A/N-

You all hate me, right??? Please tell me you hate me?? Because my frickin' muse will NOT LET ME BE!

This one will be short, I think. I reserve the right to change my mind.. And it will contain smut.

It takes place in the near futureish...but Lucas is out of the picture, cuz well, he's cock blocking house, and that just pisses me off!

Okay, hope you like this, enjoy!

As always, I own nothing but a full cheap notebook and some broken pencils. DS owns House and Cuddy, but I thank him for sharing his toys :-)


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A Cold Winter's Eve
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~ Storm of the Century ~


The snow started around nine a.m. Tiny white flakes sprinkled down from heavy, steel colored clouds. By noon, there was a dusting covering the grass in the courtyards of the hospital. The janitors set to work mopping the wet entry ways and sprinkling ice-melt on the steps around the hospital, while the grounds crews began to start clearing the sidewalks, but the snow kept falling.

Lisa Cuddy sat at her desk, rubbing her temples. She'd just gotten off the phone with the snow plow company that the hospital had a contract with. The president of the company had tried to jack up his rates, complaining that they had a lot of extra work with the predicted foot or more of snow on the way, and she had spent the last thirty minutes threatening that that was a legal breach of contract. Due to her outstanding debating skills, she eventually won, but before she hung up, she heard him mutter "bitch."

Her day just went downhill from there.

The hospital was short staffed due to the weather, and she had made the decision that all absences were to be considered excused. She didn't want her employees to come in to work via the E.R. with auto accident injuries. Because of that, the E.R. Became a madhouse, with the usual winter storm auto accident victims, pulled muscles and heart attacks from shoveling snow, as well as injuries from sledding accidents and falls.

At seven p.m., there was about six inches of snow on the ground, and the slush was starting to freeze as the temperatures dropped. She was exhausted, running around the hospital all day, and she couldn't wait to get home. She shut her briefcase, and she slipped on her heavy wool coat, grateful that the day was through. She made her way to the foyer, stopping by the reception desk for any last minute messages before she left.

As she stood, waiting for the nurse to check her inbox, a large manila envelope was slapped down in front of her. She turned around, and she found Wilson standing behind her. "What's this?" she asked, rhetorically, flipping the file over, inwardly groaning when she read who it was addressed to, and where it was from.

"What did House do this time?" she closed her eyes, feeling the headache that had been building all day increase its throbbing. "And why does it involve the law firm of Stuart and Brown?" She was going to need the extra-extra strength dose of pain reliever tonight.

Wilson grimaced. "He...may have threatened a patient's wife." He cringed, seeing the sharp look she gave him. "And...that patient's wife's brother may be a senior partner at that firm..."

She sighed, wanting to bang her head against a wall, regretting even asking that question. "And what does this have to do with me?" she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Bill asked me to give it to you," he told her, mentioning the hospital's legal representative on the Board. "He said that you're his superior, so you need to deliver it. And deal with him."

"Yeah, right," she muttered under her breath. "Let me guess, he's gone for the day?"

Wilson nodded. "Said the weather made his leg pain flare up, so he cut out around lunch." At her annoyed look, he continued. "In his defense, he's on lighter pain killers now, and he could barely stand upright."

She sighed. "It'll have to wait until tomorrow, assuming we're not shut down."

Wilson nodded, sympathetically. "The TV in one of my patient's room said we could get up to two feet."

She glanced out the large glass entrance way, watching the thick, fluffy flakes add to the ever growing white blanket of snow that was covering everything. "That does it. It's going to take me an hour to get home as it is. It'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"You'll do it tonight." A deep male voice drawled. William "Bill" Owens, a native Texan transplanted to Jersey, sauntered up to them. Cuddy inhaled sharply, keeping her dislike at bay. The man was a male chauvinist pig who seemed to think a woman needed to do twice the work of a man to prove herself worthy for any position of power. She knew he considered her a threat, and she had to walk carefully around him, or she might be out of a job thanks to the son of a b*tch. "House is being sued, again," he sneered, showing a dislike for the doctor who once called him a redneck hick in front of a disciplinary meeting, "and he's not around for me to discuss it. You're on your way home. Drop it off." Bill then walked away before she could retort him, leaving Cuddy fuming in his wake.

