A/N Okay, so I swear I'm still working on the sequel to Something Unpredictable but I was on 14 hour road trip this weekend and this story formulated in my mind and demanded to be written….its pretty much just going to be fun silliness with some romance mixed in while hopefully remaining in character the whole time…so, I hope you enjoy!

A/N 09/09 sooooo…. I need to pick up this story, so I went to reread it to get myself back in the frame of mind and I realized the typos are atrocious, so I'm rewriting and reediting this beast while I do it… so hopefully any of you who are either rereading or just now joining the party will not be horrified by my inability to write :D

The one and only Gregory House M.D., diagnostician extraordinaire and general asshole, struggled into consciousness and immediately discovered that trying so hard was clearly his first mistake of the morning. His head was pounding to the point where he could actually feel his blood rushing through his veins with every throbbing beat of his heart. The taste in his mouth was fairly indescribable, but he was positive that he could die a happy man if he never had to taste it again. His stomach was revolting even with the absence of any external stimuli, and his whole body ached, his right leg, of course, most of all.

It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't in fact dying, although at this point that didn't really seem like a poor option, but instead was suffering from the worst kind hangover known to mankind. Knowing from experience that his leg pain was about the only thing he could do something about at the current moment, he reached out and grabbed the prescription bottle off the night stand without even opening his eyes. Popping the cap with one hand he shook two into his mouth and swallowed them dry with great effort, grimacing when he realized that the bitter taste they left behind was actually an improvement.

He had every intention of rolling back over and passing out for a few more hours until life would seem marginally more bearable, but a groan that did not come from his own mouth caused one eye to fly open.

Initially he was surprised to discover that he was not in his own bed in his own home, but after a moment of disorientation, he remembered that he was in a hotel room in Las Vegas attending a convention Cuddy had blackmailed him into going to. In actuality, he hadn't really fought that hard not to go since it meant he had a week in Vegas on the hospitals tab, but that wasn't really what was on his mind at the moment. What was more pressing at the present time, was the wide expanse of feminine back that he was currently presented with as he turned his eyes to the other side of the bed.

He had no recollection of how she got there and considering his own state of undress he only hoped that as drunk as he must have been last night, that he had at least been lucid enough to remember to use protection considering he was in Sin City. It didn't take long for his critical mind to deduce that the mystery woman was also naked as his eyes traced the gentle curves of her waist as her hips disappeared under the generic hotel sheet. And an attractive back it was too, he decided as he took in the graceful lines of her muscles from the chestnut curls that fell over her shoulders to the dimples at the base of either side of her spine. Fossae lumbales laterales or the Dimples of Venus, his excessively cerebral thoughts rattling off both the latin and colloquial terms for those indentations.

But regardless of the attractiveness of said back, in his pained state he was more interested in finding out who it belonged to, and then getting her the hell out of his hotel room so he could nurse his hangover in peace before his flight back to Jersey that afternoon. He reached out and gave his impromptu slumber party partner a sharp jab in between her shoulder blades. When she only groaned again, reaching down to pull the sheet up around her shoulders, he jabbed her again, this time harder.

This time the unidentified female stirred, groaning again as she turned towards the source of the poking. Opening her blue green eyes, she gave a startled cry as she took in the ice blue eyes that were clearly just as surprised to see her, as she was him. That wasn't the only thing they agreed on however, as they both grimaced at her shriek, bringing matching hands up to equally throbbing temples.

"Oh, for the love of God, or your atheistic exclamation of choice, lower you voice about four octaves," House murmured, his own voice sounding abnormally loud in his head.

"House! What the hell is going on?" Allison Cameron, the youngest and prettiest of House's underlings, demanded, making them both wince again at the pitch of her voice. "I think my head is going to explode," she continued, quieter this time, bringing a hand up to her forehead.

Quickly realizing that kicking her out of his room and never having to deal with her again wasn't really a feasible option anymore, and also recognizing they were both far too hung over to deal with what most likely happened the night previous, he made a decision.

"I can take a pretty educated guess," he replied to her earlier question, "but right now, I'm going back to sleep and you should too."

"What?" Cameron whispered as indignantly as her headache allowed her. "How can you possibly sleep when we probably-"

House reached out and haphazardly covered her mouth to cut off the rant he was all to aware was coming. "Whatever may or may not have happened last night, will still have probably happened in a couple of hours when my brain will be more capable of listening to your tirade and when your voice will be less grating. And considering your photophobia, hyperacusis, sweating, raised body temperature, and the fact that your having trouble keeping your eyes focused on me," he said, listing some of the physical symptoms of a hangover that he could see without even asking how she felt, "means you feel just as crappy as I do, and a couple of hours of sleep will make you far less offensive to my senses. So I was actually being nice, believe it or not, when offering to let you stay here and sleep, instead of kicking you out, which I will still do if you don't shut up for the next four hours."

