Got bored, needed to write. Figured I'd add to this story, though I have another plot brewing in my head.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

It was barely one in the afternoon. House sighed and watching the clock in his office tick the seconds away. His patient was currently being discharged, case solved. Wilson was in the middle of comforting a distraught woman, no doubt relieved to hear the terminal diagnosis from Prince Charming rather than House (who had already burst in earlier).

He shook his mouse, waking his slumbering computer and clicking the email icon. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he began to type. F. U. N. B. The program automatically pulled the address from his contacts and filled in the rest. "Funbags" aka Dr. Lisa Cuddy.

To: Funbags

Subject: Bored

What are you doing now? The Ducklings are gone. I've got an open office. I know how wild you get on that desk.

House smirked, rubbing his grizzled jaw, stubble scraping against his palm. He opened a browser window and started to search the internet for things that were not all entirely work appropriate. Five minutes later, a window popped up in the corner of the screen announcing the arrival of a new email.

To: Dr. Gregory House, Diagnostics Department

Subject: RE: Bored

Filling out the paperwork YOU should be doing because YOU nearly killed YOUR patient. House, this is hospital email; please only use it for work-related inquiries.

Stop looking at porn. If you need work to do, you owe me two weeks worth of clinic hours.

He smiled and x'd out of the email, making a point to click on every single porn ad now popping up on his screen. The IT guys were going to love this. The new game only entertained him for a few moments, and as fantastic as the sight of naked breasts all over his monitor were, they were seriously lacking compared to Cuddy's.

His blue eyes slid from the computer to the framed picture propped to the side. The smurf was sitting in the recliner in his office, his giant headphones engulfing her small head. Tiny hands held his motorcycle sunglasses to her face, toothy grin meeting the camera lens. House let a smile tug at the corner of his lips. The kid had grown on him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he and her mother were an "item."

Mind made up, House left "XXX BARELY LEGAL TEENS LIKE IT ROUGH" flashing on his screen. Grabbing his cane and his leather jacket, he limped from the office, a man on a mission. By the time the glass door slowly swung shut, House was already in the elevator.

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Rachel barreled across the playroom, slamming into House's leg and wrapping her arms around him. He inhaled sharply and winced. She was a bit small for her age but she hit like a linebacker. He resisted the urge to reach into his jacket pocket for the orange prescription bottle. That was the unspoken deal. Cuddy didn't hound him about the pills if he kept them out of her house and if he never took them in front of the child. He gritted his teeth, taking a moment to regain his composure before leaning down and gently patting her dark blonde curls.

"Hey smurf, good to see you too."

"Hi daddy!" The term still caught him by surprise. When Rachel first started using "daddy," he and Cuddy had discussed what to do. House had always been a constant presence in Rachel's life, but when he started spending nights, it was only a matter of time before she made the connection. Cuddy's concern was that the implications that came with "daddy" would drive House away. House's concern was that Cuddy would have to stop using "daddy" during sex. Theirs had never been a conventional relationship and it never would be.

"Read to go?" he asked, only to be cut off when the little girl ran off to finish playing with her friends. Rachel's preschool teacher, Mrs. Higgins, cautiously approached.

"Dr. House, nice to see you." Though her tone was laced with sarcasm. The older woman was a few years from retirement and House appreciated that she refused to let him intimidate her. Hell if he'd ever let her know.

"Good to see you too, Higginbottom." She let that one slide.

"Where's Jenny? Dr. Cuddy said she'd be picking Rachel up today." Jenny was the babysitter Cuddy had hired after finding House and Rachel eating ice cream in the OR's observation room, watching Chase perform open heart surgery. Rationalizing that the cost of the babysitter was small change compared to the cost of a therapist, Cuddy interviewed for weeks. She finally had to "settle" for a Princeton undergrad.

"Jenny's sick." And by "sick," he meant that he had paid the student double to not come. He watched Rachel clean up her play mess, fighting back a smile. It didn't matter that the science of it was impossible, Rachel definitely had Cuddy's genes. What three year-old picks up after herself without being told? House didn't even do that.

