Notes: Written for insomniactic in a livejournal ficathon.

Summary: Cuddy's on a date, Wilson's depressed, and House just wants to watch TV. Cuddy/Wilson.

Love Struck Romeo

by Ijemanja

House stared down at the phone. It was ringing. This was the third time, and the caller i.d. told him it was Cuddy's cell phone, and he just knew he didn't want to answer. If he did, she was just going to yell at him about something, or possibly give him bad news - these were really the only two reasons she'd be calling him after nine o'clock at night. Either way, answering was a bad idea. He considered yanking the thing out of the wall - since it seemed she was just going to keep calling otherwise - but then she'd know he was home. And then she'd have something else to yell about.

Damn, he thought. Cornered.

Rolling his eyes, he reached for the phone and picked up just as it must have been about to ring itself out.

'What?'

'Finally. I knew you were there, why didn't you answer before?' Her voice came over the line along with a lot of background noise.

'I repeat, what? Is someone dead? If so, I can't help them so I don't see why -'

'It's Wilson. You need to come down here and get him.'

He blinked at that. 'Why, where are you?' he asked rather more warily. Suddenly the sounds he was hearing registered. 'Are you in a bar?'

'Yes. And so is Wilson, and he's here by himself, and extremely drunk, only about semi-conscious at this point and he's lucky he hasn't had his wallet stolen or something. So you need to come and get him and take him home.'

'Why can't you do it? And what are you doing in a bar on a Thursday night, anyway?'

'None of your business - to both questions. How soon can you get here?'

She told him where they were. He groaned. 'Just put him in a cab.'

'House. Get your lazy ass off the couch and come and help your friend.'

'I would, but there might be something good on. Hang on, I'll go check.'

'House -' he heard her protest, just before he hung up.

She should have known better, he thought as he limped back towards the couch. It was a Thursday night and there was a new OC on. Wilson was just going to have to fend for himself.

x

Wilson watched as if from a great distance as Cuddy shut her phone and dropped it in her purse. Then she reached for her martini and took a long swallow, finishing it off in one go.

He followed the motion of the glass with his eyes, the way she tipped it up and how her head fell back. It reminded him of something.

Yes, there it was, he remembered now. The reason he was here.

'Julie liked martinis,' he said. 'Don't know why I'm saying that in the past tense - 's not like she's dead. She still likes martinis. Vodka martinis, with a twist of lemon.'

'That's nice,' Cuddy said briskly. 'Are you -'

'Never olives, always lemon. She liked olives, though. I mean in general.' He shrugged lazily. 'I never did figure out how that worked.'

'Okay, James.' She leaned forward, clearly trying to get his attention.

He blinked at her a few times, attempting to focus. Everything was fuzzy and muted, though. It was kind of nice.

'I have to get back to my friends,' she was telling him.

'What do you think it says about a person,' he wondered aloud, 'If they don't like olives in their martinis? I mean, is there some great olive vs. citrus divide in our modern society today?'

'I really couldn't say.' Her tone was dry. Very dry.

Dryer than her martini, he thought, and tried to hold in the giggle that welled up. He didn't succeed.

She was giving him a funny look, and when she spoke next it was very slowly, like he was foreign or something.

'House is on his way to come pick you up,' she said. 'I think. No, I'm sure he'll be here. Will you be all right till he arrives?'

'Oh sure. I'm a big boy.'

From the look she gave him this time, she was unconvinced, but it didn't seem to stop her from getting up and moving off to return to her group. A few steps away she stopped, came back, and carefully removed her empty glass that she'd left sitting across from him.

He watched her go, swishing the ice around in his own drink morosely. He really felt like a martini, now.

x

'He's one of my doctors,' she found herself explaining for the third or fourth time. 'I can't just leave him like this - he might wind up passed out in a gutter, or worse, get behind the wheel of a car.'

Her friends made the appropriate sympathetic noises but she could tell they were getting impatient. She didn't blame them, either, their dinner reservations weren't going to hold forever, and she'd been late showing up to start with.

Meeting for cocktails beforehand had seemed like a good idea, all things considered. She really hated being set up, but at least with a few drinks under her belt she might forget the fact that this was really her only option at the moment.

A fresh martini appeared at her elbow and she took it, murmuring her thanks to the man she'd been dragged out tonight to meet.

He flashed her a smile. 'Hey, it's a blind date - if it went perfectly the earth would fall out of its orbit, right?'

Good sense of humour - she added it to the list in her head which currently other relevant details such as 'single' and 'non-smoker'.

A good sense of humour was nice - though it would have been nicer if she hadn't just heard a crash and looked over to see Wilson face down on the table amidst overturned glasses. She sighed and walked away from her nice, funny, non-smoking date. Again.

x

'James?'

He heard a voice calling him, and there was a hand on his shoulder, shaking. Cuddy again, he thought, and lifted his head with some effort.

'I'm fine,' he announced. 'Just resting my eyes.'

And now she was checking them, he noticed, bemused as she lifted his eyelids gently with her thumb.

'I thought you'd passed out,' she told him, her expression concerned and exasperated at the same time.

