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Post by Gregory House on Mar 24, 2007 12:37:37 GMT -5
He felt an immense sense of satisfaction as he watched Cuddy approach him, welcoming her with a warm smirk of smugness. He had won. He always won.
At least, that's what he thought before she groped him.
Grope was a strong word, he knew, but he could hardly think of a better term for the way she pressed her fingers there.
He had been suspicious of the way she threw out all personal boundaries by moving close enough so that her hair brushed his face, but through all methods of deduction he could not have predicted what she had done next. At her touch, he was completely thrown off balance, a sensation that he usually didn't appreciate. His eyes shot open as he stumbled half a step back. He managed to utter a bewildered "What are you...?" before she interrupted and clarified the situation.
As she took her time in speaking, he was able to recover, taking deep breaths to settle his heart and calm his nerves that had been sent into a turmoil. He shot looks to the all-too-attentive audience, pressing his lips together good-naturedly so that they wouldn't know that Cuddy had managed to catch him off guard. For all they knew, he had been playing along.
He watched her address her staff with the utmost poise, and he couldn't withhold an admiring smirk that reached his eyes. She was good. She turned his victory into a tie, a rare feat for anyone to accomplish. These were the moments he savored between them, the ones he lodged into a special section of his memory banks to be viewed later.
The look in her eyes when she stepped close, the bold contact that sent him reeling...this beat out the voice by a long shot, he decided. And he took pride in knowing he was the only one who brought this from her.
He snapped to attention when she returned, raising his head to address her and better soak in her fervid condition. Of course- she was cool and collected to them, but burning and vehement for him.
He smiled at the fact that he got the superior end of that deal.
"That was extremely enjoyable. And it also got you in the clinic. Might as well stay and work while you're here." He mentioned innocently, casually picking up a nearby file and holding it out for her.
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Post by Lisa Cuddy on Mar 24, 2007 21:55:43 GMT -5
Cuddy ran her tongue over her white teeth, watching him keenly. She did her best to remain collected, as exposed to the lingering audience as they were. The last thing she wanted was to present House with another opportunity to embarrass her, which would invariably happen if she lost her temper with him. It was a difficult task.
She was infuriated. Simply pressing on his crotch, the driving force behind his prank, she was sure, was not enough of a punishment for him. Though, she was more than pleased with the affect it had on him. Witnessing his shock, the way he jerked backwards, and hearing his utterance of surprise were small victories in and of themselves.
Scowling at his answer and the proffered chart, Cuddy did not uncurl her arms from around her chest. She considered it a grace of her will that she didn’t knock the file from his hands and make him pick it up. Sighing, a growl more than anything else, she shook her head in an effort to stave off the headache he was responsible for creating. It was manifesting itself just behind her temples, throbbing dully for now. She knew the longer she stayed in his company, the worse it was going to get.
“You did get me down here,” she admitted, leaning against the counter. It was as much for affect, a casual, unaffected air, as it was for support. She felt drained, and the sounds of the sickness around them, all of the untreated patients and the coughs of staff too long exposed to colds and flu, did nothing to help her feel more vibrant. She drew a long breath, finding with it the attitude she needed to remain sharp enough to deal with House, “but not for long. The rush seems to have ebbed, and you seem to have things under control. I mean, if you can take time off to make silly announcements you must not have enough patients to keep you busy.”
Arching an eyebrow, she turned away from him and moved with a fluid grace she had not thought herself capable of towards the closest exam room. She knew he would follow her, as addicted to her suffering as he was. And, like a masochist, she paused at the door, motioning without a single movement for him to follow her in. She had not realized that this was the room in which he had been examining Molly, but it didn’t really matter to her.
She just wanted a place to let him know just how angry she really was, without the hassle of dealing with on lookers.
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Post by Gregory House on Mar 25, 2007 1:15:42 GMT -5
He watched her, noting her momentary expression of exhaustion when she leaned against the counter. He was mildly amused by how she refused to openly display her weariness and instead replaced her feelings of fatigue with ones of rage.
Normally, he wouldn't complain, but he was aware of all the signs of a livid Cuddy, and it was like watching the calm before the storm when she was talking to him. He was wary, keeping his distance, knowing the littlest thing could tip her internal scale.
Still, he figured she wouldn't explode at an innocent reply.
"Don't be fooled. Hoards of kids with stuffy noses will come in at any moment." He warned her, hesitating. He knew he was supposed to follow her now, but he was reluctant, for once they were in a secluded area, he knew she would let show her true colors without mercy. He scanned the clinic area one last time and felt like he was walking along death row as he stepped into the exam room after her.
