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Coffee
by Jackyblu
No glib remarks this time. (They wouldn't have changed much from The Opera anyway.) I imagine that it was very quiet on the set of House this morning. Today's news left me feeling ill much the same as I did July 7, 2005. So many of my colleagues fly from the U.K. to the U.S. What if? Thank God for MI5! And to all those on both sides of the pond, I quote Dickens, "God bless us everyone".
Please enjoy this part of `A Damn Good Day'. I love comments.
House arrived at the hospital around nine-forty something, almost early for him. Today was a double Vicodin morning thanks to the performance Cuddy had treated him to last night. He had had the privilege of being front row center and unable to sneak out. He was luckier this morning. She was in a meeting with the accountants. He still kept his head lowered, just in case, not wanting to chance an encore. He moved as quickly as his impediment would allow past her office and toward the elevators.
There were several people waiting when he arrived. He was grouchy this morning. Well to be fair he was grouchy most mornings, but his headache made it seem justifiable today. He hated being around people, especially in large groups. He joined the queue waiting for an elevator that indicated it was about to arrive at the main floor. Why do they bother putting stairs in buildings if no one uses them? That's why there's a weight problem in America, not enough stair-takers. When the door opened he said loudly, "Excuse me, late for my therapy." He insinuated himself toward the front, rubbing his leg and looking very sorry for himself. Usually this worked like a charm. People constantly wanted to help a poor cripple. Stupidiots!
He had to stop himself before he collided with a woman in a wheelchair being assisted by a very unsympathetic nurse Brenda from the clinic. "She's in labor Doctor House! Wait for the next one!" Brenda barked as she wheeled the expectant mother into the elevator nearly running House down. Her very large family joined her.
"Aaaaahhhhhh!" the future mother intoned loudly.
"Do your breathing. Hee, hee, hee," Brenda breathed rhythmically while the laboring mom tried imitate her. The door closed leaving him standing with the rest of the waiting mob. They were staring at him thanks to Brenda's outing him as a doctor. Busted. Perfect! He dropped his chin toward his chest and rubbed his forehead with his left hand. Being 6'2" and carrying a cane, made it very difficult to look invisible. He considered trying the stairs. Yeah, there's a good plan. He could pull himself up each step until he reached his floor. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours.
An older woman, with steel-gray hair, approached him. "Are you a doctor in this hospital?"
"Oh, damn," he whispered into his hand. He braced himself with both hands on his cane and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as if looking for inspiration. It came. House fixed a comically puzzled look on his face. "Que?"
"Do you work here?" she asked.
"No hablo ingls." he shrugged, eyes wide.
She tried again. "Didn't that nurse just speak to you in English?"
Another elevator announced its arrival. "Con tu permiso," he said smiling as he tried to get by her.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Excuse me."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said moving to one side to allow him to enter with another group.
He limped inside the elevator and turned to face the woman who was still standing outside with a confused look. Then realization shone in her eyes. Wait a minute!
"Muchas gracias..." he said grinning at her. "...And Auf Wiedersehen." He threw her a salute. Her very embarrassed and angry face disappeared behind the closing door.
He exited the elevator and made his way toward his office. Passing Oncology, he glanced in to see if Wilson was around. No one home. Must be holding the hand of another of his bald headed charges. They all loved James. He was the only doctor in the hospital that was ever thanked for delivering a terminal diagnosis. House, on the other hand had been punched more times than he cared to recall, and that was while saving a life. Can't think why.
He reached the door to the Department of Diagnostic Medicine, and stopped dead. Interesting. He immediately noticed the postures and expressions on the faces of his juniors seated around the conference table; coffee cups untouched in front of them. Well, Cameron's was anyway. Something was up and House, being House, wanted to analyze it before going in. He stepped back so that the window blinds hid him. The duck blinds he thought. Don't want to spook them. They'll take flight.
Foreman was watching something across the room, his arms folded, looking both smug and delighted. His eyes, were laughing out loud. Got to play poker with him sometime. I could win enough to keep Paula on retainer.
Chase was definitely grinning. Whatever was going on across the room was Christmas in July for him. Did a Victoria's Secret model wander in lost? I can dream.
Cameron was pissed. No other word for it. She sat ridged in her chair. From the top of her fashion photographer's wet dream head to her probably pink perfect toes she was seething. Very interesting.
