Author's Note (Part One): Once again, thanks for all the reads, reviews and alerts. They are like chocolate chip peanut butter cookies and Thin Mint ice cream. Mmmm. Now I want some cookies. With the premiere and the excitement for all the upcoming episodes, it might be a little harder for me to stay focused on the story. So please forgive me if updates run a little late (I'm trying to do it at least once a week). This chapter is, well, not as awesome as I'd like for it to be... But I really wanted to post it before the new episode, so please forgive me if it's a little lame. Even so, I hope you like it. I don't own this stuff, David Shore does-- except the lyrics, those belong to Van.

Man Has to Struggle

Man is in conflict with his natural self,

Man has to suppress his own desires and instincts,

Man has to work so hard to keep them at bay,

Man has to struggle all the live long day.

House watched Lucas as the PI stared longingly at Cuddy. The three had a taken a seat at the booth usually occupied by Foreman, Cameron and Chase-- all who were still busy at the hospital. House half-hoped that the trio would show up and demand their table so their little party could end early. Inviting Cuddy to dinner seemed like a good idea eight minutes ago, but as he listened to Lucas ramble on about Cuddy's beauty and brains in the car on the way over, he became increasingly aware that he should not have told Lucas that Cuddy was his for the taking.

"A pitcher of beer," House said to the busy waitress.

"And a glass of white wine for the lady," Lucas added with a dorky grin.

Cuddy nodded and then looked at the PI with interest, "Thanks, I--"

"Don't like beer. Yeah, I noticed." Cuddy raised an eyebrow. "When I was following around Dr. Wilson and the rest of House's people I had the opportunity to... observe you."

"Observe me? Like an animal in a zoo?" Cuddy frowned slightly. House smiled, deciding that as long as he let Lucas speak unfettered he wouldn't have to worry about the PI stealing Cuddy's heart.

"No, nothing like that," the PI said quickly. "I said I observed you because most people don't like to be told that I watched them while I was on a stake-out."

"That's a little creepy."

"Seriously creepy, if you ask me," House grinned. Lucas looked at him angrily before returning his attention to Cuddy, continuing the damage control.

"Maybe, but I was working for House and when he told me to pay extra-close attention to the way you and Dr. Wilson interacted with each other--"

"I did not," House interrupted.

"Yes, you did. You told me that you wanted to know if he was coming on to her and if--"

"Aren't you bound by the private dick code of confidentiality?"

"There is no PI code of confidentiality."

"That was a hint. What I really meant to say was shut up before I beat you with my cane."

Cuddy laughed, no longer bothered by the idea of Lucas watching her. "What intelligence did you uncover and bring back to House?"

"That you and Dr. Wilson are totally just friends. You know, Dr. Wilson cried once for four and a half hours straight. He must have really loved that girl. Seems like a pretty nice guy; it's really sad what happened to him."

"It is," Cuddy said, surprised by the sincerity of the PI's words.

"Yeah, it's a tragedy," House said dramatically, in a bid to break the tender moment forming between his two dinner companions.

The waitress arrived and placed the pitcher, two glasses and Cuddy's wine on the table. "Have you decided or do you need a couple more minutes?" she asked in a nasal Jersey accent.

"We're ready," House replied before either Cuddy or Lucas could respond. "I want a Reuben, served cold without pickles and extra fries."

"Got it," she said as she jotted down House's order. "Reuben, no pickles, extra fries."

"Cold Reuben, no pickles, extra fries. If it's hot or if it has pickles or if I don't get my extra fries, I will not be a happy customer."

"Cold Reuben, no pickles, extra fries," she repeated with a little attitude. "And for you sir?"

"Umm... I don't know, what do you recommend?" Lucas asked as he flipped through the menu.

"I really like the jerk chicken sandwich with the raspberry dipping sauce. It is out-of-this-world."

"That sounds good; Dr. Cuddy, do you mind?"

"Do I mind what?" she asked perplexed.

"I know you're a vegetarian and I don't want to eat meat if it's going to bother you."

"Of course it won't bother me," she smiled. "It's very sweet of you to ask, most people don't even give it a thought."

"I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable," he smiled back goofily.

