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Hey guys! Just wanted to let you all know that this is my first HOUSE fan fiction. I try the best to keep everyone in character, but if I do slip up please do not hesitate to tell me. It means a lot to me.

So what can you expect from this peace? Well, let's just say lots of drama. I ship Huddy so... Hint hint. This story is going to be taking place somewhere around 3rd season, with the original ducklings and House and Cuddy NOT having been previously in a relationship.

The Story will be told about 60% of the time in the Point of View of House, though that can fluctuate a bit. It's always good to get that outside reading of House, you know. This story will also feature some original characters.

So, here it goes.

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Doctor Gregory House strolled into the lobby at PPTH at a not-so-sharp 10:36. He was supposed to have come in around nine, but his leg had, annoyingly, acted up that morning. Of course, he wouldn't have relayed that information to anyone, planning to just call in sick. He didn't have a case to be working on. That was until he was paged by one of his fellows to get his ass down to the hospital. Well, not in that particular word order, but the meaning had been clearly understood.

So House had taken a couple vicodin before pulling an old rolling stones T-shirt over his head along with a sky-blue button-down, his jacket, and a scarf, finally making his way out into the cold February morning. He had to take his old beaten-up car because of some stupid freezing rain that had fallen the night before, as well as the biting air, preventing him from taking the bike. He wouldn't take the chance at slipping on the ice. He had way too many plans to annoy Cuddy for being called in.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" A high-pitched screeching filled the air as House's car refused to start after being neglected through the freezing winter night. House hit his palms against the steering wheel with frustration, not wanting to be any more late than he already was in getting to work. If he was just facing clinic duty, then fine, the stuffy noses and rotten crotches could wait.

Hell! House wouldn't have even tried to make it into work, but Foreman had said that the patient awaiting him had shown some interesting symptoms. Also, Cuddy would have been sure to ride his ass if he didn't get into the hospital soon, not that he really cared, he told himself.

After about 20 minutes of coaxing the car to start up, House heard the promising rumble of the engine. He let the motors warm up a little bit before he put the car in drive and pulled out of his parallel parking spot outside of his apartment.

About five minutes into the drive, House's cell phone started ringing, hearing the familiar ring tone of mmmbop, he let the some continue without answering, keeping both hands on the wheel. He had already skidded once on the icy road and didn't want to take any chances by answering his phone, letting it go to voicemail. If the team really needed to get a hold of him urgently, they would have paged him and House would have pulled over to make the call.

The ducklings are just getting impatient, House thought. But he kept the same speed of about five miles over the speed limit, being careful to avoid any slick spots on the road. In the fifteen more minutes it took House to reach the hospital, his phone didn't ring again.

And here he was in the lobby at 10:36, waiting for Doctor PartyPants to come out and scold him so he could snitch a peak at Louise and Thelma, much to the administrator's dismay. While waiting, House limped over to the receptionist's desk.

"You have no new messages, Dr. House, although your team has called down wondering when you were supposed to come in," said the preppy, blond young woman behind the desk. However, she was just a little to preppy for the diagnostician's liking. He would have to take her down a few notches. She was obviously new, not having heard all of the horror stories of the infamous Doctor House.

"Sorry, told them I was going to be in early for a game of strip poker. The girl can't keep her hands off me. And by the girl, I mean the British one." At the click-clack of high-heels coming up behind him, House readied himself for the obvious scolding that would be coming his way.

Attack is the best kind of defense, so without turning his head, admiring the shocked expression he saw spreading across the receptionist's face, "you know Cuddles, if you wanted to get all up my jock, the janitor's closet is free at 2 o' clock. I already pre-scheduled with Chase and Cameron. They have it booked at 2:30 so sadly we'd have it just quickie."

With a smirk across his lips and a mischievous glint in his sky-blue eyes, House turned to look upon his assailant. However, instead of the high-powered Dean of Medicine walking his way, he was met with the tempestuous glare of an oncology fellow, making her way to the elevators.

"Go to Hell, House," she said coldly without giving him a second glance. House could have sworn that the hip-swaying gait was near identical to Cuddy's.