"Bastard," she hissed, sneering at his retreating back.

Wilson gave her a sympathetic look. "Sorry," he patted her on the shoulder.

She shrugged him off. "For what? It's not your fault that he's a bigger jerk than House." She looked out the big glass doors, then, with a defeated sigh, she pulled out her cell phone.

Wilson tilted his head, quizzically. "Who are you calling?"

She sighed, listening to the phone ring. "My sitter," she mouthed. She heard the click of a pick up. "Maria? Hi," she forced a smile. "It's Lisa. I'm just calling to let you know that I'm going to be late." She listened to the sitter's response, her brow furrowing, then she nodded. "Yes, the weather's horrible, and I have to run an errand for the hospital, but I'll be home as soon as possible." She frowned, listening to Maria's response. "Yes, Maria," she answered. "I'll be careful. Yes. I'll call you if something happens. Thank-you Maria; you're a godsend! 'Bye." She hung up, then allowed her self to slump.

"Are you going to be okay?" Wilson's brow furrowed lightly with worry.

She nodded. "I hate winter," she declared.

Wilson guffawed. "You should retire to Hawaii," he informed her.

She shook her head, digging in her bag for her keys. "La Costa del Sol, Spain," she said with a wry smile. "Lots of sun, an hot European men with sexy accents and bronzed bodies."

Wilson chuckled and rolled his eyes. "And not anyone named House around, right?" At her dry look, he gave her a sympathetic smile, then became somber. "He's still sore about the whole situation with Lucas, you know."

She closed her eyes. "That was a bad mistake. On all accounts."

"He forgives you, you know," Wilson kept his voice soft. "He just doesn't know how to express that." He arched a fuzzy eyebrow at her. "And you need to forgive yourself, too." He collected his things, and he ventured back into the chaos that was the hospital, being on-call for the night.

She sighed. "Easier said than done," she muttered aloud to herself. Then she closed her eyes, steeling herself for the task at hand. Operation deliver the envelope to House, and get home safe.


An hour later, she was slowly creeping down the snow covered streets. She could barely make out the buildings around her; the snow was falling that thickly. After the third stoplight she skidded through, she began to think that this was a fool's errand. "I swear, next fucking winter, I'm buying a truck with four-wheel drive," she groused aloud. An image of her driving some monster truck style vehicle, crushing cars left and right entered her mind, and a giggle slipped out of her lips. "Dear god," she exclaimed aloud," I'm thinking like House!"

That was the moment her car's tires spun out, and her car skidded sideways. She pressed down hard on the brake pedal, and her car stopped a dozen yards away, just missing a parked beater, sliding into a mountain of snow piled up by Princeton's street department. Her heart was hammering against her rib cage, and her hands gripped her steering wheel so tightly that it soon became painful. When she could finally speak, all she could do was curse breathlessly.

She got out of the car, and she made sure she hadn't hit anything. She'd not felt an impact, but then again, adrenaline was coursing through her as her car slid out of her control. She was blocking an ally about a half dozen blocks away from the loft. After she made sure there wasn't anything to be worried about, she got back in her car, and she put it in reverse. She pressed down on the accelerator, but all that happened was her tires spun. She pressed the pedal to the floor, and the engine roared, exhaust billowed out of her tail pipe, but the car didn't move. The tires spun like mad, but the car would not move. She cut the engine, resting her forehead on the steering wheel, and she closed her eyes, trying not to cry. She was stuck in the drift.

After a few moments spent trying to calm down, she moaned to herself, "this day can't get any worse." Then she heard a hard tapping sound coming from her window. She didn't want to look, but she did anyway, and she saw House's smirking face looking at her.

That's when she decided that someone out there had a sick sense of humor.