Bed Rest [Open: Everyone]

[Gregory House]

Having expected her to start, he didn't even flinch when she screamed, even though it did bother his eardrums. He merely sweetened his smile in the half second before it took her to go from a shout to an assault.

He reeled from the punch, stumbling back into the counter, only just barely keeping a grip on his cane, choking to get air. His eyes were wide with the effort, and the majority of his facial muscles were contorted from the strain. It felt like he had inhaled a rock and tried to convince his esophagus to allow swallowing again by running his fingers over it.

Gasping, he gathered enough oxygen to let out a weak laugh.

The situation was entirely too amusing, and only a bruised throat prevented him from laughing harder. Serves him right, he figured she was thinking as he massaged his throat. Such thoughts were justified. If he hadn't been intent on being his crude self, he wouldn't be panting heavily, receiving a lax supply of breath. But, even knowing this, he found humor in the fact he would the exact same thing if given the chance.

And all the while, a part of his mind repeated the same opinion- Damn, Cuddy has a mean left hook.

As he attempted to regain composure, he heard her speak, looking up to see her eyes glistening dangerously.

"I...had just come...to check on you..." He lied between wheezes, his voice raspy and coarse. He coughed, trying to regain his proper tone back, deciding that this voice was not at all like Cuddy's seductive, sleep-derived one. He was somewhat successful, a persistent grainy texture hanging onto his words.

"Though next time I'll rethink it, since you're being very violent today. I think I'll consider suing for battery. I'm feeling some emotional trauma coming on." He added with a fake expression of hurt, able to lean back on his cane instead of the counter now. He moved a step closer, brushing his hand against the wounded area, feeling it throb dully under his touch. "Well, at least it's distracting me from the piercing pain in my hand." He mentioned pointedly, lifting the one in question close enough so she could see the dark indentations.

Perhaps, he thought, if he preoccupied her with feeling guilty for harming him so, she would forget that they both knew he had earned the damage justly.

[Lisa Cuddy]

“Oh please,” Cuddy scoffed, breathing slowly as she recovered from her surprise. She swatted his hand, being sure to hit the back of it with just enough unintentional force to cause him a satisfying amount of pain without being liable for it. She shook her head, running her hand through her thick, messy hair and climbing from the examination table to regain some of her pride back. She smoothed her lab coat, reminding herself that she was not only a doctor, but a very important one.

“You scared the living daylights out of me. Granted, that probably wasn’t the best reaction, but you have to admit, yours wasn’t a particularly bright move, either. So I guess one bad turn deserves another. And as for your hand… I suppose you owe me one,” she looked up from her duties with her clothes to catch his eyes directly, meaningfully, imaging she could see the piercing blue through the shallow darkness. Elaborating, her body language seemed to scream, was not something she was going to do.

She liked leaving him guessing about her motives and thoughts, mostly because she knew his assumptions were incredibly entertaining. They might not be right, at the start, but the longer she was exposed to his thought process the more it became clear that his devious, calculating mind was inescapably potent. Sometimes she caught herself wondering if she was saying or doing things randomly, just to see what sort of explanation he would come up with, and what retaliation or follow up he would implement.

Drawing a deep, exasperated breath, Cuddy shook her head. She knew their game was getting a bit too violent and inappropriate for the hospital environment, and it was up to her to reign it in. Blaming her actions on fatigue, she offered a very weak and unconvincingly apologetic look.

“I think we should save the rest of this war for some other time.”

She frowned, not knowing exactly what kind of time she meant. She tried her hardest to avoid House every where but the hospital, and even then it was a difficult stretch for her. It was not something she liked to think about. That fact bothered her. Ignoring herself, she, ironically, focused on House.

[Gregory House]

He pouted, injured by her indifference, and cradled his hand near his chest before laying it tentatively back at his side. Watching her compose herself, he admired her bedhead and sleepy countenance, deciding her 'ruffled' look was unhindered (if anything, it was enhanced) by the darkness, and was very much attractive.

And then he grinned at her words, knowing full well all the implications that lay beneath and savoring all of them, purely because it Cuddy who had put them there. Such a provocative comment suddenly made him feel appreciative of her willingness to play, to even outmatch him in this game. No one could compete like her, with her flair and reasoning, ferocity and confidence. With a smirk, he felt compelled to voice such, in his own roundabout way.

