Back again in an exam room on floor three, House kicks his legs. They swing, his shoes thudding against the exam table as he waits for his appointment to start.
Last time, she was seven minutes early. This time she's three.
She flips up the first few pages of his record, likely looking at the newest page. "Hello again, Gregory. Last time we stopped your pseudoephedrine and you left here with an empty bladder." She doesn't meet his eyes or glance in his direction. It's not clear whether she's talking to House or herself until she asks, "Still taking Vicodin, I assume?"
He nods. She waits silently making no indication she saw him nod. "Yep."
Sweety pulls the rolling stool under her cushioned rear, creasing back the front of the marigold file folder. "Having any retention problems since then?"
"No. But, actually..." He trails off, acting the part of the worried and uncertain patient. She probably sees this type often, the kind that use euphemisms to hide their embarrassment. "You know, it can be a little difficult to drain the pipes in the morning."
She nods along to his words, gaze glued to the open file. His gaze traces the sheer, tan material of her pantyhose. There wasn't a rip or run in sight, meaning she's meticulous about the upkeep of her clothing. Her hair is in a fishtail braid today. Judging by the intricate nature, she had a lot of patience. Her nails, long enough to be feminine but short enough to cater to her profession, were painted bright blue. It reminded him of something familiar, close to home.
They match her sleeveless turtleneck sweater. A maroon wrap skirt flares around her smooth knees. Black wedges rest on the rod at near the wheels of the stool.
"Do your muscles feel weak? Unable to squeeze? It's not uncommon in men your age."
He nearly bristles. He wants to tell her age equals wisdom in some snarky way, but he needs to keep his cover. "When I'm still waking up, yeah. Have you considered giving me Alfuzosin?"
She makes an unimpressed grimace, red pen wriggling as she puts more notes in his chart. "I'm going to start you on 0.4mg Flomax, since it's so important to you. However, I insist that you only take one a day until we can decide what dose you need. Your symptoms seem mild for now. The medication along with some gentle massaging in times of discomfort should let you get back to your programming, as you called it."
Cute. She either has extraordinary recall or she was madly in love with him. A women with a crush will remember everything about the object of their affections. Only one appointment and she was already head over heels. Way to go, House.
As a doctor, he knew the risks of both medications, what kinds of symptoms he could have. Clearly, she didn't want to risk an aged cripple fainting and getting hurt or not being able to breathe, so she chose the lesser of two side effect lists and went with long, painful erections and headaches. It may be her first choice, but not his.
She tears the slip of paper from her prescription pad, pressing it into his open hand. Again, she focuses low, not meeting his gaze. It gives him free reign to observe the jiggling mammaries on her chest, the woman being none the wiser.
"Since you have the ability now, I'd like to get a urine sample for testing." She opens a cabinet, standing on her tip toes to reach for a sterile urine cup and handing it over. "I can leave the room if you'd like."
"Nothing you haven't seen before," he answers, popping open the button on his jeans.
She stares intently at his tan hands unzipping his fly and extracting his penis. Pointing his head into the orifice, he lets the waste stream forth from his bladder. He plays up the discomfort but it's as easy as ever. No performance anxiety for him, letting out a toasty stream of yellow fluid.
Full of hot, golden liquid, he caps the container and hands it off to Sweety. Her tongue darts over her lip, the flash of pink drawing his eye.
Slipping a hand into her coat pocket and tucking his chart under her arm, she turns her body back to the door. She's ready to walk out, sample in hand, probably in a rush to test it and analyze the results. "Please see Susan and tell her-"
"You want to see me next week?" House finishes for her, leaving her speechless for a tick. He rises from the table, limping over to the woman. She leans against the cupboard and he gets closer. It's one of the few times that she looks up. His blue eyes are far above her own, forcing her to tilt back her head. Long, thick lashes curtain her lidded jades, casting soft shadows on her pale cheekbones.
His chest almost touches hers when he reaches behind her, plucking his cane from where it hangs off the edge of the sink.
Her gaze darts appraisingly to his torso. This is the moment that she realizes she misjudged him and notices how handsome and brilliant he is. At least, that's what he was banking on. "Correct," she answers, the curious thoughts dancing across her mind almost visible in her eyes.
