Chapter 2

House was having too much fun with this.

"I'm your last resort? Isn't there some sort of odd saying or something? 'Save the best for last.' Or something like that?"

His grin just kept on getting bigger and bigger. He had every intention of going; he just had to make things hard in between. That was just the way he worked. He had known Cuddy since college. So once again, there really was no harm in this playful banter for him.

He loved analyzing people. And his personal pastimes had to be Wilson and Cuddy.

Cuddy, just because of the fact that she had so much hidden away in that lioness outer shell of hers. Lisa Cuddy was a puzzle for him, and curiosity got the best of him always. He'd figure her out. But…there was another part of him, which didn't want to figure her out.

He shook his head slightly, pushing his deep thoughts away. Now, was not the best time for this.

The happier House seemed to be, the crabbier Cuddy began to feel, until finally she was internally debating whether she should storm out of his office, dump the contents of his mug down his shirt, or smash his keyboard over his head.

In the end, she ignored all three options.

"Look, are you coming or not?" she demanded irritably. "I can always give the tickets to someone else."

She knew that she was cracking her workplace protocol, but by God! House was such a child sometimes!

House grinned, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

"I'll go." He replied simply. As an afterthought, he added, smirking,

"Don't want you to miss out on things couples do."

But then, House thought for a moment. A very, very, very urgent question that pressed on his mind. A question that could determine his mood for the next 24 hours…

"Uh…these are tickets to...where?" He asked, slightly hesitant, which was very uncharacteristic of him.

Relieved, Cuddy let out a small sigh and dropped both hands into the pockets of her pristine, white lab coat. "Okay then," she said with finality.

She was in the process of turning to leave when House spoke again.

"A concert," she said shortly, "violins and cellos and all that upper-crust goodness. It's probably not what you prefer," she added, thinking of House's horrendous, occasional inclination towards rock music, "but it'll do."

House paused. This time, a small, genuine smile passed through his lips. But it quickly passed. House couldn't let her know that she knew the exact buttons to push. But then again, House mused. Maybe she already knew.

"That's fine." He commented. "So long as it's not opera. I'm okay with it. But...this does mean I have to wear that oxygen crushing tie and itchy coat jacket, right?"

"Oh, opera...no." Cuddy visibly cringed this time. "I'm all for high culture, but there's a certain frequency of noise that my ears just can't take," she said truthfully, noting with mild surprise that she and House had something in common--mutual dislike for fat ladies screeching.

"Itchy coat jacket and tie, yes. I won't be seen with you if you look like someone I pulled off the streets, you know."

She strode to the glass door and pulled it open. "Eight o'clock, downtown. Don't be late." She rounded the corner and paused. Leaning against the wall, she let a brief smile grace her features. Maybe, she thought. Maybe this will turn out all right.

House merely nodded as Cuddy left his office. He rubbed his stubble for a moment and then got up as well. If he had to dress up...then all of his formal clothes were in the depths of his drawer at home.