Hi everyone!

A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapters of this story, even after the long hiatus I'd imposed on you. but I'm trying to find my pace again and update at a faster rhythm, so I hope I didn't make you wait too long for this chapter!

So here you go: more clues about Cuddy's disease… but House's way, of course, which means surely not in the conventional way!

Comments make me super happy, so if you have time, please, don't go without leaving me a few words!

PS: Special thanks to Véronique for her professional advice on certain medical aspects of this chapter that helped me satisfy my need for plausibility and coherence in the process of diagnosing…

** Chapter 75 **

When Wilson opened the door to his office that morning, the last thing he expected to come face to face with was the scruffy silhouette of House waiting for him on his couch. Not that House breaking in into his office at the most unexpected moments was something unimaginable on its own but really, at eight am, Wilson still naively hoped it was early enough for him to be safe. That's why when he stepped into the room and saw House, looking like hell and staring at him, he jumped with fright and almost dropped his briefcase on the floor. But, pulling himself together quickly, he decided to opt for indifference as the best strategy and walked round his desk as nonchalantly as he could, before sitting down on his chair.

"I saw you tried to call me last night," he started matter-of-factly, opening his briefcase, and grabbing some files. "I know you probably expected to ruin my date with Erin, but you failed: I had a great night!" he added triumphantly, looking up at House with a smug, self-satisfied grin. "So, if you were expecting to surprise me wallowing in misery, you're going to be disappoin-"

"I need you to see Cuddy," House interrupted him with a raspy voice.

Wilson frowned and stared at him quizzically for a few seconds.

"Ha, I get it now. She probably threw you out of course… Well, I'm sorry but I'm not your relationship advisor, House. Whatever mess you've done, you need to fix it yourself."

"Everything's fine between Cuddy and me," House replied edgily.

Wilson sent him a doubtful look.

"And I wouldn't ask your relationship advice even if you were the last man on earth…"

"You wouldn't have a relationship if I were the last man on earth," Wilson deadpanned, not really paying attention.

"We're fine, ok!" House repeated, his voice getting louder. "At least so far, we are…"

Finally, something in House's tone seemed to catch Wilson's attention and he looked up, frowning worriedly.

"What is it?"

"Nipple discharge," House said, getting straight to the point. "Cuddy's, not mine."

"What?" Wilson's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened out in shock.

"She had a cyst; then it was gone. Supposedly."

"But… but how's that possible?"

"I don't know!" House shouted. "Why the hell do you think I'm here? I need you to see her."

"What do you mean see her? Is she… gone?" The oncologist asked hesitantly.

House sent him a glare and Wilson puffed, upset. Yet he decided it was not really the best time to let his friend know that wondering about that was not as crazy as it would have sounded for anyone else. Sometimes, he wished House would realize that he and Cuddy were not a sinecure, even less the perfect image of the conventional couple, and that expecting the unexpected was like usual routine with them…

"Well, sorry, but what exactly am I supposed to do?"

"What exactly are you supposed to do? Jesus Wilson, what do you do for a living?"

"You think she has cancer?" Wilson exclaimed, bemused. "But I thought Bill had already ruled that out-"

House shot him another glare, even darker than the previous one.

"I don't trust Bill's diagnosis, that's my point. All he's done so far was running random, useless tests which ultimately gave us no clues about what she really has."

Wilson sighed and looked at his friend worriedly.

"Does she still have a lump?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure…" House's head fell down and he rubbed his temples with his fingertips, looking completely lost. "You know Cuddy," he added, looking up again, "She's persuaded everything is fine-"

"It's probably nothing," Wilson tried to reassure him.

"Thank you but I'll decide it's nothing when I have tangible proof it's nothing."

"House, all I'm saying is that you don't have to worry until you-"

"I'm not worried! I just need a reliable diagnosis!"

"Then diagnose her!"

"I can't!"

