A few words about this fic:

I made a bet with vidder extraordinaire Mel (I call her Video Goddess, or VG for short) that she couldn't make a fun flirty Huddy video comprised entirely of scenes from Seasons 6 and 7. The terms of the bet? If she won, I'd be her fic slave and write her any prompt of her choice (although I did draw the line at a House/Dominika fic because, ewwww).

Well, she failed, of course (remember that David Shore forbid HL and LE from smiling too much in Season 7!) but made a truly delightful vid anyway—and hey, at least she tried. So I agreed to write her prompt.

I expected some sort of crazy kinky orgie/slash request, but instead she gave me a (deceptively) simple prompt: Write a post Living the Dream fic where House and Cuddy go to a party with Evan, the soap opera actor, and Cuddy flirts with Evan and House gets jealous. It struck me as a humorous prompt, so I went with romantic comedy. It's not really that good, but hopefully it at least has a few chuckles.

So this one's for you, Mel. Thanks for all your awesome vids.- xo, atd

House was actually whistling.

He was in Cuddy's office, ostensibly to go over a patient's file, but mostly to show off his obnoxiously good mood.

"Ask me what I'm whistling," he said, with a grin.

Cuddy ignored him.

"I'm whistling 'I've Got a Golden Ticket' from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory—an underrated cinematic classic by the way."

"Good for you," she said, dryly.

House folded his arms.

"Now ask me why I'm whistling 'I've Got a Golden Ticket.'"

"House, is there a reason you're standing in my office other than showing off your superior whistling skills?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Your attempts to harsh my mellow will not work, Cuddy. The reason I'm whistling 'I've Got a Golden Ticket' is because, I do, in fact, have a golden ticket—namely an invitation to the Prescription Passion cast party. Apparently, when you save the life of the show's leading man, you get invited to all the cool parties they throw on set."

"An invitation. . .like this?" Cuddy said. And she pulled her own ticket out of her purse.

House stared at it, dumbfounded.

"Where did you get that?" he said.

"Evan gave it to me," Cuddy said, loving this.

"But you didn't save his life! I did!"

"Apparently, he thought the head administrator of the hospital that saved his life was also worthy of an invitation."

"So who else got invited? I mean, did he just go around the hospital indiscriminately handing out invitations?"

"As far as I know, you and I have the only golden tickets."

"You don't even watch the show," House groaned.

"True. But I'm not blind," Cuddy said, slyly.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning: Did you take a good look at Evan Greer?

"Don't tell me you like that type," House said.

"What type? Perfect bone structure? Flawless features? Abs of steel? He's an Adonis, House. He's all women's type."

"Please, Cuddy. I thought you were more evolved than that."

"Nope. Wrong again. I'm just the right amount of evolved where Evan is concerned."

House rolled his eyes.

"You don't actually think he's interested in you? He can have any woman he wants."

Cuddy made a face.

"I'm going to try not to take that as an insult—difficult, since it is, in fact, insulting. But I don't know. He asked me to be his date."

"He did not!"

"This day just keeps getting worse and worse for you, huh?" Cuddy said, gloating.

"I guess I'll see you there, then," House said. He was completely deflated.

"I guess so," Cuddy said. "And the file in your hand?"

House looked down at the file, which really was no more than a glorified prop.

"Forget it," he said.

######

House arrived late to the Prescription Passion set.

The cast and crew were all in attendance—the younger, fresh-faced castmembers mingling with the older ones, their faces not quite young, but strangely frozen in time thanks to a mix of Botox and plastic surgery.

Taub would have a field day here, he thought vaguely.

Cuddy was already there, wearing a skin-tight navy dress with an ominously plunging neckline, holding a glass of champagne and chatting with Evan and a few of the other castmembers in a small circle.

And House had a fleeting thought—one that he would never dream of repeating to Cuddy, of course—that even in a room of the alleged beautiful people, Lisa Cuddy stood out. She had a genuine radiance about her. These so-called celebrities just couldn't compete.

He frowned a bit, watching as Evan whispered something in Cuddy's ear and she laughed.

Just then, Evan noticed House out of the corner of his eye. He grinned, and gestured for him to join them.

House limped over to the group and Evan handed him a glass of champagne. Then he lifted his own glass and tapped it with a knife to silence the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen—not you, Bruce," he said to one of the older male leads, as the crew laughed at the inside joke. "The evening's guest of honor has arrived. This is Dr. Gregory House, the man who saved my life."

There was applause.

"His methods may be unconventional—unless kidnapping and illegally drugging your patients has suddenly become conventional."

House shrugged, in mock apology, as the crowd laughed again.

"But his results cannot be questioned. I can safely say that I'm alive today thanks to Dr. House. And, better still, Dr. Brock Sterling is alive and well. And hopefully, on the wagon, never to drink anything with quinine in it ever again!"

More cheers and laughs.

"To Dr. House!" a few people said.

