A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews but don't hesitate to add some constructive criticism. It would help a lot. Also I have corrected a few minor spelling mistakes in the first chapter. I just hate it when I miss those. I didn't intend to post this chapter so soon but since I'm down with flu; I thought I should go ahead while I can still see the monitor.

Category: Drama/Humor

Rating: T

Spoilers: Post 2x6 Spin and Cuddy's nightgown from Humpty Dumpty makes a small but memorable appearance.

Summary: What were the chances of meeting her in a bar? On a Sunday at midnight? Very good chances apparently. House/Cuddy friendship. No pairings as of yet.

Disclaimer: Writing this is pointless. We all know I don't own anything related to House, M.D. Wishing doesn't account for owning. Oh, well.

---H.M.D---

Chapter 2

The first thing that struck him was the throbbing pain in his thigh; the second was the splitting headache when he opened his eyes.

And the third was the fact that his bed didn't look like his bed at all.

What the—? He scanned the room, through red-rimmed eyes and soon closed them do to nausea that overtook him.

Okay. There's a perfectly good explanation of why he was in somebody else's bedroom. And why was the bedroom so familiar?

He knew that last night, or this morning to be exact, involved a lot of socializing with his old pal Jack. He vaguely remembered that dimly-lit bar and his thoughts of killing Wilson for standing him up. What a bad time for the man to grow a conscience about his wife.

And then it dawned on him. He was in fact here, in this same room a month ago, when he was investigating, okay invading Cuddy's home.

"Oh crap."

"You can say that again. My neck's killing me."

He slowly opened his eyes and saw Lisa Cuddy standing in the doorway and rubbing her neck.

"What—How?" He asked weakly and a bit uncomfortable, when he noticed that he was in fact wearing only his Pink Floyd t-shirt and boxers.

Where was a good sarcastic remark when you need one?

"Oh don't worry. I didn't take advantage of you." She smiled, still rubbing her neck.

"Then...how…"

God he sounded like Wilson with his stuttering and dragging the words to eternity.

"What exactly do you remember?" She asked, moving slowly towards him.

He thought about it. "The bar, getting smashed and hit by a Mack truck with blonde hair and fake teeth." He rubbed his sore jaw.

"So you don't remember coming here and collapsing on my bed?"

"No. Darn it and I was really looking forward to some nooky later."

"Well, you're gonna be disappointed because nothing happened. I tried to wake you but you were out cold. I only managed to remove your jeans and jacket."

"Disappointed much?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not really." She frowned, as if in thought. "No. There wouldn't be much of a difference anyway."

"Damn woman, you wound me." He placed his hand on his chest in a mocking gesture.

"Oh just get up before I really wound you like Don."

"Ouch." She glared at him.

"Okay. Don't get your panties in a bunch. Though I distinctly remember seeing them nicely folded and especially that pink tho—"

"If you want to leave unharmed, you will not finish that thought."

"Gee, it's a real wonder you don't have guests more often. You're a real host. Don't expect another visit from me any time soon."

"Good. Now get up."

"But mom!" He mimicked a childlike voice.

She rolled her eyes. "You can be a real brat sometimes."

"I thought you liked them young and bratty. You mind telling me what you were doing with Sport Billy over there?"

"It's Don. And it's none of your business."

He decided to ignore that fact, per usual. "Is he like one of those singer types? You know, just Madonna, just Cher, just Sting. 'Just Don is my name, slime is my game'."

She almost laughed at the last part, almost being the key word here.

"No. He has a last name."

"Well what is it?" He pressed on, knowing that she was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. He loved it.

"What's with the third degree? And why aren't you getting dressed?" Just now she noticed that he barely moved from her bed.

"I'm curious. And do you mind. I'm not one of those exhibitionist types." He glanced down at his jeans that were neatly folded on a nearby chair. And his leather jacket was placed on a hanger.

"Though I might be interested if by any chance, an offer comes my way." He raised his eyebrows at her pointedly.

She shook her head. "Oh, grow up." She started for the door and said, "I'll be in the kitchen making coffee. And by the way, for every minute you spend in my room I'll add another hour to your clinic duty schedule."