House sighed heavily and got up, walking to the glass door and turning his back to Wilson. He stood there, for a long moment, looking straight ahead and remained stubbornly silent. Wilson wisely chose not to comment and waited for the explanation to come.

"She'll lie," House finally said. "If I ask about her symptoms, she's going to pretend she has none."

"That's insane!"

House swiftly turned around and faced his friend again.

"She left," he said with sadness in his eyes. "When she found out she had a lump, she took the first plane to Boston, and she went to see another doctor!"

"Come on," Wilson rolled his eyes. "The circumstances were different. She was scared and confused. But you both got past that. And she's here now. She loves you."

"I don't need her love," House replied angrily, "I need her to trust me."

"She does! House, she trusts you. She needs your support."

"She needs to be diagnosed."

Wilson puffed resignedly: When House had decided to hide himself behind the rationality of medical arguments, it was pointless to try and reason him or make him admit he was wrong.

"I need to be absolutely sure," House carried on, almost apologetically. He looked down at his feet for a brief instant as if he were searching for the right words. "Patients lie. I don't care if it's Cuddy and I should know she probably won't lie to me. I just can't look at her as a patient and ask myself if she's telling the truth. I need to be absolutely sure," he repeated.

Wilson nodded empathically, not giving House his approval but at least letting him know he was somehow able to understand his twisted reasoning.

"What do you know so far?"

"She's lost weight. She's tired. She's nervous."

"The Board meeting and you putting her under unnecessary pressure with your latest stunt would explain that…" Wilson said sarcastically.

House glowered at him but chose to ignore the deliberately provoking comment.

"Probably. But she's edgy. More than usual and…"

"What?"

"She's got a very big appetite for…" House finished his sentence with a vague gesture of the hand and looked away, uneasy.

"For what? You said she's lost weight."

"Jesus, Wilson! Don't be such a moron! I mean sex, ok? Appetite for sex!"

"Oh, I see… Good for you! I guess," Wilson stuttered trying to sound detached.

"Yeah. Thank you," House replied cynically, "Cuddy and I have lots of sex if that's what you wanna know."

"I'm not asking anything!"

"Good, because you won't get any answers! That's not what I'm saying anyway… I'm thinking about possible hormonal imbalance."

"Hypertestosteronemia?"

"As an underlying cause, yes."

"What? House, come on! You're not thinking of-"

"Sertoli-Leydig. It's possible."

"But unlikely," Wilson started calmly.

"You don't know that!" House blurted out, getting upset. "We've only been focusing on the breast but maybe that's only part of a bigger picture. And you, of all people, should know increased libido could be a symptom of ovarian cancer…"

"House, don't assume the worst just yet…"

"You think I have a choice? What am I supposed to do? Sit there and wait for her condition to worsen?"

"It's only a nipple discharge-"

"Oh, it's only that? Great! There's nothing to worry about then…"

House sat down on the couch again. He put his cane between his thighs, rested his chin atop the handle and sighed heavily.

"I'm just saying that increased libido, assuming that, in Cuddy's case, it's indeed a symptom, plus fluid coming out of her breast could-" Wilson started.

"She's not pregnant."

"Why not?"

"Because she's not."

Wilson raised his eyebrow expectantly upon seeing House so adamant.

"They checked her HCG level in Boston. She's not pregnant," House explained. "Since we've only come back a week ago, and in the highly improbable case scenario she did get pregnant in the meantime, it'd be too early for any of those symptoms to occur."

"So, you're not saying she couldn't actually be pregnant."

"Wilson," House snapped. "Get real, for God's sake! I'm 50, Cuddy's 41. And she's taking the pill. Seriously, what are the odds of her getting pregnant? Even with the frequency with which we've been doing it, and trust me we've been doing it a lot lately…"

Wilson squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head frantically.

"Ok, ok, ok, stop! I don't need any more allusions to your overactive sex life!"

House smiled, almost in spite of himself.