"Ah, there's the woman I love. I knew there was a reason I kept you around." He said casually with his usual barb, insinuating the preposterous idea that she was his to keep around, when they both knew it was the other way around. The first sentence was spoken quickly (he always spoke quickly; he favored the feeling of making the other person struggle to keep up), as nonchalantly as anything else, though he couldn't shake the feeling that his word choice should've been more careful. He brushed off such thoughts, knowing there was no time for doubt in their game. It didn't help that his throat continued to bother him, pulsing with overactive blood flow.

He quirked a brow at her own choice of words, intrigued by her use of 'war', also wondering what other time she was referring to. 'War' was a strong noun to use, though, upon reflection, he supposed it made sense. A war consisted of intricate moves and strategies, each decision a gamble, every moment tense, suspenseful, engrossing. Seemed about right.

Shrugging in silent agreement, he complacently obliged, an impish light in his eye. He opened the door for them to exit, to continue their 'war' another time- whenever that was. He stepped in the doorway, leaning against the frame for Cuddy to pass by.

But then, as if struck by an afterthought, House halted any progress she could've made toward leaving with a swift raise of the cane, the motion abrupt and resounding with a dull clap, pressing the bottom of it against the opposite side of the doorframe so that Cuddy would have to bend backwards to walk underneith it and depart.

"Oh, almost forgot- I need a consult." He mentioned off-handedly, half-smiling in hope to appeal to her, as if trying to convince her that this wasn't part of the war. He conveniently left out the details of the need for a consult, for he knew if he divulged them, the likelihood of her assisting were slim to none.

[Lisa Cuddy]

His pouting had very little affect on her, though, the grin he displayed at her words reminded her of the dream she was having, which she had up until that moment forgotten. It didn’t take her long to overcome that slight, personal discombobulation, an accomplishment short lived as House’s word choice blindsided her. She did not look at him any differently, and let the awkward moment pass without calling any undue attention to it. She knew they were both thinking the same thing, and there was no reason to say anything out loud.

Feeling unduly battered, she ran a hand through her hair again, letting it rest on the back of her neck as she moved towards the door. It was a relief to have his cooperation with this cease fire.

Heaving a sigh, she looked down at his cane, then up at him. She had almost believed that had been the end of it, that him holding the door for her was the sign that this battle was over. Clearly, House had other ideas. She fixed him an impatient look, the word ‘consult’ snapping her back to her Doctor mode.

“No you don’t,” Cuddy said with a half laugh, staring at the thin, yet effective barricade in agitation. She arched an eyebrow at him, knowing full well that he was more than capable of handling any case that simply walked into the clinic. Frowning, she made the decision to follow his lead, realizing that if she continued to fight him her own words about ending their war would be meaningless, “fine. Lead the way, then.”

(Sorry, short! Thought I’d reply before rushing off to Astronomy! I should have planned that out better.)

[Gregory House]

Waiting with a persistent smile, knowing she would come around not due to his crude way of blocking escape, but because of her own logic. He knew how her mind worked, and Lisa Cuddy didn't consent to anything unless she wanted to (or had worked it in her mind so that she convinced herself she wanted to, which, he figured, was the same thing).

His grin widened temporarily in victory, and he nodded, withdrawing his cane and using it to make his way across the tile. He didn't wait for her to catch up, knowing she will, and will probably even put herself a step ahead as she often does, perhaps a nonverbal message of superiority, perhaps an unconscious act. Either way, he doesn't mind, for sometimes she moves far enough ahead so that he has a nice vantage point on her ass.

As he closed the gap to the exam room, he wondered if Molly was aware that he hadn't taken the moment he promised; in fact, he took a series of lengthy moments. Still, he doubted she would complain of his tardiness.

Passing the waiting area, the boy from earlier jumped up and approached House from the side, not quite brave enough to step in front of him.

"You owe me five bucks." He reminded him, apparently angry at the delay, holding out his hand. House paused, only half-amused with his gall.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you won't get a better hooker for just five dollars more. Try getting a job. It worked for me." He told him matter-of-factly with the confidence of experience. He saw a maternal pair of eyes glare at him from their seat, but he knew she should be thanking him- he had just given the boy extra motivation to do something besides play video games.

He turned to Cuddy when he became to walk again, rolling his eyes like an exhausted parent.

"Kids." He said simply, shaking his head in dismay. He came upon the exam room and burst in, smiling pretentiously to Molly. momentarily, he ran a hand over his throat, curious if there was a visible mark of some kind that she would notice.

