A/N-This is a one shot sequel to "Living Well." You probably need to read that story before this one so that it makes sense. I received a lot of prompts from that one-shot, and I decided to incorporate a few of them here. I always enjoyed the scheming. I'd still like to thank my original prompter for the first idea, and to all of those who pushed me to tie up a few of the things from the first story.
There are adult situations and language in this fic. And the characters still blatantly refuse to be owned by me.
"Who would have thought she'd put up with him for an entire year," Chase commented as he entered House's empty office with his coworkers. House had been off for a long weekend away with Cuddy and the team was awaiting his arrival and a new case.
"She's putting up with him?" Cameron questioned incredulously. "Maybe he's putting up with her."
"Everyone knows why he puts up with her."
"So it's all about sex, is it? House isn't as shallow as you want to believe."
Foreman scoffed as he joined them and sat in House's lounge chair, folding his arms high across his chest, "Of course it's all about sex. With both of them. The whole reason they even hooked up was because he couldn't control himself when he was in a coma. Now there's a romance for the ages. Can you imagine telling that story at a dinner party?"
"Interesting. So no one thinks it's love?" Chase asked, pondering the statement.
"I guess it's possible," Cameron conceded.
"It isn't love. I'm not sure if either of them are even capable of that," Foreman argued. "It's all about power and sex. And we all know House is a masochist."
"Are you sure about that?" Chase questioned. "He seems to spend more of his time tormenting others than being tormented. Look at how he treats us."
"I mean in the literal sense of the word. Don't get me wrong, Cuddy has an amazing body, especially for her age, but to actually date her for any extended period of time, you'd have to be into a little pain and submission."
Chase was unconvinced, "I can't imagine House being submissive in any situation. Who knows, maybe Cuddy's the submissive and she hides it behind that powerful boss image. She'd have to be a bit of a masochist to put up with him at home and work."
"There's some freaky power dynamics going on in that bedroom. That…I can guarantee."
"I just don't think there's much of a spark between them," Cameron interjected. "You have these theories, but who knows, maybe they're boring, lights-off, missionary types."
Foreman and Chase stared with looks of wild disbelief.
"They're both freaky," Foreman argued, "and no matter what, they owe us. If we wouldn't have realized House's reaction to her and tested our theory, I don't think they ever would have gotten together."
"I'm pretty sure Cuddy noticed his reaction," Chase interrupted.
"But she could have argued coincidence. We were the ones who observed what was going on. For all she knew, that could have been happening every time the heat kicked on. We were the ones who noticed when and where it was happening. And speaking of humiliating."
Cameron shook her head, "It's not humiliating. I don't see what the big deal was. It could have been coincidental. I'd think a room full of doctors would be less likely to overreact to something so ordinary."
"It was not coincidental. You knew it. We all knew it. House and Cuddy knew it too, or they never would have started this…thing."
"It would be humiliating though," Chase added. "Not only does your body sell you out and confess one of your dark, hidden desires, but you're defenseless…exposed. What's even worse is that he didn't even know it until someone told him. House hates being the last to know."
They all jumped when the light in the conference room next door came on as Cuddy entered from the hallway, "How long are you planning on taking this little nap?"
With the light on, the team could see House, lying on top of the table with his hands folded on his stomach. "Hello my sweet," he answered.
"Talking to your Vicodin?"
Smiling, he asked, "Why would you assume that?" as he dropped a pill in his mouth.
"Going back to my previous question. What are you doing?"
"Actually your previous question was 'how long are you planning on taking this little nap?'"
She dropped a file on him, "Well, you were taking a nap. Now your nap is over and you're taking a case. Looks like I answered my own questions."
"I wasn't really napping though. I was listening to my brilliant team of experts while they tried to figure out what really goes on between us. With the door open, there is really no privacy in that office at all."
"What goes on between us?"
"Well…there is some debate about which of us is dominant in the bedroom. They've actually elevated it to more of an S&M discussion."
"Oddly enough, both extremes in the debate kind of bug me. I mean, there's the theory that what all really strong women want is to be dominated by a man. The flip side is that I'm so domineering and controlling that I can't ever let go."
