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Slash in the Hizzy
by Nuala
Warnings: Canadian spelling. Unbeta'd. Likely very inaccurate medical jargon and practices. Endemic silliness.
A/N: Follow-up to "TV Doctors", and twice as long. Eesh. Might not make sense if you haven't read it first. Cheers to arabwel and little_aphid for the inspiration for this follow-up, and to HL and RSL for being so goddamn sexy.
***
House hobbled quickly through the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro, cane in one hand, portable television swinging from the other. He muttered to himself as he went: "I do not have a crush on some tv doctor. What am I, a twelve-year-old girl?" A nurse gave him an odd look as he passed. House glared. "Seriously," he asked her, "do I look like a twelve-year-old girl?"
She gave him a once-over. "Ugliest twelve-year-old girl I ever saw," she told him.
Making a mental note that the nurses in radiology were a bunch of wiseguys, House pressed on. He had no intention of heading to the clinic, despite what he'd told Wilson. He stopped short when he realized that he didn't know where exactly to go now.
Sadly, the oncology lounge (which finally -- finally! -- was equipped with the long-promised TiVo) was out. Wilson would show up sooner or later, and House was still feeling pissy about his earlier comments.
This was a problem. In the last three days Cuddy rooted him out of cardiology, the emergency room, all three cafeterias, the PT rooms, and the CT scanner room with the really comfy chairs -- in short, all his favourite hiding spots were pretty much out.
House fingered the Vicodin bottle in his pocket and pondered his dilemma. Maybe the supply closet with the wheelchairs... no, he wasn't desperate enough to try to watch his tv sitting in a fold-out wheelchair in a closet. Yet.
There was always the chapel -- House considered it a minor miracle that Cuddy had never thought to look for him there -- but House had gone off the chapel. Last month he'd been watching The O.C. in the empty pews when a little blue-haired lady had taken offence to his programming choice. She'd chased him out, brandishing her own cane like a pro. House only hoped that when he was that old he'd be as good at using a cane as a deadly weapon.
None of this was helping him figure out a hiding spot. But maybe... maybe he didn't have to hide, per se. After all, it would be three hours before the Hep A guy's bloodwork would be ready and Chase and Foreman came running. And Cuddy was unlikely to bust him in his own office, since it was easy to fake doing work in there. A couple of Vicodins, a quick nap, maybe some GameBoy, then the tests would come back negative (House already knew -- he had a theory), he'd make a few snide remarks and schedule a liver biopsy, then home in time to catch tonight's Hizzy. Not too shabby.
He took the long way to the office in order to avoid passing the clinic and the boardrooms -- no sense in courting Cuddy's notice. His office, to his great aggravation, was not vacant. Cameron was sitting at the desk, obviously working on his daily pile of mail.
Giving vent to a long-suffering sigh, he pushed through the glass doors and glared. "Get out," he told her. "I need to... get some work done." He tried to imbue his expression with enough pain to get her to take pity on him, but not enough to encourage her concern.
Cameron raised her eyebrows. "What?"
"Work. It's very important. I'm a doctor, you see."
"I was just..."
"Opening mail. I know that's important doctor work too, but it can wait. Why don't you go hold the patient's hand? Spread a little bit of that sunshine around. Now," he added when she didn't move.
Pushing the papers on the desk into a haphazard pile, she stood. "Fine," she said, "I'll go see if Chase and Foreman are done those tests." After indulging in a long concerned look at him, she scurried off. He released the breath he'd been holding.
House gingerly settled himself into the chair behind the desk, carefully extending his protesting right leg. The tv went into his bag by the desk; the cane went over the arm of the chair; he popped two Vicodins -- lunch hadn't been that long ago, he reasoned -- and cast a disinterested glance over the pile of papers Cameron had left on his desk.
It was the usual business mail, requests for endorsements, and applications for recommendations, appointments or consults. Nothing he'd waste time on, not when there were naps and GameBoys to be had. But a sheaf of papers caught his eye. It was clipped together, no envelope, none of the usual indicators of business letters. It looked like a draft of something. His curiosity piqued, House pulled the sheaf out from the pile of papers and started reading:
Title: A Fine Romance
Author: HizzyLover79
Rating: NC-17
Paring: Hizzy/Watson
Summary: Dr. Hizzy finally embraces his true feelings for Watson with a little help from the beautiful diagnostics resident Dr. Morrison. But will Hizzy's emotional coldness drive Watson away forever?
House nearly fell out of his chair. He could feel his face take on the expression of a guppy fish at feeding time. He dropped the sheaf on the desk and pushed his chair away, staring at the papers. What the hell...?
