…Not Over Yet
I
"Well, at least the games are over."
"How long have you known me?"
Lisa Cuddy smiled knowingly, and shook her head in some kind of amused disapproval. Turning on her heel, without a backwards glance, she left the lecture hall. She had her outdoor coat buttoned to her neck to keep out the cold, but instead of heading to the exit, she tread a familiar path through the deserted clinic. Her heels clicked more kindly than usual, her feet tired and worn, until the sound ceased completely on the plush carpeted floor of her office. In her wake, the door swung back and forth on its hinges, groaning as if it too was tired. After discarding her coat wearily over the back of one of the armchairs, she lowered herself into the chair behind her desk with a significant sigh of relief, grateful to get off her feet.
Tucking herself in to her desk, Cuddy reached into her black patent leather handbag, the contents of which were mostly still splayed carelessly out, and reached for her Blackberry. The phone cradled in her right hand, she ran her thumb over the cold, hard keys, before navigating to her phone book. Her thumb then hovered over the 'H' key for a split second before she heard the distinctly familiar sound of wood knocking on wood. In record time, she stowed her mobile back inside her bag, pulled a third employment contract towards her and grabbed a pen in an attempt to make herself look remotely busy.
After knocking on the wooden door of his boss' office from two feet away with his cane, Greg House limped forwards and entered without waiting for a reply, because he knew he wouldn't get one. Regardless of the fact that Cuddy didn't look up to see who'd just entered the room, he didn't make any signal to alert her of who it was. Of course, she already knew.
"What do you want, House?" She still didn't look up; instead she took particular care and attention looping the 'y' at the end of 'Dr. Remy Hadley'.
He cocked his head to the right as he studied her, rather like an intelligent and analytical cat. "To ask you… why you're still here." He didn't take his eyes off her for one second – reading Cuddy's body language was usually the key to negotiating with her, or in this case, aggravating her, just because he had nothing better to do with his time. And his hooker wasn't booked until nine.
The feeling of House's eyes on her was burning the back of her neck, so only then did she reluctantly look up at him, raise her eyebrows, and put her pen down, clasping her hands together in front of her. "You know, when you pull those crazy and manipulative stunts that you think are incomprehensibly clever, someone has to draw up the paperwork to justify them. So now I have to stay behind and compose a proposal to present to the board on why you are in desperate need of four fellows instead of the previously requested three, and then draw up the paperwork to formally offer Thirteen that extra place on your team. So if you want her ready to work tomorrow, I suggest you lea-"
"Just so you know, I stopped listening right after you called me incomprehensibly clever, so you can be quiet now." He interjected quickly, cutting her short with the unnecessary use of a hand gesture.
Trying her utmost best to refrain from rolling her eyes, Cuddy instead vented her annoyance in a more productive, and less likely to be scorned, way. "Well, there is one way you can keep me quiet." She allowed a smirk to flicker across her lips and hoped he'd be stunned enough to mistake it for a suggestive grin.
Even House couldn't contain his shock and enthusiasm for the idea, though he was vaguely aware in the back of his mind that the possibility was about as likely as him ever detoxing from Vicodin. "What, I can have sex with you to shut you up?"
"No, but me suggesting it might distract you for enough for me to relocate to somewhere where I may be able to concentrate – somewhere without you." She stood up, pushing her chair back as she did so, and started hurriedly forcing her scattered possessions back into her minute handbag, and battling to close the clasp. She even managed to scoop her collection of papers into her arms and walk halfway across the room before he even reacted.
He managed to shake himself out of a frozen state of amazement in time to lift his cane to waist height directly into her path to intercept her. "I don't think so. You don't get to say that to a man and walk away. That's not how it works, that's not the deal."
This time, she couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes. "I don't recall any 'deal', thank you very much. If you'll excuse me?"
"You forgot your coat." He lowered the cane, out of her way, and instead used it to point to the opposite side of the room, to the chair over which her coat was hanging.
"Oh, thank you for that." Cuddy's voice was heavy with sarcasm, because she was silently cursing him, and herself for not noticing that fact as she made to leave. With a look laden with annoyance, she diverted to the chair to which he was pointing, laid her bag and papers on the seat, and slid into her heavy, woollen coat. "Are you actually deluding yourself that if you detain me for long enough I might actually sleep with you, or are you just being your usual, infuriating self?" As she asked, she buttoned up her coat, watching her hands, not him.
Pretending to consider the question as if the answer were worth a million dollars, House finally came to a conclusion. "Possibly a bit of both, but I presume it makes me look slightly smarter if I go for the latter. So let's say I'm just being my usual charming self."
After hooking her handbag back over her forearm and returning her papers to her arms, she this time got closer to the door, but was blocked not by his cane, but his whole body. She sighed. "What exactly are you hoping to achieve, House? We both know I can out-dodge you. And out-run you. I'd just prefer it if you didn't make me."
He put on a face that remarkably resembled a wounded puppy. "Now that wasn't very nice. Even if I look very, very hurt, you won't kiss me better?"
"No, I won't. Goodnight House. Sweet dreams." Only then did she, admittedly gently, push past him and walk out of her office, grinning slightly, and flicking the light switch into the off position.
He watched her back as she walked away from him, and as he stood, alone, in the darkness of her office, he didn't even try and suppress a small, self-satisfied smile.
And as she walked away, she cursed herself for succumbing to their social contract and walking away from his game so quickly. Because there was a part of her that still enjoyed playing. She was glad the games were most definitely not over yet.