"I'm actually not irritated by either of those theories…and I feel they're both worthy of further exploration."
"Well, that's sort of my point. A really good partner isn't just capable of one particular scenario or dynamic over and over. A really good partner knows how to mix it up. She…or he…would understand the joys of both giving and receiving. They know that sometimes it feels really good to turn everything over to someone who knows how to treat your body…and sometimes it feels good to control someone else's reaction."
"Care to elaborate?"
As if he'd never said anything, she continued, "But when you're really attracted to someone, sometimes you don't have to bother with who's in control or power games because all you want to do is rip each other's clothes off and throw yourself into the passionate, uninhibited sort of encounter that has nothing to do with roles or power and everything to do with attraction and lust. And sometimes you find yourself having sex yet again in the middle of the night before you're really awake…just because you want to."
"Theoretically?"
"Of course."
"So your theory is…if you only explore one scenario repeatedly, eventually even whips and chains become normal. And therefore boring."
Raising one eyebrow she answered, "And really…the one type of consensual sex that I think would be the worst would be boring sex."
House shook his head in search of clarity, and said, "Didn't we have a meeting scheduled in about ten minutes in your office?"
"Now you have a case. Unless you can solve the case in the next ten minutes, we'll have to postpone."
He sat up on the table with his back to his team and gave her a glance of approval before he held the file against his chest and squinted his eyes shut. His eyes popped open and he exclaimed with excited pride, "Oh my god…it's Wilford-Hodges Syndrome."
"There is no such thing."
"Or this is the first case of it."
"Let's rule out known diseases before we start looking for new ones and naming them after people we don't know."
"What's it worth to you?"
"If you take it, I have the joy of being able to continue to employ you."
He was dissatisfied at her offer.
"It's the one I told you about yesterday," she added before she left, "it's a good one."
House watched her leave and kept his eyes on the door before he opened the file and started to get lost in it. The team remained behind him, occasionally exchanging looks as they waited to hear what he was about to say. Without looking up, he ordered, "Run ACTH and Ig levels." He held a scan up to the light, "Rescan the abdomen, focus on whatever this is in the upper left quadrant."
After he finished, House held out the file just a few inches and waited for someone to come take it. All three walked into the room, somewhat sheepishly, although Foreman tried to mask his sheepishness beneath an uncaring glare when he tried to take the file from House's hand.
At the last second, House pulled the file back and said contemplatively, "I really let you guys down, didn't I? As your mentor, it is my job to guide you on the right path. Last year when I should have been considering revenge, I was distracted by Cuddy. Don't worry though, I've had a year of putting up with her…wait, or is she the one who's putting up with me? I can't remember what you guys decided."
Chase and Cameron looked uncomfortable but Foreman responded, "I don't know why either of you bother."
"Either way, I've had a year to become accustomed to balancing my duties here at the hospital with the work I have sating the almost unquenchable appetite of our dean. You should all appreciate that. I think Cuddy's a lot less demanding here at work lately."
All three team members oozed skepticism, but House was undeterred.
"As I was trying to say," he glared at all three of them, "I need to pay some attention to the kids here at home."
"We're fine," Chase spoke up.
"No…I missed out on an opportunity to really teach you something. So, during your little debate in my office, you were right about one thing. I owe you guys."
"What do you mean?" Chase asked.
"Look, just get it over with," Foreman argued. "You want us to run every test in the book? You need us to bicycle through Zimbabwe and pick up a little known herb that you can rub on the patient's head that will show if they have Wilford-Hodges Syndrome?"
House looked disappointed, "Cuddy was right. I made that up. I was hoping she didn't know that, but I expected you to."
"I know it's not real. Just hurry up and tell us what our punishment is so we can either ignore it, get it over with or find a way around it."
"A good teacher wouldn't just turn his lesson plans over to the students."
Cameron tried intercede, "Just tell us what you want us to do."
"I thought I already told you," House answered. "Run ACTH, get me immunoglobulin levels…IgG and IgA, why not do the whole Ig-alphabet while you're there. Also scan the upper left quadrant. After you do the scan, we'll look at the pictures together and attempt to see what all of the other doctors before us have failed to see. I think you guys should be able to handle that by now."
