OK im finally getting around to writing the fic for Eleanor J. because she could name the origin of the title of my other fic, She Plays the Violin. She wanted House catching Cuddy doing something embarrassing.
TITLE: What the...?
Rating: PG
Word Count: 528
Disclaimer: If I owned house, md...stacey would have died a horrible death, wilson would have made up with julie, and cuddy would be living with house AT LEAST, if not married to him with little houses and cuddys running around. so i dont own it. so dont sue.
A/n: See if you can find the movie reference in this one, too. Its a bit harder than in my other fic, but if you do it, maybe I'll write you a little ficlet.
HOUSEMD
I walk slowly to the clinic, in hopes of suprising Dr. Cuddy when I'm there, voluntarily, with a patient. I get the biggest rush of being unpredictable, and I love to make other people think. As I trudge past her office, I steal a glace inside and see Cuddy, clicking at the computer, staring intently at the screen and furrowing her brow in frustration. Whatever she's looking at has got to be good. I stand in front of her office doors, but she doesn't notice. I know if I barge in like usual, she close up whatever she's doing, so I walk into the office quietly and respectfully knocking.
Which makes her jump.
OK, now the "curious" in me is going into overdrive and I need to come up with a quick pretext to go look at her computer without making her close whatever she's looking at. So I put on the most sympathetic and caring look I can muster.
"You look tired," I say, assuming that she's probably always tired, with the amount of time she spends here at the hospital. "And tense," I add, starting my plan into action. She eyes me warily as I limp around to her side of the desk.
"Yeah, I guess I am. Budget reports and all…and the donors want me to…OH!"
Part of my plan is to keep her distracted, so I had put practiced hands on her shoulders, lighly rubbing and massaging some of the tension away, resulting in the abrupt end to her statement.
" Oh…oh….mmmmmmmmmmmm." She relaxes under my touch , so I keep rubbing her back as I read the document she's been typing on Word. I scan the document quickly, my reading only punctuated by Cuddy's little whimpers and moans. I try to keep a straight expression but fail miserably as I catch on to what she's doing. A small chuckle escapes and she turns sharply to look at me, puzzled by my bemused expression
"You don't like Harry and Ginny together, so you're writing Harry/Hermione fan fiction. Nice."
A thouroughly embarrassed Cuddy turns bright red and clicks furiously at the mouse to try and save and close the file as fast as she could.
"Not only Harry/Hermione fan fiction, but very SMUTTY, Mrs. Perky-esque Harry/Hermione fan fiction!"
If it was at all possible, she turns even brighter red. I'd put it at not-quite-ripe tomato levels.
"I…uh, uh….um…I…" she splutters, frantically trying to find something, ANYTHING, to explain it to me.
"Don't worry about it," I say, "I won't tell anybody." She shoots me a relieved grin and I begin to walk away. At the door I pause, turn around slowly, and with an evil grin add "…but I'll be sure to torment you PERSONALLY every day for the rest of your life."
I hear a faint thud as the door closes and turn back to see Dr. Lisa Cuddy, M.D. banging her head against the desk.