"That makes two of us." He doesn't look back, limping out the door. He feels her eyes on his back and smirks knowingly.
Returning to the clinic's front desk for the last time that day, his body was starting to wind down, ready for the torture to end. House limped to the tallest surface, laying out the red file on it. It was 4:10 pm and he felt he was overstaying his welcome.
"Got any plans for tonight?" Wilson asks, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
He made a few passing notations on the chart and soon his gaze was lured away from the light blue paper. The titillating sight made his jaw loosen. Sweety, the nice urology lady, waltzed in on blue heels complete with ankle bows and a dress of the same color, turtle neck of course, cinched in the middle with a girthy belt.
House holds the folder, propping his elbows up on the surface to block his face with it inconspicuously. "New episode of General Hospital at 9."
Peeking over the top, he watches as Sweety snatches a file from the nurse, nodding reasonably at her while she talks her ear off. The doctor busies herself reading the chart, face neutral, before nodding one last time and descending into the madness of the clinic. Her tiny form disappears into the first exam room.
Her ass stretches out the tight dress on her backside when she leans over, pulling the stool close before the door swings shut.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" House responds, raising an eyebrow crankily at his friend. Wilson's perplexed visage gapes at him.
"The thing you just- When Melina walked in the room you- you did that thing with the folder, and- and then you watched her." It's almost funny, seeing Wilson trip over his sentences like this. He was well and truly scandalized by witnessing such behavior. The oncologist breathes deep through his nose, looking to and fro. "What the hell is going on?"
"Nothing. She's my urologist." When waving it off doesn't work, House looks at Wilson over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and huffing, "It's a doctor-patient thing. You wouldn't understand."
"Oh, my God. You're hiding from her, aren't you?" Wilson scoffs, surprised. He holds a tray in his hands, sitting himself down in the booth across from the older man.
"Hide? Me? You're being ridiculous," House claims glibly, holding the newspaper higher up. He leans left, peeking one eye around the Princeton Times and closely watching the movements of the redheaded doctor. She takes her tray down the line, grabbing enough dishes to serve a family of five.
"You are quite literally covering your face with a newspaper." Wilson shovels a forkful of green beans into his mouth. Swallowing, he insists, "There's nothing to be afraid of, House. Who knows, maybe you'll even enjoy each other's company. Wouldn't that be something?"
"You don't know that," he defends. He's partly joking, but another part of him sees the truth in it. There is some fear that stops him from being vulnerable with others, but it was rational. People can be assholes, like House is. Keeping the unfolded newspaper between himself and the urologist was demanding and he had to move it to the side when she walked to the end of the cafeteria.
She sits alone at a table, pulling out one of two chairs for herself. No matter how many people whizz around her, it's like she's in her own little world, absorbed in her process. Before digging in, she does a few things.
She digs around in her coat. She slips a spoon out of her pocket, extracting it from a plastic bag and setting it on a napkin. She also drags out the same steno pad as before, red pen scrawling a long note about an unknown topic.
"Then you wouldn't mind if I started screaming bloody murder at the top of my lungs?" Wilson isn't ready to pull that kind of stunt and House knows it. There was no real risk that the other doctor would actually do it, so he kept on glibly.
"That's called attracting attention, the complete opposite of hiding." He closes the paper, opening to the next page to avoid suspicion. "And I'm doing neither."
"Fine, don't admit it," the oncologist mumbles, forcing another bite of green beans down the hatch. "But I will get to the bottom of this. Nothing good ever comes of your obsessions."
"There's nothing to get to the bottom of."
Wilson's squint makes House groan internally. There's marked skepticism in the other man's face, telling him this isn't over and it won't be anytime soon.
House keeps seeing her around the hospital. He wonders if it's the same phenomena as when you get a new car and suddenly you see it everywhere.
Had she always been in the cafeteria scarfing down a bagel as he picked up his morning coffee? Was she always in the second exam room when his shift started in the clinic? As time goes by, she felt more and more like a permanent fixture in the hospital, not just a passing ghost.
Being employed here for six years meant she was close to tenure. Wilson said she would someday be the head or her department. It seems to him that everyone had faith in her, but why? She was just a urologist, not dealing with anything especially complex or interesting. Why waste her talents, he wonders.