"Miss me?" He asked, not waiting for the answer he already figured he knew, then looked back to Cuddy. "There seems to be a problem with her eyes." He informed her with an air of indecision and puzzlement. He didn't explain Molly's lack of vitamin A, wanting to what kind of conclusion Cuddy could come to on her own. He hadn't been completely sarcastic to Molly earlier; there really was more than one way to cure bad eyesight. It just so happened glasses were the most advertised.

[Molly Martinez]

Molly was somewhat deep in though. Thinking about this that and the other didn't come often during the day unless one was lying in the bed and staring at the ceiling, or using the restroom. This was one of those moments that she decided to just think of things, letting the silence envelope in the room. She vaguely heard somebody scream in another room--had to be a shot, she thought to herself, and focussed back down on the floor with a small yawn. I need to get more sleep, she said to herself, and glanced up around the counter. She wondered if they would miss a tongue depressor. Why the hell would I even need a tongue depressor?

She jumped considerably when House entered, and she turned back over to him. "Not in the slightest," Molly said bluntly with a wide smile. She'd had just about enough of him, really, and was starting to regret her decision to even get a checkup. When she saw Dr. Cuddy, though, she sat up a little straighter, looked a little more respectful, and she listened to House speaking. Was there something wrong with her eyes? Did she have something that could cause blurred vision, or blindness? She had a frightened look internally, but tried to keep her composure.

And then Molly remembered. Dr. House likes to bother Cuddy because he has a crush on her. This is no more than that. You need glasses. She looked back up to the group, hoping she missed anything about their conversation. Unfortunately, she predicted Dr. Cuddy would act concerned, when there was nothing really wrong. Molly wouldn't even have to pay all too much for an ophthalmologist's appointment for glasses, because she was employed by the hospital. She nodded to herself internally, deciding that everything was going to be okay and she was going to be out of here in no time.

"Dr. House, what's that on your throat?"

[Lisa Cuddy]

Cuddy sighed as House dealt with the kid. She shook her head, feeling betrayed by someone she hadn’t even met before, putting together just what service the young boy had performed for House: leading him directly to where she was sleeping. She was in the process of making a mental note to talk to the boy’s parents when she saw the blazing expression roaring in House’s direction from a woman in the seats just beyond them. Clearly she was the unhappy mother, and the money and comments the boy was getting from House were grounds enough for some punishment. Her job done for her, Cuddy followed House into the exam room.

She looked at House sharply, then at Molly with a softer, yet more critical eye. House was just coming up with an excuse for Cuddy to hang around him. She assumed he was keeping her close in hopes of pulling some new and impossibly annoying prank on her, or to trick her into coming up with some bad diagnosis to mock her about in front of the patient. In a way Cuddy couldn’t explain, she was almost eager to let him try.

“Doctor House,” Cuddy said, taking her examination flashlight from her pocket and moving closer to Molly, her body language unobtrusive and relaxed in a way that silently asked for permission before she did any sort of examination of her own, “you’re going to have to be more specific. Did you get a history?” The silent ‘I know you did, let me hear it,’ lingering in the air as it did when she was speaking to a nervous intern that had used up the last of her patience.

Talking down to House was exhilarating.

She smirked as Molly inquired after Houses’ throat. She tried to keep it hidden, but it leaped into her eyes as well as pulling irresistibly at the corners of her lips. Shooting a look in his direction, she forced herself into feigned confusion. She didn’t say anything, feeling Molly had done a perfectly good job in putting House in a corner.

[Gregory House]

This wasn't nearly as fun as he had first thought it would be.

He had forgotten (or temporarily denied) that Cuddy had to be the professional, steady Dean of Medicine in front of patients, and thus couldn't afford to be on his level. At least not as much as he would prefer her to be.

Still, watching her play doctor was entertaining, for it brought up that formal facade that he just loved to tear down. He moved beside the counter and picked up Molly's medical file, wordlessly handing it to Cuddy, knowing it gave a decent enough background. He refused to read it aloud, suddenly feeling like a lowly assistant; standing a little straighter, he glared unappreciatively at Cuddy when she used her condescending tone. The change of address was so evident he felt the need to comment.

"I liked your other voice better." He muttered to her huffily when he gave her the file, confident in the assumption that she knew what he was talking about.

Shifting his weight awkwardly at Molly's question, he pressed his palm to the area referred to as he thought of a suitable reply. Which didn't take him long. But before he did, he stole a glance to Cuddy, just in time to catch her vibrant smile, and decided it was worth it to force her into the room after all. When she changed expression, he acknowledged it with a challenging smirk, letting her know such an inquiry didn't faze him at all.