Cameron, Chase and Foreman all looked a little worried as they hesitantly began to walk to the door to conduct the tests. House returned to his spot on the table and folded his hands over his stomach, "And hit the light on your way out."
A few days later, Wilson came to House's office. "Congratulations. I just came from a board meeting."
"You're congratulating me because I'm smart enough to refuse to get involved with the board?"
"I'm congratulating you because your department is going to be recognized during that conference next month in Trenton."
"I'm not going."
"Cuddy already assumed that. Your team will accept. It's quite an honor."
"Great," House replied, disinterestedly.
"The board was definitely impressed, House. This is an opportunity to share the type of work you're doing with a larger audience. This could mean donations, additional exposure for the hospital, and a very happy boss. I know it was strange to hear your name mentioned without the gnashing of teeth and wailing that usually accompany the place on the agenda that seems permanently dedicated to dealing with issues involving you. I… House? Are you listening?"
"How many people usually attend those?"
"Board meetings?"
"Recognition ceremonies at a conference of that size."
"Probably two or three hundred. Why?"
Wilson could see House playing something over in his mind.
"House? What are you thinking about?"
When Cuddy returned from her office in the late afternoon a few days later, House was sitting at her desk, looking at something on her computer.
"You have your own computer. Why do you always feel the need to be on mine?"
Ignoring her question, he stated, "You're a diversion."
"Perhaps you'd feel less diverted if you were in your own office instead of being in mine."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"I think it's safe to say that I'm a much bigger diversion when we're in the same room."
"True," he said, admiringly.
"I take it your case isn't going well."
"Case is fine."
She shut the lid to her computer, "So why am I a diversion?"
"The kids seem to be letting their guards down. They think I'm becoming tender and kindly."
"How horrible. I've never heard anyone accuse you of being tender or kindly."
"I've let them get away with too much and I need to realign things."
"Are you…breaking up with me?" she asked, confused.
"I haven't lost my mind, I just need to crack down on the little underlings. I just want you to know that I'm blaming you for the fact that I have to teach them a lesson. So, in some way, whatever I decide to do to them is your fault."
She sat back in her chair and considered.
"What?" he asked.
"I'm trying to decide how worried I should be about whatever you're planning."
"I thought you'd be happy that I'm trying to communicate. You said that good communication is the key to any successful relationship, and I heard your concerns. You also said that you don't like being blindsided by my little schemes. Now you can prepare. You have inside information."
Her eyes were wide as she slowly nodded, "I should be happy that you told me you're plotting something? But I don't know what it is or when it will happen?"
"Right. I also told you it was directed at my team. So you have nothing to worry about."
"If you're looking for some sort of authorization for a prank or scheme, you don't have it."
"I don't not have it either."
"I think not having it is the same as not-not having it because you don't have an answer. I'm telling you that I won't weigh in on whatever you're going to do if I don't know what it is. And if you're mentioning it, you probably already know it's something that I won't approve of."
"Exactly."
"Exactly?"
"I'm saying that if I haven't directly asked, then you cannot approve or deny. But you are aware. See. Communication. I'm doing this for you."
She braced her chin in her hand and, with a look of worry, asked, "Thank you?"
"You are welcome!"
"Is this about that conversation you overheard the other day? Do you really care about what they think about our relationship?"
"I like that we keep them guessing."
"So why the need to teach them a lesson?"
"It's a lesson I forgot to teach a long time ago. Their conversation reminded me," he said as he looked down at his phone. "See, this is exactly what I mean. You're a diversion. I have work! I can't sit here all day and entertain your endless questions."
"Terribly sorry," she answered wryly as he walked out the door, grinning deviously at her.
He'd slept at her place the night before the ceremony, and when he woke, there was a dress hanging on the outside of her closet door. Cuddy returned from the kitchen with a cup of coffee to sip at while she was getting ready for the day. "You wearing that one tonight?" he asked.
"Yea. I'm going to bring it to work with me in case my meeting runs late."
She kept getting ready, bustling in and out of her room and bathroom as she prepared. A thought struck her and she asked, "Why did you ask?"
"Ask what?"