It's more worrying that he had never noticed her walking down his hallway. With the frequency at which he's been observing her ample bosom wobbling down the corridor in front of his office. How had he never seen her before?
And while he's on it, how has she not noticed him in the last few days? For a while, he put the effort in, really trying to keep himself unnoticed until he found out all he could. Then he realized that she had such a bad case of tunnel vision that she wouldn't notice him if he hit her with a bag of bricks.
For a doctor, she'd have to be pretty introverted to not notice people she nearly walks into on a regular bnasis. Maybe it's because she's always looking down? But that wouldn't explain everything else.
She's an enigma. He likes enigmas.
"Something's going on between you two."
House looks up from his keyboard, pianist's fingers poised to type up a reply. "Me and your mom? You're right. I wasn't going to say anything, but..."
Wilson pushes off the glass door, stalking over to the desk.
"You and Melina." Crossing his arms, Wilson's white coat moves and wrinkles. "First the appointments, then the hiding. What do you hope to accomplish here?"
"Melina, Melina... Oh, you mean my Sweety!" he exclaims, faking joy. He allows it to fade, returning to his genuine, blunt self. "God, she has most rocking pair of tits in the entire hospital. You think they're natural?"
"House..." Wilson has a warning tone, but trails off gently.
House turns his chair, leaning back to place an elbow on the armrest and a hand on his chin. "You know, I'm still curious how you kept her hidden from me all this time. Six years and I didn't hear a single anecdote about that rack."
Arms still covering his chest, Wilson sits across the desk from his friend. "Stop deflecting. Can't you take this seriously?"
"Can't you admit that you find one of your coworkers attractive?"
He can almost see Wilson blushing when he bursts. "Fine! They're... nice. I'm just a man. What do you expect?" Looking anywhere but House's eyes, the oncologist squirms in his seat.
"I expect you to be evolutionarily attracted to breasts just like the rest of us." Thinking on his toes, House comes up with some plausible explanation, but it doesn't fool the other man. "I'm acting out because I'm bored."
"Yeah, no. It's worse than that. It's exactly what I was afraid of." Wilson dropped his hands to the pockets of his slacks, slumping slightly. "You're interested. This is why I never introduced you two, it would just lead to trouble and that's exactly what ended up happening..."
A low sigh, not even a goodbye, and the brunette is storming silently out the door, leaving a coldness in his wake. House turns back to the emails, but his brain is stuck on other things.
She's just one room over, being tortured by Cuddy's directives, same as himself, trapped in the clinic for the rest of the work day. Thankfully it was almost over, the two of them seeing what would be their last patients of the day. Her red hair flashes by the window, catching his eyes when she returns to the front counter with a chart.
"Take these. Get a good night's sleep, you'll be fine," He orders, handing a prescription over to the gaudy-looking man on the exam table. House limps to the door, one hand on his cane. The other holds the patient's chart while simultaneously twisting the doorknob.
He'd been avoiding her all afternoon, plotting a good segue into revealing his dirty little secret(s). He runs through it in his mind, approaching the front desk where she stands, head angled at the chart she scribbles in. Scenarios play behind his eyelids, but nothing seems right so he shakes it off. He'd wing it. He's great at improv.
"Hello," he greets easily. She doesn't look to his face, but rather his shoes. It draws her brows together and makes her squint. She searches the area of his chest, probably looking for a name tag. Unlike most of the people around here who put their IDs on display hanging from their breast pocket, House played his cards close to his chest, refusing to brand himself as, well, himself.
Lips in a flat line, she turns back to the paper. She still hasn't looked at his face. Has she not put together the hints yet? Maybe he was wrong about her intelligence. After all, if she can't discern similar images, she's useless. On the other hand, being really bad with people is not the end of the world, as long as she solves her cases. She's proven to him once that she isn't easily fooled.
"Hi. You're staring at me," she finally answers, staring at the tip of her ballpoint pen moving across the sheet. Seconds later, she does a double, then triple take. Green orbs slowly absorb his figure from his toes to his chest, never raising high enough to hit his face. A stunned warble plays at her soft soprano tones. "Gregory House?"
"In the flesh," he responds, shifting his weight to look at his body. "How'd my sample pan out, Sweety?"