He did her the favor of closing the door behind them himself, wanting to lighten the mood.
"Ah, finally. Your appointment had to be done in privacy, of course. Couldn't let the others get jealous." He mentioned, the latter statement said in a lower, more seductive tone. He stepped forward, wearing a playful smirk and a serious demeanor. Planning to prove himself as daring as Cuddy, he went as far as sliding a hand just ever-so slightly up her shirt, careful just to brush the skin. The movement was supposed to begin the removal of clothing for her 'appointment'. He would continue gradually upwards (he made sure to have a slow pace, just in case it took Cuddy a moment to gather her wits) until she moved away.
He knew he was in a good situation to perform the intimate act, for she had done so first; she couldn't reprimand him without being blatantly aware of being a hypocrite, he figured.
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Post by Lisa Cuddy on Mar 25, 2007 1:54:14 GMT -5
She waited for him to come into the room, closing her eyes as he spoke to keep herself from exploding on him while the door was still even the slightest bit open. She kept her composure through most of his first sentence, letting him step towards her. She was scowling as he approached, just waiting for him to give her a reason to let out all her pent up rage and frustration. The moment was close, she knew, and her nerve endings were alive with painful anticipation. She opened her mouth to reply, to cut him off before he could cleverly talk his way around her well-deserved rant.
Then his hand touched the skin beneath her shirt. It could barely be considered contact, light and, to her chagrin, intoxicating. She shuddered, almost forgetting entirely why they were in that room, and what they were doing there. It didn’t take her long to remember, a surge of pure rage sweeping through her body like a wave of fire, and she made a split-second decision to play his game right back at him. She knew she had started this level of play, with contact and agonizing sexual tension, but she was not about to be the one to back down.
She took a threatening step forward, planting her hand over his and pinning it where it was under her shirt. Her hand was over her clothes, her palm pressing on the back of his hand, forcing him to make full contact with the soft, rarely public skin of her flat stomach. Her grip on the back of his hand, even with the layer of fabric between them, was tight and inescapable. House was not going to escape.
With her free hand she poked him on the chest. If her finger had been a knife he would be the proud new owner of a hole through his chest. She glared up into his eyes, her gaze intense. There was a blaze of anger in her eyes, smoldering dangerously. As she spoke she knew it would be far more effective without keeping his hand captive under her shirt, yet she did not want to risk letting him escape.
“Who the hell do you think you are, House? As easy as it is for you to get away with crap like that – I’m the Dean of Medicine. I have a reputation to maintain. I can’t have stupid rumors that you and I have scheduled sex, because I’m too busy trying to convince the entire hospital that you haven’t been fired yet because you are actually a –talented- physician, and not simply because I like to look at you, as every one seems to think. But you, you just can’t make things easy for me. Or, better yet, you can’t seem to keep them at this ‘regular’ level of difficulty. You have to keep pushing things, testing me, digging at my patience. Really, do you want me to fire you? Is that what you’re telling me to do? Because, honestly, I can’t imagine any other good reason for you to keep pulling this bullshit.”
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Post by Molly Martinez on Mar 25, 2007 2:08:11 GMT -5
Molly cleared her throat.
It wasn't really like her to interrupt little touches and seductive voices, and had she been her solely for work she really wouldn't have, but this was her exam. And she wanted to get it over with, quickly. Now she knew Dr. House wouldn't draw it all out like he was before, taking Molly second to Dr. Cuddy. It was a win-win for them all, except for perhaps Dr. Cuddy. After all, she wasn't sure if the woman really was attracted to Dr. House, or just playing the feminine wiles card to get what she needed to get done.
She bit her lip for a moment, sighing. "Um, Dr. House, I've...finished," Molly mumbled, letting him know that the urine sample had made its way to the lab. She sighed somewhat, shuffling her feet, wanting to promise that she wouldn't tell a soul what she'd seen, but Molly liked to keep promises.
And now all Molly could do was to stand there, looking a little wide-eyed that she'd seen them being this close without a shred of humor involved, right after that PA announcement and everything. Whether Dr. Cuddy would tell her to leave or not, she wasn't sure. Dr. House would surely want her to leave, but she was confident that Dr. Cuddy would act professional and leave herself.
Then again, allowing his hand there wasn't exactly professional on her part.
