Hello, readers. I know quite a few people have been following this story, so this may confuse a few people. This story was originally meant to be a one-shot that stopped after the first night Cuddy and House had at Michigan, but I couldn't stop after I got the creepy crawly idea. Evil, I know, but also hopefully funny. Since then it just seems to go on and on. I decided to change the format to make it easier to follow the vignettes that make up connected storylines. If you have already read the short chapters, the newest storylines will start in chapter 6. I just hope it is easier to follow the short story plots. Here are the basic warnings: (1) This is my own little sick head at work and has no association with the television series. If you're interested in profits, you're going to have seek out Mr. Shore. (2) This is rating M for a reason. There is adult content and language in this piece, but don't expect explicit description. I don't really write smut. (Trust me if I did it would sound like an instructional manual. There are somethings that certain girls do on instinct;) I love to know what people think so please leave a review whether you dislike or like. Thanks. -MGD

PartyPants as Lady Liberty

Chapter 1: When Panties Come back to Haunt You

Present

"Have you seen Cuddy?" Wilson stuck his head in House's office.

"No," he responded tilting his head in amazement at the sexual acrobatics unfolding on his computer.

"If you see her, tell her I'm looking for her. She was supposed to meet me in my office 20 minutes ago," Wilson moved behind House mirroring his action when he saw the double-jointed twin act, "Where do you find these sites?"

"Chase emails me the websites that people leave with Cameron whenever she pulls graveyard shift," House answered without an ounce of sarcasm in his tone, "If you need to find Cuddy, you could just break into her calendar."

"Unlike you, some of us were taught how to respect personal boundaries," he chided his friend while trying to memorize the current website.

"I can respect some boundaries like the impenetrable thornbush surrounding Cuddy's naughty place," he smirked, "You don't have to invade her office to get her appointments. Just log-in as LCuddy and put in her password Partypants92685. You can find out where or better yet on whom, she plans to use her administrative talents."

"Partypants? Interesting choice for a password," Wilson commented.

"College nickname," House replied.

"Wilson, I'm sorry that I'm late. I was finishing up a tour with a potential donor," Cuddy poked her head into the doorway. House knocked Wilson's arm with his elbow and smirked trying to convince him that Cuddy just proved him right about her 'daily activities'. Wilson smiled shaking his head and walked towards Cuddy. Halfway there, he turned looking back and forth between House and Cuddy.

"My god! Partypants is Lady Liberty!" Wilson shouted as he realized the connection. Cuddy opened her mouth in shock unable to confirm or deny.

House responded, "Great. You had to pick now to develop your detective skills, boy-wonder."

Past

The twilight of the dawn gently illuminated the edges of the buildings in the quad as House soaked in the silence of the early morning. He had spent the majority of the night tolling away in his personal version of hell. Being a medical intern resulted in a rotation for a few weeks in each area of the hospital. One night in the ER convinced the future doctor that brilliant minds went to the ER to die. He had diagnosed enough runny noses and itchy crotches to last him a lifetime. He made a silent promise to himself that his mind would never be wasted in such pathetic places.

At least, the night wasn't a complete loss. The blonde nurse in the ICU finally dropped her guard. She had proven a fruitful conquest. House smiled patting the pocket that held a stolen pair of pink panties. Of course, tomorrow would be awkward. Most women just can't walk away from the purely physical. The nurse had been a brief distraction, a minor challenge. Ever since word of Hopkins had hit Michigan, women had lost a bit of their appeal. College girls, in search of the rebel, were child's play. A few shots and well-timed insults guaranteed physical satisfaction.

The older women at the hospital hadn't caught wind of the issues at Hopkins. They didn't fawn over every word and story. Hell, there was a handful that could even qualify as mentally simulating in a few exchanges. A hiccup and giggle tore him from his thoughts as he turned his head in the direction of the noise. Sticking out from behind a tree was a perfectly round ass covered in red satin. This is just too easy . . .

Present

"What is he talking about House? Who is Lady Liberty?" Cuddy glared at him clearly fuming about her personal life being made public in the hospital. She could handle the obscene rumors about transgender operations and the impenetrable fortifications erected around her genitals, but he promised. He promised never to bring the personal details of their encounters from the past into the hospital. She knew that she should have made it a clause in his contract when she hired him.

"Technically, Wilson didn't know about the 'Partypants'. He figured it out all by himself, Mommy," House smirked at her glare, "Besides, Lady Liberty is the nickname I use for you when I tell people that story. I promised not to tell that story in the hospital. Poker games are free reign."