House sat for several minutes, just staring at the papers on his desk, his mind actively sorting through what it had just been confronted with. After a few minutes he picked the papers up, carefully, as though they might bite, and skimmed the first pages. It was... a love story. About Hizzy and Watson. Jesus H. Christ, thought House. When he got to page eight, he realized it was a graphic love story. House's mind boggled.
When he finally got it -- Cameron, obviously a Hizzy fan like himself, was writing an erotic story based on the show, not at all like himself -- a slow, evil smile crept over his face.
A quick Google search initiated House into the world of "slash fanfiction." He discovered that it was amazingly prevalent. The Hizzy fan community was smaller than some but had a lot of very... creative people in it. He almost choked a couple of times, at some of the pairings and situations these weirdos thought up, but some of it was actually... arousing. He made mental bookmarks to look up when he got home.
"HizzyLover79" had quite a few pieces under her belt, though the one House had on his desk seemed to be unposted, and longer than the fics of hers he'd found at a popular archive. Schmoopy, fluffy stuff, and not the best he'd come across even in his short foray into the world of slash fiction. But not as hideously awful as he'd discovered some of it was. Still, House thought, as he leafed through the story, a little help wouldn't hurt.
He spent the next little while reading over "A Fine Romance," pen in hand, correcting typos, making wording and characterization suggestions ("Please," he'd muttered to himself at one point, "as if Hizzy would ever call anyone 'the inner destiny of my truest heart.' Gah!"), and highlighting the passages he liked. Actually, the sex bits were rather good, written with a sense of humour and a light touch -- he'd had no idea Cameron had it in her. What the hell was she doing working for him when she could be sharing her gift with the world? House had met a lot of good doctors, but good porn writers were damn hard to find.
When he'd finished, he popped the papers in a manila envelope, and carefully arranged himself on the floor for a quick nap. Beta reading was hard work.
He woke up when Chase nudged him with his foot. "Dr. House?" he said. "The tests were..."
"Negative," House said, rolling carefully so he could haul himself up. He looked blearily at Chase, Foreman and Cameron as they stood staring down at him. "Of course. I told you so." He stood slowly, making a face at the stiffness in his leg. "Are we ready to accept that we need a liver biopsy, children?"
Foreman muttered resentfully. House smiled grimly. "So happy we're in agreement. All is right with the world. Chase, schedule the biopsy. Foreman, test his blood iron levels."
"Iron levels? Why?"
"Just for shits and giggles," House told him jovially. Foreman glared, but followed Chase out into the hallway. House's smile broadened. He sat down at the desk, shuffling papers. "Cameron, go take the patient's history again. Ask about cirrhosis in the family."
She frowned. "You think it's alpha-1 anti-trypsin deficiency? The bloodwork..."
"Was looking for Hep A."
"But the patient's lungs...." Cameron's eyebrows went up. "Oh. We thought it was his childhood asthma..."
"Congratulations on your timely grasp of the obvious. Go take his history. Oh, and Cameron?" he added as she turned to go. "Here." He handed her the manila envelope.
Confused, she opened it and pulled out the contents. Her face drained of colour as she read the top page. She looked at him in alarm. "I... I... this..." she sputtered. Then she abruptly flushed a brilliant red. House grinned. It was nice to have something to hold over someone's head, he mused. Very satisfying. Like Vicodin for the soul.
"Don't get your panties in a knot," he told her. "Your smutty literary leanings are your own business. However, the fact that you mix up 'there' and 'their' is something I felt compelled to get involved in."
"You... you corrected this?" she asked, incredulous. She glanced through the marked-up papers. Her face was still crimson. She closed her eyes. "Oh my God," she said quietly.
"Please. It's not that bad," House said. "Really. In fact, that scene in the elevator after Hizzy's big confession, you know, the one with the blowjob..."
"Oh my God!" Cameron said, much louder this time.
"Yeah, that was Watson's line," House reminisced. "Not entirely original, of course, but effective."
Cameron hid her face behind the sheaf of papers. Her words were muffled, but House thought he heard her say, plaintively, "Why?"
House pondered the question. "Why did I read it? You left it on my desk. Why did I correct it? It was in dire need of some editing. Why am I torturing you with it? Because I'm just a 'people person', I guess."
Cameron lowered the papers, peering at them. "Wait a minute," she said. "You wrote that you think Watson's reaction is out of character." She glanced at House questioningly. "You... you've seen Hizzy?"
No use denying it, House thought. "Yep," he said. "Crap diagnostician, of course. But then, my standards are really high."
"You've seen Hizzy," she repeated slowly. "You've seen it enough to comment on Watson's character. To say that he's, uh," she glanced at the papers, "'too intelligent to fall for Hizzy's obvious lines.'"
House cleared his throat. "Well..." he began.
