The Gauntlet
Chapter 51
House was at a loss for what was going on with Studly Gym Teacher Guy. He couldn't figure out why the man was loosing feeling in his hands and feet, running hot and cold all around, unable to control his movements. House was frustrated, pissed off and the team's nerves were frayed to the max. He had sent Kutner and Foreman to run a particularly painful nerve conduction test to see what was going on in their patient's extremities. House, himself, had been feeling kind-of-sort-of, less then miserable, lately. His pain level was hovering below the excruciating mark to somewhere around mind-numbingly tolerable. It was still the dead of winter and he had another two long months of cold and then rain to go through before things started to look up in the weather department, which consequently meant the driving the motorcycle to work department.
House was rather looking forward to the springtime on the bike, with his old lady, Thirteen, on the back with him. She added a cool factor to the whole persona… gimpy old guy with a really fast bike and even faster hot chick on the back. He liked the idea of going for rides through the countryside with her. He could take her out to Delaware Water Gap and maybe Lambertville or New Hope where they had some of those funky shops run by the quirky gays and their overly creative imaginations. She'd love all of the weird stuff she'd find there. Hell, maybe he'd even go so far as to take her to the Poconos to one of those stupid lover's lodges with the champagne glass bathtubs and circle beds. They could have sex all weekend long and never have to leave the room. It was practically what they'd been doing every weekend all ready, but the novelty of it seemed kind of fun.
"What are you smiling about?" Thirteen asked as she signed the chart and placed it back in the slot by the nurse's station.
He looked at her and then put on his workplace-approved scowl. "You naked in a champagne glass with tons of cinnamon scented bubbles."
"I told you not to use my stripper name here at the hospital," she quipped with a smirk.
He let out a laugh and came up along side her. "Cinnamon or Bubbles?"
"That's Cinnamon Bubbles to you, mister," she jibbed.
"I've got a pole you could work, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and then leaned his elbow casually on the counter surface.
"Sorry tough guy, that'll cost you extra," she replied, lifting her chin at him giving him that smile that made his heart race and fill his mind with naughty, naughty thoughts.
He stared down into her eyes for a second and blinked to get the image of her hanging upside down from a stripper pole in six-inch platform heals and nothing else from his inner movie screen. Taking in a swift inhale, he shook his head. "Maybe you should go and see what The Human Torch and Black Superman are doing. At least give the poor bastard something pretty to look at while they send electric shocks up his legs for an hour."
"Dr. House, are you going soft?" She raised one of her finely sculpted eyebrows at him and gave him a little smile. God, it was amazing how she could make his blood run hot with just a little flick of the corner of her mouth. But, then again, it was always the stuff that came out of the luscious mouth that sparked his mind into overdrive. Her wit turned him on almost as much, if not more than her body did.
He licked his lips and took a deep breath. She was utterly bewitching. "I'm gonna need to go soft if I want any of my blood to run to the rest of my body today and you standing here smelling like cinnamon and caramel isn't helping."
She pushed out tiny, imperceptible little pout that only he recognized and he almost dragged her down the hall by her hair caveman style into the third floor janitor's closet. Her eyes sparkled deviously at him and he was suddenly irate with himself for bringing up any stupid rule that prohibited sex at work. Not like he hadn't been pissed off and frustrated about it before over the weeks since he'd said it but today was like a wading through a sea of virgins after getting out of prison. He was two seconds away from cracking.
"Fine, I'll go, " she sighed. "Wouldn't want your large brain to be deprived of oxygen for all that time, now would we?"
House fixed his mouth into an exaggerated contemplative grin. "It could have catastrophic results. People could die, lives could hang in the balance."
"Oh yeah, because you're all about the little people," she joked.
House smiled down at her. He reached his hand out and brushed her fingers lightly as he moved to step past her. The touch was subtle, fleeting and he was certain no one else could see it. It was their secret. Smiling, she blinked her thick eyelashes at him and then headed down the hall to the elevator. He caught himself staring after her and was shaken from his reverie but the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Cuddy.
Instantly, House narrowed his eyes at the hospital administrator. She was peering at him with that self-righteous smirk she wore when she thought she had something on him. He wondered what it was this time. Their patient was having a legitimate, neurological test done. He had even signed a pile of charts that were ridiculously overdue because Thirteen had bribed him with jell-o shots and a couple of rounds of pool after work last week. So unless she found out about the stink bombs he had rigged to go off in the clinic in approximately an hour… he had no idea why Cuddy would be feeling so erroneously triumphant.
"The trany prostitute convention isn't until next week," he quipped. "You're a little early for the festivities."
Cuddy merely smirked at him and grabbed him by the elbow, forcing him over toward the wall out of earshot of the nurse's station.
"Well, I suppose we could do a little preview if you're itching to go…" he proposed. "I'm always game."
"House…" She lifted her chin at him and brushed her bangs back away from her eyes as she stared pointedly at him. "Are you sleeping with Thirteen?"
Taken aback by her blunt inquiry into his sex life, he narrowed his eyes at her. "A little personal, don't ya think?"
She rolled her eyes at him and sighed. "You just called me a transvestite and a whore. I think we've obliterated the line of personal boundaries a long time ago."
House shifted his weight to his good leg and leaned on his cane. He had no intention of answering her. Because it was none of her damned business.
"Well?" she urged.
"If I was sleeping with her, then why would I tell you? Because, you'd get all irrationally jealous, and think that your best chance of getting a good sperm candidate just left on the last train from the station? And if I wasn't, then again, why would I tell you? Because maybe the fact that some young piece of ass might be interested in me, makes me look extra studly to you and your fellow cougars? Telling you anything is a lose-lose for me."
Cuddy huffed an impatient, well-practiced sigh. "She's your employee."