"That closet is still open if you want to join me!" House yelled out as the younger, womanly doctor disappeared behind the closing doors of the elevator, where House knew she was rolling her eyes. Averting his gaze back to the receptionist's desk, "So has the dean decided to call in sick after a rough night with Mr. Whitey-Tighties?"

"Uh... No, Dr. House. Dr. Cuddy called in late after her car wouldn't start before of that freezing rain last night. She should be in later." The receptionist turned back to computer, ignoring any remark that came her way from the mouth of the infamous doctor before her.

"The fact that she left her office last night with an expression of a female praying mantis gave you no suspicions? None at all? I thought it was pretty obvious?" Still, the receptionist ignored House. "You're no fun at all, are you? You must be a real bore for Dr. Hackley." It was his turn to leave without waiting for a reply, while behind him another look of utter shock spread over the receptionist's face, nearly identical to the one she had sported earlier, although this one held a touch of guilt.

Limping over to the elevator, House extended his cane to the up button, waiting for a "bing" and the doors to slide open. Luckily, everyone else had thought better of joining the elevator with the curmudgeonly doctor and waited for the next ride up, leaving House alone with his thoughts while he made is ascent to the 4th floor. The doors slid open. House made his way to his office.

Opening the door of his own separate office first to put his backpack on his desk, House was barged in on by his three younger fellows.

"House! We've been waiting for to show up since nine this morning. We tried to call you. Twice. It's 10:40." Standing in the doorway was the epitome of a man on a power trip, the kind of power that House would never allow him to gain. The clenched fists and rigid posture told volumes on the character of Dr. Foreman.

"Good morning to you too, Dr. Foreman." House replied pleasantly.

"Patient presented with Ataxia and joint swelling after playing by the pool with her kids. No signs of past illness or injury or hereditary illness. The kids say that before the sudden onset of symptoms, she would sometimes stop talking and look off blankly before becoming seemingly fine again." Chase had hoped to prevent a quarrel between Foreman and House. The last thing that either of them needed right now was to start off the day hating each other more than they already did, or at least having Foreman not hate House any more than he already did.

"Well, she obviously wasn't, Dr. Chase, now was she?" said House with a sarcastic tone to his voice. Cameron was about to speak up when...

"Hold that thought." House looked off into the distance with a light shining in his eyes. Chase, thinking his boss had suddenly though of something, and so quickly, was excited to hear what House was about to say. After a few waiting seconds, "Can we move into the big room with all the comfy chairs? We can't just stand here all day. Well, Foreman could, seeing that he's a robot." House put his hand up to his face as if he wasn't supposed to release that information. "I'm so sorry, Foreman. I didn't realize you wanted to keep that information confidential!"

Chase sighed and moved in the conference room, while Foreman rolled his eyes, leaving Cameron still standing up with her boss. "House," she started. "If your leg's bothering you we can—"

"Delay this morning's hot, kinky sex that you were waiting oh so desperately for?" House said loudly enough for the two doctors in the conference room to hear him. "I thought after last night you—"

Before finishing his sentence, Cameron rolled her eyes and briskly walked into the conference room, taking the far seat on the side with the glass wall.

House limped after Cameron into the conference room as well. But he didn't sit down at the head of the table, instead making his way to the whiteboard that was in the middle of the room.

"So... Ataxia, Joint Swelling, In and Out of reality... However that last part is pretty much common with any TV star so..."

Foreman piped up, "I'm thinking something neurological. Partial complex seizures could explain the blankness while causing something else to go on in her brain.

Chase had to say his bit "Or she could be exposed to some sort of toxin, causing her symptoms. Wow! Says this woman here fell into the pool after blanking out one time. She nearly drowned."

Ignoring Chase's last comment, "An infection could cause all of her presented symptoms. Maybe I should go talk to the patient to see if she's been anywhere new that she hasn't already told us. She can still talk so maybe she could give us some sort of clues herself," Cameron said.

House started. "Of course, Cameron. Talking will always solve anybody's problem. Go run a tox screen and book her in for a CT scan. Be sure to bump any old ladies with cancer down the list."

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Wilson was sitting at his desk, quietly going over some files. In the background, he was playing some music that House had made him listen to over the years. Of all the things House does, his taste in music is pretty good, thought Wilson.

Speaking of the devil himself, House barged into Wilson's office after naught a knock.

