A/N-
Forgive me, I think my frustration at the lack of Huddy is finally getting to me...
Cuddy WILL get nicer, I think. She's just as frustrated as I am ;-)
As usual, DS owns House, but I thank him for letting me play with his toys! :-)
~ Chapter Three ~
Turbulence Ahead
(Thursday Afternoon)
Cuddy had avoided him all week, and he had been noticeably quiet. Too quiet. She'd expected him to throw a fit, or at least make a scene or two, but instead he had laid low, even completing his Clinic hours without a word.
So she was pretty on edge for most of the week. And that nervous energy grew with each passing day without a scene.
"So, am I riding with you?" Or are you gonna ditch me."
Cuddy nearly jumped out of her skin as she entered her office. She clenched her teeth together tightly to keep from shrieking, and her fear was quickly replaced with irritation and anger. She marched over to the rugged, rangy doctor sitting in her chair across the polished surface of her desk from her. She held out her hand, palm up, and simply told him, "gimme."
House smirked. "Gimme? Are you implying that I have what you want?" He lifted an eyebrow at her, "I think you may want to close your blinds."
"Shut. Up. House," she hissed through her clenched teeth. "You're sitting in my locked office. I want the spare key you had Lucas make for you." At his shocked look, she smirked, "Dating your private dick gave me a wealth of information."
He sneered, then fished the key out of his pocket. "Just Lucas now, huh? Not snookums or honeybunch?"
She took the key out of his hand, trying to ignore the tingle of electricity that bolted through her as her cool fingers brushed against his warm palm. Then, she calmly picked up the phone on her desk, dialing a number. "Karl, in maintenance," she asked, tersely.
He smirked, and he leaned back in her chair, folding his arms behind his head. He enjoyed seeing her angry and flustered.
"Karl. Lisa Cuddy. How soon can you change the lock on my office door?" She paused, listening to her maintenance supervisor rattle off his response. "Yes. I understand." Her blue-gray flickered to the smug son of a bitch sitting in her chair. "I'm just concerned that someone may have unauthorized access to my office. She glared at House, as if saying like you. She paused again, listening to what ever Karl had to say, then, she smiled. It was a slow, threatening, feral smile. House was pretty sure that wolverines had that kind of smile. "Thank you," she said, then she hung up the phone.
He decided to push his luck. "So, when are we leaving. I mean, if you're my babysitter, then..."
She slammed her palm down on her desk, feeling the shock of the impact travel up her arm. "I am not enjoying this." She drew a deep breath, closing her eyes to his startled expression. "Nor am I your secretary. You need to make your own plans. Not have me, or Wilson, or one of the team do it for you." Anger and irritation blazed from her eyes, making him cringe. "Speaking of your team. If you want to blow up your department, fine. But do not use my hospital as a fall out shelter." She took a moment to calm down, counting to twenty in her mind, trying to get her breathing under control. Finally, she spoke again, firmly, but calmly. "Just be in London by 8 am, Monday morning, London time."
The corners of his mouth tugged up in a sinister grin. "Yes, mistress." He stood up, grabbing his cane, and he walked out of her office, leaving her to fume behind him.
** ** **
"You're going to die, you know that, right?"
House glanced up from his computer. "She's supposed to be babysitting me, right?" He clicked on the "Okay" button that had popped up. "So, part of that job is making sure that I'm on the plane, right?" He leaned back in his chair, giving Wilson a satisfied smirk. "I'm just making her do her job."
"Oh yes," Wilson responded, dryly. "Your motives are completely altruistic." He rolled his eyes. "This has nothing to do with your feelings for her."
"What I'm doing now has nothing to do with any feelings I might have had for her." He said it quickly, annoyed and angry. "My motives are pure."
"Your motives are pure? Your motives are never pure." Wilson narrowed his eyes. "You're doing this for revenge!" He wagged a finger at House, whose emotions had become unreadable.
"Words can hurt, you know," House muttered. Was he doing this because she rejected him, or was he simply doing it to punish her for all those years of forced Clinic duty. "Why do you suddenly care about my motives? It's not like you're involved in any of this."
"I'm not involved?" Wilson scoffed. "I may not be now, but I will be."
"Only because you'll position yourself directly in the line of fire," House shot back. He sighed, slumping back in his chair. "This is not something you should worry about."
"Oh, I shouldn't worry about you getting hurt?" Wilson's voice had risen in anger, but House picked up on his overwhelming concern. It was what he'd felt seeing his best friend on the operating table in the O.R., when his friend had demanded a portion of his liver.
"I'm not going to get hurt," he admitted reluctantly. "I can't hurt more than I already do."
Wilson was taken aback by that admission. He knew that it had taken a lot for House to admit that. "Okay."
"Okay?" House repeated, amused. "Okay?" He stood up from the desk, and he walked around it. "That's it, no, 'House, this is insane,' or 'House, shouldn't you rethink this'?"
Wilson shrugged. "You never listen to me, anyway." He reached into his pants' pocket, and he pulled a piece of paper out of it. Wordlessly, but with a telling smirk, he handed it to House.
House raised an eyebrow, but he took the piece of paper. "Cuddy's flight plans?" His craggy face split into a grin. "Thanks, but, why?"
Wilson sighed. "She hurt my best friend," he said simply. "It's only right that I make sure he's the biggest, nastiest thorn in her side for this entire trip." He shrugged, smirking slightly. "She must be punished."
House smiled, but before he could respond, he heard someone with an Australian accent dryly commenting from behind him, "So, can I join the No Girls Allowed Club, too?"
He turned, and he saw Chase leaning against the door frame of the office, smirking slightly. He turned to Wilson. "This is why I don't like Canadians. They're sneaky bastards."
Chase rolled his eyes. "I'm not Canadian; I'm Australian."
"So. What are you still doing here?" It was after six, and they didn't have a case. The other fellows had already left for the day. "Avoiding home? I suppose your condo is a lonely place, without your blonder half?"
Wilson inhaled sharply. "Do you have to do that?"
"Do what?" House asked him innocently.
"Be an ass," Chase answered for him. Then he walked over to House, holding out a file. "Cuddy asked me to give this to you."
House frowned, then he flipped open the blue folder. He blinked. "A case?" He looked up at Wilson and Chase. "She's giving me a case, even though I'm supposed to leave tomorrow?" He then smirked, ad he handed the Aussie the file. "Round up the troops, boss. This one's yours."
Chase blinked as the blue folder was thrust in his hands. He looked up in disbelief as both doctors left him in the office, alone. Sighing, he reached for his cell phone, hoping the rest of the team would take him seriously and come in.