House grinned a bit, and gave a slight bow. Then he cocked an eyebrow in Cuddy's direction.

But Evan wasn't done.

"And this ravishing creature to my right is, believe it or not, not the newest actress on the set of Prescription Passion, but the Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro. Back off, Bruce—she's with me."

More laughs.

"So a toast to the woman who hired Dr. House and runs a truly top-flight hospital, the most beautiful administrator on the East Coast—Dr. Lisa Cuddy!"

More cheers. Cuddy looked back at House—and now she cocked an eyebrow at him.

House frowned.

One of the women in their little klatch—a gorgeous redhead whom House recognized as Dr. Lana Buchanan, the show's resident femme fatale and Brock's on-again, off-again love interest—put her arm around House conspiratorially.

"I would love to pick your brain, Dr. House," she purred. "It's not every day I get the chance to meet a world-famous diagnostician."

"That's true," House said, eyeing Cuddy. "We're a very exclusive club. Membership of one, actually."

The woman laughed.

"My name's Bobbi Waters, by the way," she said.

"And here I thought it was Lana Buchanan," House said.

"Oh, so you're a fan of the show?" Bobbi said, flirtatiously.

"I don't miss an episode," House said.

"Sadly for him, he'll be watching all future episodes on a very tiny screen," Cuddy said, a reference to House's failed attempt to blackmail her into a big screen TV.

House shot her a look.

"I just have so many questions!" Bobbi said. "For example, when you tell a patient that they're dying, do you often tear up yourself?"

Cuddy snorted, loudly.

"It depends," House said. "Am I cutting onions while I'm delivering the diagnosis?"

"You're bad," Bobbi said.

House smirked at Cuddy.

"And when you come up with one of your brilliant diagnoses, what do you . . . say?" Bobbi continued to probe.

"What do I say?"

"Yeah, like when you solve a case, what's the first thing that pops out of your mouth?"

"Like a . . . catch phrase?" House said.

"Exactly!" Bobbi said. "Like a catch phrase."

"Well, let's see. We all have different catch phrases around the hospital. My colleague Dr. Taub says 'Ka-ching!' and Dr. Hadley says, 'It's sexytime!' Dr. Cuddy here says—what is that you say again, Dr. Cuddy? Oh yeah—'Sweetsauce!' I personally say, 'Can You Smell What the House is Cooking?'"

Bobbi squinted at him.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?"

"A little bit," House said.

And Bobbi punched him on the arm.

"Ouch!" House said, again eyeing Cuddy.

Evan looked at them.

"All this talk of character development reminds me: I need to rehearse for tomorrow's show," he said. Then he turned to Cuddy. "Dr. Cuddy, would you do me the distinct honor of running some lines with me in my dressing room?"

Cuddy looked genuinely abashed.

"Run some lines? I'm not an actress!"

"You can read, right?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Then you can run lines."

He gave her a coy smile. "It'll be fun. What do you say?"

Cuddy looked at House again. He folded his arms defensively.

"I'd love to," she cooed.

"Then follow me, m'lady," Evan said—and led her away from the party and toward his dressing room. He closed the door behind them.

House watched them, scowling.

"When Evan takes a woman to his dressing room to 'run lines,' he's not actually running lines is he?" he said, annoyed.

Bobbi smirked. "Highly unlikely."
He kept staring at the closed door as though if he looked at it long enough, he might be able to see through it. Then he realized that Bobbi was saying something to him.

He looked at her.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you wanted to go someplace more private," she said.

"I, uh . . ." he said, his eyes still trained on the door.

Bobbi looked at him.

"You're not. . .gay are you?"

"Gay?" he said. This finally got his attention.

"You've been distracted ever since Evan left the party."

"I'm definitely not. . ."

Then she finally got it: "It's not Evan you're interested in, it's Dr. Cuddy!"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard," he protested. "She's my boss. And the bane of my existence. And possibly an evil cyborg sent from the future to torment me."

"And you're totally hot for her," Bobbi said, inspecting his face. "I think it's cute. Like your own little mini version of Prescription Passion."

"Give me a break!" House said. And then, as if to prove a point, "What were you saying about going someplace more private?"

Bobbi tossed her hair a bit and laughed.

"Nice try," she said, patting his arm. "Enjoy the rest of the party, Dr. House. And good luck nailing Dr. Cuddy."

And she sashayed away.

House groaned a bit, sat at the bar, ordered another glass of champagne.

About half an hour later, Cuddy and Evan emerged from the dressing room. Evan, noticeably, had taken off his jacket. And was Cuddy's dress askew, or was House just imaging things?

When they spotted House, they marched right up to him.

"There you are!" Cuddy said.

"How was the line reading?" House asked sarcastically.

Evan and Cuddy exchanged a look.

"It went great," Evan said.

"I'm sure it did," House grumbled.

"Dr. Cuddy here is a natural."

"I'm sure she is."

Cuddy beamed.