"Good, you're not with any of those sick people," said House. "I don't know how you can stand being around them all day long."

"What do you want, House?"

"Did you have any old ladies waiting to get a CT scan this morning?"

"What? No. Why?"

"Oh. Nothing, really." House limped over to the couch, slowly sitting down on it. "So... Wilson, who's Cuddy dating now?" House certainly did have an invested look going, expecting an answer out of the oncologist.

"House, we really have no right to be talking about Cuddy's personal life. If she wanted you to know, she'd tell you herself." Wilson sighed. Looking back down at his, he tried to ignore House, hoping he'd just go away if he pretended he wasn't there. Sadly, Gregory House wasn't to be ignored.

"Oh, come on, Wilson. We all know that with even a clue of any sort of life outside the hospital, that she would come running to you without any more than a second's thought." House wasn't going to leave this office without some kind of an answer, and Wilson knew it just as well as House did.

"He's... a donor."

"As in he'll donate organs if he ever happens to get in a really bad car accident?"

"No. He's a donor as in he has a successful business and gives lots of money to this hospital," Wilson replied with a slight shaking of his head, really wanting to get back to work. "If you want to know more, go ask Cuddy yourself, like I said before." On any other day Wilson would have led House on, having fun with his best friend, but today he had meetings with multiple patients as well as another that was likely to die soon.

Not at all satisfied with that answer, House was going to push on a bit more. He thought better of it though, seeing that his friend really was in no mood to be playing games. Still, he couldn't just completely end the game that he was playing. "I bet the dude's a real prick. He's just trying to get into her pants, you know."

"House, you care about her. Try telling her that sometime. You don't want her going out with any other guy because you don't want her to change. If you're at all threatened by the idea of Cuddy dating, go ask her out yourself instead of trying to get information out of me." Wilson said, not looking up from what he was looking at.

"I'll be sure to try that sometime." Sarcasm reached ever point in House's tone. Now, it was House's turn to roll his eyes before getting up, picking himself up off the couch. He was out of the door and down the hallway to the elevators before Wilson said another word.

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House turned the handle of Cuddy's office door before pushing it open with the end of his cane. Looking into the dimly lit office, House saw Cuddy talking on the phone with a smile on her face. A large manila folder was in his left hand.

"Yes... Of Course, Logan. I have to go, now... I'll see you tonight... Goodbye... haha... Yes... Bye." Cuddy's phone conversation ended as she hung up the phone with a solid click before turning to House. The smile that was previously spread across her face faded as she saw her favorite doctor standing before her.

House just wanted to get this over with right now, not wanting to deal with his love-struck boss. He could toy with her later, but now his patient's life was at the line, as well as the words of Wilson still persisting inside mind. Is it really that obvious? "I need to do a brain biopsy. Patient presented with ataxia, joint swelling, and partial complex seizures. CT scan showed a small shadow in the frontal lobe that could result in the seizures, which could, in turn, cause the ataxia and joint swelling over a long period of time."

"How large is the shadow?"

"About that... none of the radiologists were able to spot it. Said I was seeing things when I spotted it. Actually, scratch that. Wade said that there might be something where I saw the shadow, but we all know that he's just trying to play his cards right. Don't know what he could want from me but—"

"Is there a shadow or is there not a shadow?"

"Do you have a soul or do you not have a soul?" House arched his eyebrow while keeping a completely straight face.

Rolling her eyes, "The eternal question." Cuddy deadpanned, as she moved to hold out her hand, "Let me see the scans."

"Here." House handed the scans to her. "Make it quick before my patient dies." As Cuddy took the scans, holding them up to the lamp at her desk, House couldn't help but admire the woman before him, the profile of her face, the curves of her breasts, the—

"I don't see anything, House." His eyes averted from their setting and came up. Sky blue met slate grey, the latter looking annoyed and disappointed. Slate grey continued, "Either run another CT scan with a better view or come up with another way to prove that something's really in her frontal lobe."

"But Mom!" House said in his best whiny, little-kid voice.

"House, nothing's there and I'm not going to let you cut into this woman's head without solid proof that it's the best thing for her. That's final." As Cuddy ended her spiel, her cell phone rang again. Looking down at the caller ID, she smiled. House scoffed in mock disgust as he turned around and limped out of the office, intent on getting his brain biopsy one way one way or another.

