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Welcome to Whoville
by bironic
Cuddy strode out of the elevator and around the corner on her way to Nursing Administration only to be confronted with the worrisome sight of a crowd gathered outside the Diagnostics office. "What's going on here?" she called.
One of the Oncology nurses answered first. "We're waiting for the trumpets and thunder to officially announce the Apocalypse."
Stone from Radiology chimed in, "I knew he'd go crazy eventually, but I figured it would involve guns, not garlands."
Most of the staff hadn't looked away from the glass wall. Increasingly apprehensive, Cuddy took a look for herself.
A Yuletide tableau greeted her. Paper snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, strings of colored lights blinked merrily along the tops of the blinds, and a snowmen-patterned fleece throw covered the conference table. Two of the three fellows sitting around it wore matching green elf caps (Foreman's lay rejected in front of him). Against the shelves in the corner next to the whiteboard--which bore a wreath as well as a red "Happy," a green "Holidays" and a red exclamation mark--leaned a bona fide Christmas tree, its base wrapped in burlap. Gifts littered the floor around it. Sporting a floppy Santa hat, House was stringing silver tinsel on the tree and...singing?
To Cuddy's surprise, the question that came out of her mouth was, "How did he get that up here?"
"Dr. Chase and Dr. Foreman carried it," said a woman next to her.
She noticed, now, the trail of soil and pine needles leading across the carpet in the office, under the door and into the hall. The path ended where the fourth-floor janitor stood staring with the rest of them, the mop still in his hand.
"Right," she said, and pulled open the door to the sound of some hideous customized version of "The Twelve Days of Christmas." "Dr. House," she said, loud enough that he stopped caterwauling and turned around. "I don't know what inspired this Grinch-saves-Christmas epiphany, but--"
Before she thought to move out of the way, House had crossed the room, pulled her to him with an arm around her back, and kissed her.
When he let her go, she stood with her fingers to her lips, eyes not quite focused.
He gave her a terrifying grin. "Welcome to Whoville."
She stared, mouth working silently.
"Look up," said Chase.
She did, and saw--too late--the sprig of mistletoe.
"House--You can't--This is completely--"
"Don't worry," he said. "I'm pretty sure it's not sexual harrassment if I do it to everyone who comes in."
Still at a loss for words, she glanced over to the table, where Cameron wore a slight, dreamy smile, Foreman glowered, and Chase sipped his coffee.
The door opened and Wilson walked past her wearing a headband with fuzzy antlers.
"You wore it!" House exclaimed.
"Yes, your threats left me little choice," Wilson replied as he placed a menorah on the table. He reached into his lab coat pocket and tossed a box of Chanukah candles beside it. No sooner had he done that than House turned him around, pinned his lower body against the chair beside Cameron, tilted Wilson's head up and covered his mouth with his own. Wilson's hands went to House's waist. Cuddy thought she saw a flicker of tongue.
"His is definitely longer than mine was," Chase said after a few moments.
Foreman muttered, "God, this is a nightmare."
When they broke apart, Wilson brushed the side of his mouth with the back of his hand and walked over to the coffee maker as if nothing had happened. "You already planted one on me this morning when you hung up the mistletoe," he said, taking a mug from the cabinet.
"But the Rudolph chic is irresistible. And I have to make sure I compensate for your dejection in the season of Jesus-love."
"Oh, well, I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
"Dr. House," Cuddy finally managed. The pair of them looked at her with identical innocuous expressions, evil Santa and his faithful reindeer. She gave up before she even started. "Just...don't kiss any patients."
She stepped back into the hall, where the crowd had grown. Several people stared at her. "Don't you people have work to do?" she asked. Straightening her blazer and smoothing her hair, she headed once more for the admin offices.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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