As always, thanks to my amazing beta, wrytingtyme.

Sweat

Cuddy hated to sweat; she hated the way it would trickle down into her eyes, stinging with salt. Though she found it didn't bother her one bit when it was a certain Greg House who was doing the sweating, not in the least; in fact, she rather enjoyed it.

She watched the sweat glisten on his biceps from afar. Cuddy always maintained her distance, just far enough away to be out of his sight should he turn around, but not far enough away to lose sight of him. She knew he went running every morning before his first class; she too ran every morning, though only since she'd first spotted him crossing campus on her way to an early morning group study session. He ran in a sleeveless t-shirt, sneakers and running shorts and she enjoyed watching every minute of his run.

By the fourth week, she was certain he knew she was watching him and she was almost sure that he was enjoying his view just as much as she was enjoying hers, as their paths criss-crossed on campus. Still hating the sweat that dripped into her face, she had to admit that her legs never looked sexier and her love of running was born.

_______

Dammit, Cuddy thought. She cursed silently as the sweat trickled down her forehead, a drop searing the corner of her eye. She hadn't anticipated the sweat; it left her sticky and wet, and even more miserable than before, if that was even remotely possible. This sweat certainly wasn't nearly as much fun working up as it had been before.