"Still didn't get it on with Erin?" he asked teasingly.

"That's none of your business," Wilson replied defensively.

"You said you had a great night, but I don't think masturbation can make you that happy…"

Wilson scowled but managed not to make any comment. Eventually, his stubborn silence brought House back to his primary focus.

"Her CA 15.3 was at 38," he finally said blankly.

"Levels of breast cancer antigens under 50 usually indicate a false positive," Wilson answered with his oncologist voice more than that of a friend, trying to be reassuring.

The more he was putting all the information House was giving him together, the more he was starting to get concerned as well. But he sure didn't want to show it to House. It wouldn't have helped. Certainly not with the way House was already sounding worried, even though he was trying to forcefully deny it.

"What do you want me to do?" he offered empathically.

"Check it again. Check the markers for ovary, too."

"And… that's all?" Wilson couldn't hide his surprise. "You've come to ask me to draw Cuddy's blood?"

"We need some tests results first before we know exactly where to look for," House elaborated, as if speaking to himself.

"You're asking me to draw Cuddy's blood," Wilson repeated, dumbfounded. "I'm not a nurse, House. I'm ok with helping you, but I have patients to see and…"

"I'm not asking you just that!" House cut him off, sounding a bit exasperated. "You need to ask her about how she feels. Ask her questions. Get some intel."

"Why can't you do that yourself?"

"Because I told you she will most likely lie to me."

"You're twisted, House. I cannot believe you actually think Cuddy would lie to you about her symptoms. She's relying on you. She's always had. You know that perfectly. So why would she stopped doing that now?"

"She had her periods twice this month. Actually, she didn't but there was blood."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I know what I'm talking about," House spat bitterly. "I know her. She's lost some blood. I tried to ask, and she dismissed me."

"I can understand that. I mean, I'm not a woman, but I can easily get why this is not something she'd randomly want to talk about…"

"It was not random! She dismissed me, purposely. And then, a few days later I found out she had that lump."

"But she probably didn't want to worry you inconsiderately."

The words died down in Wilson's throat as he realized he'd just given House the perfect motive to prove his point. House didn't even lose time gloating about it.

"It happened during sex," House added looking Wilson straight in the eyes a bit provokingly. "At first, I didn't think it was alarming, given that, you know, things can get very passionate with Cuddy…"

"Oh God!" Wilson covered his face with both his hands.

"What?" House exclaimed theatrically. "The only clues I have usually come in the form of lustful, appreciative moans."

Wilson sent a disapproving look in House's direction, even though, knowing his friend, it was impossible not to understand his extravaganza was part of an act.

"She won't tell me if it hurt," House continued, with a smirk. "I asked but apparently I'm this incredibly fulfilling stud-"

"Alright. Fine!" Wilson interrupted, scratching his skull frantically as if he'd wanted to remove the thought from his brain.

"So, you'll do it?" House asked, sounding relieved.

Wilson took a deep breath and tried to convince himself he would be doing that for Cuddy.

"Yes," he simply answered.

"Thank you."

"Ok, so CA 13-5 and 125, SCC, find out about any sign of-" He gulped but continued in his most professional voice, "pain during the sexual act."

"There, and around the nipples, armpit, chest."

Wilson sighed heavily.

"She's going to hate me for asking her that," he said wearily. "Worse, she's going to hate you for making me ask her that-"

"Then she'll hate me. I don't care. The priority is to figure out which symptoms are relevant, and which are not."

Upon hearing House, whose voice had sounded low and slightly wobbly, Wilson suddenly realized he was nothing but scared for the woman he loved. The realization hit him, and he felt sorry for his friend, both his friends. House was right: He needed to have answers. If anything, the way he was pushing Wilson to get them with deliberately provoking arguments was only proof of how distressed and helpless he must have felt.

Wilson slightly nodded and House stood up, grabbing his cell phone. He dialed a number and pressed the receiver against his ear.

