Disclaimer: I do not own House Md, any of its characters or storylines ... really I don't! I wish I did, and someday I hope to own Hugh Laurie … but right now? Nope …

A/N: Ok, there is no excuse for how ridiculously long it's been since my last update, I'm sooooo sorry :(

So, as I said in the last update, I had just started my second semester at uni and had a few new subjects, turns out those few new subjects amounted to a whole lot of work. Then when I finally started my holidays a few weeks ago, I was hit by the worst attack of writers block in the history of writing (which I attribute to the fact that the show is finally going where my fics go, thereby making the whole writing thing feel pointless) ...

Anyway, in the last couple of days, I decided to try to push past the damn Writer's Block and write something. I apologise if it isn't as good as you expect, but I've been out of practice. I hope you're still there, because, as I've said multiple times, I still am and I will finish this fic!

Thank you all so much for your reviews and thanks, again, to Hilly for constantly reminding me that I had some writing to do ... :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope you 'stay tuned' for the next (which I hope won't take too long to arrive)

Once again, sorry for the wait.

Enjoy!


The next morning, House was awoken in a less than endearing fashion by Cuddy's voice as she walked into the bathroom.

"Get up, we're going to be late!" she called as the door shut behind her

Smiling to himself, House rolled over and buried his head into her pillow. It was working. Normally, he hated it when Cuddy was pissed at him, but today, it was going to work in his favour, and she wouldn't know what hit her when he finally got his plan in motion.

"House!" her annoyed voice filled the room again, about ten minutes later, as she walked out, a towel wrapped around her torso

"Mmh ..." the diagnostician grumbled "no want ..."

"No care!" Cuddy called back to him as she opened the closet in search of something to wear.

Just as House was about to retort with some comment about the appearance of his fiancée's ass, a call came from the living room

"House!"

Sitting up and running his hand across his face, House sighed

"Ben is getting restless!" came his best friend's voice again as House swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to get up

"You're already late, get dressed and meet me downstairs in 20. I'll get him" Cuddy sighed as she pulled a shirt on quickly, tucking it into her criminally tight skirt and slipping into some heels.

Watching her ass as it left the room, House grinned, 'well played, sir'. This was typical pissed off Cuddy: painfully sexy outfits to ensure House was aware of what his stupidity was costing him. But, ah, if she only knew that this time it wouldn't work.


"Mom?" House spoke as the person on the other end picked up the phone

"Happy anniversary son!" Blythe's cheery voice floated through the phone. When House didn't reply, she sighed "you didn't forget, did you?"

Grinning at the exasperation in his mother's voice, House shook his head, not caring that she couldn't see him "no, I didn't. Lisa thinks I did, though ..." he trailed off

"What are you up to, Gregory?" Blythe asked suspiciously and House grinned once more, his mother knew him too well.

"Just a little plan in the works, nothing much. That's what I was calling you about, actually. Think you could watch Ben for us tonight?"

"Of course, but if Lisa doesn't know anything about this plan, how do you propose I arrive at your house to babysit your child without her becoming suspicious?" Blythe asked, thinking she'd found a loop-hole in her son's plot.

"Ah, see, if things go according to plan, and I see no reason why they shouldn't, she won't be going home until, I hope, late tomorrow morning ..." he emphasised the 'late' while fighting the urge to wag his eyebrows, knowing no one could actually see him.

A sigh came over the phone "I'm going to steer clear of that then, before you go into details" again, House grinned at how well Blythe knew him "what time do you need me, then?"

"Well, Wilson's watching Ben for now, but I figure by five he'll be ready to pull his hair out, so, around six?" he smirked at the image of Wilson, two crying infants at his side, pulling his hair out in despair.

"I'll be there at four thirty" Blythe replied "will you be home?"

"If things go as they're supposed to, no" he then looked up to see movement in the outer office and concluded "call me if you need anything else, ok, I hafta go"

And he clicked off just as Foreman entered to room. Thankful that it wasn't Cuddy, House leaned back in his seat

"You paged?" the African-American doctor asked looking down at House as he leaned in his chair, his feet up on the desk.

"Yea, case" he tossed the file across the room.

Quickly scanning over the page, Foreman asked "what are you thinking?" with a slight frown.

Grabbing his cane and standing, House walked around the desk "I am not thinking anything. Well, except that my clinic hours start in ten, which gives me exactly five minutes to make my escape before the shrieking harpy attacks"


"Where is he?" Cuddy asked twenty minutes later after having searched the entire hospital for her illusive and, if she had anything to say about it, dead fiancé.

"Bolted a while ago" said Foreman barely looking up from the chart he was reading

"Said something about a harpy and clinic hours ..." Thirteen added with a smile, always one to enjoy the love-hate relationship between her bosses.

Sighing, Cuddy turned and walked into House's office fully determined to search every piece of paper on his desk until she found out his whereabouts.

What she didn't expect, however, was for him to have made her job extra easy.

Looking for the no good doctor who is missing his clinic hours?

Cuddy picked up the piece of paper and frowned. Was that an address beneath House's neat handwriting. It wasn't any address she recognized, but it was, definitely, and address.

Figuring she had enough time until her next meeting to find her soon-to-be-husband and kill him, Cuddy pulled out her cell and called a cab; there was no point getting lost and loosing precious time in which she could be murdering House.


"Excuse me" Cuddy said with a confused look on her face as she reached the reception area of what appeared to be one of the more upscale hotels in the area "do you know where I can find a Dr. House?" she asked the young woman behind the desk.

"You must be Dr. Cuddy" a short, chubby man said from nearby "I am the manager, Mr. Richford. We've been expecting you, if you follow me ..." he motioned with his hand for Cuddy to follow him towards the elevators.

If Cuddy wasn't confused enough as it was, the fact that the short man had just pressed the button for what she was sure was the penthouse certainly assured she was.

Walking out of the elevator, after the short ride, onto a large hallway, Cuddy's brow furrowed even more at the sign on the door they'd just stopped at; it read: Presidential Suite.

"Dr. House?" Richford called as he slowly opened the door with his key card.

As the door opened, and Cuddy, following the manager's gesture entered, the pieces started to fall together, at least somewhat.

"I believe Dr. House is in the living area through there" he gestured to an archway through which a few couches could be seen "I will leave you two, enjoy your stay"

With that, he was gone, the large double door closed behind him. Stepping forwards, unsure as to what to do, Cuddy called "Greg?"

Instead of a reply, she heard a few soft notes on the piano and swiftly followed the sound into the living room.

There, at the piano, sat House, his fingers caressing the pearly white keys, his eyes focused on her.

"House, what's going on?" she asked him from the doorway.

Smiling, House stopped playing and, slowly, stood and walked towards her.

Now barely an inch away from her face, he grinned "happy anniversary"


TBC

I hope you enjoyed that and have at least slightly forgiven me for the long wait. I can't wait to hear from you guys again. :)

Please Review!

CJS-DEPPendent