Title: The Land Of Legal Painkillers
Rating: T
Summary: Cuddy with devil horns? Giant Vicodin pills? The Grim Reaper coming to rant about House trying to be a bit nicer so he doesn't have to deal with the complaints of people in the afterlife? House's dreams have never been so odd.
Disclaimer: I don't own House.
IIIII
House's first signal to be alarmed was a dark, black mass eating away the front of his desk. When it caved in he was forced to take notice of a bone-hand retreating back to hiding under a long back sleeve.
"Was that necessary?"
"Hello to you too, Gregory House," a booming voice rang from underneath the hood. "I could sit down but I'm afraid anything I touch disintegrates."
"And for that reason alone you should atleast be ten feet away from me. At all times."
"I get that a lot," He drawled. "I suppose you know who I am."
"From all of the black I would say you are a lost, teenage youth who writes dark poetry using the words 'blood' and 'dead' numerous times."
"Now you're just stereotyping," House accused hypocritically.
"I am Death. The Grim Reaper. The Dark Angel."
"Can't I just call you Paul?"
"That's my birthname . . ." Death groaned obviously ashamed.
"Really? Well you do look like a Paul." House paused. "Where's your scythe?"
"Rusted. Some drunken teenager decided to jump overboard on his families expensive yacht."
"Drowned?" He inquired thinking it would be the obvious.
"No. He was eaten by a whale."
House grimaced at the idea. Moving past that disturbing image he asked, "So why are you here?"
"You have several complaints," Death explained. He reached out into the air and a scroll popped out of nowhere. He let it roll out and it started to make it's way throughout the room for a minute until it stopped after overlapping itself a couple times. "Almost everyone who has ever had you a doctor, at some point, has gone into great detail of how much of an 'ass' and 'jerk' you are."
"Not many of my patients have died."
"Clinic Duty counts."
"It's even less likely they'd die there."
"I mean at any point of their life. They could have gone to you ten years ago and still remembered you when we went through their current memories."
"Should I feel honored? Atleast they remembered."
"Hardly. I'm here to-"
"House! Blah, blah, blah-" Cuddy came into the room, seeming furious, but House nor Death could understand the words coming out of her mouth.
"Who is that?" Death was used to seeing devil horns in Hell but this was the first time he saw them on Earth's surface.
"My boss. She pops up a lot here in my dreams. I hear 'blah' all the time from here. Just ignore her. She'll run out of steam soon and collapse onto the floor," House said pulling out something from underneath his desk - he had imagined a new one before doing so and hoped Death would be obliging enough not to ruin this one.
What he pulled from under his desk was a very large, white pill which he hit with his cane repeatedly until a chunk fell off so he could chew on it. He sat back in his chair contentedly as Cuddy lost all oxygen from ranting and fell over on the floor.
A few twitches and a mutter of "Blah, apologize, blaaah" before she passed out.
"Dreams are we how interpret things, yes, I see that your mind is quite . . . special," observed Death.
"Special as in 'The Short Bus' or 'Smart'?"
"Combine the two and we have you."
House licked his fingers for any Vicodin shavings he may have missed. "You're boring me."
That was when Cameron came in wearing only a bikini. She accidentally stepped on Cuddy's unconscious body, and said, "Oh no! Someone's hurt!" Cameron began to hug Cuddy hoping to bring her back to life through love but instead they heard her spine snap in two.
"I think you are doing more damage than good, Cameron . . ." said Death.
"But… but… Empathy region in over-drive!" She started to cry. "Nooo! Not Cuddy! Who will scold House? I can't do it because he's too damn sexy!"
"Now I know this is a dream," Death slowly looked over at a smiling House. "I don't blame you though. She is quite the eye candy."
"Oh My God! Death itself!" She gasped, suddenly standing up. Cameron started to babble and like a machine with too much information, smoke started to come out of her ears, and she threw herself at Death hoping to heal him.
Instead she instantly slumped over at his feet after touching him.
"I'm sure that's the most ass you've gotten all year."
"Being Death sucks," He said regretting taking this job at the Beginning of Time. It would have been so much better to be God's plumber. "I can't find love anywhere."
"What? You're so stunning! I mean, the black makes you look so slimming."
"I don't appreciate your sarcasm."