"Be in exam room three in fifteen minutes," he said authoritatively as soon as he was through and hung up without waiting to receive an answer.

The two friends shared a last silent stare and House left the room without making any further comment. As soon as he was out, Wilson looked down at his files resignedly and picked up his phone.

"Sandy," he said to his assistant, "I need you to reschedule my 8.30 appointment with Mrs. Ruiz … No, everything's fine, it's just something I need to do … I think I probably won't be available until 10 a.m. ... Yes, you're right: Cancel the next one as well … thank you, Sandy."

# # # # # #

House limped his way into the conference room and came face to face with Thirteen who was seated alone and drinking a cup of coffee while reading the morning paper.

"Good morning!" she chanted, raising her face and greeting House with a smile.

House, barely acknowledging her presence with a grunt, kept on walking and crossed the room with a heavy pace, before disappearing in his office. He shut the glass door behind him and closed the blinds, conspicuously asserting his desire to be left alone.

"Yeah, I'm doing fine, thanks for asking," Thirteen muttered before taking another sip of coffee and returning to her reading, unmoved.

Inside his office, even before he'd taken the time to take his jacket off, House turned on his computer and sat down at his desk, nervously tapping his fingers on his lap. Once the laptop was on, he immediately swiveled his chair and started typing, accessing his personal medical database, and looking for every related case he could think of which combined all of Cuddy's symptoms he considered relevant enough to start a diagnosis.

Ten minutes later, which was the time she thought was required to let her boss' grumpy mood sink in and dare disturb him, Thirteen knocked on House's office door.

"I'm busy!" he growled from the other side of wall.

Heedless of the warning, Thirteen pushed the door open and approached the desk nonetheless.

"What?" House asked, looking up.

"Jenny Reed-" the young female doctor started.

"Who's Jenny Reed?"

"Uh, our patient, the one with Behçet's-"

"Ah yes!" House said impatiently. "What about her?"

"You were right," Thirteen simply answered.

"And? Does that come as a surprise?"

"I, well, that's not what I'm saying, but-"

"What?" House interrupted her, growing annoyed.

"I heard her husband wanted to sue the hospital-"

"He changed his mind."

"Oh really?" Thirteen asked, perfectly faking surprise.

"Yeah, really. Now, do you actually have a reason to be here or are you just trying to be annoying?"

Thirteen rolled her eyes. So much for showing a little concern, she thought.

"Uh, yes-" She straightened up and looked at House with a new-found assertiveness, "What dose of prednisone should we administrate her now? You started the treatment with a pretty high dosage, so I was wondering if-"

"You wonder too much! The first dosage was only a onetime thing. Just give her the standard dosage now."

"Ok."

Thirteen turned on her heel and started walking toward the door. But before she exited the room, House's voice called her back.

"You didn't come here to wonder about Jenny Reed's treatment for real," he said, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. "Actually, you perfectly know the first dosage I gave her is not standard treatment."

"And?" Thirteen replied challengingly, an amused grin drawing on her lips.

"If you say you saw me talk to her husband yesterday, I'll deny it," House warned her, the same smile forming on the corner of his lips.

"I didn't see anything," Thirteen said, winking at him.

"Good. Now go away and treat the patient."

Thirteen left the office and House returned to his computer, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.

# # # # # #

Cuddy pushed the door to exam room three open and hastily walked inside.

"I know I agreed to let you do that your way," she muttered with her head down, fumbling with the buttons of her shirt to start undoing them. "But I have an appointment at 9.30 and I…"

She tilted her head up and spotted Wilson standing in front of her. She instantly froze, mouth agape. Her hands dropped along her thighs and after the first moment of surprise, she glanced behind her to check the number written on the door, wondering if she'd come in the right room. But when she got confirmation she indeed was in exam room three, as she expected to be, she turned around to face Wilson again, looking him right in the eyes with an inquiring, slightly annoyed gaze.

"Where's House?"