"A hickey. Give you three guesses who from." He said with a boastful air. Just so Molly wouldn't mistake who, he discreetly lifted a finger from his cane to point to Cuddy while cupping a hand over the gesture so only Molly would see. When he did so, he whispered with a solemn nod, "Don't tell, though. The nurses would get jealous."

He was quick to shift his demeanor with a raising of the head and refreshing inhale, wanting to move along the check up as much as he wanted to prolong it to keep Cuddy there. Eyeing Molly more seriously, he decided to ask a question he would have anyway, even without Cuddy.

"Who else in your family wears glasses?" He queried, knowing the appropriate deductions with any answer she would give.

[Molly Martinez]

Molly looked to the light, following through with the exam. Though when she heard Dr. House's answer, she looked up from Dr. Cuddy, and she couldn't help but chuckle at the obvious fake answer. She cleared her throat, watching the hand gesture and listening to his whisper. She smirked, and nodded. "Not a soul, Dr. House," She said simply, obviously just playing along. It was cute, she decided, what Dr. House and Dr. Cuddy had. Even though Dr. Cuddy probably would never admit it, she was almost exactly like Dr. House, only Dr. Cuddy had a sense of shame. It was like a match made in heaven, Molly decided with a small sigh.

She cleared her throat before answering the question. "Yes, sir, my mother and father both wore glasses, but my brother somehow managed to escape any eye problems," Molly said simply, keeping that air of civilizedness about her as well as she could.

[Lisa Cuddy]

It was a difficult task, keeping her patience, but not as hard as she would have imagined. House was testing it, and he was doing a good job of it. Of course, the thought that he would pass the slight bruise as a hickey had occurred to her, and even as he did so she was not too disgruntled. Things were getting back to their regular level of ‘annoying’ now that they had stepped back from their main battle. This was how it should stay. Impersonal, light, irritating but manageable.

Cuddy finished the short eye exam, smiling at Molly reassuringly, then taking a quick glance at the chart. She heard Molly’s answer to House’s question, then looked at House.

“Are you a fan of carrots, Ms. Martinez?” She asked, shaking her head. She knew House had been lying about needing a consult, and that this was a distinctly one-doctor examination. But because she had nothing better to do, and wasn’t particularly looking forward to more clinic work, she played along. “If not, I think you should become more familiar with them. They are the best natural source of Vitamin A. A deficiency of Vitamin A is often trouble for the eyes. Coupled with your history, I’d say you’re in need of glasses. Of course, I’m pretty sure Doctor House here has either told you this, or had every intention of telling you this.”

She sighed, looking at House, simply waiting for him to tell her she was wrong, to inform the patient why she was wrong, and to generally make her look like an idiot.

[Gregory House]

House gave a distant nod to Molly's short reply, more preoccupied with watching Cuddy and looking for openings in which to criticize her technique. Disappointingly, he found none big enough to mock, leaving him to absently observe how her hair fell around her face when she leaned forward, and how, emphasized by her profile, her eyelashes seemed impossibly long and feathery. And how good her ass looked from this angle.

He was silently sulking over how the atmosphere has changed distinctly, wishing Molly would've eaten her carrots like her mother told her to; then he and Cuddy could be alone again, without the latter having to worry about portraying professionalism.

Giving another thoughtful nod to Molly's report about glasses, he made the conclusion that Mom and Dad suffered from poor eating habits themselves, passing them on to give Molly their vitamin A deficiency. The brother was smart enough to get his carrots from elsewhere, apparently.

He took his cue from Cuddy; he didn't want to make her look bad more than he wanted to exhibit his medical prowess.

"Cod liver oil." He announced, just so he could pause dramatically and then elaborate. "Next time you do your grocery shopping, make sure to pick some up. Don't waste money on glasses when you can actually heal your eyes with a diet change. Should take longer, but if you could last this long with your eyes like that, then a few more months won't kill you. Presumably." He added with a nonchalant shrug as he moved beside Cuddy.

Hardly a medical mystery. But it was the best he could get in the clinic, so he took it.

[Molly Martinez]

She listened to both doctors equally, and she sighed somewhat, pushing back some of her hair as she did. Molly knew House's recommendation was ten percent wanting to help Molly, and ninety percent wanting to either one-up Dr. Cuddy or make her feel like a moron, somehow. And probably even both. She smiled to them, more to Dr. Cuddy of course, and nodded. "I don't really want to waste money on something, in the long run, I won't be needing. So I think I'd like to try Dr. House's suggestion, eat more carrots and try out the...cod liver oil." Molly said with a nod, and almost an apologetic look at Dr. Cuddy.

