Stubborn bastard. That was a label he could hardly deny. It didn't bother him. Taking into account all the other names he had been called to his face and behind his back, stubborn bastard could almost be a badge of honor.
Cameron needed to get over her school-girl crush, pronto.
Just shut up and be a doctor, Cameron, House thought. That's all I want from you.
But he had to admit she made one hell of reuben sandwich.
It was 1pm. General Hospital wasn't on until three. Even longer until Cuddy could stop by. He was bored out of his skull. House stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes.
Damn it all to hell.
Hmmm...just a minute. Cuddy Cuddy Lisa Cuddy. His boss. His lover. His friend.
Will she leave her car out front and stay over for a third night? We'll see, won't we? Maybe she'll bring a change of clothes.
Damn, she looked good in that Ramones shirt, he thought as he fell asleep.
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Cuddy shook him awake and he nearly went through the ceiling.
"Christ, Lisa, don't do that!" House cried as his heart slammed into his ribcage.
"Sorry, Greg."
The table was littered with Chinese take-out boxes and bottles of Pepsi. Steve McQueen's little pink nose sniffed at all the goodies.
House swallowed a Vicodin and glanced at the clock. 6:30pm. Grabbing one of the Pepsi bottles he said, "I shouldn't drink this. The caffeine will keep me up all night."
Cuddy tossed him a napkin and chopsticks. "After several gallons of scotch I'm sure you can handle one soda."
"Speaking of scotch, where's my liquor?"
"In a safe place."
"I want it back."
"You'll get it back. Don't panic."
"Thief."
"Quit your whining and eat," Cuddy said, munching an eggroll.
"Dammit, Lisa," he grumbled, then plowed into a box of chicken fried rice.
There was a knock at the door.
House and Cuddy froze in mid-chew.
Another knock. A muffled voice called out, "House? You okay in there?"
"Oh, for crying out loud..." After fumbling for his cane, House limped to the front door, opened it a bit and peeked out. A smirking Wilson peeked back.
"Is it my imagination again or does that car over there look awfully familiar?"
"Jimmy..."
"I had to see for myself."
"You came. You saw. Now leave."
"Admit it, you're in love with her," Wilson said quietly.
That one caught House by surprise. For a full ten seconds he was speechless. "You know, Wilson, it just suddenly dawned on me how much you would benefit from a good whack to the groin area with my cane."
Ignoring him, Wilson pushed on the door until House could do nothing but stagger backward into the wall. "It's okay," he called. "I'm just checking on my good friend Dr. House." He strode into the living room. "Oh, hello Dr. Cuddy."
"Dr. Wilson," she said stonily.
"I didn't mean to interrupt your dinner," Wilson said, eyeing the take-out containers. "It's just...well, Dr. House here has had kind of a bad week and I just wanted to make sure he was all right. It's nice to see he's in your good hands, Dr.Cuddy."
Wilson could feel House's icy death glare but didn't turn around. He waited for a smack from the cane that never arrived. Instead, House simply limped past him back to the sofa.
"I'm just fine, Dr. Wilson. Thank you for your concern," House said.
"Great." Wilson clapped his hands together like a game show host about to announce a big prize. "I'll let the two of you get back to your meal. Consider yourself lucky, House. Cuddy is one of the best doctors around. She'll take good care of you." He smiled and left.
Together they stared at the door. Finally House spoke up: "He really laid it on thick, didn't he?"
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After several containers of Chinese food, some idle chit-chat, and two hours of television so mindless he couldn't even remember what the hell he watched, Greg House dozed off again.
"Greg." Cuddy tugged on his arm. "Let's get you to bed."
As he stumbled to the bathroom, he noticed a shiny black gym bag on the other side of the sofa.
"I actually remembered to bring some clothes," Cuddy said, disappearing into the bedroom with the bag.
He was washing his face when she came out wearing a silky dark green nightshirt. It looked great, but he thought of something else he'd rather see her in.
"Come here," he said, grabbing her wrist, practically dragging her behind him. Back in the bedroom, he yanked open a drawer and pulled out a black Jack Daniels tee shirt. "Put this on."
"Are you serious?"
"Just humor me. I've had a bad week." He settled on the edge of the bed, resting his chin on the cane, never taking his eyes off her. Even when she deliberately turned her back to change, he didn't blink.
"Is this better, Dr. House?" Cuddy smiled as she stuffed the green nightshirt back into the gym bag.
"You have no idea."