Disclaimer – We do not own House M.D. It all belongs to David Shore and Fox.

~Chapter 13~

Monday morning, December 25th, Christmas Day

Traffic through Princeton wasn't as bad as Cuddy expected and the holiday lights on the poles and store fronts made her feel as if she were driving through a fairyland. She drove up to the hospital and struggled between a small fleet of cars lined up in front in order to reach her designated parking spot. Her SUV wouldn't fit just anywhere.

To her ultimate shock she realized her parking spot was occupied by none other than Gregory House himself.

Blowing an angry shot of air through her teeth she mumbled to herself. "Looks like I'll have to park illegally right in front of the doors." After quickly fixing the unruly ebony curls and her already perfect administrator outfit she slid out of the car and graciously headed over to the main door.

"Oh God!" Cuddy gasped as she walked in, a vivid horror painting her face. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a painful grimace and her lips formed a threateningly thin line. She felt as if someone just slapped her face, sending her brain cells spinning like a carousel.

The lobby was decorated with red and white lights, garland and giant bouquets full of evergreens and berries but the entire hospital maintenance crew, with all their equipment and manpower, was trying to clean up the 7-foot Christmas tree that happened to be wrapped in wet, high quality toilet paper from top to bottom. Just by looking she figured it was a Sisyphean task. There was no way they could clean it up; wet paper was stubbornly sticking to pine needles. Murderous thoughts had already started sizzling in her mind.

"Ma'am?" a male voice called behind her. Cuddy spun around in confusion. The security guard was coming her way.

"You can't park there." He explained as he instinctively reached for his shoulder radio.

"I know. I only..." Cuddy started while her eyes were fixated on the tree. She was trying to think as fast as she could but nothing was coming to her, except maybe to kill her favorite diagnostician. Slow and torturous death.

Realizing her mouth was open, she gave herself a mental shake and extended her car keys to the guard and with a silent, almost absentminded plead in her eyes she sternly ordered,

"Could you please take care of it?" When she noticed the hired Santa Claus curling in the corner, with his chubby, red face buried in his palms, his posture showing obvious signs of despair, she furiously added under breath, "I need to murder someone!"

With a powerful clack of her stilettos, Cuddy furiously approached the nursing station and almost guiltily yelled at the resident nurses.

"Where is he?" Her voice had a hyena pitch to it and while she could have predicted such retaliation on his part, she was genuinely mortified by his behavior. "Where is House?"

One of the braver nurses quickly pointed to the clinic room number 2. Cuddy leaned on the nurse station, nervously tapping her perfectly manicured fingers along. She was contemplating whether to storm in but instead restrained herself and waited. Second later, sensing the fuss in the lobby, House limped out, dressed like a priest, in a long, black soutane. Holding his hands up high and waving a medical file, he locked his piercing blue gaze with Cuddy's storming stare. Then he cockily exclaimed, masking a devilish grin.

"Strong is the Lord and the power of his might!"

She waited a second before she moved again, sending him a raised eyebrow. It was a telling sign; she was throwing a proverbial glove in his face. For her it meant – war. Storming past him, without gracing him with another look, she coldly ordered. "House! In my office. Now!"

Her voice would have chilled just about anybody's blood but his. Gregory House was having a blast and wouldn't have missed the show for anything. A one-to-one with his boss was Gregory House's favorite pastime.

Turning to one of the patients seated in the clinic's waiting room he added before following Cuddy into her office, "The good Lord didn't create anything without a purpose, but female hospital administrators come close."

"House!" Cuddy raised her voice and extended her palm towards the lobby's mess. "Why?" The anger in her voice subsided and turned into something more palpable, more personal.

"Trick or treat, Cuddy!" House decided to keep it on the light note, giving her his best boyish grin. And even though he didn't forget he was still mad at her he decided to play along, tightening her nerve strings. "Oops…wrong holiday!" He finally gasped with a fake, innocent look.

"House I understand you were trying to get back at me but why the Christmas tree? It's a true celebration…" Cuddy started but House cut in, almost in protest,

"Your people killed our Lord Jesus so, really, I don't see a point of you taking a day off to celebrate that."