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Post by Gregory House on Mar 25, 2007 3:21:01 GMT -5
There was a reason why people drew lines, he realized.
By drawing lines, they were showing where they would not, could not, go. Where their limitations were. A definitive boundary helped keep them in control.
House wasn't one for lines. And he supposed that that was the reason why he was in this situation in the first place.
A situation in which he found his boss, the ever-fervent Lisa Cuddy, ensnaring him quite expertly by pinning his own hand against her lower abdomen. A situation that was thoroughly out of his control now.
He wanted it back.
Her breath came hot against his face as Cuddy herself ignored the obligatory line separating a simple invasion of privacy to an assault that destroyed all sense of personal space. All he could see was her eyes, aflame and dynamic, enveloping him utterly in their piercing stare. And although she filled his field of vision, he was still aware of her painful stab to his chest.
He listened to her rant keenly, absorbing every word, mostly because he could hardly focus on anything else. She was captivating when she was like this, confidently stepping over lines and meeting his challenge. While she spoke, he impulsively spread out his fingers on her skin just to feel it further, driven by the desire to see her even more impassioned. From then on, he subtly flexed his fingers every so often, under what he inferred would be Cuddy's asssumption that he was anxious to wriggle free of her grip.
Neverethless, he found himself irritated at her senseless accusations. His eyes flashed, but he was able to keep his voice even.
"Give it a rest, Cuddy. You and I both know that if I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. And of course people are going to think you want me; you never leave me alone. But even if you so much as stared at me a second too long, a nurse would tell a friend we're having sex. Don't focus on what other's think and it'll become less of an issue." He advised resolutely, attempting to cool her down.
As enticing as she was when she was angry, he would prefer for her not to be this mad.
And then he heard a clearing of a throat.
Knowing instantly who it was, he quickly withdrew from Cuddy, turning curtly on his heel to address Molly.
"Right. We still have a few more tests to go through." He informed her, a rather good actor, for he managed to decently pull off the impression that nothing had happened a moment before. He gestured toward the exam table with a jerk of the head, then regarded Cuddy like he had just noticed she was there.
"While you're here, Dr.Cuddy, you may as well help out." He pointed out good-naturedly, using her professional title for emphasis. He kept his eyes on her warily, half wondering if she would continue her rampage even with Molly in the room. He could handle the reversal of mood and knew she could too; it was all a matter of whether or not she wanted to.
He hadn't closed the hand he had felt Cuddy's skin with. He kept it open, the fingertips still tingling.
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Post by Lisa Cuddy on Mar 25, 2007 13:43:52 GMT -5
The fingers on his hand spread over her skin. She tried not to let the sharp inhale of breath this action brought from her sound like the startled gasp it really was. Instead, she opted for a hiss, her eyes flashing dangerously and her hand tightening over his, using her long nails to her advantage. His hands were larger and longer than hers, and she was incapable of keeping his fingers from exploring whatever they wanted to, but she was equipped with five natural weapons. She deployed them tactfully, digging into his skin without diverting her eyes from his. The fabric of her shirt did little to protect him.
“You just don’t get it, House. You’re not-” she turned her head at the sound of Molly’s voice, her expression instantly dropping from burning rage to one of smoldering irritation. She kept her frustration bottled inside her now that she realized they were in the company of a patient, feeling very much like a volcano that was simply pretending to be dormant. She did not bother trying to feign a smile. Molly had been there long enough to see that she was in no mood to play nice.
Professional, yes. Nice, not so much.
Her side tickled her after he withdrew his hand, growing more intense the harder she denied why. She breathed slowly and deeply for a moment, steadying herself, then nodded at House’s invitation dismissively. It was a subtle motion, but effective in displaying how frustrated she was, and how little she wanted to be in his company without the freedom of tearing him a new one.
“You’ve clearly got things under control, Doctor House. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. A check-up is a one doctor job. If you’ll excuse me.”
She finally managed a smile, directed at Molly, and took a graceful step backwards, toward the door. It was an apologetic smile, one that said Cuddy knew her behavior with House was not appropriate for patients to see, and that she regretted that it had happened in front of one. Not that it had happened, just that they had been caught. Sighing, as if participating in a guilty pleasure she had no will to admit to or completely deny, she left the exam room.
