Yeah, you can call me E. It's fitting, despite my lack of ties to the pizza-industrial complex. Great story, yourself. Even though I don't know that show, like, at all. And I'm writing sloppy sentences like our little posse now.

And Erika, I liked your story too. But I almost never watch House, and I've NEVER watched entourage. So that interfered a bit with appreciation.

I'm sure you have less expletive-laden ways of spending your time, TB. I would say I don't hold it against you, but I wouldn't want you to get excited. ETA: It's fun, though. In an inside-baseball kind of way.I think my version is a bit less naked than canon...I tend to assume my audience has seen tits before ,for one thing.

My boring weekend is fanfic's gain:

"Hey, I'm almost at the end of the pills." It had been a long time since Vince had called anyone to hear her voice and he felt a little stupid. Which he was not used to, especially as people were beginning to come running when he smiled. That was fun, but it was already too easy...he guessed he'd rather feel stupid.

"How's your throat? Because if you need a refill, I could just connect you with the pharmacy directly."

"It's fine, but you did ask me to call and let you know how everything is going, and, you know, it's going."

"I did? I mean, not that I'm not glad to hear from you." But Cuddy didn't recognize the administrator-bot that she had been when she asked him to check in, trying to impress Gold with her efficiency and the fact that she was just as balls-to-the-wall committed to her work as he was to his.

"Really? Because I understand I helped to break your fancy specialist."

"He was already damaged when you got your hands on him. But he's doing better in his normal routine."

"Which is more than I can say for Drama...Drama's crushed, losing a fan."

"Poor Drama," Lisa smiled widely.

" I know...you know, in the old neighborhood, I wouldn't take my brother's disappointment so lightly, but I live in California now and Eric says if you're not mellow in California they make you move. So, I'm over it. Although I did have the urge to drive out there in my robe and slippers and teach you a lesson."

"You wouldn't be the first. Except subtract the robe and slippers."

"God, really?",

"House. He just wanted to drive me insane."

"So, we have something in common."

"Vince, argh! I haven't giggled since 1984.(At which point, you were, as my Mrs. Robinson-sense informs me, a zygote.) If I had any sense, I'd hang up right now."

"But?"

"But I'm tired of eating alone."

• **
  

"Eric?" One advantage of getting Ari's calls on an East Coast shoot was coming out ahead on the time difference. It gave you a fighting chance at being conscious when the agent came to work.

"Ari?" E mocked his sing-song tone.

"Cut the shit, Eric. Who's the skirt? If I can't get Vince on the phone, I know there's a woman behind that. Unless of course, Vince took his cue from recent national events and made an honest manager of you?'

"It was your wife, Ari. Vince has always been curious about whether upscale Jewish women really do give the best blow jobs. That's what we heard in Queens, by the way."

Gold sighed, as if in the grip of some powerful emotion.
"Because of time constraints, the back-up on this *fucking* freeway, and the undeniable, but completely incomprehensible fact that Vince would hate me if I ripped out your Mouseketeer's heart and ate it, I'm going to pretend I never heard that."

"You know," Eric said, reasonably. 'You're so sensitive about her you make it too fucking easy. Didn't you come across that in any of your Sun-tzu, fucking "getting to yes," books?"

"No, I didn't, Eric. Maybe it was in something I never read...The Sbarro Employee Manual, perhaps."

"Oh, I'm fuckin' wounded. Ari Gold knows I had to work for a living. Too bad I couldn't just ask my father to donate books at the University of Chicago, huh?"

"I was a motherfucking *legacy* Eric."

"I heard on TV that that's affirmative action for rich people, Ari. But to get back to your original bellow, yeah, I'm pretty sure there's somebody. And, no, I don't know who she is."

"Keep me fucking posted."

"I did catch him smiling into the mirror for no reason yesterday."

"God, give me strength."

"Tell your wife to be gentle with my boy, Ari."

"Fuck you, Murphy."

I think this is hot, but I am vain, as well as hard- up. Vince/Cuddy

It wasn't that they didn't try to make it just an ordinary second date, with boring take-out pasta and some random rented movie that their attention kept wandering from.Lisa told him a few stories about teenage Ari that were definitely going into the vault for blackmail purposes(but there were a few things she wouldn't comment about,which, considering his situation, he thought showed her to be a classy lady and a good friend besides.)
At least, that's what he told himself he was thinking about as Cuddy sat there in her red dress looking absolutely engaged by him and his many Walsh stories.She didn't seem like that much of a fangirl...could something actually be happening here? he hadn't made much of a pitch, but they were sitting around at her place pretending to watch a movie while seeing how many times they could bump into each other, accidentally-on-purpose. He began to notice how many times Lisa filled her wineglass; enough that fun was in the offing, but not so much that he was a fuckin' pig looking to violate the vulnerable lady doc.

Vince toyed with the linguini on his plate. "Don't take this the wrong way, okay, but this is the worst fuckin' pasta on the face of the earth. I'm killing Drama by eating it and he isn't even here."

"Why would I take that the wrong way? Do I look like Betty Crocker to you? But I did invite you to to dinner so I thought I'd have you for dinner...oh, shit, that came out so wrong."She sips her wine again. By Vince's count, this is the twenty-fifth time. Maybe he'd better step up his attentions a bit.