Cameron flipped a page. "And here you say Watson is 'complex and strong, very in character.' And here," she said, flipping again, "you crossed out 'brown eyes' and wrote that Watson's eyes are 'actually a subtle hazel colour: chocolate brown in the centre with gold bands radiating out, with a slight grey gradation at the edges of the iris.'" She looked stunned.
"Ah, yes," House said, uncomfortable and trying to hide it, "I have one of those high-definition sets at home, so I notice things like --"
"Dr. House," Cameron said incredulously, "do you have a crush on Dr. Watson?"
House scrambled awkwardly to his feet. "I do not have a crush on Watson!" he said peevishly. "Why do people keep saying that?" he muttered.
"Well, you know a lot about him," Cameron said reasonably. "And you seem to really like him, based on your comments. And, of course, he's so much like Dr. Wilson -- "
"What?" House practically shouted.
Cameron looked at him in confusion. "Are you saying you never noticed how much Watson is like Dr. Wilson?"
"No!"
"Or how much you're like Hizzy?"
House could feel the guppy expression slide into place for the second time that day. "Okay," he said slowly. "You think I'm like Hizzy."
"Yes," Cameron said uncertainly.
"And Wilson is... like Watson."
"Right."
House nodded. "And you... write Hizzy/Watson slash."
"I... oh." Cameron's expression would have been hilarious if House hadn't been convinced he was currently sporting a similar one. Then Cameron turned the tables on him by smiling suddenly. "Yes. Yes, I do," she said, her smile broadening. "I think they'd make a great couple, and are in a lot of denial, and..."
"...And Hizzy just needs to open his heart, embrace his feelings for Watson, blah blah blah, happily ever after, I throw up, the end. Puh-leeze," he said, pushing past her to the door. "I need a drink," he muttered.
"With Wilson?" Cameron asked, her voice gleeful and teasing.
"Y-- NO!" House said loudly. People in the hallway glanced over. He lowered his voice. "Go take the patient's history. Then check on the bloodwork and biopsy. I'm going to see Watson," he said unthinkingly. "Shit! I mean Wilson!"
"Oh, that's adorable," Cameron said, her eyes twinkling.
"Eugh! Why do people keep saying that?" House asked, rather pissed off. Rather than wait for Cameron's answer, he hobbled off as fast as he could for the elevator.
En route to oncology, Cuddy caught him. Literally. She grabbed him by the sleeve and wouldn't let go.
"Aren't we the pitbull," House muttered.
"You owe me more hours in the clinic than you're likely to live," she said, her voice conveying both annoyance and resignation. "You can at least give me the rest of the day while you wait for that liver biopsy."
"So glad to know that you're right on top of my cases," House retorted, still trying to pull his sleeve from her vise-like grip. She was stronger than she looked. "Sounds like you don't need me around at all."
"Clinic. Now."
"Can't. It's time for me to go home."
"To what?" It was an old barb, and had lost its power to sting. Besides, this time House actually had an answer.
"There's a new Hizzy on tonight. Can't miss it. Important research for my job, you know."
Cuddy's brow furrowed. Her grip didn't slacken (as House discovered as he again tried to pull away). "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Fantastic show. Main character's a crack diagnostician. Leads a team of brilliant young doctors as they solve a new and dramatic medical mystery every week."
"Is that the show you watched with Wilson today?"
Damn. How the hell did Cuddy find these things out, anyway? "It was important research, I told you. Besides, that was just a syndicated rerun. They've been running them right after General Hospital. But the new episode is on in and hour, and I have a feeling it'll really give me some insight into this new case, so...." He tried once, more, ineffectually, to pull his sleeve from her hand.
"You weren't heading for the door," she said thoughtfully. "You were on your way to see Wilson, weren't you." It wasn't a question, so House didn't answer. "What do I even pay you two for?"
"I'm pretty sure you pay Wilson to stand around and look good. I have no idea why I'm here."
Cuddy looked at him speculatively. "You think Wilson looks good?" she asked.
Refusing to take the bait seemed to be the only defence left. "Don't worry, you've still got better breasts," he said, but the snark was half-hearted at best.
Cuddy had the oddest expression on her face. House couldn't tell if she was annoyed or amused. He often had that effect on her.
She seemed to consider her next words very carefully. "If I let you off clinic duty -- for today only," she added forcefully, "you'll go spend some time with Wilson?"
House frowned. "I see Wilson all damn day. The guy spends more time in diagnostics than in oncology."
"But you were heading to his office."
House sighed. "You caught me. I just love hanging out with those wacky oncology nurses. They crack me up. Did you hear the one where the guy with metastasized bone cancer walks into a bar?" He trailed off. Even he wasn't about to pursue a cancer joke like that.