"But Hou-"

"Shhhh…" he soothed pressing two fingers to her mouth as his eyes fell shut, ready to go back to sleep.

"But-" she tried again.

"I said shhh woman," he said rolling over so his back was facing her, a clear statement that the conversation was now over.

Recognizing this was not an argument she could win, Cameron sighed and gave up. Besides, House was right, she was feeling to much like she had been repeatedly backed over by a garbage truck to argue with him right now. And with that, she too rolled over and went back to sleep. Hoping beyond hope that she would wake up in her own bed and this will all have been some alcohol induced nightmare.


The second time House woke up for the day, the pain in his head had transformed from a harsh constant pounding, to a more bearable dull throb. He opened his eyes to find that Cameron was no longer in bed with him, but it didn't take long to figure out where she might have went since a quick scan of the room revealed that she was sitting at the generic cheap laminate hotel room table by the window, her back to the bed and by a matter of proximity, him. He deduced that she had been up for awhile as she had both showered and dressed and judging but the fact that her hair was already half way air dried, she had been sitting there for a while.

"So, we had sex last night," he announced, not in the mood to beat around the bush.

If she was started by his proclamation, she didn't show it. "I'm on the pill, so we're covered there," she replied just as no nonsensely, before falling back into a terse silence.

He was surprised when she didn't speak again. He was half expecting her to deny the possibility that they had slept together and the other half of him figured she would want to talk it to death, wanting to know what it meant for their relationship. Instead she just sat there facing away from him, her entire posture letting him know that she was clenching.

"So what, that's it? No denials, no wanting to talk about it?" he asked, relaying his thoughts. "And would you relax? What have I told you about clenching."

"Well, I think it would be pretty pointless trying to deny what so obviously happened and I think we have much more important things to be talking about. Things that give me every reason to clench," she spat irritably, finally turning around to glare daggers at him.

"Like what?" he asked unconcerned, yawning as he sat up, drawing the blankets around his waist.

"Like this," she said holding up an official looking piece of paper, "and this!" she exclaimed showing him her left hand.

He wasn't a genius for nothing and the pieces quickly clicked into place. For once in his life Gregory House was at a complete and utter loss for words.

"We didn't…" he said incredulously after a moment.

"We did," she replied flatly, crossing over to the bed and handing him the marriage certificate that clearly had both of their signatures on it, and showing him the rather large diamond ring that was sitting on her left hand like it had a perfect right to be there. "You have one too," she added, nodding towards the hand holding the certificate.

He followed her line of sight and found that yes, he too was wearing a shiny new wedding band. Then much to her surprise and dismay, he started to laugh. And it wasn't the restrained I'm so witty I'm chuckling at my own cleverness, or the you're so stupid I snicker at your obtuseness that she was used to hearing from him. No this was a deep belly laugh that only came from honest and true amusement.

"House!" she exclaimed, her jaw dropping disbelievingly. "This isn't funny, we, as in you and I, got married! To each other!"

"I know," he replied once he could breathe again, "that's what is so hilarious. Can you imagine the look on Cuddy's face when she finds out?" he laughed again, earning himself a dangerous glare. "Oh relax Cameron, we can get the thing annulled once we get back to Princeton," he said placatingly. "Now even you can't tell me that this whole situation isn't just a little bit amusing. This is the kind of thing you see on bad sitcoms or soap operas, these things aren't supposed to happen in real life. Congratulations, you're a living cliché."

House was pleased when she gave a little smile as she began to see the humor in their current predicament. A cranky, pissed off immunologist was not something he wanted to deal with on the five hour flight home. Speaking of going home, a quick glance at the clock on the night stand told him it was time to get ready to go.

"We can talk about this more on the plane," he said bringing the conversation to a close. "But why don't you make yourself useful and find your hubby his pants before you leave."

Cameron glowered at House's flippant request, but still grabbed the jeans that had been discarded the night before and threw them at him as she stalked from the room to her own to pack.

"Thanks Wifey!" he called after her retreating back.

Well, he thought, laughing softly to himself, that was unexpected.

A/N So what did you all think? I know similar stories have been done before but I think I have a couple twists up my sleeves to make mine a little different, or at least enjoyable…. So let me know what you think, and if its worth continuing….

reuploaded 9/17/09