"You asked about the dress. Why?"
"I don't know. I'm not supposed to ask?"
"It wasn't that you asked, it was how you asked. You said, 'are you wearing that one?' You don't like that one?"
"I don't know, I just woke up. I wasn't thinking about how I said it. It's fine."
"Just fine?"
"I'm not going to be there anyway. Why would I care?"
"You should be there, at least for a few minutes. You don't have to participate, but let them see you walk through at some point."
Cuddy continued getting ready. House wasn't the type of guy she'd ask for clothing advice from, but, to him, her clothes fell into two basic categories: hot or ordinary. His reaction to the dress did not put the garment into the hot category. That fact irritated her.
He felt his victory hours later when he saw her slip out of the office at lunchtime. He knew exactly where she was going.
When he arrived at the store where he knew she would be, he could see her through the windows, holding a dress out at arm's length while she inspected it. She seemed legitimately startled when he asked, "Wouldn't it be easier to bring me along so I can tell you if I like it before you spend my entire year's salary on one dress?"
"I forgot I was that generous with your paychecks."
He followed her as she walked through the store, making faces at certain outfits and offering no comment whatsoever on others.
"I didn't come here because of you," she commented while she selected another dress.
"Of course you didn't."
"I didn't! I was treating myself."
"Try on what you have."
She walked toward the dressing room and held out her purse.
"I'm not taking that," he argued.
"You were willing to before."
"I'm going back with you."
"No, you're not. I'll come out and show you."
"That doesn't work for me."
"Too bad."
"I'll show up for the ceremony."
Her mind searched for further catches, "Why?"
"Because I'm already here, I want to watch. And if I have to show up tonight, I might as well enjoy watching you in the dress I pick."
"You're not picking my dress."
"Sir?" the clerk asked snootily, "can I help you with something?"
House smiled politely, a look that was both disconcerting and eerie to Cuddy, and he said with a bit of a feminine flare that was not at all overplayed, "Her boyfriend sent me over. He has an event at work, and he wants her to look fabulous."
The clerk returned his smile when he winked. "Oh," she answered, confused by the man in front of her.
"If her boyfriend isn't worried about me going back there with her, I'm sure you wouldn't mind."
"Well no. I don't mind."
He whispered sneakily to the woman, "She's lost without me."
"Alright," the clerk answered as she turned back, still mildly suspicious.
Cuddy was trying to look at him disapprovingly as she entered the dressing room, but the whole scene was far too amusing, "You expect her to believe any of that?"
"What I expect is to be back here. I am here. My expectations have been met, so far. I am also one-hundred perfect certain that your boyfriend fully supports my presence here. Get undressed," he ordered while he sat back in the comfortable chair in the corner of the room. "Why have you been hiding this place from me? I'll start coming here for my naps. In between I can engage in humanitarian efforts."
"By which you mean peeping on women as they change?"
"Is it really peeping if they know that I'm here?"
"I know where Cameron would be spending her lunches."
House was about to offer some cocky retort when Cuddy turned, dropped her skirt and bent over to lift it from the ground, giving him a perfect, eye-level view of her ass. His retort seemed momentarily lost while he watched. When Cuddy turned back and saw his expression and the accompanying silence, she mused, "And they think I need a ball gag to shut you up."
He was busy watching at that point, reaching out to palm one ass cheek, surprised that she didn't protest or shoo him away. She didn't really pay him any attention while she pulled one dress from the hanger and slipped it over her body. He slid forward on the chair, pulling the swooshing fabric over her hips and helping it fall into place. "I hate it," he said immediately while his hands circled her thighs.
"You didn't even look at it."
"It's blocking my view."
She stepped back, turned to the side and sort of wiggled her body until she felt the dress was hanging properly. "What about now?"
He shrugged, "It's fine."
She started undressing and he pulled a different one from the pile and held it out to her. His eyes followed her body while she hung up the first dress, carefully making sure that it was secure and unwrinkled as she stood in front of him in a matching bra and panty set and her heels. He wondered if she kept them on for his benefit or if she always tried on dresses with the appropriate shoes.