"Did you have to kill her so quickly? I need something with breasts and a pulse to look at . . ."
"I didn't kill her on purpose! She jumped at me!"
House rolled his eyes breaking off another chunk of his giant Vicodin. He held it out to Death who took it but it decayed becoming dust. "Dammit all!"
"Now that's gotta' suck."
"Shutup. Go do that brooding thing."
"I don't brood. I coolly sit back and glare intensely at my TV while in deep thought," countered House.
"Don't you have a girlfriend?"
"The closest thing I have to a girlfriend is Wilson."
"The cookies are ready!" Wilson came into his friends office, holding a fresh tray of steaming hot chocolate chip cookies. There were chocolate stains on his white 'Kiss the Cook' apron. "Do you want some?"
House looked at Death and somehow could tell that he was skeptical. "I know what you're thinking. He's not gay. He's just kinda'... prissy."
"I am not!" Wilson huffed and let the tray fall onto the desk with a loud 'Thump!'. "I cannot believe you would say such things. I was steaming over a hot kitchen stove making you those when I saw you had a guest over a-and you just... Oh!" He crossed his arms and stared at Death who stared back. "What are you staring at?"
"Are you one of those, whatchya' call it? Homo-phony?" Death questioned.
"What?"
"A guy that pretends to be a gay best friend to a woman and then turns around saying they turned you straight. It does work you know."
"I'm telling you. He's not gay," House said again.
"I am not gay. I've happened to be married three times."
"And divorced three times," added Death.
"He's just in touch with his sensitive side," House told him. "Besides, he's never made a move on me, so I don't think you're right."
"Even if I were gay I wouldn't go for you," Wilson snapped.
"Even your friend thinks you're a jerk?" Death looked - not that anyone could tell since skeletons haven't the ability to make expressions - at House with disbelief.
House scoffed, "I am a jerk. When did I say I wasn't?"
"I need you to stop," Death refrained himself from smacking someone since it would shrivel and die. "I do get a lot of people complaining in the afterlife, it's to be expected, but your name pops up enough to warrant me bugging you until you stop being an arse!"
House looked to Wilson who seemed overly pleased with Death's gripe.
"If I promise to be a good boy do I get extra toys at Christmas?"
"I'll make sure that you get a dead Reindeer stuffed under the tree."
"How sweet," House smiled trying to mimic actually caring.
"What kind of complaints do you get?" curiously asked Wilson.
"Don't egg him on!" House groaned with annoyance. "General Hospital is on in five minutes!"
"It varies," Death answered. "Either he used them in a medical game or said something inappropriate about their breasts."
"Well that doesn't sound like him at all," said the oncologist sarcastically. "You know he once called me into an exam room just to look at a woman's-"
"Someone needs to appreciate implants. I wanted you to appreciate along with me."
"Go pitch a tent somewhere else," Wilson said before he walked out of the room.
"He's annoying but atleast he makes great desserts," House said taking a cookie and munching on it. "So are you done bitching at me now or do I need to sit here and take it?"
"I am Death," He reminded with annoyance etched in his voice. "You should do what I say."
"Wait. Wait," House raised a hand as though it were something important. "I'm attempting to give a damn . . . wait for it . . . oh! So close!"
Death poked the half-digested Vicodin pill and it turned to black dust. Out of sheer anger House whacked over the desk at the floating lifeform but it only turned to dust too on contact.
"How I forgot that things die when touching you in those few seconds will always haunt me," said House flatly.
"I should get going."
"Don't like General Hospital?"
"I get enough drama. Apparently Satan has had constipation lately and is taking it out on his minions."
"Is he as evil as everyone says he is?"
"He has his days."
"And is God-"
"Don't go there. If I say anything wrong, or something that could be perceived as offensive, you have no idea how many Christians will be all over my ass."
"Fair enough. Earth has that problem too," House agreed. He got up and limped over to the door that would usually lead to the conference room but when he opened it up there was a huge screen with one seat in front of it. "General Hospital is coming on. I'm leaving now."
"Wait," Death said floating in behind him. He snapped his bone-fingers and a recliner appeared next to the chair. "I want to watch too."
"Make my chair a LazyBoy and you can stay."
Death had never been so pleasant.
IIIII
A/N: Entirely random. I know. Dreams are weird that way.
Reviews please? Pretty please?