"I don't like to meet patients outside the exam room. And I told you to call me Melina." She huffs, stuffing her pen into a pocket and extracting all the papers from the prongs at the top. "We have an appointment tomorrow morning. What are you doing here?"
Signing off a short note on his last patient's chart and dropping it in the top of the inbox, he points his cane at the female doctor. "An answer for an answer. You first."
"Uh-huh. I'm good, thanks." She busies herself filing the papers into a fresh, marigold folder, motions to the nurse behind the counter. House makes note of the fact that she won't meet her eyes either. It wasn't just him she's shy around. "Please get this file to Susan at the front desk in Urology. New patient transfer."
The nurse in pink scrubs nods and takes the file. Sweety spins away, turning and walking out the glass double doors. Struggling to keep pace with her, he shambles along and slips through the closing door into the lobby.
"Okay, okay, slow down." He gives in only because he doesn't want to have to face the upward climb that she could take. Looming behind her killer physique is his greatest enemy: stairs. "I'm a doctor. I work here. Happy?"
She shakes her head, an amused little smirk ghosting across her lips. "That's a lie. Cuddy would have your head for not wearing your badge and coat if you were any other doctor."
"You got me there. I'm not just any other doctor," he shouts after her, hoping she'll stop. She does, pausing at the first plateau, looking back at him and staring into his eyes. It's electric, the energy in her beautiful jades. "I'm the doctor."
"8 o'clock tomorrow. Be there on time and I'll get you your results."
That meant either she hadn't looked at them yet, or she wanted to make sure he came to the appointment tomorrow. He might need to pull out a couple of stops in response.
"Good morning, Gregory," she says as usual, stepping through the door and closing it. Her gaze instantly locks on his open fly.
He waited for only a few moments before she appeared, but it was just enough to show off his tighter than usual boxer briefs, the distinct form of his penis outlined in their gray fabric. Emerald orbs snapped back to the file in her hands, a touch of redness coloring the tips of her ears and nose.
Sweety sits on the stool and flips through the file, which seems to be their routine now. She's probably seeing the note on his chart about now. Her brows shoot up to her hairline, her eyes widening.
"Since you woke up this morning..." she mutters, reading under her breath. "You should've gone to the ER. You're still erect?"
"You have two eyes. Use them." He delicately pulls his briefs down, his cock springing free. It's semi-hard, but all morning he'd been trying not to make it worse, thinking of anything that would turn him off. Dead babies. Dead puppies. Dead grandmothers. None of it worked.
She's freeing a fully-stocked first aid kit from under the sink, yanking out a freeze pack and snapping it. It fills with frozen water immediately and she presses it under his ball sack. The ice cold hits him and he yelps, voice rough from the sudden discomfort.
"Warn me next time," he instructs, glancing down at the young woman.
"Lie back." Her blue polished fingertips press into his pecs, pushing him down.
"So you can get a better angle to kiss my boo boo better? This hospital really does have top notch service."
He can hear in her tone that she wants to slap him. "This is no time to make jokes, Greg." She uses her free hand to tug on his jeans, pulling down his underwear with it. He'd rolled out of bed and came in to work, hardly having enough time to hobble down to Urology before 8. "How long have you been hard?"
"Hour and a half." His voice sounds like sandpaper, rasping from his chest. He wants to look away but she hasn't had time to glove her hands yet and her fingers — so soft, like velvet on the head of his penis— were winding around his prick, examining it softly. He forces out, "It's probably from the Flomax. Doesn't hurt so it's non-ischemic."
"No. The pain has likely not set in yet. Your shaft isn't totally hard yet and your glans is soft, could be either. I'm going to give you a topical." She snaps up a tube of ointment clearly labeled as steroids. "That should bring down inflammation and help drain the blood, otherwise I'll have to go in and drain it manually.
"Don't rub it in too well. Remember I'm trying to get rid of erection, not make it harder." She rolls her eyes at House's jab, skillfully avoiding his face as she squirts the cream onto her bare fingers. Wasting no time warming it, she slathers it on, starting at the base of his cock. She spreads the cool substance on his shaft, smoothing her thumb over his head and making him shiver. "What did I just say?"
