It's Friday again, at last.

Quietly Cuddy is seeking the door, for once in her life she has finished her work and decided to leave. Her day has been smooth, no problems that couldn't be quickly dealt with, nothing that couldn't be fixed with a growl. That in mind she hasn't seen House today perhaps that is a silent hint, an omen of sorts.

Fate smiles with bared teeth and she hears his voice gloat in a familiar pattern.

Lips curled in a mocking smile House is approaching getting closer than she would like, his toes intruding into personal space. He is just close enough to make her feel uncomfortable but to the outsiders' eye, he manages to make it seem purely conversational. Eyes are cast down, towards Cuddy's chest and past her eyes he makes an unobtrusive comment.

"You're leaving now."

It's a statement but he manages to twist with curiosity so it is almost like a question, like he is running the words through a mental analysis. It would make her more comfortable if she took a step back, they both know she won't. She refuses to let his presence dominate her she can't allow it because as far as the pack is concerned she is alpha-male.

"Yes, I am. One tends to leave their work place when their work is finished"

She looks at him as if something in his face might explain his question, his eyes roll into the back of his head and throws a look of disgust in her general direction, still distracted by her low cut blouse.

"House, eyes up now."

She growls at him, attempting to stay dignified and not look as ridiculous as she feels.

"Yes I understand the logistics; I was just surprised that you were leaving. I'm fairly certain you live here. The common belief is you don't even have a house and I tend to agree"

It's a challenge, he has seen her house, been in it. He wants her to acknowledge it in front of her staff, doesn't matter if they don't hear because he is certain that they probably won't but he wants her to say it, that yes she has a life out side of the hospital and that sometimes includes him.

She is obviously exasperated she doesn't like his little games, doesn't want to let him win, she is very competitive.

"Take me for a drink."

House is surprised he surely didn't expect her to say that.

"I know you and Wilson like to go out on Fridays, take me too"

"Ok"

He said ok, Cuddy was starting to have this huge inner debate about whether this is a good idea. Why did she ask, why Oh treacherous soul, why? Too late now, she notices that Houses eyes have wandered back down to her cleavage. Resisting the urge to punch him she thinks about leaving now, just wandering past him and out to her freedom.

"James and I will get you from your house in an hour"

He almost looks suspicious of her.

"Oh so now when it suits you I have a house?"

Cuddy arches an eyebrow, turns on her heel and heads out. She knows he is watching her leave, watching her ass. She doesn't care she is far too distracted by the thousands of equally frightening scenarios running through her brain all including excessive amounts of alcohol and her making a complete fool out of herself. Who would have thought relaxing with your 'friends' could be so difficult.

An hour and a half later Cuddy is sitting at her breakfast bar with a foot unceremoniously tapping, she is still waiting. Dressed as casually as she will allow herself she still hasn't strayed from her favored low necklines.

She hears a wood-on-wood tap and stalks to the door ready to throw it open and glare at who ever is on the other end and she has a fairly good idea who it will be.

The door swings back and she is face to face with Gregory House and a snarling grin, backing off subconsciously she notes that James is standing behind him with a bottle of whisky in his hand.

"I take it we aren't going out?"

She raises the question as House sidles past her, purposefully brushing against her chest. She sends him a withering gaze as Wilson steps in the door.

It doesn't take them long to fall back into the embrace of their old boon companion air, Cuddy guesses the whisky isn't bad for the situation either.

House has already taken control of her stereo by plugging his ipod cable into the auxiliary input, whatever that is. She didn't even know she had one.

"You're not a very good hostess are you, where is all the food? Where are my salted peanuts bar wench?"

House tries to toy with Cuddy though he lets a tone of affection slip through and for his efforts he receives one of the most efficient 'go to hell' stares he has received in a long time.

"Wench? You better be careful or you could end up leaving this house in more pain than necessary"

Her tone is deathly serious as she heads to the kitchen to find him some snacks, House figures that there must be some charm left in him after all.

