Heh... this was fun chapter to write. As always, thank-you for the reviews :)
Just so you know, I probably won't update next week, seeing as how I go back to the evil that is school -_-

Chapter 4

"This is honestly what you do with your time?" Cuddy asked House. They were sitting in her car, parked across the street from the restaurant Wilson had supposedly entered an hour ago with his date. They'd been late arriving to the "scene". There had been a small mishap when they'd gone out for dinner. Somehow a meatball had landed in Cuddy's top, God knew why. She had demanded to go home and change, threatening to say there. House had provided her with his coat (he was trying to dismiss the fact that she was wearing nothing but a bra and his coat and sitting next to him) and the promise of two hours of clinic duty to get her to stay out with him. She was currently sulking in the passenger's seat, radiating a combination of annoyance and disgust.

"Yes, this is what I do. And stop pouting. Your face is going to get stuck like that," House said, turning his attention back to the restaurant.

"You hear that? That's the sound of me. Not caring."

House turned to address her. "You should care. This is the first time he's been out since... you know."

"I am very happy for him," Cuddy agreed, "and will be caring and supportive when he decides to tell me about it."

"What if he doesn't? What if he's seeing a man?" He turned to her with a face of mock-horror.

"I support gay rights. And stop messing with my windshield wipers!" House was sitting in the driver's seat, since it was the side of the car facing the street.

"Really? I always thought you were more conservative. I dig the liberal thing. Yes we can!"

"Shut up. Let me back over there so I can go home. This is ridiculous."

"It is not," House argued.

"It's invasive, juvenile, and boring. I'm going home."

"Well, let's make it less boring. We can play punch buggy."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "What are we, twelve?"

"Oh, I know. Let's play that game- the one where you describe someone with every letter of the alphabet," House said, and it took Cuddy a moment to realize he was being completely serious.

"Sounds so exhilarating. I'll start: ass."

"ASStounding."

"I am not doing this. Get out of my car," she said, shoving his arm. "I'll plan the outing next time."

"Fine, we'll skip to z. I've got the perfect one for you: zesty!"

She shoved him again, and looked at him with irritation, but there was disappointment underneath it. Frankly, she had expected some kind of romantic and enticing evening, and sitting in her car wasn't her idea of one. Then again, she shouldn't have expected anything in the first place. No expectations, no disappointments, she reminded herself.

"Fine, but I want my coat back. I'll get chilly walking that whole, long block to my motorcycle."

"You're seriously not going to make me drive home in my bra."

"Your shirt's in the backseat,"House reminded her. "Huh, that sounds naughty."

"It has sauce all over it!" She scowled at him.

"Hey, don't look at me. The was one angry albóndiga."

"The only angry one here is me," Cuddy informed him.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the whole point of us doing this so that we won't be pissy with each other?"

"It was, but I guess you're just not capable of not being an ass."

House shifted in the seat so he was closer to her, and began to unzip the jacket.

"This qualifies as being an ass," Cuddy huffed, looking away.

He unzipped it so her collarbone was exposed, and shyly ran his fingers along it until he reached the hollow of her throat. Cuddy stared at him wordlessly, shocked at the gentleness of his actions.

House unzipped the jacket a little more, revealing the planes of her breastbone, tracing his fingers along it as well. He finally unzipped the coat enough to reveal Cuddy's bra a little, and stopped there. He leaned towards her, looking at her with a look she'd never quite seen on his face before. It was a mixture of innocence and nervousness.

He brought his lips to her collarbone, retracing the steps he'd made with his fingers. She closed her eyes, taking in the warmth of his touch. His stubble tickled her soft skin. He finished unzipping the coat, but instead of taking it, wrapped it around her, before opening the door.

"You're going to leave, just like that?"

"I gotta get home and set my TiVo-"

"Get over here," Cuddy interjected, pulling him closer by his collar. She paused for a moment, before bringing her lips to his. She kissed him softly, investigating, and he kissed back in the same degree.

"I thought I was an ass," he reminded her as he pulled away a bit.

"Shut up," she said against his mouth, deepening the kiss. They continued the same manner, lips and hands composing a symphony that began delicately before steadily increasing in intensity. Cuddy allowed House to have his way underneath the coat, but pulled away once he went to work on her skirt.

"Dammit! Aren't we ever going to make it past second base?"

"I thought we were still on first?"

"You can recite the human genome but you don't know your bases?"

"Ha ha," she said, zipping the jacket back up. "Goodnight."

