13.

The weekend had come and gone and so had his latest patient. Well, the patient was recovering anyway, and was therefore out from under House's care - that was all that mattered as far as he was concerned.

Time got away from him sometimes, when he was focused on a case. Suddenly it was Tuesday and he was standing around with Wilson, pilfering lollipops from the nurses' station, and waiting to see whether Cuddy was going to notice if he didn't sign in for his clinic duty.

He hadn't seen much of her the past few days. He didn't know if that was because she was busy, or if she was avoiding him. For once, he wasn't actively avoiding her, so he knew it wasn't him.

He looked towards her office thoughtfully, and beside him Wilson was apparently paying attention.

"You know what's up with her?" he asked, nodding in the same direction.

House shrugged. "Gonna need to be more specific. Up with her how? When? Where? Why?"

"Uh, up with her in general?"

"I've got a 'why' for you. Why am I suddenly an expert in Cuddy-nomics? You give one sperm sample," he muttered.

"I'm talking about the fact that she's really been on the warpath lately. I would have thought you of all people would have fallen in the path of destruction."

He shrugged. "Hadn't noticed."

Which wasn't actually a lie, uncharacteristic as that was. He really hadn't noticed - if she'd been ruffling feathers, she hadn't made any attempt to ruffle his. Not since the last time she'd spent the night at his place, anyway.

Which was interesting, he thought.

"You haven't noticed?" Wilson questioned. "My department's been buried under a storm of memos, and I know we're not the only ones."

"I don't read memos."

"Of course not." Wilson sighed, and there was a pause before he went on carefully. "So is it just me or is she..."

"Overcompensating for her out-of-control personal life by turning her hospital into a totalitarian regime? Making herself feel better by making everybody else miserable? Just plain flipping out?"

"D, all of the above?"

"You get an A-plus, young Jimmy."

Suddenly the nurse on duty behind the desk leaned towards them, having caught the topic of their discussion.

"You know," she confided, apparently eager to share, "She was interviewing new assistants this morning - two of them left in tears."

"Wow," said Wilson.

"Cool," said House.

And then all three of them started a little when the office doors they were regarding suddenly opened and the subject of their gossip session appeared.

The nurse had already taken a large step away from them and was suddenly extremely absorbed in some paperwork, while the two men reacted somewhat slower.

"Crap, she's spotted me. Don't make eye contact. Don't make eye contact!" House hissed, wheeling around and heading in the opposite direction.

"Dr Wilson," Cuddy barked, surprising both of them enough that they abandoned their escape and turned back to face her.

"Dr Wilson?" House echoed. "You haven't got us mixed up again, have you? I know it's easy to get us confused. Just try to remember, I'm the smart one, he's the pretty one."

Wilson frowned. "I thought I was the smart one and you were the pretty annoying one with no sense of self-preservation."

"Also accurate," House nodded. He jerked his thumb at Cuddy as she reached them. "Meanwhile, she's the one who -"

"Shut up," Cuddy snapped, cutting off his witty remark and turning to gesture at the folder Wilson was carrying. "I don't suppose those are your staff performance reviews?"

"Ah, no, sorry," Wilson stammered. "Actually -"

"You know I wanted those yesterday, right?"

"Yes, I got your memos. Plural."

"I suppose they're writing themselves while you're loitering in the lobby."

Floundering, Wilson tried to shift her attention. "How come I'm in trouble and he's not?"

Amateur, House thought with a smile. "Did mine two weeks ago," he said happily.

Wilson stared at him. "You're kidding."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "The one thing I never have to chase him down for."

"I love staff evaluations," he enthused. "I could do them every week. Want me to write yours for you? 'Dr Albright, blinds patients with his over-peroxided teeth, might do better in geriatrics, since they're all half-blind anyway'. 'Dr Singh needs to return to her home planet -'"

"She's not that bad," Wilson protested.

"She once told me that acupuncture is an effective form of pain management."

"Well, it can be."

"Yeah, but she dresses like a hippy and she always smells like patchouli. Might as well have gotten her medical degree from space cadet academy."

"I think the oncology department can do without your input, actually," Cuddy broke in. "I'm sure Dr Wilson is on his way right now to finish his reviews." She looked at Wilson pointedly and he raised both hands in defeat.

"I... guess I'm on my way, then."

"Escape while you still can," House stage-whispered after him.

"And you," she turned on him, "should know better than to hang around down here when your clinic shift starts in three minutes."

"Just on my way to sign in."

She gave him a dubious look. "Good, why don't you go do that?"

He opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it again. He moved off without another word, because sometimes, he thought, you have to leave them wanting more. A casual glance back in her direction as he leaned over the desk and told his name to the nurse revealed her to still be watching him. He smirked around the lollipop in his mouth as he made his way to exam room three.

Not half an hour later she was back, begging for more.

"You've seen one patient?" she demanded as she flung the door open, interrupting level five of his new Trauma Centre game.

"Where's the special treatment?" he threw back, shutting his DS. "Where are the perks? I was sure sleeping with the boss, I'd have all sorts of work-related windfalls coming my way. Like not having to work at all."

"That's not remotely funny," she said, hastily closing the door while sending him a glare.

"Who's laughing? I want a better parking space, too. And an infinite supply of these," he held up another lollipop as he unwrapped it, "and my own personal candy-striper, oh, just because. And a pony, and -"

"I'm calling in your next patient," she said without so much as a hint of amusement.

No sense of humour, he thought, adding it to the list in his head as he reached out with his cane and prodded her before she got the door open all the way.

"Stick around - think we could pull off a quickie? Not like anyone who saw you come in here is going to disturb us, you've got them all good and scared. Probably think you're in here chewing me out. Which I would absolutely be up for, by the way, in a strictly metaphorical - and by metaphorical I mean sexual - sense."

"Do I really need to tell you that nothing inappropriate is ever going to happen between us here at work, no matter what our status outside the hospital?"

"No, your response is disappointingly predictable. I just like making you make that face - yep, there it is."

"I think I saw a mother with triplets out there - I think she'll be up first," she threatened casually.

"On our own time, though," he pressed, "that's still on, as far as I know. Why don't I come round tonight, you can really show me who's boss."

He thought he saw a hint of a smile before she looked away. "Tempting as that sounds, I don't think so."

"Got some other hot date lined up?"

"I'm just busy. And I do have to sleep sometime, you know."

Running hot and cold - another symptom, and a particularly annoying one, he discovered. Because it was disappointing, he realised. He was disappointed. And he didn't deal with rejection particularly well.

"Expectant mommies need their rest," he sneered.

"Yes, we do," she returned without flinching. Yet another interesting development, he thought, if the M-word wasn't fazing her. "Now, I am busy," she went on, "and you will deign to treat some people, no matter how much of a burden it is on your hectic gaming schedule."

"Only because you asked so nicely." His words followed her out the door, and the next moment she was herding in a woman and what had to be triplets, because no one would willingly have three children under the age of four if they came along separately.

Especially when they all started crying, one after another, in a cascade effect. He looked up to see Cuddy definitely smiling now as she closed the door behind them.

And then he looked at the weary mother of this little walking disease cluster. She had to be a serious mental case, he decided, sizing her up warily. No one would have three. Not when just one caused so much trouble all on its own.