I needed a break from writing Internal Conflict, and this is what I came up with. Not betad, so sorry in advance if their are mistakes.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or this show, although I know I - and all you guys on here - would love to.
Perjuror, felon; Party Pants, Sweetsauce; Lisa, Greg; Cuddy, House.
No matter what names they called each other they were still the same two people underneath it all. Still the same two people destined to be stuck in the same dance for eternity. Two lonely people stuck in their perspective ruts: wishing their was a way out but knowing that they were too set in their ways for it to happen. Too used to their own space, their own rituals and routines. Too used to endless nights alone with only their TV for company. Their lives really had no space for change, no leeway – not even a little, just rules to adhere to, routines to stick to and schedules to follow. No spontaneity, no changes. No excitement outside of House's cases. No happiness – only misery remained.
On the outside she could almost convince others that she was fine, a little bit shy of happy, but fine nonetheless. Him on the other hand could not hide his misery, instead he put it on display, thrusting some of it on others whenever he had the chance, hoping that maybe the bit he thrust upon them didn't come back. It always did.
Nobody truly believed that the two, so different and yet so similar at the same time, were anywhere near happy. She put up a good front; he didn't even bother. Hers always slipped eventually – when the exhaustion of pretending grew too much. She denied it of course, trying in vain to convince those around her that she was fine, but he always saw. Always. And he thrusted a little of his misery on to her, adding to her already overwhelming burden. Except that one time. After Joy. He kissed her. He contradicted himself, taking some of her misery away, or so she had thought.
That kiss had led her to an even deeper misery as the aftermath became clear, and she wondered if it would be easier just to let the mask slip. If only for a moment, to show him that she was just as miserable as he had once prophesised. To show him that he was not alone in his misery, as much as he would like to be. That his great mind even got her right, maybe that would give him some respite from his misery, and then maybe she could get hers.