Just a little spur of the moment thing, I think that it was inspired by something, but I don't remember what it was and haven't the impression that it was very important. Just some fun that I hope you enjoy!

Giving his desk a whole new set of connotations.

He was whistling, fuh-reaking whistling, as he headed to his office. He had lost a bet to Foreman and so he was now picking up his end of the deal by strolling around on fluffy little Valium clouds and actually coming in on a Sunday with the aim of pretending to do paperwork.

He had always pestered Cuddy about the impracticalities of glass walls, and she had always wryly retorted with the fact that it had absolutely squat to do with her and that he should shut up and shove his complaint up his – and that was when she usually petered off, looking sheepishly at whoever was standing near enough to hear them.

But headed to his office as he was now, the small cynical part of him which remained through the haze of happiness wondering if there wasn't a little something extra in Foreman's Valium, he was appreciating the glass walls. Looking into every room in a way that he didn't get to on a normal day, he realized that you could learn a lot about a person from their office; neat or messy, personalized or sterilized, full or sparse.

His mind was still fully occupied by the analytical thoughts of a good high when he became quite convinced that he was, in fact, on a hallucinogen. On her knees in front of his desk was Thirteen; mouth, hands, and concentration all fully occupied. Seated awkwardly on his desk, head back, eyes closed, one hand buried in Thirteen's hair, the other supporting her weight as she leant back, was Cuddy. On the list of people to be rendered helpless on his desk by a woman's tongue, House would have placed Cuddy firmly in last place. He blinked repeatedly and then, upon hearing Cuddy's keening moan, realized that he was not imagining a thing.

He was pretty sure that this constituted a get out of jail free card for trying to get into his office… And, well, the anti-depressants (or whatever) helped him admit to himself that it was cute and that he was glad for them. But his happiness for his two hottest (female) co-workers was a secret he would carry to his grave.

Good god, he was excited for work tomorrow!

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