It did not sit well with her that she had been forced into a retreat. She was trapped behind choosing either the diplomatic high road or the tactless battle. Her impassioned instincts told her the latter, to hunt him down later and really let him know how she felt. Her common sense declared the former, to handle this situation with poise and everything her discretion and negotiation savvy granted her. Rubbing the back of her neck as she found a seat behind the front desk, she knew she did not really have a choice. Once she calmed down there would be nothing but the former.
It was almost disappointing.
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Post by Molly Martinez on Mar 28, 2007 14:22:12 GMT -5
Molly hopped onto the table with an almost unnoticeable wry grin on her lips as she looked down to her feet. She knew, now, it was more than just playful flirting. It had to be. Dr. House didn't make any sort of joke to her, about any of it...she sighed somewhat. This was a little serious to him, and now she knew. She only wondered if she should tell anyone, whether they asked or not--surely this would be fabulous gossip come her next work day.
As Cuddy slipped out Molly returned her smile, and then she looked back up to Dr. House. She wanted to ask so many questions, but who was she to ask? No, she'd keep her mouth shut about it. To Dr. House, anyway. She swung her legs somewhat, glancing up to the man with a tiny smile. "What's next on the list, Dr. House?" She asked with enough indifference in her voice about what she witnessed, there was no way he couldn't detect that it was all she was thinking about. But Molly didn't care. Maybe he would mention it if he noticed that.
But she seriously doubted it.
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Post by Gregory House on Mar 28, 2007 21:18:25 GMT -5
House frowned, unable to control a wave of regret from welling up. Regret from being unable to finish the conversation, just when it had been getting good.
He glanced down at his hand a moment, noting the definite nailtip marks imbedded into the back of his palm. A flicker of a smile flashed over his face, but then he looked up to see Cuddy leaving.
"Right- you won't step on my toes, but you're fine with breaking the skin." He complained loudly to her precisely before the door shut. He examined the impressions more closely, seeing that, in fact, no blood had been drawn, but the promise of bruising was evident. He ran his free fingers over the imprints absently as he turned to Molly.
He immediately rolled his eyes at her smug expression.
"We're not doing each other." He told her with overplayed conviction, distractedly rifling through a drawer. He pointedly failed to mention the fact that, yes, they had done each other a while ago, and, yes, he would very much like to do it again. Such facts needn't be shared with someone like Molly, who, he felt, would merely spring at the chance to spread the news throughout the hospital just to get back at him.
He approached her with a stethoscope and a small medical hammer, setting aside the former. A sharp burning sensation was felt in the hand Cuddy had gripped, but the pain only made House smirk at the memory. She sure as hell knew how to get a man's attention and keep it. The wound didn't, unfortunately, stop him from doing his job, and so he proceeded to tap Molly's knees, noting her reflexes were apt enough, if not a little delayed. He struggled to focus on performing the check-up accurately, his mind inevitably slipping back to Cuddy with each throb in his hand.
"Have you experienced any side effects to the antidepressants?" He asked her indifferently, not quite interested in her answer, for he had already assumed her off response time was caused by the medication. As he reached for the stethoscope, his eyes met the indentations once more, and he began to get the feeling to had been branded. For House, the marks might as well shaped the words, 'Cuddy was here, and don't you forget it'.
He smirked at the thought as he slipped the earpieces over his head. It was something to show off to the nurses, surely.
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Post by Lisa Cuddy on Mar 28, 2007 22:43:31 GMT -5
Cuddy did not spend too much time at the front desk. She grabbed a patient’s chart, looked at it, found it to be the makings of yet another cold, and tucked it under her arm. She waved down the head nurse on duty and informed the kind, older woman of her plan. The nurse seemed to understand completely, nodding and making a note to herself on a pink piece of paper, which she put in the pocket on the front of her scrubs. Cuddy smiled, thanking her with just her eyes, and moved away from the front desk. She entered an empty exam room, shut the door, and dropped the chart on a nearby counter.
She had no intention of treating any patients while in the Clinic. If House could waste hours down here -having someone else sign him in, or simply hiding away as Cuddy was currently doing- there was no reason for her not to get away with it. In any case, at least she knew there were very few people who could really get her in trouble for it.
The nurse at the front desk was her protection. She would run interference should House come sniffing around for Cuddy, that note in her front pocket there to remind her of where Cuddy was, and what she was doing, just in case she needed some notes. That, in itself, was a dangerous move, but the older woman was not particularly adept at lying. Cuddy trusted the old bird to at least buy her enough time for a good nap, as House still had some time left on his examination of Molly.