She didn't mean to agree with Dr. House, he just had a way about him that seemed he was probably right. She almost felt bad, ignoring what Dr. Cuddy said about glasses, but hell, she didn't really paying what little money she had to to buy glasses--this seemed to be a better buy, overall.

[Lisa Cuddy]

Cuddy nodded, barely seeming interested any more, “that’s a good course of action,” she said, taking a note on the chart, “but be sure to check in with your Optometrist to be sure there is no damage that a simple diet change won’t correct. Annual check ups for your eyes are just as important as physicals and trips to the dentist, so you should consider it anyway.”

She tried not to bristle when House stepped up to her, feeling both threatened and relaxed at the same time. He was a competent doctor and, even with a fairly simple case before them, it was almost enjoyable working with him. The thought that they did not share enough cases crossed her mind, but she let it pass without focusing too keenly. She doubted they would be able to stand the others company for as long as a complicated case actually required. At the same time, she was still angry at him, and she could not keep those convoluted feelings from bubbling as he drew nearer.

“Well, Ms. Martinez, I think you’ve seen more than enough of the two of us. We’ll run these tests and get you your results as soon as they come in. Unless Doctor House feels the need to further your physical examination, I think now is a good time to part company,” she smiled, an apology for Molly having to play witness to the insanity that was Cuddy and House in a small room in her eyes, and handed the chart to House, “remember, though, House: one patient does not make a suitable shift of Clinic Duty.”

She sighed, looking at the door and arching an eyebrow, feeling that she had been in and out of this room more times than necessary. It was entirely House’s fault, of course, but that was ultimately irrelevant. Moving to the door, she hesitated, without knowing why, then moved outside. That was weird, she thought to herself.

[Gregory House]

House tilted his head in triumph at Molly's decision, pressing his lips together in a makeshift smirk. Pleased that he was right and someone was willing to acknowledge it, he felt his job was done. He was amused by Cuddy's addition, knowing it was so her to include standard rationale that completed his suggestion.

More than happy to keep moving since nothing medically intriguing was holding him there, House kept on Cuddy's heels, giving Molly a pretentious smirk as a farewell. "Great talking with you. Here's hoping you stay well so I never have to see you again." His aspirations, he knew, were in vain, for she worked in the hospital (as noted in her file) and was bound to turn up at some point.

As he followed Cuddy and took the chart, he grunted in acceptance. "You're right. Two is more fitting; a nice, even number." He mentioned optimistically, as if he could get away with only treating two patients.

He was caught between feeling depressed at the prospect of more clinic duty and cheery at the thought of having Cuddy there to make things perhaps a little more bearable. He decided upon a balance of both as Cuddy paused at the door. When they exited, House quickened his step so he was at Cuddy's side, never one to be left behind. He dropped off the chart at the main counter, still earning looks of contempt from the nurses for his earlier antics.

In no hurry to pick up a new file, he turned to Cuddy decisively. "Well, that worked up an appetite. Let's go grab a bite to eat at the cafeteria; I'll buy." He added with a tone that told her that no, he had no intention of buying anything. She earned enough to get him a free meal, he figured.

[Lisa Cuddy]

Cuddy smiled as she heard, and felt, House fall into step behind her as she exited. Maybe that was the reason she had hesitated. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she wondered why she was such a masochist. Her unheard answer made her smirk. Looking over her shoulder, feeling more invigorated than she had for a while, and knowing it wasn’t because of the very short nap she had been able to sneak in, she arched her eyebrow at him as he hurried to walk beside her.

She looked at him in surprise as he turned to her, smiling teasingly at his offer. Fully prepared to say no, she gave him the classic ‘in your dreams’ expression she so often wielded against him. It was mocking and unfair, using everything she knew he wanted against him. Then her stomach growled, and ruined the whole illusion. Her face dropped as her hunger betrayed her, even before she could deny being hungry.

Closing her eyes in a long, drawn out blink, she allowed herself to smile despite her wounded pride, “I suppose food isn’t a bad idea. But I’m not paying for you.” She fixed him a stern, yet playful, expression. She was so used to his being a vulture when it came to free food, his tone was almost completely not needed.

She did not know why House had any right to ask her for her company in the cafeteria, let alone why he deserved her saying yes. They had spent the entire afternoon arguing, battling, and just generally making her time in the clinic completely miserable. He constantly undermined her, and treated her with as much respect as he showed his patients: which was sorrowfully little. Yet she did not hesitate in joining him for a meal.

And that was their entire relationship in a nutshell.