I have finally delved into the world of House. A one shot fic. One chapter, no more, no less. House and Cuddy scene. Sometime during first/second season. I own no one.
When she had told him it was a bad time, he felt the need to tap his cane on the floor and cock his head to the side stating that "hormonally bleeding from her vagina didn't count as an excuse for his appearance in her office to be a bad time."
She refused to face him, pretending to be looking at a chart with her chair swiveled away from him, while in actuality, her face was streaked with mixture of wet salt and Doir black 090 mascara. He stomped the cane again, several quick jabs, his usual way of showing he was in a good enough mood to harass her before finally getting down to whatever inappropriate procedure he planned to do.
It wasn't until she had told him it was a bad time that she realized her quick dismissal would fully attract him, looking for whatever interested Cuddy more than his new maniacal plan.
"Ah, so Dr. Lisa Cuddy does not want to give me the time of day." House said, his face tightening, lips pressed together, "Was it the bad sex... again?"
"Or perhaps it's the two lawsuits thanks to you, a twelve car pile up that caused the E.R. to flood with patients, or a conference being held in twenty minutes." Lisa retorted, crisply, still hiding her face from Greg.
"And I thought I was the only one who cared." Greg replied, "Now that we've got that settled, I need an okay. And don't go thinking you're finally getting me straightened out because if I didn't okay it, Cameron would be in here crying to mommy and then you'd walk in and catch my hand in the cookie jar."
Lisa took in a breath, preparing herself, "What do you want?"
"Mind looking at me?" Greg lifted an eyebrow, "I'd hate to be talking to an imposter Cuddy who sounded a lot like the actually Cuddy, but without the satanic looks and impeccable breasts of course. No imposter could match those."
"Fine." Lisa closed the chart and spun in her chair, stopping directly across from where Greg was standing.
"Gah!" Greg retracted and then continued with horror, "What happened to your face? My diagnosis would say you've been crying, but that would be indicative of the fact that you actually have feelings and emotions which we both know isn't true."
Lisa threw the chart on her desk and swiped at her cheeks with the cleanliness of her white lab coat. She ignored the new stains as she lowered her arm back down.
"Stop being an ass." she narrowed her eyes, "What do you want, House?"
"As you know, the Beagleys-" Greg started.
"The Neagles." Lisa corrected him.
"Whatever." Greg replied annoyed and then switched his tone back to professional, "-forbid me to go near their precious dying Allison."
"Amanda."
Now, Lisa was growing annoyed. Greg cocked his head slightly, throwing an arm up.
"Close enough." he said, "I need to run some tests."
Lisa shook her head, "I can't help you. They said no more tests, House, they want to give their daughter peace."
"Which is why they're killing her!" Greg exclaimed, raising both hands, the cane barely missing Lisa's desk, "While they wait for some child to die in order to give their daughter a heart, let me draw some blood and urine. That's it. That's all I need."
"House-" Lisa tried stop his ranting.
"I think she has hyporaldosteronism which has caused her congestive heart failure due to her low potassium levels." Greg jammed his cane into the floor to add emphasis.
"Adults usually-" Lisa shook her head slower.
"Hyporaldosteronism has been diagnosed in children as young as three." House cut her off, leaning on his cane as he took a step forward, "Her other complications caused it to be overlooked."
Lisa paused, mulling it over, then sighed, "How sure are you?"
"Ninety... seven percent." Greg guessed, one eye squinted closed as he looked towards the ceiling, then back at Lisa.
"How sure are you usually?" Lisa asked.
"Ninety three." Greg held his eyes locked on Lisa's.
Lisa's face softened, "Tell Cameron to get the blood and urine samples."
"Ah, the sympathy doctor." Greg nodded, satisfaction spreading through him from winning his argument, "Good choice. I might have sent the Aussie."
Greg turned and began to hobble out of the office. Lisa stood from her chair and straightened her skirt before reaching to pick up the phone.
Greg paused suddenly in his stride and spun around, throwing his cane over his shoulder, "By the way, do you always cry in your office? Or did somebody die?"
"Somebody I feel responsible for, okay?" Lisa answered him with attitude as she punched numbers on the phone, hoping her words would dismiss Greg.
"Oh, get over yourself." Greg shook his head, "People die. It's what they do."
"And I caused what killed him." Lisa wanted to keep her mouth shut, instead of spurring Greg on, but she couldn't find the means to make herself stop talking.
Greg smirked and swung his cane down, moving a few steps closer to Lisa as he spoke, "So you actually cared about this poor soul? Did you sleep with him? Gave him a heart attack? Shot him? Stabbed him?"
"He had an allergic reaction to drugs I gave him." Lisa answered, setting the phone down, "His airways closed too fast, his heart stopped beating quickly after. He never had a chance."
Greg shook his head, 'tsking,' "Neglecting to read charts again. Not the best quality in our hospital administrator."
"It wasn't in his chart." Lisa replied, simply.
"Then, what the hell is the problem, Cuddy?!" Greg raised his voice higher than he wanted to, but he would never back down once he started, "If you're going to feel responsible for the death of patient where the only thing you did wrong was try to save his life then you-"
"He was twelve."
The tone in Lisa's voice irritated Greg. She didn't use the tone often, only when she actually felt truly worried or truly defeated. Though he denied it, he hated the way she blamed herself and he was only able to show he hated this quality by boosting his sarcasm and annoyance.
"You want to feel responsible, fine." Greg replied, "Wallow in tears of self pity and guilt."
"You're an asshole." Lisa responded.
"And you're narcissistic." Greg retorted.
"That's the pot calling the kettle black." Lisa placed her hands on her hips.
Greg drew his eyebrows together, feigning confusion, "I think you mean Foreman."
Before Lisa could respond, Greg turned quickly and began to make his way out of the office for the second time. Instead of reaching for her phone, Lisa stood with her hands still on her hips, watching him go, a small tugging part of herself wishing he wouldn't. When he stopped, she dismissed that thought. Greg turned back around.
"If you want to feel responsible for something," he started, gentle with a trace of cynicism, "When I save young Mandy's life today, feel responsible for that."
Jamming his cane on the ground, Greg exited Lisa's office, her glass door closing softly behind him. Lisa dropped into her chair, thinking over Greg's words, wondering if he truly meant it.