The problem with the duck blind method of observation is that it did not allow House to see what they were looking at. He would have to enter the office for further investigation. Moving past the blinds and into view he placed his hand on the door. He was now able to see one other person in the office. Dr. James Wilson was standing with his back to the door. House couldn't hear what his bestest buddy was saying, but the body language suggested that Wilson was on the prowl. He was speaking to a desk. Wait! A desk? Since when did this office have another desk in it? And when did Wilson start schmoozing furniture? God, he really was lonely! House entered the office. Cameron ignored him. Chase and Foreman looked up at him eyes wide with anticipation, like a couple of kids waiting for a show to begin.
"Good Morning Dr. House!" Wilson cheerfully proclaimed. He was smiling his most charming and boyish smile. The one reserved for the ladies. He was wearing his pure white lab coat and trusty pocket protector, over soft grey slacks and a crisp light blue shirt. He was also wearing that yellow paisley tie Julie had given him on his last birthday. It was one of the few things she let him keep after the divorce. House hated it, mostly because it came from Julie.
"Good morning Dr. Wilson," House said warily. He's being too damn loud and too damn cheerful. Must have got some last night. House rubbed his eyes. Damn, his head hurt. "What's with the goofy smile? Looks cheesier than your tie," he grumbled.
Wilson stepped to one side to give House a view of the desk. Good thing he was leaning on his cane. Behind the desk sat a woman whom God had blessed in abundance.
Oh no. No, no, no. Not today. Damn it Cuddy!
As irritated as he was, he couldn't help but notice the woman's reaction at seeing him. In the span of an instant he saw disbelief, anger, and then outright amusement flash across her face. That's interesting. He usually needed to talk to someone before he earned all those emotions. Annoyed, he shot a look at Foreman and Chase that wiped the smiles off their faces and made them look for something to do. He was about to say something to Cameron but saw Wilson shake his head in warning. What's her problem? I'm the one being messed with here! Still eyeing Wilson he jabbed his cane at his office door. Translation. 'Get your toned-ass in there now!' Wilson followed House into his inner sanctum smiling cheerfully.
"Did you know about this?" House demanded as he dropped into his chair and leaned his cane against the bookcase. He pulled his throbbing leg up onto his desk and reached in his pocket for the bottle of Vicodin. Shaking one pill into his hand, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed. He was grateful that Wilson didn't know that this was his third this morning. I just want a break from the pain.
"Nope. But that doesn't make it any less fun for me," Wilson answered as he sat in his usual chair opposite House's. He leaned back and put his feet up too.
"Cuddy. I am going to kill her! Who is she?"
"Pretty sure she's still the Dean of Medicine and our boss. "
"Don't screw with me this morning."
"Darn, and I was hoping for a quickie before lunch."
House growled at him. "You wish." He gestured toward the desk on the other side of the glass. "Who is SHE?"
"Oooooooooooooh, HER! She's your new administrative assistant."
"Get me a gun!"
"Oh, you can't do that, it being her first day on the job and all."
"It's not for her," he insisted with a head nod toward the unwanted desk again. "It's for our Dean of Medicine, and you if you don't wipe that facacta smile off your face."
"She's nice. You should try talking to her."
"You'd think anyone was nice if they had a rack like that." House indicated exaggerated cup size with both hands spread and held them a minimum of twelve inches in front of his own chest. "Not that that's a bad thing," he admitted quirking half a smile.
Wilson sighed, as he looked her way again. "They are impressive," he agreed.
House rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes. "Cuddy is devious. Normally I would respect that. She's hired big boobs out there to spy on me." House imitating Cuddy's voice said, "Oh Ms Megga Jugs. Is Dr. House hiding in Dr. Wilson's office?"
Wilson answered House in a sickly sweet falsetto. "Why no Dr. Cuddy. Dr. House is in the clinic playing his Gameboy in exam room one. After that he plans on going to Obstetrics to raid their refrigerator and watch General Hospital on their plasma screen TV. Then he is going to meet hard working Dr. Wilson in the cafeteria. Anything else I can help you with?"
House snorted a grudging laugh. "I'm screwed. Cuddy has hired her, so I can't fire her."
Wilson corrected him. "Actually, she works for you. That was the condition she placed before accepting the job. She told Cuddy that she couldn't work for you and answer to her. It would make for an uncomfortable work environment."