"Yes, she is."
"You're her boss."
"Last time I checked that's usually what you are when you have employees."
"And you're an ass," she added.
"Also true," he replied. "What is the purpose of this state the obvious contest?"
"I need to know if you're having an affair with one of your employees," she insisted.
House stared at her. "Let's say I was boning Taub, would that be equally inappropriate? Or would that be ok because he's older and a man? Or is the real issue that I might be having sex with a younger, more beautiful woman?"
"That holds no bearing on it," she insisted. "I'm merely trying…"
"Well, good," he cut her off, "because, Taub and I are in love and I'd like for you to stand up with me at our commitment ceremony, next month."
Cuddy snorted disgustedly in frustration. "You're no more gay than I'm Snow White and living with seven freaky little men."
House tipped his head to the side and frowned in consideration. "Taub could be one of those men," he offered. "He's little, troll-like and he's Jewish. Mama Cuddy would be pleased."
"Whatever," she threw her hands up in defeat. "Obviously, you don't want to tell me anything. But if you are having sex with her, this will come back to bite you in the ass, mark my words."
"Good, when you send one of your freaky little men to bite my ass, could you send Doc, because at least I could talk him into doing my clinic hours…"
"You're due in in an hour," she reminded him sharply, looking at her watch.
House smirked at her. "Oh, yes, with bells on."
"Do not be late or I'll tack on another three hours," she retorted.
"Are you sure that you're Snow White and not the Evil Queen? Because you sure are extra special bitchy today?"
"And you're extra special evasive," she retorted. "Don't think I can't see the writing on the wall."
"Well, it must be written in the secret invisible ink," he tossed at her, "because as far as I can tell there isn't anything to see."
Suddenly he felt a presence by his shoulder and a waft of his favorite scent wrapped around him like a warm blanket. What was she doing back? He turned his face to see her smirking countenance. "That must have been some miracle conduction test…"
Thirteen turned an overly cheery grin at Cuddy and then back at him holding out a clipboard. "Neurology needs you to sign off on the procedure before they'll let us take the patient down there."
"What is this bullshit?" he demanded perturbed at the bureaucracy. "We've never needed it before?"
Cuddy leveled a tight smile at him. "It's a new policy. All procedures must be signed by the attending before the patients are admitted for testing, didn't you get your memo?"
"What memo?" he feigned ignorance. He threw out any number of memos on any given day, most of which hade nothing to do with him or made-up stupid rules he never abided by anyway.
"That's the memo you orgamied into a vagina the other day," Thirteen reminded him.
"Oh that memo," he recalled with a wistful smile. "That was a good vagina."
"It was, " she nodded in agreement.
Cuddy flashed Thirteen her best head-mistress disapproving glare and then sighed turning her attention back to House. "That memo is designed to protect both the doctors and the patients from unnecessary tests and to streamline the billing procedures. If you would actually attend your department head meetings, you would have known that."
Thirteen eyed him with a cheeky smirk. Clicking the pen and giving him a wink, she handed him the clipboard. "Just your autograph right there," she practically cooed as she pointed to the line requiring his signature. What the hell had gotten into her? She was acting weird.
"Dr. Hadley…"
"Dr. Cuddy…"
House took the pen and scribbled something resembling his signature. When he glanced up from the paper he noticed Cuddy and Thirteen caught in a fierce staredown. Cuddy was glaring at Thirteen with her jaw set in a stuck-up sneer. Thirteen was icily staring back equally as puffed-up. It was all covertly disguised as smiles and professional pleasantries, however, they looked like two peacocks with their eyes flashing teal and slate getting ready to tangle. All they really needed was some bikinis, a referee and pit full of mud.
House narrowed his eyes in amazement. What the fuck was going on? What had gotten them so antagonistic towards each other? They'd never had a friendly relationship but… this? This was odd. And then suddenly, it dawned on him. Holy shit! They were jealous… of each other! House could not believe his eyes. Whoa… this was actually kind of exciting.
Stepping back, he admired the scene feeling like a stud and a half compared to thirty seconds ago. Two gorgeous women were locked in a silent bitch slapping catfight with their eyes. Colors deepened, eyebrows twitched, lids slit and jaws angled. He could almost hear the claws coming out in swipe of metal against metal, like swords being unsheathed and preparing for battle. Fur and hair and skin and clothes were going to start flying any minute now. All of this… over him. Well, if he wasn't already King of the hospital, this certainly clinched it. He was sleeping with the hottest doctor in Princeton-Plainsboro and his boss, who was no slouch herself, was not so secretly envious of that fact. Who was the man? House was the man.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat. Slowly, the women broke eye contact and turned their stares at him. Feeling overly confident, he beamed a cocky smirk at them. Which was apparently not the reaction Thirteen was interested in seeing from him, since her mouth immediately dropped open into an indignant scowl. Cuddy on the other hand, stared sharply at him as if to scream from the rafters 'I knew it, I was right'. She too had that righteous look of indignation like she was ready to cut of his balls off and hang them out on the announcement board in the lobby for all to see. Wait, how did this all of a sudden become his fault?
House took another step back feeling like he was suddenly at the stake and the fire was about to be lit burn him in effigy for something that was not of his doing. He was confused. He'd gone from flirty to having his ego stroked to being the one to blame in the matter of ninety rapid seconds. Handing Thirteen back the chart with his needed John Hancock, he raised his cane up as a barrier between him and the she-devils flailing his skin off with their eyes. Sensing it was best to turn tail and run, he nodded his head curtly and fled in the opposite direction, ironically toward the clinic. He'd rather risk the putrid stench of his stink bombs than be exposed to one more second of this peculiar scene. This was definitely something he and Thirteen need to get clear and fast. Cuddy he could deal with later.