Hours pass the alcohol depletes and they are forced to rip into Cuddy secret supply, neither James nor House makes a comment about how well equipped her liquor cabinet is, some things are better off not mentioned.

Cuddy doesn't mind so much having them in her house; it's not as bad as she would have anticipated she is even enjoying their company.

But she just needs to breathe some fresh air, something to clear her head from all the wisps of alcohol that seem to be unfurling around her brain.

She stands on the balcony with her hair tangled in the breeze, she feels a brief twinge of nostalgia as she lights her cigarette, but it is so brief that it can be easily forgotten.

Cuddy of course doesn't smoke, but she is drunk, well she is fairly certain her judgment is clouded enough to be able to get away with a quick cigarette, an anomaly if you will.

Juts a piece of aberrant data to be discarded when found to defy the trend.

With this thought still playing on the edges of her mind she inhales for a moment and though her lungs protest she embraces the cloying scent of death that comes with every inhalation.

Wilson clears his throat and Cuddy slowly turns to face him, she is not startled. She realizes she has probably been gone longer than she intended. There is no use in hiding the decisions she made for herself.

"Lisa what are you doing?"

He is trying his best to remain nonchalant about it but he does find her self destructive behavior unnerving. She looks at him with a slight hint of malice; perhaps she holds this tiny jewel of resentment for him in her soul.

"Ok I guess that was a pointless question, House sent me to find the cordial hostess and ask where she was… but in fewer words"

"-and with more metaphor? I should have guessed as much I suppose"

Cuddy laughed morosely to herself.

"Well you found me, best you return to the knightly cripple"

"I'm so flattered that you see me in that light"

House had waited about two minutes and then followed Wilson, he had a feeling that things may take a while and he would be waiting alone with a bottle in his hand. That particular scene felt too familiar for his taste.

On hearing his low tones Cuddy had the strangest feeling that she was trapped. Surrounded on all sides. She just shook her head and turned her back to the both of them and taking another drag watched the scenery.

The night continues on, as do all unstoppable things, like fate and life.

By the time Wilson rises to leave, Cuddy has successfully ducked out for another two quick cigarettes without being missed; it's her small victory in the face of his marital bliss. She knows that Wilson has a terrible track record for marriage, hell she has even been part of the problem but she is envious of the ease in which he seems to find a replacement. Still she finds the energy to rise from her seat and press a platonic kiss to his cheek, he looks back at her worry evident in his eyes but she steamrolls over anything that he might feel be efficiently ushering him out her door.

This leaves the matter of House to be attended to; he is still sitting on one of her lounge chairs, shadows masquerading over his features. She feels the need to reach out and touch him to make sure he is still real, she convinces herself it's the alcohol speaking.

"That's it House, Party over. It's time for you to leave"

He looks up and blue eye meet blue, making a gesture that somehow Cuddy manages to translates into 'bring me the phone' he reclines lazily.

After he has called the Taxi, and waited the appropriate length of time for it to arrive he heads to the backdoor. She follows him and before he turns to go he asks her:

"Where is my farewell kiss?"

She looks at him through a haze of doubt, and wonders if this is just another game.

He looks at her with a determined conviction that he can change this into just another game if he has to.

She eyes him warily and steps back into the house closing the door behind her but not before he notes the hesitation in her movements.

She knows this is the way it has to be, she feels safe in her knowledge. She also feels drunk and ends up sitting on her sofa idly watching her toes curl around the coffee table, how odd.

She wonders how she ended up where she is now, her brain is slowly trickling with regret she suddenly renounces the feeling an angry scowl slips upon her lips.

A memory of her pubescent self snarling at the mirror springs into her brain, she shoves it back down into a cardboard box.

A hissing breath escapes her lips and she lets it be leaden down with a sigh, regrets are over-rated. Letting her head loll back she winces in an uneasy shrug, tucks her legs into her body and rests her face on an arm. A night of quiet deliberation on the brink of a comatose state is what lies ahead.