He stood, lowering the zipper that spanned one side and helping her into the next dress. Once it was on, she could see his approval while he tried to appear blasé. "If you like it," he finally said.
He could see in the three mirrors in front of her that the dress scooped down low at the back, showing off the shape of yet another one of her jaw-dropping features. Sometimes there could be something so enticing about a part of someone that wasn't really sexual at all. Everyone else would see only the glimpses of her that the dress allowed, like a sneak preview of the things he'd be able to enjoy after they went home.
The front of the dress was cut low too, but not nearly as low as the back, showing off her breasts but a bit more subtly. He stood, walking behind her as they watched each other in the mirror. She stepped her leg out to the side, showing the long slit that he traced with the tip of his pointer finger until the spot where the fabric joined. He didn't say anything, but his look was enough to tell her how much he liked it. He touched the places along her back where her body met the dress, watching her skin prickle.
"I have an idea," she said, ending the silence but not halting his research. "I'll let you pick my dress," when his eyes became devious, she added, "from the ones in this room."
He was only mildly deflated after the condition, so he questioned, "In exchange for?"
"Wait here."
Cuddy left the dressing room for much longer than House expected her to be gone. He started to wonder if she had left and was teaching him some sort of lesson, except her purse and clothes were still in there. When she returned, she had shirts and ties from the adjoining men's store and he immediately answered, "No."
"I let you come back and watch me-"
He interjected, "-Watch you put on something you wanted to wear anyway."
"You look good in a tux," she said in a way that seemed like Cuddy's version of leering at a memory she had tucked in her brain.
"I'm not going to wear this crap tonight."
"Just here. Try it. And maybe you'll like it."
"Fine. No pictures," he added while he tugged his tee shirt over his head.
"This isn't a high school prom. I just want to see how it looks."
She sat down on the chair he had been sitting on, putting her feet up and gesturing for him to continue. Her eyes moved across his chest and torso, watching the way the muscles in his arms moved while he unbuttoned his jeans and dropped them to the floor. His hand leaned against the wall while he kicked off his sneakers and pants into one heap.
Her eyes explored his long, lean torso, sensing through his uncaring exterior that being watched by her still seemed make him feel a little strange. Her gaze moved to his boxers before following the center of his body up to his face. Arching an eyebrow, she explained, "I should spend a lot more time looking at you."
"Where's the pants?"
"I thought you could just wear your jeans." He pointed to the spot where his jeans were pooled on the floor and she answered, "Once you started taking them off, I didn't see a reason to stop you. Your boxers will look good with the really dark purple one."
Looking at the clothing hanging near him, he grabbed the shirt and yanked it onto his body with as little finesse as possible, and started to button it with the buttons misaligned. "That color," she commented, "it's great on you."
He huffed, continuing until the shirt was closed. She threw him the tie she wanted him to wear and watched him drape it around his neck and start to tie it with the worst knot she could remember seeing. Standing, she approached him, still with an admiring gaze. She had already decided she wasn't about to let irritation ruin her fun.
Her hands took his and moved them to his sides while she unbuttoned his shirt and untied the horribly executed knot in his tie. The backs and tips of her fingers found scant touches of his skin beneath the shirt as she re-buttoned it properly.
She slipped her hands up the fabric of the button-down and reached around his neck, grabbing the silk tie and letting it slip along her fingers while she straightened it and lined up the ends so it would be the appropriate length. When she caught his stare she asked, "What?"
"You're better at that than I am," he noted, suspiciously.
"I've probably done it more often." She stepped back, smoothing his collar. "You look good."
"Hurry and take it all in. I don't even look like me."
"It's you," she answered as she stepped back, "well…sort of."
"Why do women like this anyway?"
"It's not my favorite look."
"Your favorite look is lab coats?"
"Nope. My favorite look is the after party look," she said, loosening the tie and the top two buttons. "After you're done with the event you got all dressed up for, and you go home…maybe slightly tipsy and tired. You've been watching each other all evening…sometimes watching other people watch too. But at the end of the night, you're with the person you chose to go home with."
Her pointer finger hooked above the knot in the tie, "I think you look best like this…dressed up, but you find a way to make it a little disheveled. Although if you wanted to wait a few minutes before disheveling your clothes, I wouldn't mind."