Wilson shifted nervously on his feet and tightened his grip on the medical file he was holding in his left hand.

"He's, uh, I- well, he asked me to-" he stuttered uncomfortably.

Cuddy puffed upset and picked up the receiver of the phone hung on the wall.

"House!" she exclaimed, trying to contain her anger. "I'm in exam room three-"

"Good," House answered, unimpressed by her warning tone. "And? Isn't Wilson there, too?"

"Yes, Wilson's here. That's my point. Why is Wilson here?"

"Well, because he's a doctor! Unless he's been duping you all those years, which means he would have illegally treated hundreds of patients-"

"Cut the crap," she cut him off. "What I'm asking is: Why aren't you here instead of him?"

"I'm busy, he said. "So, I thought, since I can't be there, you'd at least want someone familiar to confide in."

"Confide in?"

"Cuddy, I'm sorry-" Wilson started, uneasy.

"Wilson, shut up!" she told him, swirling around and silencing him with a glare. "I assume it means Wilson already knows about last night," she went on, addressing House again.

"Don't worry," House answered. "He's not going to touch your boobs. I'm the one doing that. He's just here to draw some blood and-"

"Fine," Cuddy finally caved, aggravated, knowing it was pointless to argue with House in that specific moment.

Not waiting for House's answer, she hung up and turned around to face Wilson, who looked at her with a sympathetic smile.

"Let's make this quick," she said, closing the door behind her. Rolling her sleeve up, she entered the room and sat on the exam table.

"Cuddy, I'm sorry," Wilson repeated. "I know you'd have wanted House to be here but that doesn't mean he's not concerned or-"

"Wilson, that's ok. You don't need to defend him. I know House. I'm the stupid one here. I should've known he'd have sent you."

"Just … relax, ok?" he told her reassuringly, while applying the tourniquet on her bicep.

After he disinfected the bend of her arm with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol, Wilson slowly pushed the needle into her vein and the dark red liquid ran inside the test tube while Cuddy tilted her head to the side. When the needle slid out of her vein, she pressed the cotton on it and bent her arm.

"What did he ask you to test?" she inquired, while Wilson finished labeling the tube.

"CA 15-3… CA 125, SCC-," Wilson blurted out with his head bowed down, anticipating her reaction.

"What, ovary?" she exclaimed, "Why would you test that?"

Confronted to Wilson's obstinate silence, Cuddy's mouth dropped open in bemusement.

"Is it House's idea to test that?" she insisted, visibly upset.

Wilson took a deep breath and Cuddy instantly felt his uneasiness.

"Why?" she demanded.

"I, err-" Wilson stammered embarrassed, "I need to ask you a few questions."

Cuddy puffed and shook her head.

"Of course. Did House also tell you what questions you need to ask?"

"No!" Wilson tried to defend himself, desperately searching for the best way not to upset her more than she already was. "Cuddy, that's the standard procedure in your case," he half-lied.

"So, I presume that, in my case, the questions are about my sex life."

Wilson's cheeks turned red.

"Well partly yes, but-" he sighed. "Maybe you should see Erin. I could ask her to-"

"No. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want the medical staff to be informed of my condition just yet. People will know soon enough. So please, just go ahead and ask what you need to ask. It's not like I haven't said everything there is to know to House already, but if he thinks you need to hear it too to double check my answers…" she said bitterly.

"Cuddy, that's not what you think. House is worried. He's helpless. You know how he feels when he can't figure something out."

"Yeah, I know. But, sometimes, it feels like he doesn't trust me to tell him the truth."

"You ran away from him after you found out you had a lump in you breast. You went to see another doctor!" Wilson's voice was getting reproachful. "How do you think he handled that news? It's not against you, but you have to understand not knowing is a big issue for him."

Cuddy looked away, feeling guilty. She bit her lip and blinked a few times to hold back the tears that had formed in her eyes, almost in spite of her.

