"One game of checkers first," House said, after Cuddy expressed a desire to get the steaks broiling.
"I'm hungry!" Cuddy scowled. She couldn't believe how much House had gone all-out for dinner. There had to be an acre of steaks in there. How could he be putting that off? "We can't just let all that wonderful food sit there."
"We're not."
"We're not? What do you call this? Playing checkers does not equal eating a nice meal. Do you call it broiling some steaks because I sure as hell don't. I call it settling a petty grudge."
"You know me so well, Lisa," he said with a crooked grin and a wink.
"That's not always a good thing. Can't we settled this petty grudge after dinner?"
"Grudge, game, by any other name it's still checkers. One game, then we eat, and I'll even serve dessert. If you want half the pie, you'll get it."
"How kind of you," Cuddy grumbled and plopped down at the table. "Can I be red this time?" she asked with a coquettish tilt of her head. If she had to suffer through this she may as well try to make it worth her while.
"If the boss wants to be red, she shall be red." He opened the box and passed her the red pieces. The board was set into the center of the table, then they began to arrange the black and red circles onto the squares. "Red because you're out for my blood. Tell me I'm wrong."
"I'm not telling you anything." Peering over the board, she couldn't help but ask, "What does the winner get?"
"The thrill of victory," House said with a mischievous grin, then spun a black piece on the table like a top. "It's not whether you win or lose and all that crap. I've always believed that if you don't play to win, you have no business playing to begin with. Nobody goes to the Olympics with the dream of bringing home a silver medal. You go for the gold or you stay home. If you bring home the silver that's because there was another athlete who wanted the gold more."
"I have to say there is some truth in that."
"Or the French judges were corrupt."
"That, too."
"Do you want another shirt? No more tee-shirts for you, boss, unless you want me at the hospital naked. Now that would be interesting..."
"Both of us want something else besides a tee-shirt and seeing you naked in public."
"Really? If it's not me naked, then what is it?"
"It's more than the thrill of victory, but you already know that."
"Damn, Lisa," he said, his blue eyes blazing. "You want to do it right here on the table? Then we'll never get to eat. If you insist, just be gentle. You know, my leg on this hard surface and all. I can only hope the table will support our weight. The sofa might be more comfortable–"
"This isn't about victory or sex. This is about bragging rights. If I win I want a dozen red roses and a box of Godivas hand-delivered to my office by you."
"Hmmm...the good doctor lays down the law. You're not just after my blood or my body anymore, you're after my pride."
"Well, if your pride is so delicate–"
"You're worth bruising my precious pride over. Just a little bruising, you understand. I can handle that."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Can you?"
"Damn right I can."
"That's not what I meant," House smirked. The black circles were neatly arranged on the board. "If I win I want a dozen red roses and a box of Godivas hand-delivered to my office by you, in front of Wilson, Chase, Foreman and Cameron. I'm not the only person with precious pride sitting at this table."
"Why do you get the audience?"
"I'm so special, that's why."
"I get an audience, too, if I win. It's only fair."
"As long as Vogler isn't there. And that one red-headed maternity nurse. She creeps me out."
"You're on, Dr. House."
"That's what I thought," he replied salaciously. "Ladies first, boss."
Cuddy set a finger with a crimson painted nail on a red circle and moved it up a square. "The war begins."
