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Mistletoe
by Elfride S.
Cameron frowned in concentration as she pushed in the last sprig of mistletoe. She leaned back to admire her handiwork, a satisfied smile on her face. There, she thought, all done. If this doesn't work -
There was a noise in the corridor. Cameron froze. A janitor pushing his cart stopped in front of the office and looked in, smiling.
"Still working at this hour doc?" he asked, reaching for his bottle of Ajax and a cloth.
"Uh yeah," she said. "Just doing some ...... paperwork."
"Don't mind me. I'm just cleaning the windows," he started wiping the glass partition.
"Are you going to clean this office?" she asked.
"Soon as I finish with this glass. There's an awful lot of it."
"Well uh, there's no need to do that - clean this office I mean, tonight," she said. "It's ...... still clean."
The janitor frowned, "but we only vacuum the carpets on Friday nights." He looked at the name on the door. "You're not Gregory House. If Dr. House complains about the state of his office -"
"Don't worry about that, I work for him, and he said that he didn't want his office cleaned this weekend."
"I should at least empty the wastepaper basket," he said, pointing at the overflowing dustbin. It was filled with mistletoe twigs and bits of string.
"Oh that," Cameron picked up the basket and shoved it at the janitor. "Here. You can empty it now."
The bewildered janitor took the basket from her and tipped its contents into the bin.
"Thank you," she said, snatching back the basket and putting it back beside the desk. She folded up the ladder and awkwardly carried it out of the door.
The janitor moved towards the office, "Don't worry about the lights," he said kindly, "I'll switch them off for you."
"No!" she yelled, causing the janitor to jump in alarm. "I'll do that myself."
She hurriedly leaned the ladder against the wall and scrambled back in, switched off the lights, shut the door quickly and crouched down to lock it.
The janitor stared at her.
"Just taking this back to the supplies closet," Cameron picked up the ladder again and smiled uncomfortably, "good night!"
The janitor waited until Cameron's footsteps faded. He looked around surreptitiously and reached for his own bunch of skeleton keys. Then he unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping into the office and switching on the lights.
The janitor looked round the office. Everything seemed to be in order. Except ...... there was a strong smell of freshly cut leaves.
Then it occurred to the janitor to look up. His eyes widened. He contemplated if he should do something about it. Nah, he decided, too much trouble.
* * *
Mondays, House thought as he entered the hospital. Not usually his favorite day of the week. But this Monday was different. The Who was performing in New York for one night only and he had tickets. To get to New York on time he'd have to take a four hour long drive, give or take an hour because of the impending snow, which meant leaving at three in the afternoon. That wasn't difficult. Ensuring that he actually left at all was going to be harder. There was currently a grand total of zero cases requiring his attention in Diagnostics. Which meant that he was scheduled for clinic duty all day today.
Cuddy's remarkable penchant for sniffing out his schemes to avoid clinic duty had taken on a most disturbing turn. If House did not keep to a schedule for clinic duty, she decided, she would simply make him do it first thing in the morning. The result was that for the past week he'd been waylaid by Cuddy everyday in the lobby with stacks of charts, regardless of what time he turned up for work.
If House was to be able to leave on time he would have to avoid Cuddy. This required a Cunning Plan. A Plan that involved sacrifice, and an unusual compromise of character. It would mean departing from well-established precedence, taking a radical step, ignoring every protest elicited by his moral fiber. House loathed doing this, but there was no other viable option that he could pursue to throw Cuddy and her insidious chart-totting exploits off. For the sake of the concert, he'd decided, gritting his teeth in determination, he would turn up early for work.
The lobby was unusually crowded this morning, he thought. Almost as if there were an unusually large number of sick people. In fact, there was Chase and Foreman, attending to a line of patients in the clinic. Some epidemic must have happened, he decided. And in a situation like this, Cuddy was sure to be around.
House began to move faster, using his cane to whack at the calves of whoever was in his way.
"Coming through! Cripple coming through!"
From the corner of his eye he noticed Cuddy push open the door of the clinic. The next moment she had seen him and began to move in his direction. She had about ten charts in her arms and an intent expression on her face. Cuddy was a woman with a purpose. And House had to run. Now, if there was to be any hope of attending the concert at all.
The lift doors opened, and House was still in a throng five patients thick away from it. If only he could reach it before Cuddy reached him.