'Not totally,' he assured her. 'Not yet, anyway,' he added with a laugh.

She was sitting next to him now in the booth. He had a whole one to himself - before she'd come along, anyway - and though the bar was busy the staff didn't seem to mind. He was a big tipper. He'd learned that trick from House. People left you alone to do whatever you wanted if you just paid them enough.

That was how his divorces usually worked out, anyway.

'The more I drink, the more I start to sound like House in my head,' he told Cuddy seriously.

'Best reason not to drink I've heard yet,' she responded.

'You don't think I've got a good reason?' he demanded.

She sighed, and put her hand over his in a sympathetic gesture he knew very, very well. He was an oncologist, after all. Ushering people through sucky times with compassion was what he did. And he did it well, too.

'I was sorry to hear about you and Julie,' she was saying.

'Why? I'm better off without her, aren't I? That's what everyone keeps saying. That, and 'I never liked Julie'... Those were my brother's exact words by the way. He never liked Julie, isn't that nice? Never mind that I liked her. I mean, how is that a helpful thing to hear? Do people really think it will make me feel better about screwing up another marriage, to a woman I did actually want to stay married too - no matter how much my friends and family apparently hated her guts?'

She murmured something understanding, and surreptitiously checked her watch again. He noticed, though. And he knew he was rambling but he was drunk and depressed - it was practically required of him.

'My mother, at least, was more tactful,' he went on. 'She said 'some things just aren't meant to be'. Which is a nice change from all the times she's told me how Julie doesn't appreciate me, that she's spoiled and demanding. See, Mom doesn't like to keep up the trash talk once the divorce proceedings start - sort of like not speaking ill of the dead. Sweet of her, don't you think? And as for House...'

'House says a lot of things,' Cuddy interrupted him.

'Yes, he really does, doesn't he? He's a chatty guy.' He shrugged. 'He is letting me crash on his couch, though. Actually, I think he almost likes having me around. Hasn't changed the locks on me yet, anyway.'

'He's not taking very good care of you if this is where you wind up,' she pointed out.

He shrugged again, thinking it was probably just against Cuddy's nature to think well of House. 'He's coming, isn't he?'

'He better.'

x

'You're back,' Wilson grinned up at her.

She'd been gone this time for all of five minutes. She was mildly surprised he'd even noticed, but then, his gaze was a little more focused now. He'd slowed his intake since she'd arrived on the scene, and that had been a while ago now, of course.

She sank down next to him, and took a sip of her vodka tonic.

'You're spending a lot of time over here, aren't your friends missing you?' were his next words.

'Not anymore,' she told him flatly.

He looked over in the direction of the table they'd currently occupied. 'They left?'

She stared sourly down into her glass, toying with the straw. 'Where the hell is House?' she grumbled.

'You really don't have to wait with me, you know. You should go catch up with them.'

She waved a dismissive hand at him. 'At least now I don't have to sit through an awkward dinner of goals and aspirations, hobbies and favourite movies - as if I wasn't too old for that about a decade ago.'

He was staring at her now, she could tell, but she didn't look over at him.

'This was a first date?' he asked.

She made a face. 'Double date.'

'Set-up?'

'Pathetic, right?'

'Uh, I'm drowning my sorrows in a bar by myself over the prospect of becoming a third time divorcé. So... watch who you're calling pathetic, all right?'

She found herself grinning as she lifted her glass to her lips to finish off the last mouthful. They did say misery loved company, after all. And House, it seemed, was going to take his sweet time showing up - if he was indeed coming at all. She might as well make the most of it, she thought.

'I need another drink,' she announced.

x

'He wasn't good enough for you.'

'You didn't even meet him. I barely met him.'

'Still, guy can't wait a few minutes while you tend to a needy friend -' He waved his hands around as he tried to wordlessly convey his disapproval for such a person. 'And he's clearly stupid, too, 'cause you look really nice.'

'Thanks,' she drawled.

'You don't believe me? You think I'm lying?'

'I think you're drunk, James.'

'I am drunk. But I'm not blind. Or stupid.'

Either her drink was amusing her, or he was. It was her glass she was smiling down into, but he still hoped it was him. It was nice, sitting here with an attractive woman, making her smile. And not feeling guilty about enjoying something so innocent because he was a married man.

Even if he was still married, technically - his wife had more than taken care of the guilt factor. It was no longer a problem. And okay, maybe the alcohol was helping a little, too. Anything was possible.

'Okay, maybe I'm a little stupid,' he conceded, giving her an abashed grin - one of his most effective, or so he'd been told.

'It's nice to see some humility in one of my top doctors.'

'Well we're not all ego-driven megalomaniacs.' He fumbled a bit with that last word but she didn't seem to notice.

'Enough of you are,' she replied with a sigh, resting her elbow on the back of the seat, her head propped in her hand. Her whole body was turned towards his now. Even in his more-than-slightly inebriated state he recognised that as a good sign.

'You're a saint to put up with all us ego-maniacs day in, day out.'

'I am, aren't I?'

She smiled easily and he was smiling back, and it wasn't giddy drunken humour on his part, either, he realised. He actually didn't feel completely miserable any more.