"But we haven't scored a run yet."

"Out," she ordered, shoving him gently. Cuddy opened her door and crossed around to the driver's side. House meet her in the middle. They stared at each other for a moment, the rawness of the time they'd spent together humbling them both. Cuddy looked down, suddenly shy. House gingerly tipped up her chin, and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. She smiled.

"Are you actually going to leave without spying on Wilson?"

House's impish grin was enough of an answer.

"Goodnight," she said, opening her door.

"'Night, Cuddy."

House watched her drive off, while emotions he hadn't felt in awhile were stirring. He hung around the restaurant until he spotted Wilson, with a familiar looking woman on his arm. He couldn't make her out, and at the moment, didn't care to. There weren't enough hours in a day, but there always seemed to be enough to harass his friend.

---

A week later, House was on his way to Cuddy's office. They hadn't been "out" since their attempt to reveal Wilson's dinner date. House knew he'd seen her before, but couldn't recall who she was. Wilson wasn't dropping any hints either, but for once, House was too wrapped up in his own personal life to intrude in Wilson's.

Cuddy was on the phone, busy making her daily barrage of calls. She had a lot on her plate, between the normal upkeep of the hospital and the new wing, and House barging into her office more often now... Speak of the devil, Cuddy thought to herself. House boldly walked into her office, and she put her finger on her lip, begging him to be quiet for a minute.

"I got those handcuffs you wanted!" he yelled, rather loudly. Cuddy looked horrified, and hung up the phone.

"I hate you."

"Right back at you, sugar. Need to do a brain biopsy."

"What for?"

"To confirm encephalitis."

"Fine."

"Fine? Just fine?"

"'Fine' as in, get the hell out of my office."

"Okay," House said, starting to leave, feeling slightly rejected by Cuddy's tone.

"Wait. Sorry." House stopped, walking back to her desk.

Cuddy sighed, beckoning House to sit back down. He looked at her expectantly.

"I'm just stressed," she explained.

"Well, un-stress yourself."

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. I'm never stressed."

"Unlike you, I don't have a job where I can sit on my ass and make my minions do everything," she joked.

"Not my fault. Talk to my boss about it." Cuddy smirked, and House was glad to have made her smile, if only for a second. He reached across the desk to touch her, but she pulled away.

"No groping in my office," she reminded him, looking at him teasingly.

"Stop looking at me like that."

She smiled and looked back down at her paperwork. "So, I'm giving you the day off Friday."

"Why?" House examined her with extreme suspicion.

"Because one of the hospital benefactors is in a symphony orchestra, and if I don't go to his concert, he'll stop donating. You're going to accompany me."

"I'll take the day off, but not the orchestra. Ask Wilson. He'll behave better."

"You're coming. End of story."

"Take away four hours of clinic duty, and you've got a deal."

"One hour."

"Two."

"Three," they both said at the same time.

"Three it is."

---

It was the end of the day, and House was waiting for Wilson to finish writing some last minute prescriptions. It was bowling night.

"I know I've see her before, and you know it's only a matter of time before I find out. It's in your best interest to tell me," House was advising him.

"I told you, I'm not seeing anyone," Wilson said for the umpteenth time.

"I saw you with her!"

"And you didn't barge in on us?"

"I was a late for Bible study."

"I had dinner. With a friend. Not a date," the oncologist said, stating each word clearly.

"You don't have female friends," House reminded him. "You're seeing someone."

"I think you are. You haven't been meddling in my life as much. And you've been in a good mood lately."

"Stop deflecting."

"And you haven't been screwing with Cuddy. In fact, you haven't so much as mentioned her once this week."

"I've moved on."

Wilson laughed.

"Are you done yet?!" House snapped.

"Yes. I'm coming."

The two doctors walked towards the elevator together, Wilson still pressing House about Cuddy as they walked through the lobby. House gazed longingly in the direction of Cuddy's office.

"I went out with her once last week. And we're going to some schmuck's concert on Friday," he told his friend, punching out.

"House! This is great!" Wilson exclaimed, smiling.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't go spreading it around."

"Oh, come on. Who am I going to tell?"

"The dying people. Who will tell other dying people, who will tell non-dying people, who will tell non-non-dying people, like doctors."

"That made absolutely no sense."

As they walked into the parking lot, a well-dressed man stopped them.

"Dr. House?" he asked.

House pointed to Wilson, who pointed to House.

The man addressed House anyway. "Your medical license has been suspended."