A Little Life Less Ordinary

Disclaimer: House, M.D. does not belong to me. Please don't sue; all I have is a packet of spearmint chewing gum.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: House/Cuddy

Summary: "You're pregnant," he stated to the inside of her well stocked refrigerator, as if it were an unequivocal truth. It figured that House would work it out before her. Unashamedly House/Cuddy with everyone else thrown into the mix . . .

Author's Note: Just for clarification, this is set towards the end of season three, but I've taken a few liberties with the storyline as Foreman and Cameron have not resigned and Chase was not fired.

Thanks for reading; and as always, an extra special thank you to everyone who reviewed: HotlipsPierce, J Lesley, glicine, insanehouseaddict, Shikabane-Mai, HuddyTheUltimate, mo, TVHollywoodDiva, AllisonCammie, WuHaoNi, Cheelalaucha, Critical Blues, Alias424 and notaplayer83.

Part Four

In which spilled beans cause more trouble than anticipated . . .

.: Chapter Ten :.

It was a bright April morning and once again Cameron found herself fooled by the weatherman's charming smile and sham of a guarantee of sunshine, and had hence decided to walk the better part of her journey to work. Of course when it had started to rain, it was quite impossible to retract her decision, and so she could only settle to walk the remaining distance as fast as she could.

Naturally, she was soaked through to her skin; her umbrella sitting pretty but useless back in her apartment. The normally pleasant jogging park was now a muddy spectacle, and it did nothing to lift her foul mood.

She trudged on, her thoughts straying quite unwillingly to a certain blond haired Australian Intensivist who was wreaking more havoc with her delicate emotional balance than she could have ever anticipated when she had quite literally jumped into bed with him.

The benefits of twenty-twenty hindsight would have argued that the first time, drug induced as it was, should have deterred her from ever allowing a repeat of such actions. Yet, she had failed to heed all her own warnings and had only herself to blame for the sorry mess she now found herself in. On some level she had always known that her promise of not getting emotionally involved would be next to impossible to keep, and that perhaps some part of her had actually been searching for that same emotional connection as Chase. Of course, she had instantly attempted to rebuff his advances; call it a mechanism of self-preservation – a faulty one at that.

Jealousy, she realised, didn't suit her at all. The pangs she had felt of that particular emotion when she had witnessed a flirtatious encounter between Chase and another faceless nurse a couple of weeks ago, had helped that realisation come to fruition. Adding that to her growing suspicions concerning her own boss and his boss, and she had to unwillingly admit that she was neither over Gregory House nor would she probably ever be. Simply put; she was hopelessly lost.

Her tangled thoughts continued to spin more intricate webs in her mind, fracturing her attention such that she almost missed the sight of a young teenage girl, not far out in front of her on the same path, suddenly scream out in pain and crumple on to the wet ground.

Cameron stopped still, a shock overpowering her so that the sight didn't register as soon as it should have done. But just as soon as it had, the instinctive doctor in her ran forward, and knelt down beside the girl. With two hands she shook her by the shoulders, one dropping further to rub hard at her sternum as she tried to rouse the fallen girl from unconsciousness.

Failing, she fished out her mobile, and wet slippery fingers dialled 911.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

With a twist of his left hand, and another furious twist of his right, the ball flew past the unsuspecting defenders and straight into the back of his opponent's net. A whoop of joy followed, accompanied by an emphatic, "he shoots, he scores!"

Wilson threw his hands up in mock surrender, "I give up," he muttered.

"Oh come on!" House scowled, "You're just a sore loser."

Wilson thought he fully deserved to mope, after all a seven-nil thrashing was still a seven-nil thrashing and not even the most lucrative journalist could put a positive spin on that.

"One more game," House didn't bother asking, he figured just saying the words could coerce Wilson into doing anything he wanted. But it seemed humiliation was a one step too far, and where Wilson, who refused to succumb any remaining shred of dignity he had left, drew the line.

He shook his head, "No, I've got an appointment with a patient."