Cuddy seemed to be considering something. House could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. This never meant good news from him. He was formulating a pre-emptive argument for leaving right the hell now when Cuddy suddenly gave him a bland smile and said, "Fine. You're off clinic duty for today, as long as you go see Wilson."
"Go see Wilson?" he repeated. "Why?"
She was already walking away. "Just go, Dr. House, before I change my mind."
House shrugged. "Okay," he said to her retreating back. "But you owe me."
She just waved without looking back.
"Huh," he remarked to a man who happened to be walking by. The man gave him an odd look. "Well you have to admit that was weird," House said.
"Uh huh. Weird," agreed the man, who quickly walked off.
No sense in looking a gift Cuddy in the mouth, he decided. Humming happily under his breath, he made his way to oncology. Wilson was in his office doing paperwork. House rapped on the open door with his cane to get Wilson's attention.
Wilson grinned broadly at him, no doubt still amused by his "discovery" earlier that day. "Manage to tear yourself away from the gorgeous Dr. Watson?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
House raised his eyebrows. "In a manner of speaking, no," he said, relishing the confused look Wilson gave him. "I ran into Cameron this afternoon."
"You ran into one of your own staff? While at work? You're kidding!"
House ignored Wilson's attempt at sarcasm. "Did you know she's a writer?"
"She is?"
"Oh my, yes," House said with relish. "A good one, too."
"Are you actually complimenting one of your staff? Has hell frozen over?"
"I'm looking into timeshare ski lodges there after what I read today."
"What you read? ...Cameron's writing?"
"Very perceptive, Dr. Wilson."
"Um, medical journal article?"
"Not even close." House grinned.
"Okay. So what then?"
"Porn."
Wilson snorted. "Right."
"Seriously. She writes gay porn."
"House."
"She does! I read it myself!"
"You read gay pornography?"
"Normally I prefer the lesbian variety. I'm particularly fond of the sorority house genre..."
"I'll bet."
"...but I made an exception for Cameron's masterpiece." House cocked an eyebrow. "Or perhaps I should say HizzyLover79's masterpiece."
"What?"
"Her nom de plume."
"'Hizzy lover'?"
"'HizzyLover79'."
Wilson just looked confused.
"Oh, didn't I mention?" House asked innocently. "The characters in her gay porn are Drs. Hizzy and Watson." House grinned to see Wilson's eyeballs nearly pop out of their sockets.
"My God. Are you serious?"
"You think I could make that shit up?"
"Hizzy and Watson. Porn."
"Yep."
"Well. I. Um." Wilson sat back in his chair, looking bewildered.
House, enjoying the feeling of smug superiority engendered by Wilson's confusion, decided to up the ante. "By the way, she said that you really remind her of Watson." This earned him a stare. "Oh, yes. Handsome, young, Head of Oncology, Jewish. I think Watson's even divorced, though he hasn't quite got your track record. But then, he's young. Give him time. You know, you even look kind of similar," House noted, tilting his head and peering at Wilson. "Brown hair, hazel eyes..."
"I do not look like that pretty boy!" Wilson said, more amused than offended.
"I disagree," House said. "You're very pretty."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "I suppose it never occurred to you how much you resemble the show's title character."
"It has been... pointed out to me."
"Hizzy's a cranky, disabled, brilliant older doctor. Now who does that remind me of...?"
"I'm much handsomer."
Wilson smiled at House, his eyes crinkling. "Yeah."
There was a moment of suddenly uncomfortable silence in which they stared at each other across Wilson's desk. House broke it by clearing his throat and saying, "The new Hizzy is on in less than an hour. That gives us time to pick something up from that new Thai place."
Wilson raised his eyebrows. "You know, as a 'Rules' girl, I really can't say yes to a date unless you ask me three days in advance."
"Hmph. I'll buy. I even have beer at home. Besides, you haven't seen Hizzy until you've seen it in HDTV."
"Sounds good," Wilson said, standing. "I get the feeling I'm going to like that show."
They passed by the benefactor's board on the way out. House happened to notice Cameron and Cuddy together on the stairway, peering furtively around the corner. Cameron was pointing to House and Wilson with a broad grin on her face.
House considered a moment, then linked his arm through Wilson's. "It's only polite to offer your arm to a crippled old man," he told Wilson, who rolled his eyes.
House glanced back at Cameron and Cuddy. They were both giggling. Well, this would certainly make things interesting around the hospital, House thought. He wondered how many days he could get off early claiming a "date" with Wilson.
As they walked out the doors, House leaned his head on Wilson's shoulder. Wilson let out a startled burst of laughter, but didn't push House off. In fact, he squeezed House's arm where it was linked in his.
House grinned. Very interesting indeed.
***
Feedback: Vicodin for the soul.
Please post a comment on this story.
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 Fox Television, 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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