Mondo mammarys and intelligent, House mused. It's going to be a real shame to let her go. He looked at Wilson with one open eye. "And you know all this inside information how?"
"Shrewd Jewish trick. I talked to her."
"No wonder your people needed only six days to win a war." He rubbed his hand across his face and then held it there.
"Bad night?"
"A little worse than usual. I can't seem to shake off this headache."
"Why don't you get a cup of coffee?"
House grouched from behind his hand. "Why don't you pretend its 'Be Nice To Cripples Day' and get it for me?"
"Gee that day seems to pop up a lot." Wilson put his feet on the floor and rose from the chair. He shook his head still smiling and walked toward the door of the conference room.
That was too easy, House realized. He lifted his hand and raised his head so he could see the door. "Hey, don't spit in it or anything!"
Wilson placed his hand on the door and looked back innocently, "Would I do that?" He went into the other room. The door closed.
"I'm watching you!" House bellowed. Great, now Ms M. J. is making eye contact with me through the glass wall. Maybe she thinks I'm a lunatic and will quit on her own. Damn she has nice eyes, brown like Wilson's and nearly as big as her boobs. She turned away from him and started sorting through his mail, her back to the glass. Now House went into diagnostic mode and little escaped his attention. Hmm, small waist but rounded hips. She's had at least one kid. No ring on the left hand. Divorcee with a kid or two to feed. Great. Fire her today but pay her for two weeks. That will make me look less a bastard than usual. Even Cameron would think he was being nice. Nice? Me? He shuddered before continuing his observations.
Her chestnut brown hair was cut short to her jaw. House had always preferred women with long dark hair. Cuddy, Cameron, even Paula wore their hair past their shoulders. Only Stacy's was shorter. Stacy. Now there was an unwanted thought to add to this miserable day. He gave himself a mental shake and went back to his analysis. He decided that he liked the way she wore her hair. It said things about her. It was professional the way it swept away from her face, sophisticated, but still casual, like she could be outside in a breeze and not have a coronary about a hair being out of place. Oh my god. Quick, give me your comb! House had never carried a comb in his life. That drove Stacy nuts. Great, back to her again. Shake it off House.
Wilson was returning with two cups of coffee. He predictably stopped at the desk and spoke to the object of House's scrutiny. Her face turned to his, giving House a view of her profile. The face was round but the way her bangs were swept to one side created the illusion of length. She had a small nose, like a child's. She's cute he thought. What? Cute? This was a four-letter word that he never included in his vocabulary. Cute implied warm fuzzy thoughts. Hell, it was the epitome of warm and fuzzy. Cute puppy. Cute kitten. Women with big knockers are not cute! Cameron was the poster child for the National Cuteness Society, but House always thought of her as beautiful. Cuddy exotic. Paula incredible. Stacy stunning. This woman however, is definitely cute. God help me!
Wilson's re-appearance halted the soliloquy in his head. He placed a red mug in front of House and then sat back down in his chair and settled his legs upon the desk again. He held a blue mug on his knee.
House looked suspiciously at the steaming mug. "I was watching you, you know."
"Relax. Two sugars, no bodily fluids. Cameron offered hemlock, but I know you're trying to cut back."
"She is a little pissy this morning. Wonder what I did?"
Wilson rolled his eyes. "And once again, the world revolves around the great Gregory House."
House pouted. "It doesn't?"
Wilson shot him the 'you-are-such-an-ass' look. "Cameron doesn't like the idea of another hen in the rooster house, House," he finished shrugging.
House lifted his coffee. "That was lame. Why don't you add that its ruffled her feathers?"
"Didn't want to lay an egg."
House screwed up his face. "If we're going to resort to puns, I'll need another Vicodin."
"Yeah, like Vogler needs another million," Wilson stated baldly. "Cameron's just afraid that an assistant would take away any need you have for her."
House narrowed his eyes at him. " She said she was over me. That she had joined the ranks of those who hate me," House answered flatly.
"She still wants you to need her. She needs to be needed," Wilson finished sagely.
"Yeah, I know. What she needs, is a hobby, and I don't want to be it!" The third Vicodin was kicking in, making him comfortably numb. He was about to sip the coffee when the aroma demanded his attention. His eyes snapped up and locked Wilson in dual blue lasers. "This, smells like... coffee."