Heaving a profound sigh, Cuddy climbed onto the examination table and flopped down, instantly comfortable and instantly drowsy. Her limbs were heavy with the weight of her exhaustion, her eyelids refusing to remain open. That was fine. It was dark enough in the room to feel like night, and her body was not about to complain because of the paper on the almost-bed or the way her feet hung over the edge slightly from the strange way she had came to rest.
She tried not to think about House, or the way her side still tickled from his touch. She tried instead to think about every and anything else.
It didn’t work.
Eventually she went to sleep with their fight of the day echoing in her mind, the lines they crossed and the lingering urge to settle things an ineffective, yet irresistible lullaby.
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Post by Molly Martinez on Mar 31, 2007 19:57:37 GMT -5
"I never said you two were doing each other." Molly looked up to him with a very coy smirk, and she couldn't help but widen it to a grin. She wanted to complete it by saying 'But I didn't have to', but she decided against it. After all, Molly was not the rude one in the room, Dr. House was. And she intended to keep it that way, if she had anything to do with it. A very soft sigh escaped her lips as she tried to calm the grin down, but it didn't keep. She bit her lip, and sighed somewhat, her cheeks flushed. It was the most sarcastic love she'd ever heard of.
"And actually yes, I have experienced a side effect," She said, trying to get his attention about it. "I've been gaining weight more, even though my appetite hasn't really changed. And I've been dizzy," Molly explained. She chuckled, then. "I realize that's a symptom of being alive, but it's more often than normal," She continued, and looked down to her feet for a moment, sighing somewhat, and awaiting the following question.
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Post by Gregory House on Apr 1, 2007 1:50:17 GMT -5
House stared at the ceiling in vexation, though he still saw Molly's knowing smile out of the corner of his eye. He pushed the appropriate end of the stethoscope towards Molly, gesturing wordlessly for her to put it under her shirt and press it to the area above her heart. He found himself too annoyed by Molly's pleased expression to bother with the task himself.
He only glanced back to her when she listed the side effects. "You probably need glasses." He theorized, associating her dizziness with the eye problem. He looked behind him, pointing to a sign next to the door that had the words 'For Your Safety' in thick font and proceeded to have a list of precautions. The sign was relatively small, and even someone with perfect eyesight would only just barely be able to read it.
"Read the bold words." He ordered, deciding that was as good an eye exam as any.
A part of him, prompted by seeing Cuddy's brand when he had pointed, was wondering what the Dean of Medicine was doing at the moment. He hoped she had gotten stuck with a particularly droll patient, preferably one who really wasn't sick at all and was just in it for the drugs. Or maybe the standard hypochondriac who would require endless tests for their supposed multiple cancers.
He made a mental note to request a consult from her soon. After all, Molly could have ocular cancer, for all he knew. Though he figured she'd refuse, he would simply seek her out and convince her that she couldn't gamble a patient's well-being. He wondered how long it would take for her (or him, for that matter) to simmer from their confrontation. He rubbed the back of his hand again, noting that it stung at the touch.
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Post by Molly Martinez on Apr 1, 2007 14:35:26 GMT -5
Molly put the stethoscope where she was told, and sighed somewhat. Eye problem? She wanted to protest, but he was the doctor--he clearly knew what he was doing. "Okay," She said to him, and she blinked somewhat, looking to the poster. She sighed lightly, squinting a little bit and trying not lean forward, like that was somehow cheating. She frowned somewhat. "Well, that looks like either an O, or and E," She said, nodding to one of the first bold words, and she shook her head. "I suppose..." She tried to guess what it may have been. She didn't want to be troubled with glasses...she went through life without them, why start now?
"I don't know," She finally confessed, and she looked away and back up to him with a small shrug. "I need glasses don't I?" Molly asked then, and she shook her head, rolling her eyes. Well, just one more trip she didn't exactly want to make.
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Post by Gregory House on Apr 1, 2007 18:14:23 GMT -5
House nodded, listening both to her answer and her heartbeat at the same time. Her heart rate was normal, so at least the medication wasn't causing any cardiovascular problems. He pulled the stethoscope from her and tossed it on the counter, not wanting to waste the energy of walking around the table.
He gave Molly a withering look as he limped to the door, laying a hand on the knob.
"Well, I'm not sure. You can't see well, you get dizzy, and your eyes aren't working as they're supposed to. There could be a million remedies for that. I believe I need a consult." He told her, every syllable emphasized with sarcasm, with a feigned reassuring smile at the end. He opened the door, leaning out.
