Sorry 'bout the incorrect spelling of peasant in the first half. (I had spelled it pheasant, like the bird, ;D)
House scowled and shrugged on his shirt. He winced. "What the hell did you do to me woman?" Cuddy looked at him as he looked at his back in the mirror. There were eight red scratches on his back. "What was that for?" he asked, looking at her like a beaten puppy.
"I having the screw of my life and wanted you to know it," Cuddy said, half-sarcastically. She didn't remember much of the night before, but she knew that he had been good. She had only scratched up a guy like that once before. House put his shirt back on and buttoned it up. They left her bedroom, and House headed for the kitchen. "I don't think so. We're going to be late as it is, you don't need to get something to eat."
"But I'll shrivel away to nothing."
"You can get something at the hospital."
"But…"
"Shut up and get in the car."
"Oooh, I wonder if you were like that last night. That would have been fun." Cuddy shot him a glare and he got in her car. At the hospital, they decided that it really didn't matter if people saw them come in together.
"You know, it's all your fault," House said as they walked into the elevator.
"My fault? You are the one who said 'Let's make a contest out of getting drunk off our ass.' "
"You agreed."
"I wanted to prove that you are not always the best."
"It's still your fault." House left her standing there. He met up with Wilson on the way to his office.
"So how'd the date go with Cuddy?" Wilson asked.
"It wasn't 'date' "
"Sure."
House sat down in his chair and winced against the stinging in his back.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"OK, sure, you're getting that old. Bullshit, take off your shirt."
"No."
"Why not? Hiding something Greg?"
"I am most certainly not!"
"Then take you shirt off."
"No. I'll get nippley."
"Well, then I'll get have to tell everyone that you got a pink unicorn tattooed on your back."
"I'll take it off. Cheater." He unbuttoned his shirt, and took it off. Wilson looked at his back.
"Jesus Christ, what the hell happened here? It looks like- Fingernail scratches. But how, you haven't gotten laid in year- Wait," he looked at House. "Cuddy? You?"
"Yes, we fucked, did the cha-cha layin' down."
"I wouldn't think she would…"
"What are you saying I'm unattractive?"
"No it's just- How-"
"I bet her that I could drink more than her, we got plastered and screwed. Happy, Mr. Gossip?" Wilson stared at him.
"So how was it?"
"How am I supposed to remember? I was too boozed up."
"So nothing. You can't remember a thing?"
"Um, yah."
"I hope she's on the pill. Wouldn't want and little Houses or Cuddys running around. Wilson left House, and he put on his shirt.
In her meetings Cuddy couldn't help but to notice that she was more tense than normal. She felt that people could tell what had happened the night before. And also how she ached in places that hadn't ached in a while. Not listening to the boring speaker, she tried to remember if she had taken her Pill the last few days.
She hoped she had.