"That was incredible! You really should be a diagnostician," Wilson deadpanned.
House took a careful taste. His eyes opened wide. It was like Gershwin playing across his tongue, Rhapsody in Dark Brown. It was rich and filled with nuances. House closed his eyes and let a low moan escape his lips.
"Oh, I know that sound. Try not to spew sperm all over yourself."
"Where did you get this?" he asked, eyes still closed.
"Coffee pot. Next room. I thought you were watching?"
House came out of his rapture and looked at him. "You did not get this out of that pot. No coffee this good ever came out of it."
Wilson gestured toward the new assistant with his mug. "It does when she makes it."
House followed the mug and looked through the glass. He became thoughtful. Finishing his earlier analysis, he decided that she was about 5'6" and somewhere in age between Wilson and himself. She had worked her way threw college as a coffee barista. He liked the way she had dressed for her first day. She wore dark blue slacks, a red knit shirt with ample cleavage exposure, and a blue jacket that matched the slacks but was at that moment hung over the back of her chair. She turned the chair slightly to the left and House saw something that made him smile. She was wearing Nikes. She was comfortable and didn't give a damn what anyone else thought. Cool.
"So, are you going to keep her?" Wilson asked with one eyebrow arched at House.
House looked sadly at his cup. "I can't keep her just because she makes orgasmically good coffee."
"You kept me as your roommate because I could cook."
"Yes, but you also did the dishes and washed my socks." House pointed out, shaking his index finger for emphasis.
"That was to avoid botulism. Also, I was tired of you stealing my socks." Wilson sighed pointedly. "Hey, here's a crazy idea - Why don't you get to know her first before you let her go? You might be surprised." Wilson tilted his head at House and then took another sip of coffee. "God, this is good!"
"Would you call her beautiful?"
Wilson choked, coffee now heading down his windpipe. "Where did that come from?" he sputtered.
"Just a question. Seriously, you think she's beautiful?" House was looking sincere. That was enough for Wilson to really consider the question. "She's attractive."
House made a 'pfft' sound and dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "Chase is attractive. You and I are attractive." Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Everyone is attractive in someway. Except Atkinson in Pathology. Ugly sucker!" House winced.
"Terrifying." Wilson agreed. He looked toward the other room again. "She's cute." He smiled appreciatively.
"I knew it! Cute. You know me, I don't do cute!"
Wilson was about to make a snide remark that House would do anyone who presented the opportunity, but decided against it. "So she's cute? I can see where that would be a mark against her. You hired Cameron because she's beautiful for God's sake! Foreman for his street smarts, and Chase because his daddy was famous."
"They also had outstanding résumés." House said tightly.
"You received better ones," Wilson countered. "You hired them based on superficial reasons. So what's wrong with cute, great breasts and coffee? Not to mention that she would also do your paperwork," he began ticking things off on his fingers, "and answer your phone, keep your calendar, sort your mail, and finish your billings. All the tedious tasks you hate, and which Cuddy is prepared to chain you to your desk and force you to do!"
House pressed his lips together until they made one thin line. "The fourth circle of hell." He closed his eyes again. When would this headache stop? "I didn't interview or hire her; Cuddy did. This has got to be bad for me somehow." Am I trying to convince James or myself? She's probably exceptional at her job or Cuddy wouldn't have interviewed her. Although this hiring was designed to make him miserable, Cuddy was a professional. She wouldn't have chosen the first person that filled out an application. He also suspected his 'new assistant' was a single mom. Great. How big a bastard would he have to be to fire her without reason? He felt tired and defeated. Cuddy had bested him. Bitch.
Wilson decided to throw him a bone. "On the other hand, the poor girl hasn't met you yet. After being exposed to your charming personality, she may be the one that gets a rifle and goes Cuddy hunting." He had an absurd vision of the assistant in Elmer Fudd's hunting clothes stalking a rabbit eared, dark haired woman in stiletto heeled shoes. He sniggered into his mug.
House was deep in thought. "Or," he said with a confident gleam returning to his eye, "She may be the one who goes running for the exit. You're right Jimmy! I should let her meet Greg House." He drained his mug. "You think it would be wrong to ask her to make another pot before I drive her out of here?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Too bad." He pointed at the mug in his hand. "Damn good coffee. Her Twin Peaks are nice too."
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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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