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Exam Room 3
by kievljanka
Every thing's going wrong, every thing's a mess...
The hospital is understaffed - again. Cuddy takes a deep breath, grabs a file and walks to exam room three, simultaneously flipping through yet another patient's history.
"Good morning, Mr. Sa...", she begins with a smile as she steps inside the room. Her perky expression droops when she sees Greg House sitting on the exam table, dangling his legs like a little boy.
"House - what did you do with my patient.", Cuddy's voice is gruff and verging on angry. She hates being unpleasant, can't stand when her patience gives out - but then again, no one can deal with House gracefully.
"Chase is examining him.", he replies calmly, completely unfazed by her curt and rather unfriendly greeting.
"I gave you the day off. Why are you here?".
"My leg's acting up."
He can tell Cuddy's suddenly feeling nervous. She bites her lower lip and sticks a hand in the pocket of her lab coat, "I'm sorry, House ... I told you the ketamine would most likely wear off sometime...".
"You did.", he agrees flatly.
"I'm afraid I can't do anything...", she adds, a sense of helplessness and sadness descending upon her.
"You can write me a script.".
"I wouldn't be doing you a favor by feeding your addiction.".
"But you would take away my pain - at least for a little while.".
Guilt doesn't allow her to look at him any long. She diverts her gaze to the cabinets that line the walls of the exam room before she finally gathers enough courage to speak to him again.
"Please, House - please try to hold off a little longer. While it's still...bearable.", she says gently, frustrated because it sounds like she's pleading.
House nods up and down and hangs his head, blue eyes focused on something she can't see.
Cuddy looks at him and sighs, feeling genuinely sorry.
"Go home, House. Rest.", she says and reaches for the door handle.
She has one foot out the door when he speaks.
"It's been a while.", he mutters. It's a soft utterance but she doesn't doubt what she hears.
"What are you talking about?".
"It's been a while, Cuddy...".
The syllables of her name escape his mouth breathless and needy - but she fancies it sounds almost like music. Her heart skips a beat - just one. She takes a deep breath and turns around to face him, all of a sudden clutching the file to her chest as if her life depends on it.
"I still don't understand what you're talking about.".
"Most girls don't go for guys with bum legs - it's been a while...".
She manages to keep her face bare of emotion, but feels blood rushing to her cheeks, "Why are you telling me this?".
He glances at her, smiling wickedly, and shrugs.
Cuddy's taken aback. She's never seen him like this. She doesn't know how to interpret it or how to respond.
"Your hookers didn't seem to mind before...a slightly limp won't keep them away.", she means for it to come out sounding clever and witty, but the delivery is squeaky and unpleasantly pre-teen.
To her surprise, he laughs and casts another one of those strange grins in her direction.
"You have a few minutes?", his voice is steady and firm as he asks, but if Cuddy didn't know any better, she'd guess he almost seemed shy.
"I have patients up to my neck.".
"Are they all going to die if you don't see them in the next twenty minutes?".
"House - I'm sorry but I can't spend another twenty minutes listening to you whine. I'm sorry your leg hurts and your sex life sucks. I have patients to take care of.", she is beginning to get flustered and wants to storm out the room while she still can.
"That's not what I had in mind.", he speaks softly, pleased with the radiant blush that suddenly blossoms on her cheeks. "We'll only need twenty minutes. Please - while my leg will still allow it.", he continues to coax, his voice melodious and sweet.
He gets up from the exam table and walks over to her. She notices that he's limping slightly, but the grace in his gait is still evident.
His finger tips barely graze her skin, just under the jaw line. Her mouth opens in protests and she shakes her head sideways but no words form.
"I'll let you go, if you want... I won't keep you here against your will. I understand if you want to leave...", he whispers, his warm breath blasting her ear and neck, "But I really want you to stay...".
"I should...", she begins, but speech still fails her as his other hand strays to the small of her back. All is quiet for a moment, besides the sound of their breathing.
"Silence is consent.", he says, and softly kisses her lips.
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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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