BANANA SLUG
By The Madhatter
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. I only abuse them for my own pleasure.
Spoilers: 3x18 (for the pics anyway)
Rating: G
Pairing: House/Cuddy friendship
A/N: This popped into my head when the 3x18 promo pics were posted. I couldn't help it. It's just a short little ficlet. Hope you enjoy.
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"What are you wearing?" Cuddy asked, caught in between trying not to laugh and strangle the idiot before her.
House grinned down at her. "What, this?" he plucked at the shirt. "It's very me, don't you think? It brings out my eyes."
"It makes you looked like an overgrown banana with a black stripe smeared across your body," she deadpanned. "Take it off."
He blinked. "Was that a come-on, Cuddy?"
"What? No! You have a shirt underneath. The banana slug shirt is ridiculous."
"It's a tiger. Get it right."
"Whatever. It's ugly."
"Are you gonna wrestle it off me? That could be fun! Imagine all the kind of positions we could end up in. I didn't think you were one for an audience though. I don't think the rest of the passengers would appreciate it." He leaned closer to her and whispered, "They might get jealous."
She scoffed. "Of that monstrosity? They'll be wearing blinders."
"Thanks. I know. I'm irresistibly hot."
Cuddy rolled her eyes. "And incredibly egotistical. And annoying. Take off the damn shirt."
"Why, Doctor Cuddy! I told you, not in public! Don't wanna scar the little kiddies for life, do you?"
She felt like her eyes were going to just roll right out of her sockets if she rolled her eyes anymore. "Fine. Wear the slug. If anything happens to you, I won't be responsible and neither will the hospital."
"Like anything bad would happen to me," House scoffed. "The ladies won't be able to keep their hands off me with this. It's a babe magnet. At least that's what the guy who sold this to me said. Either that or it attracts mosquitoes. I'm not sure."
"Nice shirt," a little boy said passing by.
Cuddy buried her face in her hands trying not to burst out laughing. "Babe magnet, huh? Sure there's not some kind of pedophilic spell on it?"
House glared. "You're just jealous."
She let out a laugh. "Of what? A little kid paying attention to you? Hardly. If it makes you feel better, there's a guy over in that corner that's staring at you. I think he likes you."
House snuck a glance backwards and shuddered. "Now he's a pedophile."
"Definitely a babe magnet."
House stared resolutely back at the smaller woman before him, secretly thrilled at the spark in her eyes. Nothing made her more beautiful than agitating her. "I'm still wearing the shirt. Nothing you can or do will make me take it off."
Cuddy folded her arms and stared back. "Do what you want. I told you—"
"Hey there, nice shirt," said a fairly attractive woman with a fairly big chest and a fairly big backside. "It's a nice color on you."
"Why thank you!" House replied, a huge grin on his face. "That color looks great on you, too."
"Oh, God," Cuddy muttered, resting her head in her palm. "This will never end."
"See!" House exclaimed, staring at the woman as she walked away. "Total babe magnet." He paused. "You're jealous! You're jealous that a gorgeous woman paid me a compliment. I can't believe this! Oooh, wait 'til I tell Wilson when we get back!"
Why did I come with this idiot? Cuddy thought hopelessly. "I am not jealous and she absolutely hated the shirt."
"Were you just not standing here when she clearly stated, 'Hey there, nice shirt?'"
"She was just saying it to be nice. That's what people do. But I saw it on her face. She's absolutely disgusted at the shirt. Look, she's pointing and laughing at you now."
House glowered at his boss and sank down in the seat. "Killjoy."
"Asshole."
"You're mean. Did anyone ever tell you just how vicious you can get? Or am I the only that gets to see the ugly side of you?"
"Yes, that's my mission in life," Cuddy said dryly with a small smirk, as she sat down next to him. "To make your life as miserable as possible. I get a cheap thrill out of it."
"Slave driver."
"Banana slug."
"I'm still wearing the shirt."
Cuddy looked up at the ceiling in a pleading gesture and sighed. "At least it isn't wrinkled."