"So great, in fact, that I offered her a job on the show," Evan said.

House practically did a spit-take.

"You what?"

"I offered her a job on the show. There's a new part, for a sexy hospital administrator. Dr. Cuddy would obviously be perfect. So I made a few phone calls—and she's got the job, if she wants it."

"And I do!" Cuddy said, lighting up.

House gaped at her.

"Why on earth would you take a job as a pretend hospital administrator when you're an actual hospital administrator?" he said, his face turning red.

"More fun. Less stress. And I get to work with my new beau," she said, taking Evan's arm.

"Your new beau?" House said. He was completely at a loss.

"We'll act together. Live together. It'll be great!" Cuddy said. "Won't it, my darling?"

"Yes it will, dearheart."

House's mouth was hanging open.

"Live together?! You guys just met."

"Sometimes you just know," Evan said.

"You just know," Cuddy echoed.

"This has to be the most absurd thing I've ever heard!" House sputtered.

"As absurd as pretending to be a chauffeur, kidnapping an actor and treating him against his will?" Evan said.

"As absurd as intentionally sabotaging a hospital inspection review?" Cuddy said.

And Evan and Cuddy high fived each other.

Finally, House got it.

"There is no role for a sexy hospital administrator," he said.

"No, but if there was, Dr. Cuddy would be perfect for it," Evan said.

"And you guys aren't moving in together . . ."

"That's highly unlikely," Cuddy said. "We just met."

And she and Evan laughed.

House looked glumly into his champagne glass, processing his defeat.

"Well played," he said.

"Oh come on, House," Cuddy said. "You know you deserved it."

"Yeah, whatever," he sad. And stormed off.

Evan and Cuddy watched him.

"Wow, I didn't expect him to fall for that," Cuddy said.

"Fall for what?" Bobbi said. She was a natural gossip, so the little scene had drawn her back into the conversation.

Cuddy and Evan briefly explained the trick they had played on House.

"The guy's a genius," Evan said, with a laugh. "And he thinks a lowly actor like me has casting control over the show?"

"And that we're moving in together?" Cuddy said, shaking her head.

"Makes sense," Bobbi said thoughtfully. "Guys tend to lose half their IQ points when they're in love."

Cuddy blanched.

"In love?" she said, somewhat derisively.

"Honey, all he did the whole time you and Evan were in his dressing room was stare at the door like a little lost puppy dog. The boy's got it bad."

"Can't say I blame him," Evan said, with a grin.

#####

Cuddy found House a few minutes later, sitting on the edge of a stage in a room adjacent to the party, with an open bottle of champagne.

She sat down next to him.

"Quit sulking and come back to the party," she said.

"In a minute," he said.

"You are such a sore loser," Cuddy said. "Are you familiar with the phrase: Can dish it out but can't take it?"

House scratched his chin, but said nothing.

"Come on," she said, teasingly. "Don't be mad."

"So when did you two cook up this little scheme of yours?" he said finally.

"After I released Evan from the hospital. We both decided that—while you had ultimately saved the day—you seriously needed to be taken down a peg."

"You seem to enjoy taking me down a peg," he said.

"Someone's gotta do it," she said, with a chuckle.

He looked at her.

"So nothing happened between you and Brock Sterling?"

Cuddy took the bottle out of his hands, took a swig, then handed it back to him.

"He showed me all his Daytime Emmy awards and told me about his plans to stage an all-ginger production of Hamlet. Suffice it to say, I was bored to tears."

"What about his perfect bone structure?" House said. "His abs of steel?"

"I like my men a little less pretty and a lot more complicated," Cuddy said.

"Yeah?" House said, eyeing her.

"Yeah," Cuddy said.

"Good to know," he said, a tiny smile playing at his lips. He handed her the bottle again. She took another drink.

"Besides, you have nothing to be jealous of, remember?" she said. "According to you, I'm not hot enough for Evan."

House rolled his eyes.

"You were the hottest woman at the party, and you know it," he said. It just kind of slipped out.

She looked at him.

"You really think that?"

He gulped. He had clearly said too much. But it was too late to turn back now.

"I do," he said, looking her up and down.

It was rare for House to give Cuddy a straightforward compliment. She blushed.

"I almost believe it when you say . . ."

But before she could finish her thought, House leaned toward her, cupped her chin, and kissed her passionately on the mouth.

"I've been dying to do that all night," House said.

"I've been dying for you to do it, too," Cuddy admitted.

"And. . .scene!" a male voice said.

They both looked up, in a daze. There, standing in the back of the theater, was the entire cast and crew of Prescription Passion. They now burst into loud applause.

"Bravo!" someone yelled.

"Totally hot!" said one of the younger female actresses.

House and Cuddy quickly hopped off the stage, embarrassed.

"We were just, uh,. . ." Cuddy started.

"Running lines," House finished.

"Why can't we have chemistry like that?" Bobbi said to Evan.

THE END