"Oh my God," House replied, disgusted. "You're taking forever. He'll have chicken sandwich with fries and she'll have a large house salad."

"Actually, I'd like the black bean burger with fries," Cuddy said, passing the three menus on the table to the waitress who was busy writing down the orders.

"Fries? Since when do you eat carbs?" House said, eyebrows furled.

"I eat fries," she responded defiantly.

"You've eaten fries maybe twice in a decade."

"She eats them all the time," Lucas said, pouring a glass of beer for himself and House.

"How could you possibly know that? You don't even know her first name."

"Of course I do; it's Lisa. And she used to bring Dr. Wilson dinner all the time. If she didn't have fries of her own, she'd swipe some of his."

"He's right," Cuddy said, impressed.

"Oh, big deal. So he knows your first name and that you eat fries. He doesn't know any of the important stuff like where you keep your spare key or what color underwear you wear on Wednesday," House said, irritated.

"You're right, I don't," Lucas conceded. "But I know that her favorite flavor of yogurt is blackberry, she doesn't like honeydew melons, she takes her coffee black, prefers her eggs poached, jogs every day before work, reads the front page of The New York Times every morning and then skips straight to the features section, and if she's working late at night will go down to the cafeteria and spread all of her files out over a series of tables she pushes together."

"Wow. I can't believe you picked up on all of that." Cuddy was visibly impressed, which only annoyed House more.

"Come on," House complained. "It's not like he catalogued your life over years, filing away every one of your likes and dislikes, taking note of things that made you smile and cry, playing close attention to all the minutia. He learned those things because I paid him to pay attention. If I hadn't ponied up the greenbacks, he wouldn't know anything about you."

"He's right, I wouldn't," Lucas agreed.

"Whatever the catalyst, it's nice to have someone so earnestly interested in me. It's not something I'm accustomed to," she smiled.

"Please! I--" House stopped himself and swallowed the thought he was about to articulate. No need to let Cuddy know just how infatuated he was with her. "I'm sure is it... nice," he finished with a stiff grin. Cuddy gave him an appraising look that said 'I know you weren't going to say that and don't mean it.'

"It's hard not to pay attention to you, Dr. Cuddy--"

"Please, call me Lisa now that we know each other." House inhaled sharply, struggling to control his impulse to say something that might let on how frustrated he was.

"Lisa," Lucas repeated, beaming. "Sometimes when I was supposed to be watching Dr. Wilson or one of House's fellows, I found myself watching you instead. I kept having to remind myself that no matter how beautiful or how brilliant you are, I was hired to follow someone else. You made my job very hard."

"Stalk-er," House said in a quiet, sing-sing voice.

"That's so--"

"Icky?" House offered.

"Sweet," Cuddy finished.

"Sweet? Really?" House paused, reminding himself to shut-up. "Because I was thinking the same thing. It's just precious."

Cuddy shot House a look and he feigned innocence. "So Lucas, what drew you to private--"

"Finally," House interrupted. The waitress barely walked up to the table with their food when House began to harass her. "What took you so long?"

"The kitchen had to cook your Reuben before they started the rest of your party's meals so that it would be cold when it got here," the waitress said flatly. She dropped House's dish in front of him, forcing a smile, before putting down Cuddy's bean burger and Lucas' chicken sandwich. "Anything else I can get for you folks?"

"No, we're great," Cuddy replied before House could interject.

"I'll leave you to it then," the waitress answered before hurrying off.

"I need more ketchup," House said, picking up the bottle from their table.

"That's almost half a bottle," Cuddy observed.

"Not enough. After all, I have to get my daily serving of vegetables." Cuddy shook her head, turned around in the booth, and knelt on the cushion. House and Lucas enjoyed the view as she bent over the back and picked up the ketchup bottle from the empty table. She turned back around and plopped onto the seat, handing the bottle to House.

"Lucas was staring at your ass when you were bent over the back of the booth," House said, taking the bottle and popping a fry in his mouth.

"I... um.. I... It wasn't on purpose... I..." Lucas stammered, blushing.

Cuddy waved her hand, "Don't worry about it. House stares at my ass all the time. The only difference is that you did it without the derogatory comment-- which I appreciate."