Their eyes met in a few moments of suspended uncertainty as the paid compliments floated between them and looks of admiration were genuinely traded.
A quick smile flashed on her lips before he could see her mulling a thought over in her mind. From the expression on her face and the pensiveness displayed on her lips it was a decision that required significant consideration. Then the mischief was back and evident in everything that he saw.
She pulled the tie more forcefully, dragging him to the one side of the dressing room away from the door before she possessively nipped at his lip. "What's this?" he asked as he licked the tender spot she created.
"I thought we could do something very…not boring," she answered while she re-opened the rest of the buttons of his shirt.
His own mind considered the situation just as she had, but his decision involved fewer questions and took significantly less time to make. The answer was obvious when she whispered, "We have to be quick. And quiet."
That was all of the impetus he needed. Managing to lower her zipper far enough to free her breast, he lifted the skirt of the dress and grabbed the feeble waistband of her panties and started to push them down her legs. He was so rushed that he heard something tear and decided that if he was going to be in trouble for ruining them, he should make it worth his while. She didn't complain when he ripped them off and tossed them aside.
She was already pushing his boxers away, partially freeing his upper body from the shirt until she decided it wasn't worth the time or effort, and that he looked great with it half off. But she made no move to get rid of the tie, using it to pull him to her in a way that made him consider purchasing several for future use. Turning around in his arms, she faced the three mirrors at the back of the tiny room and reached behind her body to pull him close.
Her clothing was equally askew, giving glimpses of pieces of her body, partially clothed in something elegant and proper, as other parts were exposed. The contrast made what they were doing feel all the more indecent. He watched his hands travel along her body, saw the tight peak of her nipple since her body was already aroused by the anticipation. His hand followed the curve of her breast while she circled her hips back against him.
Bringing her along with him, he sat on the seat that faced the mirror while he lifted the dress up over her hips. She held the gathered dress at waist level while he stared at her body and the way she looked when he touched her. He leaned back, pulling her over his lap while she stepped over his legs. Still facing the mirror, their eyes both went to the reflection to watch their sexes join as he pushed into her tight, waiting core. The heat between them was bliss, the view adding an erotic intensity on top the excitement that permeated the room.
She leaned forward, carefully avoiding any points of contact that she thought would cause him pain, balancing her hands on his knees so she could move. At first, she seemed intent on using the reflection to drive him wild, and she did so very effectively, but after a minute, she became lost in her need. Her body was more beautiful like that, moving just so they would feel good, the subtle expressions of pleasure on her face were unfiltered reactions.
They were both numbed to the rest of the world as the thinking parts of their brains were otherwise occupied. He was lifting off the seat to meet her, his hands locked on her hips as she ground down on his body repeatedly. He watched every moment in the mirrors until he saw the expression on her face that almost always preceded a very intense orgasm, and then he could no longer keep his concentration on the reflection. His eyes snapped straight in front of him to her back and butt and the way she looked right there, bouncing in his lap, and he was gone. By some miracle they both remained mostly silent.
She dropped back against his chest, remaining still for a few heavy breaths before she looked over her shoulder and waited for a comment. "Maybe I should have a tie," House commented. "And those mirrors."
"I don't think they're for sale."
When they heard someone else enter one of the adjoining rooms, they got up and started to collect themselves. House put the shirt and tie back with the other shirts that he had never even tried on, and Cuddy quickly grabbed it away from the pile, mouthing, "You can't put that back. We…used it."
"I don't want it."
"And I love the way that shirt feels against my skin."
"Fine…one new shirt and one tie. But I'm not wearing it in public. And you're buying it."
Cuddy was in a great mood after her lunchtime shopping excursion. The risk in itself was a thrill that left her feeling sort of invigorated. House seemed mellower, agreeing, oddly enough, to come along to the conference without too much complaint. He even agreed to put in a brief appearance at the event before he would retreat to the bar to wait for her.
She sat at a table with a few colleagues, proudly watching House's team as they sat at a reserved table in front of the stage. She was shocked when House took a seat next to her, wearing the new shirt and tie she had bought and had cleaned before the ceremony. Her suspicions about his rather agreeable behavior hadn't been raised until that moment.