"Liar," House smirked.

Wilson, to his credit played the affronted card like a pro, "And how would you know? Unless you've stolen my diary, pulled all my patients' records . . ." The words died on his lips. One look at House's desperate attempts to keep an innocent expression plastered on his face, and Wilson could do nothing to stop his stomach from free-falling.

" . . . you pulled my patients' records . . ." he said, "have you no concept of patient confidentiality whatsoever?"

"I was curious," House shrugged. Turning away from the soccer table in the centre of the room, he made an attempt for the door. Wilson followed in his footsteps, not at all finished with this conversation.

"You were curious?" Wilson asked incredulous, "Of what?"

"Oh come on," House said, "Don't go getting all coy on me now Jimmy. Mind you she is a babe, no wonder you kept it all so hush-hush, you sly dog, you."

A passing nurse gave them both a dirty look as they continued down the corridor; House of course being entirely oblivious.

"Caitlin, I think her name is," House smiled, "twenty eight, red head, although I don't think she will be for much longer-"

If Wilson's flabbergasted expression was anything to go by, House was pretty sure he was on target or at the very least within a few short millimetres of it.

Looking around as if to check for any possible eavesdroppers, Wilson tugged House to the side of the corridor, "It's not what you think," he whispered.

House nodded, his face telling Wilson everything he needed to know concerning his thoughts on that little white lie.

"Yes," Wilson managed to spit out, "she is a cancer patient of mine, but no I am not sleeping with her."

"Wait, I never said anything about you sleeping with her. Now why would you say that, unless of course you are, sleeping with her that is? Personally, I'm shocked Jimmy, you think you'd have learned after the last time."

Wilson shook his head, determined to plead his innocence, but it seemed House had lost all interest. His gaze was floating somewhere above and beyond his left shoulder. The slight increment in amplitude of clicking heels on the polished floor alerted all to the incoming Dean of Medicine. Even if Wilson had been deaf, there was only one person who could capture and hold House's attention like that.

"Dr. Cuddy," House yelled along the corridor, "I said I'm coming. Jesus woman, can you not bear to be without me for two minutes? It's not my fault the men's toilets are out of condoms and you don't carry any in your purse."

Patients and nurse alike stared at them. House couldn't have cared less, but by the look of the reddening cheeks of the woman approaching, it appeared she did.

She came to a stop before them both, "I have case for you."

"Should I have a look at that before or after the sex?"

"How about now?"

"What here? Now? Why Cuddy, I didn't know you liked an audience?"

Unaffected, Cuddy continued, "Female, approximately thirteen, collapsed outside, fell unconscious at site, and only just resurfaced a few moments ago."

"So?" House shrugged.

"So," Cuddy continued, "She doesn't remember who she is, where she's from-"

"So she's a drugged up party girl, strung out on heroin - not interested."

"Cameron heard her scream out in pain just before she hit the ground."

"Cameron?" House asked.

Cuddy nodded, "She's the one who found her, brought her in. You're taking the case, House. End of story."

"But," House flounced, "Chase and Foreman are-"

"I know it's their day off, but you're taking the case House."

"But-"

"Call them in."

And that apparently was the end of that particular discussion as Cuddy turned on her heels and walked back down the corridor.

House stared at her, a caustic retort sitting eager on the tip of his tongue, but Cuddy knew how to play him as well as he played her (not that House would ever admit to such a fallacy), as the extra sway in her step added to her tight grey skirt halted that retort dead and House found himself hypnotised yet again by Cuddy's ass.

She disappeared a second later, and House could only mutter, "Damn administrators."

"Uh huh."

House turned; he had completely forgotten Wilson was still stood there. And by the look on his friend's face, he realised his thoughts had strayed to that same deep dark crevice that his own mind frequently visited.

Not in the mood to share, House snapped, "You're drooling," before limping off in the opposite direction.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

A/N 2: Short chappie there, sorry – my muse is playing hide and seek. I've counted to a thousand, and I still can't find it.

SmilinStar

xxx