He blamed her.

She was sitting there all relaxed and smiling and gorgeous... All his plans for the evening had involved wallowing in self-pity, but now nothing was further from his mind. And his revised plans now included other things. Like doing something really stupid.

She didn't seem to mind when he moved closer, watching him with something like speculation, maybe even mild amusement in her eyes. Then his hand lay along the side of her neck, and he was leaning in and then he was doing it, he was kissing her and she was letting him. Hesitant at first, a little surprised he thought, but then she was opening her mouth and he felt her tongue against his, cool from the ice in her drink. And then he wasn't thinking about anything at all.

x

House slid into the booth opposite them. They didn't notice. He planted his elbows on the table, put his chin in his hands, and smiled. This was too good.

'Wow,' he said. 'If I'd known there was going to be a free show I wouldn't have stayed home to watch the end of the OC.'

Then there was the inevitable jumping apart and patting down hair and red faces. That was even more fun to watch.

'You know, I think there's a show on the Discovery channel, 'When Co-workers Hook Up' - want me to tivo it for you? You could send in a tape.'

'Not really,' Wilson huffed, looking embarrassed, but resigned.

'Now you show up?' Cuddy demanded, more the type to lash out when put on the spot. 'I called you over an hour ago.'

'Gosh, I hope you managed to pass the time somehow.'

She was getting to her feet now, digging through her purse, throwing down a twenty. 'Just make sure he gets home in one piece.'

'I'm the unreliable type - maybe you should take care of that yourself.'

'Shut up, House.' This mumbled directive was from Wilson, whose face was now buried in his hands.

'Just trying to help you seal the deal,' he stage whispered back.

'Seriously, shut up.'

'I'll leave you boys to it, then. It's been a real pleasure,' Cuddy drawled, and was gone.

Only then did Wilson uncover his face, surfacing to glare at House, who smirked. 'I'm so glad I decided to come out tonight.'

'Oh, you're a real help.'

He shrugged. 'What's a little public humiliation between friends?' he said, and then looked around for a waitress. 'What are we drinking?' he asked next.

Because he really hadn't been joking when he said he was the unreliable type.

x

'Hi.'

His voice sounded sheepish and embarrassed in his own ears. Appropriate, since that was how he was feeling. Embarrassed and sheepish, but determined to sort things out with Cuddy as soon as possible. Which was why he was here, standing in the doorway of her office at nine-thirty in the morning.

Her face was neutral as she looked up from whatever she was working on.

'Hi.'

'I thought we should talk.'

She put down her pen and folded her hands in front of her. 'All right.'

'So.' He took a cautious step away from the door. 'I... ruined your night.'

'Yes.'

'You were on a date. I scared him off.'

'You could see it that way, I suppose.'

'And I kissed you.' She remained silent. 'In front of House,' he added.

'Really the greater of the two sins,' she said dryly.

'I'm sorry' really doesn't cover it, does it?'

'You never know - why don't you give it a try,' she suggested.

'I'm sorry.' It was as sincere and heartfelt as he could make it, and she shook her head a little.

'Well, you were having a rough night.'

'If it makes you feel any better, I have a hell of a hangover. Oh, and on our way out of the bar last night I threw up on House's shoes.'

She made a face of disgust, but then she was laughing, too. 'Really?'

'Yeah. And you know how he is about his sneakers.'

She smirked. 'I'm afraid I can't muster up much sympathy - for either of you.'

The cold light of morning - usually he hated this part. But this, he had to admit, this wasn't so bad at all.

Grinning, he replied, 'I don't blame you.'

x

She was relieved. She'd spent all morning since waking up feeling more than a little mortified about what had happened the previous night. They were laughing about it now, though, and it was definitely a relief to know things weren't going to be awkward or tense.

It could have been a lot worse. She had to wonder what might have happened if House hadn't shown up - more drinking, probably, more kissing that, uninterrupted, might have lead to other things. And if she was too old for blind dates, she was definitely too old for drunken one night stands with a colleague.

'Hey,' he said then as if it was an afterthought, 'I don't suppose you want to try it again sometime? A quiet drink,' he elaborated off her questioning look. 'Sometime when you don't have a date waiting in the wings and I don't have a developing case of alcohol poisoning?'

She raised an eyebrow at him. 'You just can't help yourself, can you?'

He gave her a sheepish shrug and a smile to match. 'Apparently not.'

There was a reason, she thought, that this man had the reputation he did with women -whether he'd done anything to earn it or not. Those eyes, that disarming smile - he was too easy to like, to feel sorry for.

She was shaking her head before she realised it. 'You're a mess, James. And I'm much too smart to fall for that.'

His smile faded a little, but it was still there, his demeanour accepting rather than offended. 'I think maybe that's always been my problem,' he said as he turned to leave, 'I always go for the smart ones. Too smart for me, anyway.'

'James.'

He was almost out the door, but paused, waiting. She had to think about what she wanted to say. Another time, perhaps. Let me know when the divorce comes through. I don't think I'm what you need right now. Maybe not ever.

She thought about it, and in the end opened her mouth and said, 'I always liked Julie, you know.'

end