He was being too agreeable.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, nervously.
"Sitting with you."
"Why?"
"I thought it might be fun."
"You don't think things like this are fun."
"I didn't think wearing ties was fun either, until you showed me how to wear them properly."
A speaker took the podium to make some announcements and Cuddy leaned over and whispered, "I'm not buying it," before she folded her hands to pay attention to the stage.
Over the next hour, House seemed bored, but he didn't do anything that Cuddy could really complain about. The crowd was offering a standing ovation to two doctors who were on the stage, so the scene was momentarily chaotic. Just when she was starting to feel guilty for being suspicious of House's behavior, Cuddy noticed two women who didn't seem to belong, walking near the front of the room.
Cuddy was unaware that House was counting on her to invite him to the ceremony. She was also unaware that House had slipped a generous amount of Viagra into Chase and Foreman's drinks before he joined her at her table.
Moments before House's team was going to be called up to receive the award, the two women who seemed strangely out of place were busily whispering the most arousing things in the fellows' ears and placing a few publicly acceptable but highly suggestive touches on the younger men. After all, Viagra on its own wouldn't do anything, but Viagra and the talents of two seasoned prostitutes combined to give the fellows very undeniable erections.
Cameron went up to the stage on her own, accepting the award on behalf of the team as she was unaware of exactly why Foreman was sitting in his seat with the chair pushed in close to the table. She also had no idea why Chase took her overcoat and slipped from the room as subtly as he could.
As the next segment began, Cuddy saw House's satisfied expression before he said, "These things really are fun."
Foreman and Chase confronted House after the session, and any questions Cuddy may have had about what happened were answered during the confrontation. "Your revenge was out of line," Foreman argued.
"It wasn't really revenge," House replied, "it was an experiment. You guys like to conduct those, so I thought you'd understand."
"It was sabotage," Chase argued. "How can that be seen as an experiment?"
"You guys did the same thing to me, I just shook up the variables a bit. You ran tests using Cuddy on a comatose patient…I ran tests using little blue pills and hookers on a couple of guys in a room full of people."
Chase and Foreman surrendered for the moment, but as they walked away, Foreman added, "I'm not forgetting this."
Once Cuddy and House were driving home, she said, "I am not thrilled by what you did."
"I wasn't trying to thrill you, I was trying to thrill Foreman and Chase."
"That was too much."
"It wasn't too much. It was brilliant. They were the only ones who knew, it was harmless. Or maybe I did it because I really care about their well-being. Their experiment worked out for me…I landed you from it, and I wanted to repay the favor. So it's possible that I thought they'd fall in love with the two hookers I hired to work them up. Then the hookers will leave the profession and settle down with two promising doctors. I taught them valuable life lessons and gave them happily-ever-afters. I just might be their Fairy Godfather."
Cuddy shot him a look as she drove.
"Fine," he continued, "there is absolutely no chance that will happen. But it was great."
"What about Cameron?"
"What about her?"
"She was there, part of the original experiment…"
"Cameron was more humiliated by that than anyone else."
"How's that?"
"When I was in a coma, she was the one person who barely left my side, talking to me, dutifully waiting. Cameron liked me. You walk in and three-for-three, I'm sprung. I'm willing to bet that she wanted the reaction that you got. If she would have gotten it, she would have gladly debunked the 'House has a thing for Cuddy' theory. She knew that. Foreman and Chase knew that. Eventually I knew that."
They were silent for a while before Cuddy teased, "Should I be worried that the man I'm seeing spent the evening trying to turn on the men who work for him?"
"I had sex with my hot boss in a changing room during my lunch hour because she found me too irresistible to pass up. My masculinity is perfectly intact."
"I was feeling so guilty for thinking you were up to something when you sat down with me…looking so nice."
"You should probably never feel guilty for assuming I'm up to something. Most of the time…I am."
"What happened to living well? You had Wilson so freaked out when you gave him that whole 'living well is the best revenge' speech that he thought you were terminal."
"Why choose when I can do both? I decided I should still live well…and I remembered that fucking with my team is fun."