Disclaimer: I do not own House or any of the characters from the series.
House was limping down the hospital hallway toward his beloved, quiet office when Cuddy rounded a corner and saw his back moving away from her. House heard the dominating clunk of her approaching heels and immediately quickened his pace. Even with a cane, He was an old pro at getting away from Cuddy. He knew every trick in the book.
He passed his office and ducked into a doorway, shivered at the blast of cold air hitting him hard in the face, and crossed awkwardly to the door on the adjoining wall. Escaping back into a different hallway, he slunk to the corner and whirled on his cane around it, preparing to sneak up behind Dr. Lisa Cuddy, still in the original hallway, and cause her stressful life to flash before her. He turned the corner and –
"Wah! . . . .whoa . . ." he breathed deeply and backed away, leaning on his cane for support. "Dr. Cuddy . . ." House mused in surprise at seeing her standing directly before him with her arms crossed impatiently over her chest. Apparently she'd already read that chapter of his trick book. "Uh . . ."
"Very smooth, House," her voice wall all business, "but you've used that trick before."
Have I? He couldn't remember. Of course he'd used it before, but on Cuddy? Now that was unacceptable. You really should keep better track of these things, Greg. You're losing your creative edge.
"I suppose you're headed toward the clinic?" she raised an expectant eyebrow.
"Yeah," he chuckled and reached into his pocket for Vicodin, "that's it."Popping a few pills back, he replaced the bottle and mocked, "In fact, I'm in such a hurry to get there, you'll understand that my busy schedule today won't allow for Cuddy/House hallway gossip -"
"What," she cut him off, "you? Gossip? Snide remarks about your 'incompetent little ducklings', and endless complaints about your 'even more idiotic patients'? Of course not; I expected professionalism and a simple, 'Yes, Dr. Cuddy, I am now headed off to the clinic."
House hated when she got sarcastic with him; she never pulled it off quite like the master himself. He thought longingly of the solitude of his office and brushed past the woman in his way - the woman between him and his Game Boy, his iPod, his peace . . . "What can I say; Mario doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"You still play Mario?" There he goes again, distracting me. Now we're off-topic.
"An oldie but a goodie. Besides, me and Mario go way back -"
"House -"
"What? Just abandon the poor fella? Leave him to die a disastrous death of the deranged and . . ." he paused, stuttering to find another 'D' word, "distasteful turtles? Drown him in the desperate -"
"House . . ."
"I knew you were a cruel woman, Lisa Cuddy, but I've never seen such a morbid side of even you. Abandon Mario . . ." he mumbled through his teeth, then retreated into his office and hoped she wouldn't follow. No such luck. "Unless, of course, you're just as worried about the little midget as I -"
"Dr. House," Foreman ambled into his boss's office with his head turned down and his eyes focused on a file in his hands. He looked up to find a very pissed-off Cuddy hovering over House and his Game Boy. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize . . . I'll come back."
"No you won't; they never do. Besides, I wouldn't let you in if you did. You got lucky this time," House assured as he flipped the 'on' switch to his Game Boy and settled farther back in his chair, all the while grinning to himself over the expression on Cuddy's face. He really got under her skin, and he enjoyed - wallowed in - every demented second of it.
"O . . . kay." Foreman didn't know whether to continue. "Well, I've got a girl in exam room three. I thought you'd want to take a look."
"Lemme guess: 20's, long blond hair, Pamela Anderson boobs and a bottle of tequila nestled between them."
"Not quite . . ."
"Then no, I don't want to take a look, or anything else for that matter. Why can't you people take a hint? Shoo . . . Shoo!" he swept a hand through the air in hopes of sweeping his intruders out with it. "Attack-of-the-turtles time."
Cuddy rubbed her temples in exasperation and left Foreman to deal with the man. Upon passing Foreman on her way out the door, she shot him a pleading 'help me kill the bastard and dump him in an alley' look. He gave a slight head-nod with his eyebrow raised and his feet firmly planted on the carpet. Alone now with House, he found himself once again appalled by how childish a grown man was capable of becoming. "Dr -" he began.
"Gimme." Just like that, the older doctor shut off his Game Boy and held out a hand for the file. He read the document and furrowed his brow, looking back up at Foreman. The only explanation the black man offered was an equally-confused shrug. "So, send her to a psychiatrist." He didn't understand what the big deal was.
"Day late and a dollar short," Foreman cocked his head to the side as Dr. House read on. "That's where her last doctor referred her. Clean bill of mental health."
"So . . . why, pray tell, is she here?" House closed the file and used his good leg to push his chair away from the desk.
"Because her father insists that she's sick - physically. He found her passed out on the floor yesterday. She has some cold-like symptoms, but that's basically it. Other than a few noticeable eccentricities, she seems to be a fairly healthy, fairly normal teenager."
"Eccentricities . . .?" his voice hung on to the word as he waited for a more precise translation.
"I'm not sure. Something different."
House rolled his eyes. This should be fun . . . Mentally ill, eccentric, hormone-raging teenager. "Different . . ." he repeated the words, concerned for his own well-being as he scrunched his face up at Foreman. "Good or bad?" If he was going to swallow his pride and go to the clinic after all, it had to be worth his while.
"Neither." Foreman looked down to his belt and un-clipped his vibrating cell phone. He retreated from the office as he answered it, leaving Gregory House alone at his desk.
House sighed and stood from his chair, grabbing his cane and limping toward the doorway with the file clutched tightly in his hand. His interest was hooked - if by nothing else, then by the absurdity of it; plus, this was yet another chance to make Foreman feel stupid.
