A/N: I'm losing my reviewers. What's wrong?

Greg House was not alone in his bed.

This particular fact hit the hungover diagnostician instantly as he roused from a deep slumber… that and he had one helluva headache. Something was snuggled up against his chest. Something long. And warm.

And it was breathing.

Blue eyes flew open.

Soft, baby smooth skin, the gentle curve of a neck, and a full head of dark, curly hair could only belong to one person…

Wilson.

WILSON? No, not Wilson, you idiot. Wilson wasn't even with you last night. Wilson had a- never mind.

It's all Wilson's fault. He should have invited me to the damn dinner party.

Oh.

People who think the four most dreaded words in the English language are 'we need to talk' are sorely mistaken, House thought with a grimace. Shit, my head hurts. And my leg. Dammit. Unfortunately for him, his arms weren't able to reach the bottle of Vicodin beside his bed. His left arm was pinned underneath the thing that was so wonderfully hogging the covers, and his right… well, let's just say he didn't need his painkillers that much.

House blinked against the pounding in his head, thinking. What an interesting predicament.

Boy, you really are hungover.

The thing stirred, and he froze, moving only his eyes to meet the wide open brown ones of none other than Lisa Cuddy. She stared at him without speaking before rapidly rolling away from him, freeing his half-asleep arm, and groaning. "Oh, god." Her face disappeared into a pillow.

House yawned sleepily. "Mind-blowing sex, huh? Amen." He smirked.

"Oh god" was her muffled reply.

"Since you're my boss," he continued, ignoring her, "can I miss work today?"

"Oh GOD."


House wished his headache to hell for the seventh time that morning and forced himself to concentrate once more. It was barely subsiding, and he was snipping at the ducklings when Cuddy stormed in.

"House. You, me, my office. Now."

Foreman, Cameron, and Chase all frowned when House just scowled and followed their boss out the door, where they disappeared around the corner.

"That was weird," Chase observed at last, when he thought it was safe.

Cameron shrugged. "I don't see why."

Foreman levelled a gaze at the Australian, waiting for an explanation.

"It was the perfect opportunity," Chase began, and stopped when he spotted the confused expressions on his coworkers' faces. "He didn't make a snide comment like he usually does," he rephrased, putting it as delicately as he could.

Cameron shrugged again. "What do you care? You never pay attention to his habits," she replied.

"And you do?" The intensivist shot back.

"Guys."

Two pairs of blue eyes snapped to Foreman. "Maybe he's just having an off day," he suggested.

Chase smirked. "House? Yeah, right."

"Foreman might be right," Cameron hesitated. "He was obviously hungover."

There you go, guys. Now you're getting somewhere. Come on, you can do it…

Chase's eyes narrowed. "Cuddy didn't look that great, either, come to think of it."

Foreman raised an eyebrow. "That's not jumping to conclusions at all," he said sarcastically.

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Do we not have anything better to do than gossip?"

"No?" Chase offered helpfully, and she glared at him.

As if on cue, pagers started buzzing, and the ducklings rushed to check on their newest patient.


"Shit," Cuddy hissed through her teeth, spotting a doctor in her office, waiting patiently. She darted quickly past the window, praying fervently he hadn't seen her and House, and sighed disgustedly as he purposely slowed down with a smirk. Making a quick decision (she knew she'd declare it stupid later, if not right then), she grabbed his free arm and yanked him into a nearby supply closet, locking the door behind them. A flick of her wrist and the light was on, faint, illuminating the five o'clock shadow on House's jaw.

Blue eyes danced in silent amusement. "If you really wanted-"

"Don't. Even. Start."

His mouth snapped closed, expression morphing into one of slight astonishment. A single eyebrow shot up, no doubt wondering what the hell was wrong with Lisa Cuddy this time.

"Last night- do you hear me, House?" Cuddy whispered fiercely, as though not to attract attention to themselves, even through the supply closet walls. "Last night was- will never happen again, and I want you to swear that you will never, ever mention it to anybody." She glowered at him. "Nobody. And if you so much as look at me…" Her dark eyes virtually bore a hole through him, forcing him to meet her gaze, "I will fire you."

A/N: Yup, so... review. I'm not even close to being done yet.