A/N: This was written based on one particular spoiler for 3.15 (before I saw the episode). The spoiler itself made me sick to my stomach, so I took it and turned it into something beautiful... Or, at least, into something that makes me happy... and hopefully will make you happy, too. If it does, you know what to do! (Hey look, a rhyme!) Basically: I had a ball writing this, and I would love to hear your thoughts. Thanks!

To Greg House, his employee Allison Cameron was useful in two general areas: doctoring, and decorativeness. It was hard to miss that Cameron was pretty; House often maintained that her looks were what got her hired in the first place. Strictly speaking, this was only partially true. She was a good doctor; she wouldn't have made it through the preliminary application process if she weren't. It was the fact that her interview directly followed the young male equivalent of Strega Nona that gave her that extra push.

However, House knew a woman who was a better doctor; this was the same woman who filled most of his shameless fantasies and bore the brunt of most of his blatantly suggestive comments. It was pleasant to have Cameron around to glance at now and again, and there were times when he grudgingly admitted it was a good thing she had been working on a particular case. Still, he never gave her much consideration outside of the prior two thoughts, and so it was more than a little disorienting when he found her invading his personal space and leaning her head up towards his.

"House." She whispered, and he had little time to think anything other than that Cameron must be on some judgment-clouding, hallucinatory drug before her lips attacked his.

House struggled, but shock prevented him from making use of his full strength, and Cameron continued to press her mouth against his mouth. House put his hands on her hips, intending to push her away from him, and she moaned. House was extremely disturbed now, and he tried to speak. Cameron took advantage of this to force his lips apart with her tongue. In horror, House rallied his strength and prepared to shove her away, in three, two, one-

"What the hell is going on here?"

Damn. Damn damn damn. It was the other woman, the smarter, stronger, sexier woman. The woman whose name was Lisa Cuddy and who happened to be his boss.

Bloody hell.

With a wrench, House pulled his head free of Cameron's insistent hands and looked over her head at Cuddy. "As cliché as this is going to sound, this is definitely not what it looks like," he declared.

Cameron was smiling up at him with a happy, expectant look on her face. She didn't seem to be listening to what he was saying. Cuddy rolled her eyes and put up her hands to stop him. "Save it, House. Just watch what you're doing, okay? The entire hospital doesn't need to have an open invitation to watch you be inappropriate." She turned on her heel and walked off down the hallway, shaking her head.

House skirted around Cameron and made for the door as fast as he could. He had a cane, but she was either crazy, severely sleep-deprived, or on something, so he thought he could get away. He heard her call his name, but she didn't seem to be following him. He didn't look back, but hobbled to Cuddy's office at top speed, making it inside just as she was heading for her desk.

"Cuddy!" He shouted as he crossed the threshold, and she stopped and turned around. "Look, I am fully aware of how mental this is going to sound, but I was just standing there and she assaulted me. I could sue her for sexual harassment."

Cuddy snorted. "I'm not quite sure why you're bothering to make excuses, but I told you I don't care. I'm not going to get involved. If you want to make out with your staff, that's your funeral." She turned her back on him and began to shift papers on the front of her desk. She didn't seem to be looking at what she was moving, but merely kept her hands busy with shuffling folders and forms.

House took a moment to let his brain catch up to his body, and when it did he realized something. "Are you jealous, Cuddy?" He asked in a tone of voice usually reserved for discussing- preferably within earshot of a handful of nurses, patients, or donors- what (or who) he was planning to do with his Christmas bonus.

Cuddy turned and looked up. "You think I'm jealous… of Doctor Cameron," she said slowly.

House shrugged and approached her. "You shouldn't be. She's got nothing on you."

Cuddy pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "Really. How so?"

House looked surprised for only a moment before making a show of peering surreptitiously over his shoulder and leaning in. "Well," he stage-whispered, "she can't come close to rivaling your…" he leaned in still closer, his gaze pinning her in place as his eyes slid rapidly down her body and up again and a vague smile of appreciation crossed his face. "…administrative skills."

