A/N: Ahh, c'mon you guys- you want the story and I want reviews. I'm supplying my end…

What a long day.

A long, bad day.

A long, really shitty bad day.

A l- well, you get the point.

House stamped the foot of his uninjured leg on the floor and repeatedly smacked his cane on the hard surface for emphasis, all the while glaring at the clock, waiting impatiently for the minute hand to finish its last round before he could leave. "Whatever," he finally muttered under his breath. He stood up and hobbled to the door, flicking the light switch and closing the door.

He stopped at Wilson's office on the way out. "Coming with me to the bar?"

Chocolate brown eyes flickered up briefly before returning to the desk, and their owner shook his head. "Not tonight, House."

"Why not?" House persisted.

Wilson glanced up again, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "Because."

"Oh." House's eyes widened mockingly. "Because. That explains everything. Why didn't I think of that? Wow."

At Wilson's look of barely concealed exasperation, he pulled a face. "Alright, fine. Make me go by myself." House's lower lip jutted out, creating the face of a pouting child- which wasn't all that surprising.

"Julie's making me go to some fancy dinner," his friend finally supplied, quietly. "I wish I could go, but I can't. Sorry."

The tone in Wilson's voice got through to the diagnostician, and he simply nodded in reluctant acceptance. "Kay. Have fun," the smirk was back, and House limped out, throwing a grin over his shoulder.


"So, what'll it be, sir?"

House snorted derisively at the bartender's use of 'sir'. "I don't go by sir."

The bartender rolled his eyes, and House, relenting, rattled off the drink name.


One hour and five drinks later…

House was pleasantly buzzed. Well no, not quite pleasantly. Pleasant would have been so drunk he wouldn't have been able to stand, but then where would he be, so buzzed would have to do for now. Wilson couldn't come to get him today. Damn. He hated paying for those little yellow cars with the signs… what were they called? Oh, right, ta…

"Taxis!" he sputtered triumphantly, ignoring the odd looks he received from surrounding drunks.

"You want me to call a taxi, buddy?" the bartender leaned over the counter and asked slowly.

"Don't insult me," House scowled at him. "I don't need a damn taxi. Who needs taxis?"

The bartender sighed. "Whatever."

"And don't call me buddy, moron."

Another hour went by, and- he couldn't help himself- three drinks later, House spotted a figure through blurry eyes. He stumbled across the crowded, smelly bar and hauled himself onto a stool beside it.

"Don't you have to work tomorrow?" he slurred dramatically.

"Don't you?" The figure shot back, tilting its head to one side and regarding him, also through alcohol-impaired vision.

He hummed an affirmative. "But I'm not Dr. Cuddy," he countered. "So I'm not important."

"I wish I wasn't," Cuddy muttered.

"Important? Why on earth not?" House queried, adopting the tone of an overly concerned grandmother, to which the Dean of Medicine rolled her eyes.

"Life would be easier. And don't bother saying anything, it's not like you would know." Cuddy took a large gulp of beer.

"Fine, then."

"Where's Wilson?"

"Some fancy dinner thing with his wife; boring stuff." House waved his hand offhandedly.

"Oh."

As the evening got later, House felt his eyelids drooping. "Now I need a taxi," he gleefully informed the bartender. "You people have terrible timing." He struggled to his feet and was staggering out the door when he turned his head to find Cuddy behind him. "What do you want?" He flopped down on a wooden bench near the sidewalk and licked his dry lips.

"Oh, come on. You expect me to want to stay in there all by myself after your wonderful company rid itself from my presence? Not a chance." She plunked down beside him and closed her eyes. House watched her long, dark eyelashes flutter against her complexion, and blurredly wondered why he had never truly recognized her beauty.

Instead of commenting, he leaned his head back, and, mimicking her expression, closed his eyes.

The sound of the taxi pulling up jolted him up, eyes flying open. He heaved himself to his feet and watched her do the same. She stood not even a foot away, staring at him with sparkling brown eyes. "You coming?"

Cuddy took a step and stumbled, lurching forward into his arms; chest to chest, forehead to forehead…

Lips to lips.

Neither one of them was aware of the taxi driver climbing out and opening the door, then shoving them in the backseat.