"Cuddy!" He bellowed, causing the majority of the patients in the waiting area to jump and a few nurses to send him glares. When Cuddy didn't appear, he frowned, turning back to Molly. "Sit tight. This won't take long." He said confidently, leaving the door ajar as he stepped out, scanning the area.
He advanced on the nurses at the main desk. "Where did Cuddy go?" He asked, brandishing his most authoritative demeanor. The nurses merely looked at each other and didn't reply, though a particularly elderly one stared at him blankly. Scowling and not in the mood for their disinterest, he turned to the awaiting patients, approaching them and pulling out his wallet.
"I'll give ten bucks to the first one who tells me which room the fine woman I was talking to earlier went in." He offered, displaying the money for incentive. A teenage boy eagerly raised his hand, pointing to a room close to the elevators. House nodded gratefully, throwing the bill at him (which was really only a five, but House figured he'd be with Cuddy before the kid noticed) and swiftly made his way to the room. Back at the desk, the old nurse seemed on the verge of trying to stop him, then decided against it, full well knowing there wasn't much she could do.
Not bothering with knocking, he entered with his usual boisterous air, blinking in surprise at what he found- a sound asleep Dean of Medicine. He quickly stepped in and gently closed the door, hardly believing his good fortune. Observing Cuddy in such a peaceful state was a rare occasion indeed, and he didn't plan on wasting it. He knew he didn't have much time, for it was a standard rule of thumb that people would wake up if they felt someone staring at them.
He stepped lightly to the side of the table, watching her almost warmly, appreciating the way her obligatory lines of worry on her forehead were nonexistent while she slept. Her chest rose and fell with each rhythmic, deep breath, and House found himself unconsciously being relaxed just by the motion. Now he understood why she was always so annoyed when he woke her up in the middle of then night. Sleep was probably one of the only moments of solace she got.
Time to interrupt it yet again.
He felt almost sorry as he leaned over so he was level with her ear. But he had no choice in the matter, really- she would come to soon anyway, and he would rather wake her himself than her catching him watching her sleep. Pausing, he took the time to really acknowledge her features up close, taking in her firm, high cheek bones, the straight, stubborn line of her nose, and the luscious layers of eyelashes that curled off her eyelid, all the details that were unjustly neglected from a distance. He sighed apologetically, then realized that his onrush of air to her ear would probably wake her. He hurried.
"Cuddy!" He barked loudly, knowing that'd do the trick, wearing a pleasant smile for her to awake to.
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Post by Lisa Cuddy on Apr 1, 2007 19:41:28 GMT -5
Lisa Cuddy tried to avoid the ‘stereotypical’ woman at all costs. Cuddy did not allow this woman into her daily life: there was no trace of her in Cuddy’s personal presentation, the way she carried herself at work, nor the way she managed her responsibilities. Cuddy prided herself on being succinct, powerful and organized in every aspect of her life. She never needed the stereotype to fall back on. She rarely cried, never screamed, and did her best to refrain from giggling. She did not swoon. She could not be swept off her feet.
She was in complete control of herself. Most of the time.
There were instances when she let her guard down. When she was at home, over stressed from a long day at work, she allowed herself to dip into the immense store of emotions she inevitably built up. It was not possible to simply turn estrogen off. The tendencies she worked so hard to avoid during the day, when she could be seen, compounded. It often led to the occasional slip up, an embarrassing event but something she came to expect, and knew how to deal with accordingly.
When she was at home, however, there was no reason to cover up these surges of womanly weakness. As a rule, she slept at home, in her own bed, or not at all. So when House’s voice punctured her dream and brought her violently from her slumber she did something she would have done if it had happened in her home.
She screamed.
And then she punched him in the throat.
Cuddy did not like surprises. She did not like practical jokes. It was an intense, natural loathing, and she never held herself responsible to her reactions to them. Most of the time, her diplomatic prowess succeeded and she managed the situation rationally, particularly during her work day, with House lurking around. This time, however, he caught her completely and utterly off guard, and it backfire for him.
For half a breath she found herself apologizing, then she stopped, realizing the only reason she was currently battling an erratic heartbeat and unable to catch her breath was because he had made it so. She was glad she hadn’t managed to fall off the examination table, her hands digging into the hard cushioning desperately. It was nice to see his mocking smile drop from his face like a stone from a bridge.
Even as he reacted to her attack she fixed him a withering glare, one she knew he would see through the gloom, and hissed at him.
“What the hell, House?”
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