're pretty attractive," she said casually. House turned his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I can't wait to tell you that tomorrow," he said proudly, assuming she'd forget most of tonight once her hangover begins to attack.

House revved the engine, startling Cuddy, causing her to squeeze him tighter. "Please don't kill us!" She squeaked and they disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Pulling up to Cuddy's home, House parked in her driveway. He turned around to look at Cuddy, her eyes bright with excitement. "That was so much FUN!" She giggled drunkly. "Why haven't I been on a motorcycle ride before?" She asked herself. "You tell me," mumbled House as he hopped off the bike.

Cuddy began to follow, throwing her leg over the bike. However, in her drunken state she greatly underestimated its height, and clipped her leg on the top of the bike. She fell forwards, and instinctively put her hands out in attempt to break her fall.

Instead, she fell straight into House's arms, the air whooshing out of her lungs. House, also taken aback, stumbled back slightly before wrapping his arms around her, holding her steady. She clumsily scrambled to get back to her feet as he helped pull her up.

She looked up at him foolishly, breaking into a fit of laughter. "Nice catch!" She sputtered, slapping his chest in amusement. House couldn't help but smile, it wasn't often he heard her laugh. It's a shame he thought. Her laugh is so adorable.

They made their way to Cuddy's front door, House watching her carefully in case she attempted to take another nose dive into the pavement. Reaching for her keys in her pocket, her fingers grasped thin air as she remembered they'd been taken away. She sighed.

"Do you have a spare key?" House asked. "Yeah... It's, under the flowerpot," she mumbled tiredly. Making their way inside, she tripped over the mat but managed to regain her composure, although House had already instinctively caught her by the waist. Barely noticing, Cuddy flopped onto the couch.

"I don't feel so good anymore..." She spoke into the pillow.

House could already see where this was going. There was no way such a petite woman could possibly hold down all that alcohol. Right on cue, Cuddy hopped up from the couch and ran to the washroom. House followed, making it just in time to hold her hair back as she wretched into the toilet.

All he could do was comfort her, but it hurt him to see her so frail and sick. He rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back while continuing to hold her soft dark curls. When she thought she was finished, Cuddy sat against the wall, eyes closed, head back.

"I'm such an IDIOT! What the hell was I thinking?" She groaned.

"You read my mind," he teased, sitting up against the wall across from her.

"Thanks for coming to pick me up." She said, ignoring his last comment. House looked away. "Yup," he said casually. He hated emotional moments, but he sensed that her thanks was sincere.

"Are you okay to get up?" He asked.

"Yeah, I think I'm done for now, thank God." She started inching her way up the wall until she reached her feet. She began walking down the hall, sliding her hand against the wall for balance before reaching the couch and laying down again. House remained in the washroom, searching through the cabinets seeking some ibuprofen.

He had no luck, and so he decided that he was willing to sacrifice one of his Vicodin for her. One. Limping back towards the living room, he saw her small form curled up on the couch...asleep. He looked at her for a long while, deciphering what he should do.

He'd feel guilty waking her up, especially because she looked so peaceful and content. Making his decision, House carefully scooped her up, with one hand under her knees and the other on the small of her back; princess style.

She barely stirred as he carried her to her bedroom. His leg throbbed in protest, but he ignored the pain, setting her down on the bed. He slowly took off her shoes, and pulled back the covers.

He set her on her side, her hip exposed to him. He grimaced slightly at the blue and purple blob beginning to appear on her ivory skin. Gently running his thumb across it, he pulled the waistline of her pants over her hip.

He set a garbage bucket at her bedside, knowing she'd probably need it through the night. He set a glass of water on the side table, knowing she'd need that too.

He looked at her beautiful face as she slept soundlessly. Even beyond drunk, she was stunning. Her lips were slightly parted and her curly hair splayed in all directions on the pillow. Gorgeous.

Before heading to the couch, he leaned over her and pressed a gentle kiss on her temple. She would need him when her hangover erupted with fury the next morning. He would be there when she vomited any last bit of remains in her stomach. He would be there when her head pounded so hard she could see the beats pulsating.

He would be there.