Wilson allowed her to take some time to get over her distressing feelings, pretending not to have noticed her discomfort and conveniently started to fill the form for the blood test. Thinking about what she'd just said about wanting to keep the exam secret, he suddenly turned to her with an inquiring gaze.

"Do you want me to list you under a fake name?"

"If you don't mind."

"Sure, no problem!" Wilson peeled off the label and stuck another one to the test tube. "What name do I write?" he asked.

"Julia Smith," Cuddy said almost without giving it a second thought.

Wilson's eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Julia's my sister's name," she explained, "and Smith … because," Cuddy thought about the name she'd given at the hotel in Boston where House and her had spent the night before going back to Princeton. "Well, because Smith is one of the most common names, so it won't draw anyone's attention," she said, keeping the anecdote to herself.

Wilson nodded and wrote down the name before putting the tube in his lab coat's pocket.

"I'll make sure you have the results as soon as possible."

"Ok. Thank you, Wilson."

"Now, about your breast," Wilson started, keeping his head down to avoid her gaze as much as he could.

"Go on, ask me!" Cuddy said, with a smile. She was now seeing the irony behind that unusual situation and Wilson's embarrassment was actually an amusing distraction to her own uneasiness. He was her friend after all, and House's too, she told herself. And she had no doubt he wasn't doing any of this for the pleasure of making her feel uncomfortable.

Cuddy knew how House functioned. It'd have been a lie to pretend she was surprised to see things happening the way they were now. Of course, she'd have preferred to have him, by her side, doing the exam himself, but deep down, she knew he would not do it. House was the brain in the diagnosing process, not the hand which performed the tasks. He was assigning them and drawing conclusions based upon the results he was given and for that he needed to step back and look at the whole picture from a far distance. Even if it was her. Maybe even more so because it was her.

Cuddy was afraid but she realized that while she needed to be reassured, House, in his own unique way, was doing exactly that by letting her know he was doing everything he could to find the answers and diagnose her. And as weird and uncommon as it seemed, sending Wilson was his way of saying he was there with her, somehow. Looking at Wilson, Cuddy realized that, through the presence of the oncologist, she was in fact with House, giving him the answers that he needed.

"It's my right breast," she said, all her previous discomfort dissolving in that sudden evidence. "Yesterday, a thin trickle of liquid leaked through the areola."

Wilson took a deep breath and focused on his notepad, writing down the information.

"Ok. Did it start spontaneously?"

"No," she couldn't contain a small laugh. "I see House didn't tell you everything after all", she said, smiling.

"Oh… I see. So, was it, erm, kneading… pinching?"

"Sucking."

"Alright."

"And nipping."

The oncologist raised his head and looked at Cuddy. Her smile was genuinely amused.

"You know that's funny," she said.

"What is?"

"That's not the kind of details I'd have imagined sharing with you, not that you don't already know them since House probably tells you all there is to know about his sexual exploits anyway-"

"No, no, he doesn't!"

"Really?" she sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes, really. And, uh, apart from last night, are there any other circumstances when the same happened to your breast?"

"No, that was the first time."

"Any, err, pain?"

"No. Not during the sucking part if that's what you're asking."

"Yes. Ok. And apart from that?"

"Not really."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, apart from the usual sensitiveness before menstruation."

"Sure. You're on the pill, right?"

"Uh-"

"You're not taking the pill?" Wilson asked, sounding involuntarily excessively surprised.

"Yes, but- I, well, I consider quitting and getting an IUD."

"Alright. But you haven't yet, right?"

"No."

"Cuddy, if you're uncomfortable, you know you could talk to someone else. Erin is-"

"No Wilson, that's ok, I already told you I don't want anyone to know right now."

"Ok."

"You're mentioning Erin a lot lately," she teased, with a bantering tone. "Does it mean things are going well between you?"

"It- it's fine!" Wilson replied, blushing. "We're doing fine. She's, uh, a nice girl."

Cuddy sent him a fond gaze.