"I hope you didn't bring your bike today," Mrs. Higgins spoke, letting an amused expression cross her eyes. The first time House had come to the preschool, he had underestimated the gray-haired woman. Trying to bully his way into checking Rachel out early, his exit was blocked by the teacher and a screaming Cuddy on speaker.

"You rode your bike to pick Rachel up? Are you an idiot? No, I already know the answer to that. Are you high? Who picks up a toddler on a motorcycle? Gregory House, if you take a step towards that deathtrap with my daughter, so help me God, I will run you down the next time I see you..." The siren screeches had continued. Rachel had stood there, eyes wide and shifting from the phone to House's face and back again. He played tea-party for the next 30 minutes, or the time it took for Cuddy to leave the hospital and pull up, "accidentally" tapping House's bike.

"No, Mrs. Hugebottom. Mommy let me drive the big car today." Which was another lie. He had borrowed her car from the hospital garage. The teacher hmphed, but secretly enjoyed their interaction. Dr. House was an asshole, that was certain, but Rachel had him wrapped around her small finger.

"All done!" Rachel reappeared by his side, her jacket already on. He took her pink backpack and slung it over his shoulder, nodding his goodbye to Mrs. Higgins as the two left. The preschool teacher clapped her hands to get the class's attention and gave instructions that it was time to pick up their toys. As kids scrambled to shove toys and games and books into boxes, the woman glanced out the window and rolled her eyes at the Lexus parked haphazardly across 2 handicap spots.

Dark blue eyes gleamed with excitement, her mouth running nonstop as she recounted every detail of her exciting day at school. House had learned to tune her out, much the way he did with her mother. She clamored into her car seat, buckling herself in before letting House check to see if she did it right. As they rolled through the parking lot, Rachel still blabbing along, House's pager went off. Uh oh.

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Cuddy cradled the phone between her shoulder and her ear, trying hard to focus on the numbers the accountant was throwing at her. There was a new case in the ER and she had paged House a little less than an hour ago. He had yet to burst into her office, which meant he was either asleep or...

Something slammed into her door and Cuddy jumped, dropping the phone into her lap. Rachel giggled and waved, wearing a black t-shirt with the Rolling Stones logo on it. Cuddy stared. The little girl turned her head to look at the figure lumbering her way, her giggles turning into shrieks of laughter as she took off running again. A few seconds later, House limped passed her office doors, pink backpack still slung over a shoulder, with the decency to look sheepish as he yelled, "Smurf, get back here!"

Cuddy made an effort to close her open mouth, lips pursed as she hurriedly made an excuse to the accountant and hung up. Manicured nails rummaged through her desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen. Who knows how much candy House had fed Rachel. She could already feel the headache coming on.

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House heard her heels echoing in the hallway, quickly trying to close as many porn windows as he could. He tried to appear deep in thought, furrowing his brow in mock concentration over his latest case, which didn't exist until now.

Cuddy sighed and paused in the doorway. No doubt House had already pawned Rachel off on Wilson, at least until she crashed from her sugar high. His office was dimly lit but for the desk lamp and computer monitor. She set her bag and jacket on his recliner, heading towards him.

"Busy. Some of us have work to do," he muttered, briefly glancing up at her.

"I would buy that if I didn't already know you don't have a patient. And I can see the reflection of porn in your glasses," Cuddy smiled and sat on the edge of his desk, skirt inching up her thigh. He looked damn good in those glasses. House, distracted by her bare legs in such close proximity, slid his hand from her knee up, fingers disappearing under the hem. She laughed softly and gave him a kiss on the cheek, leaning forward until her lips pressed against his ear. Her voice purred through his mind, her hand dancing down his chest to the crotch of his pants. He swallowed.

"Anything they can do for you, I can do better," she murmured. House opened his mouth to respond, but before the words could come out, her grip tightened threateningly. "But if you ever feed my daughter that much sugar again, I'm cutting you off." She squeezed to emphasize her point.