"It's not my fault you've got junk in the trunk," House said, taking a large bite out of his sandwich. "Here," he passed the ketchup back to Cuddy, "Put some love on that burger and eat it before it gets cold."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and obliged. The trio spent the rest of the meal in satisfied silence, eating their food hungrily. House was quick to stall any conversation Cuddy and Lucas attempted. He was relieved when they reached the end of dinner, letting out a mental sigh as Lucas left the table to find their waitress and pay the ticket.

Cuddy, who had been waiting all night for Lucas to leave them alone, seized the opportunity to talk with House. "Why did you invite me to dinner?"

"Why did I invite you to dinner?" he repeated, pretending not to understand the question.

"Yes. Why?"

"Technically, I didn't invite you to dinner, Lucas did."

"You told me to come. Why?"

"Why? It was dinner time and I thought you might be hungry."

"Is that it? I thought... I thought you might want to talk about what happened... earlier."

"Earlier?" he said, enjoying how frustrated she was getting.

"In the lecture hall... You played me a song... You said we had chemistry--"

"Isn't ringing any bells."

"House, don't play coy with me, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I want to finish our conversation."

"I didn't know there was anything left to say," House replied calmly, one voice inside his head screaming at him to be honest, the other screaming at him to deflect.

"Wilson interrupted us. You were saying we should do something," she leaned over the table, closer to him and looked into his eyes. "What were you going to say?"

He looked out into the restaurant, "I don't remember."

"Yes, you do."

"I said I don't, so chances are--"

"You remember."

"If I remembered then why wouldn't I just tell you so you would stop annoying me?"

"Because you realized what you were going to reveal and got cold feet."

"Well, I wouldn't know-- Since I can't remember."

She let out an irritated sigh, "I don't know why you encouraged me to come to dinner if you had no intention of talking about this with me."

"Again, I thought you might be hungry. Plus, Lucas has a little thing for you. He wanted you to come and so--"

"Your plan was to pawn me off on your friend so you wouldn't have to finish our discussion."

"He's my friend. He likes you. I was trying to do something nice."

"Give me a break. You never do anything nice, at least not without the hope of getting something in return."

"What can I say? I'm a big softy. I just wanted to help my buddy win the girl of his dreams," he said in a ridiculous, sensitive voice.

"Fine. If you want to play it that way, fine," she said with a hint of menace.

"Did I miss something? I think that was a threat, but I can't figure out what you're threatening me with."

"No, not at all," she replied in a syrupy voice.

House studied her with narrowed eyes until Lucas returned to the table, bill paid.

"All taken care of," the PI said triumphantly.

"Great, now we can leave," House said, standing up. Cuddy grabbed her purse and followed suit. "Lucas, you should take a taxi back to the hospital so I don't have to backtrack."

"You said when I agreed to leave my truck that you would drop me off after dinner."

"Well, it was either that or look like an idiot riding around in a beaten-up, old ice cream truck."

"You've ridden in it before."

"Only when you were doing surveillance work."

"You don't have to call a cab. I'll give you a ride back to the hospital; I'm headed there anyway," Cuddy said to Lucas.

"No, I'll drive him back," House said quickly, hoping Cuddy would shrug and leave it alone. "I promised."

"House, go home. I'll drop Lucas off."

"I don't want to put you out," he said, hoping he could convince her.

"I told you, I'm headed there anyway."

"I'd hate for--"

"House, it's cool. Lisa will give me a ride," Lucas said, in a tone more forceful than his normal.

"Okay," House said slowly. "Thanks for the Reuben."

"No problem," Lucas replied as he turned toward Cuddy. "Shall we go?"

"Sure, I'm in the parking lot behind the restaurant. See you tomorrow, House," she said as they began to walk toward the back door.

"See you tomorrow, Cuddy," he replied, watching them as they went, kicking himself for having the stupid idea to insist she come, praying Lucas would make an idiot of himself on the way to Princeton Plainsboro.

Author's Note (Part Two): There it is. Next time we'll hear about what happened when Cuddy dropped Lucas off at the hospital when the PI comes to talk to House. And Wilson finally finds out what happened in that lecture room. Let's just say he's going to call House an idiot at least once. Hope to see you next time! Thanks for reading!