Hurry up you damn leg, he cursed.
The lift rapidly filled up with people and the doors started to close. House limped as fast as his leg would allow him to.
"Hold the lift!" he shouted. There was a familiar face. Cameron was standing right in the front of the crowded elevator.
He waved wildly, gesticulating for her to stop the doors from closing. Cameron looked up, smiled, and pressed the close button. An indignant "Hey!" was all he could manage before he heard Cuddy clearing her throat behind him.
"Good morning. Decided to come to work at the same time as the rest of us did you?"
"Wrong. Work?" he snorted, "there's a General Hospital holiday special at nine."
He pressed the `up' button impatiently.
"Now if you'll excuse me there's a show I have to watch on that fabulous theatre system you had installed in the OB-GYN lounge. Marianne is going to find out that Sonny's been having an affair with her mother," he smiled pensively, "compelling television."
"Good to see that something gets you out of bed before twelve. But since you're here and the workday does start at nine," she started to pass the charts to House. "There's a stomach upset in one and a sore throat in two."
"This is my reward for coming in to work on time? Now you've done it, I'll never do this again."
"Here are the rest of the charts. Mostly runny noses and fevers. One of the other hospitals had some problems with its sewage system and they've directed all outpatient traffic here. So we'll need you to help clear the backlog," said Cuddy, ignoring him.
"The backlog? Exactly how many patients am I seeing?" he gestured at the crowded lobby. "When will we be finished with this lot? 2006? This will take longer than the number of hours I actually have to spend in the clinic this week!"
"And it still wouldn't make up for all the hours you owe me."
The loudspeaker paged for Cuddy to go to her office and she turned to leave.
"If you're good I'll even pretend I won't notice when you leave at three for your concert."
* * *
Up in the office Cameron had finished lighting the candles lining the edge of the desk. How lucky that all those patients had turned up unexpectedly so that Chase, Foreman and most of the staff on the floor had to go down to deal with the overload And how lucky that it looked like it was going to snow and dark, iron-gray clouds had gathered overhead so that with the lights dimmed and the candles burning the interior of House's office looked suitably romantic and cozy.
Cameron had stolen away from the crowded clinic when she saw him enter the building. Knowing House, he'd have palmed off the work to Chase and Foreman at the first opportunity, and since Cuddy had been paged that opportunity would have presented itself the moment she was out of sight. House would be here any minute. She could hardly keep herself from rubbing her hands together in glee.
"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" House was at the door of his office, a look of disbelief on his face.
"I thought candles would help create some Christmas spirit," she smiled shyly.
House walked into the office and gestured with his cane, "Get those off my desk."
Cameron's face almost fell. Remember the big plan, she thought. Her smile widened. She took a step towards House, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.
"Merry Christmas," she said.
House stared at her, before turning away and saying gruffly, "Merry Christmas."
Cameron waited for him to say something mean, and when it didn't come her heart started to flutter. She watched him rummage for something in his drawer.
"Where're my pills?" he asked, without looking up.
"Second drawer, behind the stapler."
He didn't seem to be irritated by her having tidied up his desk today either, she noticed.
"What?" House asked, exasperated to find her still standing and staring at him after he was done popping his Vicodin.
Cameron smiled beatifically and pointed at the ceiling.
House looked up.
A carpet of mistletoe spread across the ceiling in a thick, green, unbroken swath. It extended from the glass wall at the entrance to the doors that led to the verandah, from the partition that divided the office from the meeting room to the wall beside his desk.
House looked at Cameron. She had a mad, seductive glint in her eyes.
"We have to kiss. It's traditional," she puckered her lips and closed her eyes, moving nearer.
In one swift motion he had taken a step back and was at the door even before you could say "liar".
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To the clinic. And you'll have the office back to its original state by the time I'm finished down there,"
"No, wait, you don't understand. If you kiss me you'll finally be able to face up to all those feelings you have for me!"
House stopped in his step. Cameron's heart almost leapt to her mouth. He was listening to her!
Then he turned around and took out a notepad and a pen and started to scribble.
He handed her the piece of paper, "After you're done with the office you can go to the fifth floor for a psych consult. Dr. Brooks specializes in delusional patients; I think she'd find you an interesting specimen."
Cameron looked after his receding figure and sighed. It had almost worked this time. Maybe it was too public in his office. Next year, she would break into his apartment...
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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 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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