Take Me Home
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know so I can brag...hehe.
Spoilers All In (based upon the spoilers)
Pairings: HouseWilson BFFness / HouseCuddy
Disclaimer: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
Summary: "But she's taking me home, just as I predicted."
Notes: In response to LJ comm housecuddy's commandprompt 02: "All In (your pants)". Most was written before the episode aired.
Two penguins stood wall flowered in the corner, both observing the crowd with differing judgement; one boasting a more lamentable feel while the other's harsh thoughts could well be read on his face.
"This is ridiculous," Greg groused, fiddling with his bowtie. "It's awkward and feels like junior prom all over again."
James glanced over at his friend. "You actually went to junior prom? I figured you just brooded in your parents' basement." He baked in the silence that surrounded them. "If you tell me that you actually went to your prom, and was voted Prom King, I'm going to drive my car into a lake."
"Will you be in it?" Greg asked, eyes unmoving.
James rolled his eyes before glancing at the diagnostician. He paused, brow furrowed before following his gaze. "Ah."
He blinked, frowning at his friend. "No ah. There is no ah." He shrugged, returning to his attention's captor. "I was just admiring her dress. Nice colour on her," he added as an afterthought.
"You were raping her with your eyes." The young oncologist muttered, taking a sip from his glass and ignoring the surprised look Greg gave him. "Besides, I shouldn't be looking at the hospital administrator like that."
"C'mon, you're a soon-to-be divorcé. I say: admire while you still have the money. You need to look. Good for the soul - good for the mind."
"You think ogling the Dean of Medicine is good therapy," James stated dryly, despite his eyes wandering over to her, clad in a flattering form-fitting deep blue dress.
"Worked for me," the diagnostician remarked, eyes still focused on his prey.
"Right, you're sane. It's the rest of the world that's crazy."
He let out a small growl. "Look at those hips. She's got definite back."
"I don't think Cuddy appreciates you talking -"
" - please! She loves it." Greg interrupted him. "And I'm willing to bet that my smooth-talking ways can convince her to take me home tonight." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"And I bet she'll slap you for even thinking such a thought." James muttered, taking a sip of his drink.
Greg glanced at his best friend. "One hundred?"
"Make it two."
Greg raised his eyebrow. "Well, I see that wine has gone straight to your head. Two hundred bucks against me is just ludicrous." He turned on his heel, and limped towards his target.
James observed his friend move slowly towards Lisa. He couldn't help fighting the grin that spread across his lips. "You're going to get massacred, House," he mumbled into his drink, finishing it off and glancing back at the open bar. He leaned against the wall and watched the scene unfold before him.
His eyes took in the diagnostician limp towards the administrator, smugness wafting like a magazine-sample cologne. The scene played out like a cheap sitcom who based its entire premise on old clichés hopefully forgotten, though James did manage to steal a few chuckles at its expense.
He watched Greg approach Lisa and whisper what could only be inferred as inappropriate, judging by the glare that was offered as a retort. He watched the diagnostician continue to work his charm on the un-enthused administrator. Words were exchanged, suave taunting irritability. Looks were exchanged, leer testing tolerance. Heat was exchanged, cheek provoking palm's wrath.
James cringed, swallowing his laughter as his best-friend glowered at him from across the room. He put his hands up in defense, though his gloating intent was well discernable.
Greg limped back towards the oncologist, rubbing his cheek while glaring at him. "Shut up," his gruff voice preempted any words to fall out of James's mouth.
"Ouch, that looked like it hurt."
"One thing Cuddy isn't, is weak." He continued to rub his cheek, though it had lost its soothing intent and developed a reminiscent stroke. "I think she used her nails."
"I think we were all waiting for the day for Cuddy to bitch slap you," James stated honestly, holding out his hand for his winning allowance. "Wow, you lost two hundred dollars and your pride at the same time."
Greg glared at him again, opening his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a firm voice behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a look.
"You ready?" Lisa asked, shrugging on her long wool coat.
James's mouth fell open slightly as he looked from one to the other. "But...I..."
"Since you are driving, I'm going to have one more drink for the road."
"What, am I that hard on the eyes?" Lisa joked, buttoning up her jacket.
"No no, you're very sexy." Greg nodded, pausing slightly. "It's your personality." He turned and lumbered towards the bar.
"Lisa," James interrupted her thoughts, a hand on her wrist. "Are you sure -"
"- what, me and House?" She laughed, surprised. "I've only had one flute of champagne, James," she began, as if using it as an excuse.
"Sometimes one is enough." He countered, making sure she understood the commitment.
"Jimmy, I appreciate your concern, but I could probably drink you under the table and still be coherent." She glanced as Greg as he made his way back, with a plastic flute of champagne gripped between his index and thumb. "Besides, I can handle him."
"One of the few people who can," James muttered, agreeing.
"Ready for the ride of your life, sweet cheeks?" Greg leered, hovering close to Lisa.
"Please, stop with the smooth-talk or I might be tempted to jump your bones in the coat-check." She commented dryly. "C'mon."
"Perfect combination: irresistible," he pointed to himself before motioning the Dean of Medicine, "and eager." He leaned forward and plucked the money from James hand, and shoving it in his pocket. "You owe me two hundred, don't forget." He began to walk away.
"Woah, wait!" James pointed towards Lisa. "She slapped you, just as I predicted."
"But she's taking me home, just as I predicted. And sex beats out face-spanking any day." He paused, brow furrowed. "Unless the sex and spanking are directly related...then it's just hot." He wiggled his brows before limping towards Lisa, who was waiting for him at the door.
"You owe me big," Lisa began, talking as she walked beside Greg. "I don't understand why you couldn't have just called a cab. Your place is out of the way, I'll be making a huge detour and gas prices aren't cheap," she huffed, shoving her hands in her coat pocket and retrieving her keys. "And why couldn't you have just gotten Wilson to take you home - I mean, you two are bunking together..." She trailed off, stopping in front of her car, taking in his uncharacteristically quiet demeanor, save for a smug grin on his face. "And what's with the smirk?"