"Don't forget that medical conference in St. Louis, the blackjack tables in Atlantic City, and that bar by at the airport," Wilson added recalling the many times he had heard the infamous story from hallowed grounds of Michigan.

"House!" Cuddy yelled clearly not amused that the story had become one of his favorite tales to tell when he was drunk.

"I think I finally understand your relationship," Wilson started to smile when he thought of the thousand different versions that he heard House tell of that particular story, "He never does use your name when he tells the story." He crinkled his brow slightly re-examining the image he had of Lisa Cuddy.

"I swear if I hear my name or any implication of my involvement attached to that story, you will become world renowned for your expertise in sexually transmitted diseases. Plus you'll have the clinic hours to assert that expertise. Do I make myself clear?" Cuddy threatened placing her hands on the opposite side of his desk while drilling a death glare into his eyes.

House was silent for a moment before shaking his head. When he looked her in the eyes, he replied, "Sorry, I wasn't listening. I got lost in the valley, again." He smirked and resumed his gaze on her chest.

Cuddy gritted her teeth adjusting her posture, "I'll take that as a yes. Same goes for you, Wilson." She turned to the door and stormed down the hall to the march of stiletto heels.

Wilson turned his head back to House after Cuddy had vanished from sight. House was leaning back in his chair with his head still tilted to the side trying to grasp one last glance at Cuddy's backside. Wilson began to smile that evil genius grin, "So, that's the girl from Michigan."

Past

The sight of red lace panties immediately halted House in his tracks. His head automatically tilted to the left as he assessed the derrière in front of him. It was pleasantly rounded and had that look like it would be soft in a man's caress. There were faint tan lines a couple of centimeters from the edge of the panties. Her natural coloring was pale, but browned nicely in the summer. The ass looked soft to the touch, but her legs were toned perfection.

Those legs probably carried this girl five miles every morning. The calf muscles were enhanced by the death heels she was wearing. Heels had to be three or four inches high. She must be pursuing a male dominated procession. The heels must give her some much needed height and confidence to face the boys. The color of the shoes made his grin grow wider. The shoes matched her panties. He wondered if the bra completed the set.

Bringing himself out of the fantasy unfolding in front of his eyes, he finally noticed that the girl was mumbling to herself trying to pull her pants off over her red devil heels. House, for a brief instance, worried if the devil had finally come to bargain for his soul. He smirked thankful that Lucifer had sent an agent that encompassed all his fantasies. Again, for an instance, he wondered if there really was something to the higher being and afterlife BS before dismissing it just as quickly. He remained silent walking closer to the girl taking in her blue knit top that was bunching around her waist. Her dark curls hung around her face.

He couldn't contain a bark of laughter as she fell on her behind when she could not get her jeans over her heels. He kneeled behind her and whispered into her ear, "It might help if you took the heels off first."

He expected a gasp or shout, but his look was meant with a vicious glare from steel gray eyes. "If you're so clever, why don't you do it?" she fired back with slightly slurred words.

"My pleasure," he smirked.

Present

"Come on. It's time you bought me lunch," he rose from his desk limping over to his grinning friend, "Stop that. You look like an idiot."

"All these years, I thought that you were just unleashing all the pent-up, off-handed sexual comments that your twisted, convoluted mind comes up with about women, in general. I figured you went to town on Cuddy, so in your own sick perverse mind, you would be sticking it to the man. Plus she was the only woman that can put up with all your crap. Unless, of course, you just enjoy being put in your place," Wilson was still smiling like a kid reaching in the cookie jar for seconds without being caught.

House hit the button for the elevator turning to glare at Wilson after his last comment, "It's not like that. I wear the pants in that relationship. You were there last year when that patient mirrored me over her."

"Are you sure? You always attest to the 'power of her funbags'. Maybe he snapped back to himself when faced by that low-cut top," Wilson attempted to argue logically.

Both men walked into the elevator, and Wilson hit the button for the lobby level. House prepared to prove the idiocy behind his logic but stopped. Instead, he remained quiet lost in thought. "House?" Wilson questioned wondering why his response was so slow.

"Damn things are still distracting after 20 years," he murmured under his breathe.

"What?" Wilson gave him the you-are-talking-to-yourself-nutso expression.

"If they're that powerful now, imagine what they were like minus twenty years of gravity and tight shirt suffocation," he replied as they exited the elevator.