"No, you look amazing...who the fuck is Betty Crocker?"He rubs her shoulder, she leans into it.

"You really are young, aren't you? She raises her eyebrow at him, which for some reason he finds incredibly sexy. Was Drama right?

"So you told me last time...which is not usually the sort of thing I hear when I put my tongue in a woman's mouth, I've gotta say."

"It's not the usual sort of thing I say when I have a tongue in my mouth either. I usually aim for just sort of inarticulate yummy noises. Or I did, if I could remember back that far."

"I don't care about that...right now is enough for me. Isn't it enough for you?" He supposed this is easier to say when you can barely remember the face, much less the name of the person you last kissed...Tracy(or Stacy) Di Something who thought she was being very clever, offering blowjob with a side of headshot...well, it made a story to tell the guys. Vince is no prude, god knows, but that is a sad fuckin' thought to have while someone's mouth is still working away on your body.Maybe it was even harsher to say, as Tracy/Stacy sat there with pumped-up desire on her face, that he could find several reasons why she was never going to be an actress.She was pretty, but she wasn't memorable. Vince has always been memorable. Not that it was always great; it led him to many notable ass-kickings at school and at home, while the usually feisty E. backed him up.

Lisa is not usually the kind of woman who gives right now much thought. Lisa Cuddy's greatest strength is her ability to plan;to see trouble coming a mile away and plan an alternate course that will pay off at the end of the fiscal year. She is working in the profession she dreamed of in the seventh grade and succeeding wildly...that used to be enough. But as she can feel her blood heating up, and considerations such as math and fame fade away, she guides him into her bedroom and says "Yes.Oh yes."

He looks at her body with enough approval, no, that's honest-to-god pleasure, that Cuddy instantly jettisons the thought of not paying for Klaus, her trainer, anymore.
Danke schoen, Klaus, for making sure that I don't back in the room in the dark right now, she thinks, and he kisses that spot on her neck and she stops thinking.
"I always knew we'd do this," she tells him, her voice's huskiness belying her planner's persona.

"So, you're psychic, too, (continued...)

( continues...) huh?" She loves that he teases her without getting pointed like House does. Vince is still young enough that life is mostly funny.

"Ok, so maybe I was just hoping. It's...kind of been a long time." She jettisons the loser from J-Date like she will have to throw out the clumps of congealing pasta in the morning. It wasn't that good, anyway, more like a skin treatment, a pelvic tune-up. Nothing like this. She feels like singing, though she can't carry a tune in a bucket.

Go Cuddy!

waves pompoms madly

I was so worried I was not equal to this task. I haven't had great sex yet.

Vince (and Cuddy) were getting out of the shower when Eric called. "I suppose I should take this," he told her, while she recovered her beloved Palm from where she had flung it in an excess of passion the night before...there was no way she could work while he was around, that much was clear. Luckily, though, the machine was none the worse for wear, though the email had begun to pile up.

"You're welcome."Eric said, some testiness mixed with the affection.

"For what?"

"Jesus, Vince, what's it like on your planet? People just laying down their lives for you, and when you think about it, you brush some hair out of your face and say ' Gee, thanks,"

"Oh, you know I'd be lost without you, E."

"It's not true, but a guy does love to hear it, Vince."
"I know you always have my back."

"You're like my brother..of course I'll do it. I just like to hear that what I do matters."

"Ok, so what am I thanking you for now?"

"I lied my ass off to Ari. Your personal life is none of his fucking business."

"Cool. Thanks."

But Eric didn't lie fast enough.During his weekly vanity Google, instituted during a momentary funk over Head-On's poor reviews, Vince found many a breathless blogger linking to a dark and grainy photo of them having dinner...the photo itself was not very revealing, but he had to wince at the headline: Vincent Chase and Mystery Cougar at Jersry Eatery, from a site called "Chasesucks.com" Some fangirls had evidently been pointed by search engine and they were passionate in their defense of Vince, but it was hardly the ego boost he was expecting, wading through tons of "Vince is SO Hott...why did he pick somebody so old?" and delusional girls listing when they would be legal and/or how big their age differences were with him. It was like throwing open a strange girl'sbedroom door, and although he knew it was good for business for them to be talking of him this way, he couldn't shake the feeling of tiny little hands, nails painted in glitter polish, reaching out for him behind the screen. He was momentarily wigged. Also, God help them all if Turtle found this shit.

"I've got to get off some of these message boards," Cuddy remarked. "I don't have time to follow them all, and somehow an ethics flamewar isn't where I'm getting my excitement from nowadays." She smiled at him fondly. "Is E. okay?"

"Um, yeah, Great." Vince wanted to log off before she could see the page.

"Oh, go on," she teased. "You don't have to be embarrassed...did that Russian tennis player get another photo spread? I know she's hot and you don't owe me anything. Although I do have to accept that you save your sweet nothings for Eric."

"No, it's not like that," he protested.
Lisa looked at Vince's screen, and snorted.

"Ok, it sort of is."

"I am NOT a cougar, Vince. Cougars have smoky voices and go around in their daughter's leather pants that are two sizes too small while they prowl around the parking lot of the community college." "That would be a good look for you, though." "Oh, stop it."

I wish you were writing for Entourage.