"Hold this." Sweety places his hand under the cold pack and her own recedes. The veins on his temple are swollen with effort, the nephrologist putting all his focus into not having an erection. "Stop thinking about sexy things while I get a syringe."
"That's what I'm doing!" He knows he shouldn't be harsh but the reality is that it's hard to concentrate when your cock feels like it's ballooning.
"Stay very still. Try not to twitch it." She uses a cotton swab to clean the left side of his member before tossing the used pad in the trash. "I'm going to give you phenylephrine and you don't want me to miss."
"Listen, I lied." Her gaze shifts up, almost making it to his chin before she pauses, looking befuddled. "I took pseudoephedrine so I'd have an excuse to see you. I didn't need the tamsulosin but I took it anyway and that caused the priapism. It's ischemic, it's just that I'm on pain meds. Can't feel it."
Nodding, she returns her gaze to his nethers, lining up the filled syringe. "I know. Why did you take the Flomax?" It's one of the few times she looks him in the eyes, her own glazed over and tinged red. "You knew the risks. I thought it would make you give up. teach you a lesson, before I found out you were a doctor."
"Like I said, needed an excuse to see you."
Placing himself on the sofa in Cuddy's office, the heavy sound of his rear hitting the cushion makes her look up from the desk. Her wide eyes lock onto his form. He held the ice pack under his sore corpus cavernosum, gently shifting his weight and getting comfortable.
"You called?" He casts out the phrase, drawing a sneer for his trouble.
"What is wrong with you?" She stares daggers into him, looking rather murderous. Angrily, she stacks up the papers she's sorting and shoves them into a folder. Standing from the desk, she smooths out her blazer and walks around to the front of it.
Brows lifting into his hairline, he pretends to think about his answer. "Well, a lot of things. One of them being a recent trauma below my equator."
"I can't believe you did this. No, I can believe it I just can't understand it." Pacing with annoyed fervor, she crosses and uncrosses her arms at speed. "I'm disgusted. You can't go around playing sick and peeing on my doctors!"
"Just marking my territory," he deflects, hands leaning on his cane positioned in front of his body. "She didn't seem very upset. Total opposite, in fact."
"This isn't a game, House." Cuddy approaches him, the whites of her eyes visible all around her irises. She was significantly maddened if her stiff posture and heated glare were anything to go by. "If she quits, or can't work because of you... God forbid she sues for sexual harassment. It would destroy this hospital's reputation."
"She won't." Acting nonchalant, he scratches behind his ear. "She was charmed, even scheduled two more appointments with me." He leans back on the small sofa, one arm bracing against the back of it.
"There's a first time for everything, I suppose." She loses her tension, clicking over to the couch and falling into it. "It'll be okay as long as she doesn't litigate, but I'm serious. No urinating on my doctors."
"So she's yours now? How do you prove that without pissing on her?"
"She's a person, not a tree, or a fire hydrant." Closing her eyes, Cuddy massages her temple. "You can't claim her with urine."
"You wanted me to replace Cameron."
"Not with her!" she huffs, exasperatedly shaking her head. "Pick anyone else."
"Don't want anyone else. It's a waste of her intellect to keep her in that brain dead department."
"No," she says sternly, voice hard. Cuddy crosses her arms over her button-up blouse. "How many men do you think want to be examined by Stuart Angers, or Lawrence Gilmore? Newsflash: they don't, those guys are creepy. As long as she's there, patients actually show their faces for their follow-ups."
"All I'm hearing is that you want her in urology because she's good eye candy. Like I said, waste of intellect," House insists, peeling himself off the seat and standing on his good leg.
"She does good work in her department, saves lives. As long as she wants to work in Urology, that's where she's staying." Crossing her arms and staying her position, she watches the nephrologist's back as he limps away.
"She could be saving lives that no one else can save, but have it your way, I guess."
A/N: A priapism is a long-lasting erection usually not caused by sexual or physical stimulation. This was written to be kinky, don't use it as medical advice. If you have an erection lasting over 4 hours or one that is painful, go to the ER or your penis could be permanently damaged! Don't wait like House did. Also don't do anything that House does, he's a bad influence! That said, don't take medical advice from me! I'm just someone on the internet.
Also also, you probably noticed the old chapter one is gone. It will come back next but I wanted to make it more substantial and move it around.