OK, here is the third House fic in that little series that I didn't expect to start. Well, this is House and Cuddy's third date in my little world, and I hope y'all like it, even though it is just a little shorty of a fic. This is a sequel to a sequel, basically. Should follow Whatever You Say and I Told You So, but you readers have every right to read these as standalones. Enjoy!
The waitress came and cleared their dishes, and House stared down at the empty place in front of him. These dates seemed to become more and more awkward. They were avoiding the 'how to make it work at work' talk, and he knew it.
"Can I get you anything for dessert?" the waitress asked in a high pitched chirp that caused both House and Cuddy to cringe.
"No." His tone was impatient and edgy, his mind reeling over the things that hadn't happened yet in their... whatever you would call this.
"Just coffee, thank you," Cuddy said politely, leaning over to whisper something to the waitress—probably an apology for his behavior.
As the waitress floated away, House just stared around his date. Every time their eyes happened to meet, he tore his away so fast it was as if it had never happened. He knew their was a confrontation bubbling beneath the cool, collected surface of Cuddy's exterior, but he wasn't about to attempt to bring it out willingly. It just wasn't like him.
"OK, this is getting ridiculous." Her voice was a harsh whisper, and she seemed frustrated beyond belief. "What is wrong with you, House?"
"Nothing. Oh, except for the crippling pain in my leg, but that isn't new." He studied her, and sighed as she rolled her eyes. "I could ask you the same thing, Cuddy."
"Well, for one: this is our third date, you could start calling me Lisa. But that might just be me and my womanly ways," she replied. "And another thing is that you avoid looking me in the eye, like I'm going to turn you into stone like Medusa."
"Well—"
She held up a hand to stop him in his tracks. "Don't finish that thought unless you want a high heel somewhere very unpleasant."
"I was going to say that you could call me Greg, since that's my name and all."
"Oh," she said, blushing. "Well, not at work, of course. We need some ground rules. You know, for handling this at... work."
"OK. Rule number one: No making out in the supply closet." She rolled her eyes, and he frowned. "What, do you want to make out in the supply closet. Because I'm totally cool with that."
"Jesus, Hou—Greg, act your age!" she chided.
"Fine." He pouted, simply to mock her. "So making out in the closet is..."
"Out," she finished. "We just need to act like nothing has changed, and no one is allowed to know about this besides Wilson. We can't both risk losing our jobs."
"Oh, of course not. Heaven forbid," he said in his usual sarcastic tone.
The waitress came back with Cuddy's coffee just as she rolled her eyes at his statement. She gave them both curious looks before walking away again to fetch their bill when Cuddy sent her off.
"Alright, so what's the next rule that I'm going to do everything in my power to break."
-Fin-