"I'm going, I'm going. What a pushover."

"I heard that!"

"Whoops!"

Exactly two minutes and some change later he showed up in the kitchen, dressed up but bare-foot.

"I couldn't find my socks or my Nike's. Oh no," he put a hand on his mouth in mock fear 'Macaulay Culkin style', "You don't think those nasty gnomes took them?"

She sighed in frustration. "I had to take off your shoes so you don't mess up my bed. They're in the hall with the other shoes and the socks are in them."

He raised an eyebrow. "Curious. So you undressed me but nothing happened?"

"For the last time, yes!"

"You sound frustrated. Must be all that great sex you missed out on." He winked at her.

"Oh for—"

"All this fuss about getting dressed and you're still looking like Granny Mayflower. What's with that nightgown anyway?"

Cuddy completely forgot to put on a bathrobe and House, being a man, couldn't help but stare.

She glanced down and noticed that he was in fact right, damn him, and she suddenly felt very exposed. Her cheeks turned crimson. She hugged her midriff but it was already too late for modesty. Good thing it wasn't see-through.

"Oh please like I haven't seen that before." He covered his smirk with a red mug that looked suspiciously like the one he kept at the hospital. "I have never seen that nightgown, though."

"Uh, I'll get dressed." She hurried out of the kitchen.

He looked at his watch. It was six thirty a.m. "Take your time!" He yelled after her, hoping to miss at least a couple of hours of clinic.

Ten minutes later, she was putting on her shoes and coat.

She grinned at him smugly. "Don't worry. You'll be right on time for clinic duty. Let's go."

His dream was squashed like an annoying fly on the car window.

"I'm surprised. I thought you were all high-maintenance. Way to go, ruining my good image of you."

"You know what? You're so full of it, House."

"This is just great!" He said sarcastically. "And what is happening with the world? Where did those women go; the needy and self-conscious ones who spend all their time and ours in the bathroom grooming?"

She turned to him, with a grin. "We saw through you." She said as she locked the door behind them.

He limped after her. "What the hell does that mean?" She was already down the sidewalk and hurried towards her car. "Damn women. Where's the manual when you need one?" he muttered.

"Slow down. Where's the hurry?" He asked as he finally caught up with her.

"Well for one I don't want to be late. Unlike some people." She stared at him pointedly.

"You're so predictable. Would it kill you to loosen up a little, just for once?" He cocked his head to the side, staring at her amused.

The glare she sent his way, answered the question.

"Okay, I'll shut up."

"First smart thing I heard from you all morning."

"Well, I guess I'll see you at the hospital." He started for his 'bike but then turned one last time with, "Before I go, would you finally tell me the guy's last name?"

"Why do you always have to know everything?"

He shrugged. "Because I care?"

She have him a you've got to be kidding me look "Oh, alright. It's…" She mumbled the last part.

"What was that?"

She rose up her hands in frustration and sighed. "I don't know, alright?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You...don't...know?"

He was getting very good at imitating Wilson.

"Yes! Can I go now?"

"Interesting. But how—"he started but then it dawned on him.

He smirked smugly. "You met him online and it was a blind date. What's the agency called—Date-a-Moron dot com?" He guessed and when she didn't answer, he announced,

"You did, didn't you?"

He laughed. "Oh man, this is so good. Wilson is gonna love it."

She glared at him. "If you tell anyone, I'll make your life a living hell."

"As apposed to what, exactly?"

"I don't have time for this, House. Save the barb for later. By the way, you have additional two hours of clinic duty."

"Why?" He squealed.

"Because you spent two minutes longer in my room and I hold you responsible for my sore neck." She opened the car door and went in.

"Well it's not my fault I'm so unforgettably good that you had to restrain yourself from sleeping with me. You should know that bed always beats the couch."

"Goodbye, House." She retorted pointedly and closed the door in his face.

He cocked his head to the side and smirked. It is going to be a long day but at least he had new ammunition in store for Cuddy.

Oh, yes. That will come in real handy.