Disclaimer: 'House' is not mine, I just love to borrow without permission.

A/N: See, Melissa, told you I'd go home and finish this chapter! Thanks for helping me get back to business with this story.

Trouble on the Horizon

Lisa Cuddy was loath to admit it, but House had her at a distinct disadvantage. Speechless at his uncharacteristic offer, she was at a loss with how to respond. It would not be unlike him to have asked her to a meal, only to laugh in her face at her cautious acceptance- yet he could simply be elevating their unique style of mind games to a whole new level of play, which meant she had to find a way to mockingly deflect his offer if she wanted to save face.

Delighted at her predicament, House said briskly, "Well, Cuddy, it's not as though I'm propositioning you, although according to the rumor mill around here, it wouldn't be the first time…" His blue eyes flashed wickedly, knowing that references to rumors of their sexual history together irritated her no end.

"Well, House," she returned briskly, taking the offensive tack, "I'm sure you had high hopes that something like a little faint would have rewired my brain to view that indecent suggestion in a more appealing light, but I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, my answer is still no."

"Stop pretending this isn't what you want," he stamped his cane for emphasis. "You've never been able to resist me- why else would you keep me around? You can't help yourself, it-"

Cuddy had revised her strategy. She cut him off, conceding gracefully. "You're right, House." The momentary look of shock that flitted over his face was most satisfying. It seemed to her now that perhaps consenting to sharing a meal with him would be the best tactic- what better way to torture him? Especially since he would not have seen this coming… A heavy dose of sarcasm coated her words, "Dazzle me with your sexy table manners, seduce me with your alluring dining etiquette- take me to lunch, House." A roll of her eyes emphasized the irony of her flippant remarks.

"Very well, if you absolutely must throw yourself at me like this," House recovered enough of his equanimity to dredge up the instinctive impudence that marked his nature. "It would be embarrassing for you if I said no, so I suppose I'll have to go along with this."

His heavy sigh led to her amused scoff, "Now you're acting like I'm the one who orchestrated all this. You asked me, just keep that in mind."

He shrugged. "I felt sorry for you. Poor Doctor Cuddy, all wrapped up in this hospital of hers, a hollow substitute for the life and family she never had. Other women are busy heeding their biological clocks and Cupid's arrow," he said sardonically, "while you work yourself into collapse over this giant gilded cage filled with other people's problems- for what, the greater good? Does it make you feel better to deal with their pain and turmoil, to provide the solution to their emergencies? Does it fill that empty place in your heart that comes from being all alone?"

House had a knack for switching tacks with the capriciousness of a feather on the breeze. His words were predictably personal and hard-hitting, Cuddy thought, of course he had no use for tact or diplomacy. Where he saw weakness, he would expose it- it was part of the blunt candour he possessed, the sharp side of his tongue that most people fell victim to, sooner or later. For all his scheming ways and devious misconduct, honesty was his weapon, one he wielded skilfully. Cuddy dredged up the fortitude that long experience with House's acerbity had cultivated in her, and stiffly replied, "As opposed to your heart, which is just overflowing with love and happiness and affection for all around?" Cuddy would be damned before she would let him see how that barb had hit home.

"The difference between you and me," he said solemnly, eyeing her carefully, "is that I make suffering look good."

If he didn't mistake his guess, House thought, the lovely Doctor Cuddy had flinched at the taunt he had tossed out carelessly with the ease of long practice. Unexpected, and therefore intriguing- he was interested in things that didn't fit, and an unpredicted response to a certain stimuli was just as fascinating as a suspicious blot on an MRI to the diagnostician. It was just as if Pavlov's dogs had salivated at the rumble of thunder, despite being conditioned to the ringing of a bell- her reaction was an extraneous variable that confounded his previous understanding of the woman that signed his pay-check.

The one who now looked as though she was contemplating grabbing his cane and making him grovel on the ground while she gave him a few kicks for good measure. "You cope only because you pop pills constantly," Cuddy said with flat accusation. "You don't see me turning into a drug addict to deal with my life."

"And requiring pain medication for legitimate injury is a problem- how exactly?" he cocked his head questioningly.

"It goes beyond that- you use your damn leg as a crutch. It's an excuse for you to behave how you want, as though it gives you carte blanche to flout the rules you don't respect."

"May I point out it makes me a better doctor?" House asked in the manner of one pointing out the blindingly obvious.

"It doesn't make you a better doctor, it makes you a menace," she said sharply, then cut off and sighed. "Why am I debating this with you? It's like asking a rattlesnake why it has to inject poison into its bites. At the end of the day, it doesn't erase the reality that your leg is swollen and bloated, and there's the possibility of losing the whole limb."

He looked at her meditatively. "So- friends again?" House asked winningly.

What was it about the man that refused to allow her to hate him? God knew he had given her constant provocation and barbed insults all these years, no one would blame her should she harbour murderous feelings towards the derisive doctor. Yet she made allowances for him, she overlooked his terrible bedside manner in favor of his indisputable brilliance, made cursory protests over his unsavoury methods. Cuddy had never seriously considered firing him, nor of taking the further step of revoking his licence, although she knew no patients and certainly few doctors would mourn the loss of House from the ranks of medical practitioners. Furthermore, it was a perfectly justifiable action, and no one could provide an adequate defense for him before a board of inquiry, if one were ever convened. But, Cuddy realized, she chose to stay her hand, she permitted House to indulge his eccentricities. Whatever his faults, they were not the cause of her own laxity towards him.

"House, if we are friends now," she said in a considerably less hostile tone, "I hate to think of how you treat your enemies."

"I poison them," he replied deadpan. Widening his eyes in a maniacal stare and affecting a melodramatic tone, House went on, "Then I feed their liver to the dogs."

Her eyebrows drew together in amused revulsion. "And on that appetising note, are we ever going to lunch?" she challenged him.

House smirked, feeling victorious. "I thought you would never ask."

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A/N: To the readers that made it this far, thank you for not giving up on me, I know I'm terrible when it comes to updating. Hope the chapter was worth your while…