Cuddy resisted the impulse to let her eyes flutter shut and lean in to meet his warm breath. With an effort, she sidestepped him and retreated safely behind her desk. Always better, she thought, to deal with House with a nice solid object between them. (Not like that, Lisa, get your mind out of the goddamned gutter.)

She gave a short laugh. "I'm serious, House. I want concrete examples." She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows challengingly.

House stared at her incredulously. "You… want me to give you examples of ways in which you are superior to my employee."

"That's right. Let's say five. Prove your point."

"What point? I wasn't making a point. I was making a declarative statement."

"So support your statement." She smirked.

"Don't you think you're fishing for compliments here, Cuddy? That sounds a little desperate to me. Tell you what," he continued loudly as she started to protest, "Why don't we make a little bet? Our bets always go well, don't you think? If I can come up with five ways that you kick Cameron's ass, you give me fifty bucks."

"You want me to pay you… to compliment me." Cuddy made a face. "Okaaaaay…."

"Hey, it's better than paying me to have sex with you." Cuddy's eyebrows flew up, and House clapped a dramatic hand to his head. "Oh wait, I forgot! You don't need sex from me! You just had sex! I guess Don the car salesman wasn't too bad in the sack, but he didn't tell you the things you needed to hear? So now you need me to give you a self-esteem boost. That's interesting."

Cuddy's eyes narrowed and she opened a desk drawer with a ferocity that betrayed her impassive voice. "Go back to work, House. Or back to kissing Cameron, whatever."

House looked at her for a moment before turning and ambling towards the door. Cuddy sat and opened a folder, preparing for a vulgar comment conveniently projected into the crowded nurse's station just as he opened the door, but she looked up when instead she heard the lock click and the far sets of blinds clatter gently.

"House…" she said, a note of warning in her questioning tone.

"One." House stated clearly as he turned and started walking back towards her desk. "You know, for the most part, how to balance your realism and your idealism, so they don't come in inconvenient spurts. That's what practicality is, not having no idealism at all."

House stopped in front of her desk and began to roll his cane between his palms. Cuddy was looking up at him, her expression unreadable. She didn't interrupt.

"Two." House leaned forward and helped himself to a glance down Cuddy's generously open blouse. He spoke earnestly without bothering to lift his eyes. "She just can't put the fun in funbags like you can."

Cuddy snapped out of the mild daze that she'd slipped into since House had started talking and stood up quickly, breaking his line of sight. House looked up at her irate, slightly flushed expression and grinned wickedly.

"Three, you can deal compassionately with patients without overstepping the line into inappropriate emotional involvement. Excluding your little escapade with José."

Cuddy's brow creased with annoyance. And yet, there was a part of her that took this comment with gratitude; having to retort to House's purposely offensive remarks kept her grounded by necessity.

"House, his name was Al-"

"Details!" House cut her off with a wave of his hand. She brought one of her own hands up to rub her forehead in exasperation, but he caught it deftly on its way up and held it, keeping their linked hands suspended equidistant between their bodies. All at once Cuddy felt cornered, and she tried desperately to keep it from showing in her eyes, all the while knowing in the back of her mind that it was useless to try and fool him. He could detect the scent of her being off her guard like a bloodhound.

"Five." His eyes bored into hers, waiting for her comment. It came.

"You skipped four." Her voice came out husky and deep. That voice always sparked a reaction in House; at this point it was so automatic to be in Cuddy's presence and to want her that the two things had become synonymous and he was used to it; but at that moment he was suddenly vividly aware of the response she provoked.

"I wanted to get to five," he said.

Once again Cuddy felt her eyelids grow inexplicably heavy, and she forced herself to stay alert and keep her eyes on his.

"Five," House announced again, and the volume of his voice seemed gratuitous considering the minimal volume of space between them. "You're a much better kisser."

"It's been twenty years since you've kissed me, House," she pointed out, knowing it had actually been nineteen but not feeling the need to make him aware of her knowledge.

"It has been ages, hasn't it. How 'bout you jog my memory?"