Past

When he reached out to touch her calf, the girl retracted from his reach and glared with fire in her eyes. She growled, "What the hell are do you think you're doing?"

"I took the 'if you're so smart' comment as an invitation," he reasoned waiting for her to give him back her leg.

"That's not my heel," she crossed her arms over her chest. The reaction caused her over-sized sweater to slip down her shoulder. Watching the motion, House couldn't help the wide grin that lit up his face. She wasn't wearing a bra, so she wore matching shoes instead.

His gaze returned to her face that had softened into a sublime smile that warmed her cool eyes. For a second, he allowed himself to drown in those icy depths. Later on, he would use the same tactic on countless women in future. "I like it when you smile," she slurred leaning into his body. His grin grew wider when her cleavage came into view.

"Promise you'll do that every time I smile," he leered.

"Okay, but only if you help get these pants off," she smiled.

"I really like you," he responded to her answer.

"No, you like certain parts of me," she replied watching him gaze over her body but always returning to her breasts, "Especially the twins."

"Seriously?" his voice cracked, "You have a twin?"

"No," she answered frustrated cupping her breasts, "I meant the girls, pom-poms, melons, cantaloupes, funbags, yabows, or also affectionately known as the twins."

"Do you always talk this much when you're drunk?" House deadpanned.

"Are you always this charming when you undress a woman?" she fired back sarcastically.

"Usually, I save the charm for when they're naked," he wagged his eyebrows.

She laughed, "Take off my pants already." A red heel was thrust into his hand on her command. For once, he found no problem in following orders.

Present

House motioned to the cashier that his tray was to be included with Wilson's purchases. Wilson sighed as he watched his friend limp away wondering if he ever would get to eat his chips. Who knew buying House lunch as a thank you for bail money would result in years of lost money? He followed the thunk of a cane remembering how they met. Suddenly, he wondered, "What exactly is this thing between the two of you? You pull her pigtails, and she kicks your shin until you let go. Instead, you just pull harder."

"I always thought it was more like two feral dogs in heat," House described his perspective.

"Sometimes," Wilson confessed frowning at the mental image, "Is your relationship the fall out from something that happened at Michigan, or is it your twisted version of a twenty year mating ritual?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that woman is all up in my jock? She just gets all fired up when I won't hit that on her command. It makes her uninhibited later on," House answered in a flippant tone.

Wilson responded in a calm tone, "Yeah. She really does get wild when she pulls out those leather straps and ties you down to the bed."

House looked up at him in shock choking on Wilson's chips. He replied in a high pitch tone, "Seriously?"

Past

Involuntarily, House raised his right hand to his forehead in salute as the girl in devil heels finished fastening the ropes on the flagpole in the center of the quad. Watching his actions, the girl fell into line next to him and mimicked his salute with a wide grin. She inquired, "Why are we saluting my pants?"

"Jeans that tight deserve proper respect," House mumbled lowering his arm quickly. He didn't even realize that he assumed the proper position for honoring the flag. Some things from his childhood were drilled in so deep that he still reacted like a mindless soldier.

"In that case, here's to my party pants," she giggled raising her hand in the direction of her pants before lowering it to her side. Both stood quietly watching her pants wave proudly in the breeze just below the red, white, and blue.

"Why exactly did you have me tie your pants on a flagpole, Partypants?" he wondered slipping off his leather jacket. He placed his hand on her left shoulder and motioned for her to face him. He smirked when she batted his hands away when he tried to lift her arms. Before she could respond, he commanded, "Put your damn arms up. If we don't cover that sweet behind of yours up, we are going to be picked up for doing naughty things that shamefully still haven't happened yet."

"It's an ass, you idiot," she stumbled backwards on wobbly legs, "Where did you learn to tie things onto a flagpole anyway? It looked like you actually knew something there for a second."

"Put your arms up, woman," he moved closer to her retreating form.

"Not until you tell me where you learned to do that," she kept backing up.

"I was a military brat. My dad is a corporal in the marine core," he hissed growing frustrated that a complete stranger, amend that a complete drunken stranger, could pry personal information from him by acting playful. She finally stopped when he captured her against a tree. Obediently, she raised her arms up and allowed him to wrap his jacket around her hips. Her arms went around his neck as he tied the sleeves of the coat. He leaned into her body and breathed in her ear, "For your information, I know a lot of things."