"I wasn't taking a day off." Cuddy said defensively and sunk into her chair. Sometimes it was pointless arguing with House and this was one of those times.

"Blasphemer."

"Do you know what the holiday season means to these kids? It comes close to a miracle, House and you singlehandedly destroyed it!"

He quickly made a fake disgust face and dismissed her claims with a movement of his hand. "Miracle, shmiracle. They'll get over it. Do I look like a saint to you?"

If this had been a Halloween party she would have laughed her knickers off and even found him sexy in this robe but now she had to restrain her amusement and push her own agenda, "I see you were going for the ecclesiastic Richard Chamberlain look in Thorn Birds but I must disappoint you. He is gay. On the other hand, you could earn a front row seat in Heaven."

"Heaven won't take me and Hell is afraid I'll take over. So, I am stuck here with you."

"You must have done something right in your life then." Cuddy cockily tilted her chin and brought an index finger to her lips.

"Yeah. I wasn't born Jewish." He quickly responded and shifted his weight from right to left leg, keeping a close tab on her unintentionally sexy posture.

Then, slowly and almost dramatically, he took out his cane from under the soutane. The cane's appearance drew a small smile from Cuddy's face. The cane was wrapped in red and white and had a big red bow at the handle. Noticing how he managed to soften her anger House twirled it gently between his fingers and started chanting a Sunday School kid's chant, slightly adapted to Housian language while keeping his probing gaze on Cuddy's face,

Look at the candy cane, what do you see?

Stripes that are red like Cuddy's booty.

White for my thoughts, so sinless and pure

G is for little Greg, my cane that's for sure.

Turn it around and a staff you will see.

Cuddy, the boss, has the hots for me!

"Poor little Greg. Well at least one of your canes is stiff." Cuddy stated mockingly and tilted her head to get a better view of his facial expression. She pushed this hot button on purpose. She needed him alert, fighting and not backing out of their game. She had to keep the Friday night fire alive and burning. At all cost.

House's chin slightly jerked upwards and he took a defensive stance, "God Himself doesn't propose to judge a man until he is dead. So why should you?

"That's an idea." Cuddy raised her left index finger and shifted her attention to her desk as if searching for something important.

"What is?" House curiously asked.

With a wide, beautiful smile she tried to calm the rough waters between them. "To kill you. God knows I wanted ever since I walked in this morning."

"You don't have it in you." House pursed his lips and slightly shook his head. He wasn't shaking his head at her but at himself; for not being able to stay mad at her for more than 15 minutes.

"Every angel has dirty hands, even Judas planned to just carry on." Cuddy challenged and picked up the phone receiver.

"Don't flatter yourself. You are no angel. By the way..." he pointed up and down her tight, black dress "...whatever look you were going for today, you missed. Unless that's a hooker look."

Cuddy scanned at him with unhidden curiosity and spoke softly into the receiver, "Ed...about that car in my parking space..."

House's eyebrows game together in an instant. He pointed his candy wrapped cane at her. "Wait. What are you going to do?"

"I am confiscating your car until you help clean up that mess and get a new tree. That's not negotiable." Cuddy announced and leaned contently into her expensive, leather chair.

House nodded, his lower lip twitching. She knew she won. He knew she won. Turning on his heel he raised his cane into the air and headed towards the door. She heard him speak into the empty space, "The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on my Christmas list."

"You don't have it in you." Cuddy yelled after him, mimicking his words.

"Lucifer." House hissed.

"Gimp." Cuddy replied with a relaxed laugh, wondering if he was going to pursue this further. Deep down she hoped he would. The game wasn't over yet.

House limped out, thinking to himself - she may have won the battle but he was going to win this war. That, he promised himself.

A curious patient looked at him as he was passing by the clinic in his priestly robe. He pointed back to Cuddy's office, shrugged his shoulders and said to the man, with a palpable irritation in his voice,

"I always try to go the extra mile at work, but my boss always finds me and brings me back."

Finally, pushing his way through the clinic's door into the lobby he mumbled vindictively to himself, "Time I gave you your Last Rights, Cuddy!" And then he smiled.

A/N

*Thanks to Ladyluck for her help with some pearls of wisdom. Much appreciated.

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