A/N: I don't actually have a real plan for the story; it's sort of just writing itself, and I insert my ideas into the plot as they come. I'm quite pleased that y'all are sticking with me- I know I'm not the fastest updater, and some chapters really suck. Long story short; thanks for your reviews, and I welcome comments.

"Lisa, you do realize what a ridiculous and highly unusual request this is. I need not remind you that you are the Dean of Medicine, correct?"

Cuddy quelled her irritation, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes, I am aware of that fact, Doctor, and it is not my intention to make a habit of it." She crossed her legs and sighed. "It's only for two weeks."

"Fine," the older doctor granted reluctantly, "you have my consent, Dr. Cuddy. I expect you back here in exactly fourteen days, no later. It is your job, however, to make sure everything needed is covered, if necessary; do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly. Thank you again, Doctor."


Cuddy hummed quietly under her breath while she packed clothing into her suitcase. Books, makeup, travel brochures, and more were scattered haphazardly around her bedroom, music playing in the background. She stooped and frowned, thinking she heard the front door open, but when she paused the c.d., she heard nothing but silence. And so she continued, arguing to herself what she should take and not take along with her.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing. Don't you ever knock?" She answered without turning around.

"No. Where are you going?"

"California."

"Why?"

"Because I need a vacation."

"No you don't."

"And how would you know, Greg?" Cuddy exploded, spinning around and hurling a pillow at him. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

House just looked at her. "Why?"

Cuddy pointed at her bedroom door. "Get out."

"Make me."

"Get out, House. Now."

"No."

"What do you want me to do? Call the police?"

"Right."

"For the last time, House. Get. Out."

House stood, steady as a rock.

"Fine," Cuddy muttered, and attempted to shove him out the door. He dropped his cane, caught her wrists, and brought his head down to crush her lips with his, passionate, and demanding, in one smooth move. She melted against him. House's arms snaked around her, one hand finding its way to her lower back; the other, the nape of her neck, drawing her closer.

Cuddy pulled away from him. "Don't- do this… don't… not now…" she ran a hand through her hair, eyes flickering around the room and finally resting on her suitcase. "Don't."

Jaw set in anger, he took one long look at her, waiting. "Fine." Without another word, he turned on one heel and disappeared behind the door.

She sighed.


"Welcome Palm Springs, Dr. Cuddy," a ridiculously perky hotel clerk enthused, clicking away at her computer with a Barbie-doll smile.

Cuddy forced a smile. "Thanks."

"Here you go," the clerk continued, handing her a room card and a brochure advertising the sights and tourist attractions of Palm Springs. "We hope you have an enjoyable stay, and if you have any questions, concerns, or comments, please, don't be afraid to ask." Another sickeningly sweet smile.

Cuddy inwardly rolled her eyes, but said sweetly, "thank you, I will."

After receiving quick instructions to her room and the pool, Cuddy hauled her luggage to the elevator, then down to the end of the hallway on the third floor. Swiping the card, she shoved open the door and pulled her suitcases through it, letting the heavy wooden door click shut behind her. A low whistle escaped her lips as she surveyed the room. "Not bad," she muttered under her breath.

The room was truthfully quite lovely. The walls were painted a light olive; the floor covered in a thick, soft black carpet, and the generous double bed was adorned with at least five beige pillows and a blanket in various shades of green. Dark oak furniture completed the space, lending an air of sophistication to the room.

Cuddy paced over to the large window overlooking an enormous swimming pool, complete with lounge chairs, hot tubs, and much more. Without a second thought, she opened her suitcase and rummaged in it for her beach bag. Within fifteen minutes she was dressed in a simple black bikini, barefoot, a gauzy, multicoloured sarong wrapped around her hips, sunglasses atop her head, hair tied loosely into a knot at the nape of her neck, and her beach bag slung over her shoulder. In the bag was a romance novel, a bottle of water, a small towel, some change, her cell phone (turned off), and her key card.

She was just about to leave when a knock at the door startled her. Closing her suitcase and shoving it across the bed, she yelled out, "Yes?"

"Room service, ma'am," a vaguely familiar voice replied loudly. Cuddy frowned and strode to the door, opening it. "I'm sorry, I don't remember ordering room service…."

"I know you didn't," the voice said dryly, and Cuddy closed her eyes.

"House."