I feel like hell. Screw work. My hand slides out from under the blankets, touches the wireless receiver (right next to the ever-so-useful alarm clock) and only a death grip convinces it to follow my sweaty palms anywhere. I shuffle through my groggy memories and dial Cuddy's office.
"Dean of Medicine's office," a perky voice answers.
I groan humbly. "Hello, Lillia," I say. "Put me through to Cuddy."
The medical intern's voice is more hesitant, now. "Dr. House? Dr. Cuddy is a little bit annoyed that you aren't here." Behind her, I hear, 'If that's House so help me God I'm going to find a way to break his tenure!'
"I thought that your desk is outside her office walls," I say conversationally.
"It is, Dr. House," she squeaks. ' You're my secretary, aren't you? Give me that phone!'
"Ah, it's one of those days. Put her on."
"Yes, Dr. House."
'Who do you work for, him or me?" Cuddy's voice comes into focus and Lillia is gone. "House, it's eleven in the morning, and you're late for Clinic again. And you have a case, for the first time in two weeks! A movie star, this time. Specifically requested you."
I sigh. "I'm sick."
"You work in a hospital. We'll treat you, I promise. Get your ass over here."
"What are the symptoms," I prompt.
"High fever and he started hemorrhaging about half an hour ago," she supplies. I know that she's putting a hand over her eyes. I'm psychic like that.
"Been out of the country lately?"
She's surprised. "India two weeks ago for a shoot. How did you know?"
I press firmly on my temples, causing myself slightly more pain. "Dengue fever, or something. Too easy. If it's not that, have the plebes do it. I'm sick, I'm not coming in for work."
"It's nothing we can't cure."
"I can't move, too achy. Might be bone marrow cancer, who knows? Send... say... an ocologist over?" I project my uber-sexy smirk of doom through my voice. It's enough to remind her that she's pissed.
"So we can send a gorram ambulance!"
"...And, since I'm so very important, you could send one of them important oncologists"
"You have no reason to stay home!"
"...Shall we say, the Head of Oncology...?" I hum to myself, ignoring her.
"I'm not going to let you turn a sick day into boy's night out!"
I grumble petulantly, "I just want ickle Jamesy to worry about me."
"Why?"
I drop my voice until it sounds too sincere and confess, "Because I am truly, madly in love with him."
"The hell you are."
"Ask him. If he gets all defensive, send him on over. If he has no idea what you're talking about, fine, I haven't corrupted him...yet. And if he says that we've been seeing each other for two months, one week, three days, one hour, and," I peek at my clock for the first time today, "thirteen minutes, then, garsh, plan the wedding."
She becomes excessively sarcastic. "Hold on a minute, I see him at the front desk. I'll go ask him."
Silence for a bit, followed by insane laughter far away (not sure if it's through the phone or audible all the way to under my covers). Finally, the phone is picked up again and Wilson says, "Um, House, what did you say to Cuddy? She's in hysterics and yelling 'slaps on maid-of-honor' over and over again."
I grin the infamous Jimmy grin. "I'm sick, for chrissake. Come...examine me."
He just sighs and says, "I guess I'll be over in half an hour."
Haha! An actual plot, ridiculous though it was! Yes! Please review...
