PROPERTY OF...
Lisa Cuddy groaned and held her head. That must have been one hell of a party. She looked around the room. There was a man laying next to her. She didn't need to see who it was to know it was Gregory House. "Uhnh," she groaned and got up. She was naked, big surprise, and hurried to the bathroom, hoping not to wake him.
When she returned, now in a big fluffy robe, House was sitting up, staring at her. He had a strange little smile on her face.
"Shut up!" She snapped, even though he hadn't spoken. His grin broadened. "It's not happening again."
"You said that last time." House had decided to risk speaking.
"That was over fifteen years ago." Cuddy sat on the edge of the bed. She didn't want to, but the room spun too quickly when she was standing.
"So we were due." House slid one hand across the bed toward her, but she moved away.
"I was drunk House."
"I know." His grin threatened to split his face in half.
"Why are you grinning like an idiot?" She couldn't take it anymore.
"Did you look in the mirror while you were in the bathroom?" He let a small laugh escape.
"Yes?" She was getting worried.
"Both sides?" House weighed his words heavily with implication.
"No." She wasn't in the habit of checking out her own ass.
House thought for a moment. "Good. Don't." He got up, his naked body on full display and strutted into the bathroom.
She was gone by the time he got out.
He got back into bed and fell asleep on the side she'd recently vacated. It smelled of her perfume and sweat. He fell asleep, lost in happy dreams.
The phone woke him up. He stared at it, fear flashing across his face. She was going to kill him for this. He didn't answer, let the machine get it.
"House! Pick up this phone! House! I'm going to kill you! Not answering is just going to piss me off more! House! I'm warning you House! Pick up the..." his machine ran out of tape. He never remembered to erase the thing. Oh was she going to be pissed.
The next day at work he did everything he could to avoid her. That was not easy to do when he opened the door to his office and she was sitting in his chair. For a brief moment he thought of turning and running, but she probably had Brenda the Evil Henchwoman waiting with a baseball bat in the hallway.
"Hi," he said jovially.
She took a deep breath and glared at him.
"Feeling better?" Maybe she hadn't looked.
"No." She replied sharply.
"Great." He walked over despite his better judgement. "Mind getting out of my seat?"
"Why? Don't want me touching your PROPERTY?" She spat the word at him so forcefully it acutally hurt.
"Well, uh, you can play with it when I'm not around but..."
She stood up and shoved him hard. "How DARE you! What the hell did you use?" She pushed him again. He held his hands up to defend himself.
"Sharpie." He grinned weakly. "It'll fade eventually."
"Fade? I'll give you fade." She pushed him up against the bookcase. For the first time House noticed that all the shades where closed. How had he not noticed that till now.
"Uh, can't we talk about this?" She was scary when she was mad."
"Talk? You didn't want to TALK last night! What did you do, wait till I fell asleep?"
"I think the proper term is passed out." House corrected. He got another shove in response.
"I can't beleive you...no, the really sad things is, I can."
"It's funny, when you think about it," he laughed nervously, "isn't it?"
"Oh, I don't think you'll be laughing much longer." She grabbed his arm harshly and dragged him over to the desk. "Bend over!"
"What?" House felt her hand pushing down on his back. Before he knew it he was bent over his desk. He felt so...imascualted. And he was enjoying every minute of it.
"Shut up!" She pushed his head forward so he couldn't see what she was doing. He could hear it, and feel it though. First he felt her hands slide around to his belly and deftly unbuckle his belt, then he felt her fingers slid inside his pants and pull them down. Next he felt his boxers follow them to the floor. He felt his buttocks quiver.
Next he heard the cap pop off of something, then he felt the cold moisture of the marker slide across his smooth arse. He didn't have to struggle to figure out what she was writing. "Property of Dr. Lisa Cuddy." He smirked to himself.
She let him go and he stood up, craining to see her handywork. "Now we're even." She glared at him, flicking the marker against her hand loudly.
"I'll help you scrub your's off if you help me with mine." He grinned, pants still wrapped around his ankles.
"Call me in fifteen years." She placed the marker on his desk and glided out of his office. He watched her arse swish under the tight black skirt as she went. In his mind he could see his own name emblazoned across her fine, round arse. The thought made him smile.