Present

"Yeah, House. Cuddy and I get together every Thursday night for bondage night. Poker just grew too mundane after awhile," Wilson answered in disdain. When he noticed that House was examining him for the sign of a tell, he added, "It was a joke. The only person that Cuddy wants to tie down and reprimand is you."

"Seriously?" he choked on another handful of chips.

"Sometimes it sure looks that way," he shook his head. House was examining him again. "Why don't you go ask her?" Wilson replied hopefully.

"Not until I figure out what she plans on doing with Little Little Greg," he answered looking down at his pager as an annoying beep filled the air.

"I figured that you already knew that part," Wilson smiled trying to get him to reveal more details about their past relationship.

"Not him, you idiot. I meant the cane," House rose leaving Wilson with another unwelcome mental image.

Past

As he whispered into her ear, he enjoyed the mixed scents of scotch and lavender scenting her body and breath. He could feel her body tense and squirm in his arms when his unshaven jaw tickled her neck. His instincts were starting to drive his impulses as his hands wondered from the tie at her waist to rest on her hips. But, as always, his curiosity got the better of him. He tried his question again brushing his jaw along her cheek, "Why did you have me tie those pants to the flagpole, Partypants?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she complained leaning back to see his face.

"In last fifteen minutes, I pulled off your pants, tied them to a pole, and watched you parade around the quad in a red string that almost qualifies as panties. What do you think I should call you?" he placed a finger over her mouth to stop her from answering, "Trust me. Partypants is perfect. Besides, it has a better ring than Fatass." He couldn't help but smile when her mouth dropped in shock at his other suggestion. Her face grew a little flushed. When it looked like she might bite off the finger that was silencing her, he quickly pulled it away.

"My ass is not fat!" her voice raised an octave and slightly shrieky at the implication.

Sensing a rare opportunity, House moved his hands from her hips to her ass and gave it a strong squeeze. Expecting quick retaliation, he quipped, "Feels pretty squishy to me." Expecting a fierce hand slap, he shut his eyes. Instead, he heard a gentle giggle in his ear. It was his turn to be surprised.

Suddenly, a shiver trailed down his spine as her breath tickled his neck. Using his shoulders as support, she lifted herself onto her tippy toes. She softly brushed her lips across his ear and whispered, "Are you sure?"

"Actually, it may just be perfect," he mumbled giving her another test. He pulled back wanting to culminate the physical play that fit with their playful banter. When he saw the superior smirk on her lips, he immediately felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and nervousness, the satisfaction of finally finding a worthy opponent and the nervousness that he hadn't felt since a certain cheerleader at Hopkins.

"See! I was right," she replied smugly. He couldn't fight the urge to wipe that smirk off her face.

Present

"You paged, Mistress," House barged into Cuddy's office carrying over the delightfully sinful images that his mind rampantly cooked up after the conversation with Wilson. She threw a chart into the chair before he could sit down. He scooped it up and skimmed over the list of patient complaints. Figuring out the cause quickly, he prepared to battle with the administrator. Looking around, he realized that she was no longer in her office.

He followed the blazing trail she left towards the clinic. She stood by the nurses' station signing off on charts at rapid fire pace. When he caught up with her, she stopped him in his tracks with a glare. "House, it's your kind of case. Before you start, the patient does not have epilepsy. The medications did not stop the seizures. No, the patient does not have an infection. He has no fever, and the blood cultures came back clear," she rose her voice with each sentence drawing the attention of everyone in the clinic, "And no the patient does not have a brain tumor, clot, leak, or aneurysm. The CT scan and MRI's with and without contrast are in patient's file in his room. So, go find your lackeys and help the patient. Unless you can find some other obvious reason that he is sick."

He stood silently as she watched him expectantly. Realizing that they had a crowd, he raised the volume of his voice, "I take it that it's that time of the month, again." He thought he heard a low catlike growl before Cuddy disappeared up the stairs.

Past

He pressed his body into her body pushing her up against the tree. As House leaned in to kiss her, she placed her hands on his chest. She stopped him from sealing the deal. "Do you think I'm that easy?" she challenged him.

He lifted his head to glare into her eyes. When she met his steely analytic gaze with a determined smile and eyes that glared right back into his, he began to think that perhaps she wasn't as drunk as he thought. Then, again, maybe she really is that . . . he couldn't find the right word to describe her. "I don't think anything about you is easy," he answered pushing his lips the rest of the way to hers.

"Maybe we should take this somewhere more private," she mumbled as her lips brushed his.