Wilson/Cuddy/House - or not so much
Rating: T

Summary: She looks around at her colleagues, who are busily trying to pretend they aren't listening avidly and the remnants of her patience deserts her.
Disclaimer: I work for a charity, I'm very poor, please don't sue. Oh, and I promise no Wilsons were harmed in the production of this piece of fic

Admitting

Lisa Cuddy is starting to conclude that this is one of those days that would have been better spent in bed, or possibly in a war zone.

She is trying very hard to convince herself that this isn't happening. That despite all evidence to contrary she isn't standing in the middle of the clinic being yelled at by a distraught woman in front of nurses, doctors and people who have just wandered in off the street to see what all the noise is about. In this version of events she isn't standing here, with a massive audience, trying to convince the current occupant of the title 'Mrs Wilson' that she is not having an affair with her husband.

She doesn't know Julie Wilson well. Given the speed at which Wilson wives arrive and depart it seemed easiest not to get to know any of them personally. However, they've met at hospital functions and had brief conversations from time to time. Still, she has no idea what she has done to merit this stream of abuse and accusations. Not least because she hasn't slept with James Wilson – which might just earn her membership of a fairly exclusive club.

The fact that she has a suspicion about the identity of the person this tirade should be directed at doesn't help, because, of course, she isn't about to voice that suspicion. She is, however going to kill everyone's favourite oncologist when she catches up with him. Her reputation has been too hard won to be tarnished in ten minutes by someone who doesn't have the intelligence to work out what is really happening. Why couldn't she have hired a private detective like wives 1 and 2?

She looks around at her colleagues, who are busily trying to pretend they aren't listening avidly and the remnants of her patience deserts her.

"I am not having an affair with your husband," she grinds out, again. This time in a tone she normally uses for dealing with her recalcitrant Head of Diagnostics. It works better on Julie than it ever has on House – she at least stops for breath.

"But he said he was working late with you last night, on Tuesday and a couple of nights last week."

"Well, I can assure that he wasn't."

"Why should I believe you? Obviously you'd lie to avoid being implicated in a messy divorce."

"Or I might just be telling you the truth. Please don't make me involve my attorney in this."

"I know it's you." Cuddy is just about to either slap her for stupidity or stalk away, since there is clearly nothing she can say to convince her. Well, there might be one thing, but there is absolutely no way she is telling anyone that. She'd rather be thought guilty.

"It isn't Cuddy." The voice is the very last one she wants to hear right now and she rubs a hand over her forehead as House lumbers right into the middle of their argument. She has to at least try to get him to leave this alone.

"Doctor House – this would be a very good moment to remember how little you enjoy being in the clinic." He glances over at her and almost smiles,

"Can't do it – rescuing your reputation is too much fun." She doesn't want him leaping to her defence and in fact she is sure that this is far more about the opportunity to annoy someone than it is about helping her.

"I'll give you the afternoon off clinic duty if you leave right now." He shakes his head and plants himself firmly in front of Julie.

"I know she dresses like a scarlet woman but Cuddy really, really isn't your husband's secret lover. Amazingly enough she has too much class to sleep with a married man."

"I don't believe you." House rolls his eyes, "you'd cover for him, protect him."

"You're right, I would – if he needed it, or if he asked. But he doesn't and he hasn't. The reason I know he isn't sleeping with our Dean of Medicine is because I am. Apparently she doesn't have too much class to screw me."

"House!" she can't decide if her exclamation is due to the revelation or his description of their activity. Julie is looking confused and Cuddy suspects there is no one in the hospital who won't get to hear this bit of gossip in the next 5 minutes. She is starting to have a very serious headache.

"She was with me last night and on Tuesday, over the weekend and some of last week. We're still at the having sex at the drop of a hat stage."

"Stop it right now!" A grin lurks around the corners of his mouth as though he is daring her to make him stop. It is insane to be so annoyed and so turned on at the same time and surely if she killed him no one would argue that she hadn't been provoked. "I think there are a couple of people on the neo natal ward who might not have heard."

"Shall I send them an email, or just put something on the notice board?"

"You are enjoying this far too much."

"And you aren't enjoying it at all – which is a shame." She is saved from responding when Julie starts to cry. This is the moment when House decides to back away and Cuddy can't help thinking that if Mrs Wilson had turned on the water works a little earlier the cat would have remained safely in the bag. She doesn't want to speculate on his motives for outing them right now. Instead she puts an arm around the now quietly sobbing Julie Wilson and in the general direction of House says,
"Tell your partner in crime to get himself to my office in the next 10 minutes – and tell him I am extremely displeased with you both."

"What did I do?"

"Where do you want me to start?"

It takes over half an hour for her to extricate herself from the Wilson's marital problems. The fact that they have both apologised to her does hardly anything to mitigate her irritation, probably because James is far too amused about his best friend screwing the boss and Julie is looking at her as though she has taken leave of her senses. Which raises the question of whether Mrs Wilson mark 3 is smarter than she looks.

She is trying hard to catch up on paperwork and phone calls when she is disturbed by the all too familiar sound of wood knocking on glass. She looks up, scowls and goes back to the report she is reading. She doesn't for a moment suppose that ignoring him will get her anywhere and she is proved right. He barges into the office and comes to a halt in front of her desk, still she refuses to look up.

"You're angry."

"How perceptive of you."

"Come on Cuddy, I couldn't just let her accuse you like that. Not when I know differently."

"I'd forgotten about your deep and abiding commitment to truthfulness." He frowns at her harsh tone and she realises he is trying to work out just how angry with him she is. The tiny chink of uncertainty suits him and she squashes down a reflection on how appealing he can be sometimes – reminding herself that finding House appealing is what got her into this mess in the first place. "We agreed we'd keep this quiet."

"I'm not all that good at sticking to agreements."

'Yes, I know.' She is not sure why she expected him to behave like a normal person, why she thought he'd agree that discretion was important when it came to the two of them. She certainly doesn't want to dwell on why, when he made his little announcement, it didn't occur to her to deny it, or act as though he was joking. But, his performance this afternoon apart he seems to have been reasonably discrete. "You hadn't told Wilson?"

"I was working up to it. So, is everything in the Wilson garden rosy now? I expect they've gone home to have truly amazing make-up sex."

"I wouldn't count on it." She suspects things have gone too far to be resolved by anything so simple – and she knows House well enough to accurately anticipate what the next words out of his mouth are likely to be. "Don't even think about it."

He smirks. "Too late."

The End