Finally inside his office, House addressed his team. "So what do we do when mommy puts the cookie drawer high up on the refrigerator."

Chase, lowering the coffee cup from his mouth, was the first one to answer. "We climb on top of the counter and use a hockey stick to knock it down?"

Cameron responded to Chase's antics, "Is that what you did when you were a kid?"

"No I'm just saying that theoretically it would be possible to get the cookies by knocking them off with a hockey stick." He was met with one of Cameron's ice-cold glares. "Honestly."

House didn't wait for Cameron to respond, cutting her off before she could say another word. "Unfortunately, if we knock the cookie jar off of the refrigerator, we're just left with a broken jar, shattered into thousands of tiny, unfixable pieces."

"We can buy another cookie jar before Mom gets home."

"But the one from before was an irreplaceable antique. Mommy would be sure to notice."

While he had previously been quiet throughout the entire ordeal, Foreman had his say, "Can we please drop the metaphor!"

House ignored him, "And lots of broken cookies as well, with pieces of tiny glass in them. Oh! What were you saying, dark-skinned one?" said House, a knowing smirk trying to push its way onto his serious face.

"I was saying that if we keep on with this metaphor, we're not dealing with the real issue at hand, our patient. I say we run another CT scan to see if we can get a better picture."

"And so would be the actions of countless other doctors throughout this country, and the results would be all the same, inconclusive." House was now in full-diagnostician mode. "Other symptoms of frontal-lobe tumors include neurological problems. If we can induce something, we would have the proof we needed to get our brain biopsy. Chase, Cameron, go have some fun with our patient! I'll be having some fun with another."

"What other patient are you dealing with right now?" asked Cameron.

"Patient presented with a locked smile, a really expensive perfume, and do-me heels. Any more questions?" House picked up his cane, used his hands to pick up his right leg, and strolled out of the conference room, where two of his fellows were rolling their eyes and the last one ignored his bosses comment before running his hands through his blond, surfer-boy hair.

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"Can't I ever just get rid of you?" Cuddy said, looking up from her paperwork as House walked, well, more like limped, into her office. "I told my assistant that I didn't want to be bothered right now. I'm very busy, House."

"She doesn't have much resolution, does she?" House waited for Cuddy's reaction, but didn't get one. He tried a different approach. "The fundraiser for pompous, power-hungry, old guys can wait. We have some more pressing matters at hand." House said, leaning onto one of the chairs in front of Cuddy's desk. "And besides, you don't want to get rid of me. I see the way you look at my ass every time I leave your office."

"I'm only eagerly awaiting its trip out of this office, making sure it leaves."

"So you can have your new little boy toy come over to play? I don't know, Cuddy. With your aging physique and constant mood swings, you might have to jump on this one pretty quickly before he realizes what a bitch you really are. I'm so sorry, did I say that out loud?"

Cuddy, although she appeared to be fuming, couldn't deny that she was trying very not to chuckle, even if the joke had been on her behalf. "House, I keep my personal life separate from my work, which includes you."

"So what's his name? Oh wait! I already know, seeing how I walked in on you and Logan on that wonderful phone sex you two were having earlier." A glint shone in House's eyes.

"I was not—"

"It's okay, Cuddy. Really! Your secret is safe with me." House said. "Just don't call me up for any group. I'm really not into all that kind of stuff."

"I would never—" Cuddy stopped. She knew House was just trying to play this game with her. Frankly, she didn't want any part of it. "House, I'm not playing this game. I have work to do."

"Cuddy," House paused.

"Did you have more conclusive findings in a CT scan that prove that we need to cut into your patient's head?" Cuddy said before the conversation went any further. She didn't want to do this now. "Because if you don't, you can move that ass of yours out the door, where you can be sure I won't be admiring it."

House opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped. A few moments later, he continued talking. "The ducklings are running some neurological tests that will prove that there's a tumor in her frontal lobe, causing the seizures." As if on cue, House's pager went off. "Aha! Patient's crashing."

I don't want to beg anyone for reviews, but Please? This story's just getting started and I haven't hit anywhere close to the main plot line yet.