Cuddy finally closed her eyes. If she closed them, maybe she couldn't be held accountable for what happened next, which she could tell would be one of two things (although she avoided consciously thinking about this, as prior knowledge of events indicates an ability to prevent them, and maintaining deniability is always a good thing): either House would kiss her, or she would kiss House. The former option meant she wouldn't be strictly responsible for the occurrence; on the other hand, option two would mean she hadn't surrendered her control of the situation, depending, of course, on one's definition of the word control. Whatever the outcome, she was pretty sure she wanted her eyes closed for it.

With her vision dark, she couldn't tell whether she was keeping herself still or swaying back and forth, and maybe that was for the best, because when she and House finally did kiss, she simply didn't know whose fault it was. She just knew that she kissing Greg House (her employee, ironically; and her funeral) and he was kissing her (at least this time he'd put the blinds down).

There was a short span of time, a few seconds when the headiness of the kiss- the suddenness with which it had happened and yet, in hindsight, the obviousness with which it had been led up to- clouded her mind, and she would swear, without opening her eyes, that she was back at Michigan, a little buzzed, clinging to the TA eight years her senior whom she'd snarked at a few times in the campus bar. Without her eyes open to verify that the man in front of her was older, sharper, and a little bit more broken down than the arrogant, virulent young man who'd made her skin burn and her head swim, the last twenty (nineteen) years might have all been an illusion. His mouth was the same, and his hands as they cupped the sides of her neck were familiar though less calloused now that he no longer regularly gripped a lacrosse stick (just a cane).

The impression was fleeting, however. As soon as it had come it was gone, and she was sharply, clearheadedly aware of her surroundings and her company. She pressed herself more ardently into the kiss as her mind flooded anew with reality. House dropped his hands from her neck and took up her own hands, bringing them up to hold his rough, stubbly cheeks. Then, with her hands holding his head in place, he gripped his cane and shuffled in a circle around her desk. She rotated with him until her lower back pressed into her desk. Without breaking the kiss, House sat himself in her chair, forcing her to lean down. One of his hands held her hip, the other stroked her collar bone along the neckline of her blouse with a gentleness that was almost unsettling. Carefully she lowered herself onto his good knee and wrapped her arms around his chest.

House broke the kiss reluctantly and took a huge breath of air. Cuddy rested her cheek against his and closed her eyes again. Neither spoke. It should have been awkward, but it wasn't. They both felt a vague discomfort that is wasn't awkward, but other than that they simply breathed together, sharing body heat.

When her breathing finally returned to normal, Cuddy took a deep breath and spoke. "Buy me dinner."

"What?" House was still panting.

"Buy me dinner. No smart comments. Just do it."

"What makes it worth it for me?"

"I think you just gave me four reasons it's very worth it for you. Or if you want you could just tell yourself it might get you laid."

House coughed a little. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right."

"You absolutely heard me. Look at it this way: you owe me. Last time I had sex a lunatic doctor showed up at my door five minutes later. It ruined the afterglow." By this time Cuddy had relaxed into banter mode and was sitting up and looking at him. Surprisingly, the nature of keeping up a repartee with House didn't change even when the stakes were transformed from clinic hours to intimacy.

"Wait a second! Are you telling me that if I had showed up five minutes earlier I could have had a front row seat to free, live porn? And all this time I was messing around the logistics of installing a secret camera in your shower."

"If you shut your mouth and play your cards right, you may be able to take a more active role than voyeur."

"Cuddy, I must admit to being mildly shocked by this display of forwardness."

She shrugged. "I'm PMSing, it emboldens me," she told him wryly.

House made a show of wrinkling his nose. "Way to turn a guy on, Cuddy."

She sighed. "Please. If I remember correctly, you know exactly when my periods are anyway."

"Hmm." House pretended to consider. "Alright, I'll pay for you to eat something. Possibly something mildly appetizing. And then…." He waggled his eyebrows.

"You're obnoxious," Cuddy stated. "As for the 'and then,' that might depend on the food. You might want to seriously consider making it more than mildly appetizing."

House heaved a great sigh. "I'll consider it."

Cuddy smiled, satisfied.