"Yeah. She's a nice girl. I'm happy for you, Wilson."

"Thank you!"

"So, kneading and pinching, really uh?" she added, tilting her head to the side, and looking at Wilson with a mischievous smile.

Wilson's eyes widened out in bewilderment.

"Oh, come on Wilson!" Cuddy cajoled, patting his arm. "That's only fair: I'm sitting here telling you about my sex life! You could share a little bit with me too, as a friend."

"I don't believe it!" Wilson exclaimed.

"What?" She burst into spontaneous laughter upon seeing Wilson's astonishment.

"You and House are definitely meant to be together. You're just equally crazy."

The laughter died inside Cuddy's throat and her gaze was lost straight ahead for a short moment.

"Yeah," she uttered under her breath, with a sudden sadness in her eyes.

"He'll figure this out," Wilson said supportively, feeling sorry for what his friends had to go through.

"I know." Her voice had found a softer tone.

Wilson cleared his throat and Cuddy raised her face to him.

"Any more questions?" she asked.

"Yes, err-"

"What?" Cuddy stiffened imperceptibly on the exam table.

"Any abnormal bleeding you've noticed?"

"You mean, has my breast been bleeding? No. No blood, just that liquid yesterday."

"I meant vaginal discharge?"

"Oh," Cuddy gulped before straightening up. "No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"No bleeding?"

Cuddy inhaled slowly and narrowed her eyes at Wilson, trying to guess what part of the question was his and what was House's. She remembered having lost some blood just after she and House had sex a couple of weeks before, but in her mind, it was really nothing. She also remembered that House, of course, had noticed it and asked her about it, but in the afterglow of their passionate lovemaking, she'd dismissed his worries, saying it was just the consequences of his rough fervor that night. Not that she was complaining about it, God no! she'd told him, snuggling up in his arms, and he hadn't insisted. She thought he'd forgotten about it, just as she had too, but now, she couldn't help but think House, trying to put the puzzle together, had surely recalled that incident.

"Just once," she finally said sighing, and before Wilson could add anything, she added "but it was nothing! I've already told that to House. It was just that one time. And it wasn't much blood. We, err, were a little too passionate, that's all." She forced herself to keep her chin up and maintain eye contact with Wilson.

This time, it was his turn to gulp.

"Ok. If you say so."

"Yes. Come on Wilson! You know how it is, right?" Cuddy teased, regaining her composure after the previous awkwardness had dissipated.

"Nuh-uh, nice try, but I'm not giving you details about my sex life with Erin!" Wilson warned, shaking his head.

"Ha! So, there is a sex life!"

"Jesus, you're impossible!"

She chuckled.

"You can't blame me for trying to have a little fun here, given the circumstances."

"Yeah," Wilson said, nodding.

"Don't screw things up," Cuddy said. "I have no intention of losing my new OB-Gyn so soon after hiring her."

"Well, thank you for your support, but I have no intention of letting her leave either."

"Good."

Wilson patted the pocket where he'd previously put the test tube filled with Cuddy's blood and then glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Don't you have an appointment at 9.30?" he reminded her.

Cuddy turned to the side to look at the clock as well.

"Oh God, you're right! I need to go! I mean, is that okay?"

"Yes, I think we're done," Wilson replied.

Cuddy pushed herself off of the exam table and tidied her skirt with her palm before readjusting the sleeve of her shirt. She walked towards the exit door and just before opening it to leave she turned around and gave Wilson a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Wilson," she said, and before he could answer anything, she was gone.

Alone in the room, Wilson glanced down at his note and took a deep breath.

"Anytime," he mumbled before heading out as well.

(...)

A/N

DDXing Cuddy is far from being done, as you can see since we're only entering phase one of the process: where House hides in his office and sends someone else to deal with the problem.

At some point though, I promise, he'll get involved, and reaaally involved. :D

Btw, any ideas about what Cuddy has?