Title: Cuddy’s Little Secret
Story contents: © January 8, 2008 by dragonwrangler
Rating: PG (House/Wilson implied)
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy
Warnings: Minor spoilers for the S2 episode "Forever" and the S3 episode "Act Your Age."
Summary: House and Wilson stumble across Cuddy’s secret hobby.
Author’s note: Inspired by the above icon by![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
bironic and a comment laurazel left after reading this little ficlet of mine. Thank you to elva_barr and jdr1184 for comments made on the early drafts, and obsessist for catching a few punctuation mistakes. All remaining mistakes are my own fault-- comments, critiques, and corrections are always greatly appreciated!
Disclaimers: House MD is the property of Universal Studios and Fox. I’m making no profit from this story- I just like messing with the characters.
Also, the first six lines of dialog belong tobironic.
The contents of one of the discs House had swiped off Cuddy’s desk had been a bit of a shock, but as Wilson continued to read, he found his shock quickly turning into something else.
As House settled back in his chair with a non-committal “ngh,” Wilson leaned forward to scan the text lower down.
“Is… that even physically possible?” he blurted out, more than a little turned on by what he was reading.
There was a moment of silence.
“We could do a hands-on trial,” House said thoughtfully.
Wilson nodded. “The peanut butter does sound like fun,” he said.
House glanced up. “I’m free Friday. My place?”
“I’ll…” Wilson paused, raising an eyebrow while muttering a fascinated ‘wow’ as he read a little more.
“…bring the handcuffs,” he finally said.
They stared at the screen a little longer, and then Wilson asked, “Do you think she’s tried that?”
“Well, they do say ‘write what you know.’”
“I know, but...”
House looked up again, but this time, there was an evil gleam in his eye. “We could just ask.”
Wilson shook his head. “Uh, no-- I happen to like my job.”
“Coward.”
***
Friday night found Cuddy storming up the stairs leading to House’s apartment, a patient file clenched tightly in one hand. She had been looking forward to enjoying her first weekend off in months; but of course she had-- once again-- underestimated House‘s ability to completely screw her life.
The man had not bothered to fill out his projected budget for the coming fiscal year, the budget she needed to present to the Board of Directors on Tuesday-- but that problem she was prepared for. All she needed to do to correct that issue was to lock House in a room Monday until he got it done. All the man had to do was plug the numbers in and save it to the disk she had let him borrow-- how difficult could that be?
What she had not prepared for was him pulling one of his brilliant but idiotic stunts just before leaving for the weekend, saddling her with even more paperwork that had to be filled out right now to keep the legal powers-that-be happy.
There was no way in hell she was going to suffer through all that paperwork alone; even if it meant being stuck with a whinny, six foot tall eight year old on her day off.
“House!” Cuddy pounded on the door to 221b with her free hand. “I know you’re in there, House! Open the door!”
She could hear more than one voice on the other side of the door; and knowing there was only one person who would willingly hang out with House, she shouted, “Wilson! Get his ass over here!”
There was a quick, unintelligible exchange before the door swung open, revealing House, barefoot but otherwise looking like he always did-- slightly rumpled in a jeans and t-shirt combo.
“Finally getting around to starting that escort business?” House asked, his eyes immediately dropping from Cuddy’s face to her chest. “’Cause, you know, I’m always up for supporting a worthy cause.”
“Shut up.” She slapped the file she was carrying against his chest. “Care to explain what the hell you were up to?”
A sudden choking sound from the vicinity of the couch pulled her attention away from House.
Over the years, Cuddy had developed a sense of impending doom to give herself a chance to move proactively against whatever chaotic event House was generating; and that sense was now revving into overdrive as she stared past House to look at Wilson.
Moving against her better judgment, she took another step into the apartment when Wilson turned and gave her a wide-eyed, panicked look. It took a moment for Cuddy to figure out what was wrong about the scene before her; until she realized Wilson’s shirt was buttoned up wrong and that his perfect hair was no longer perfect.
And there was something stuck to it.
“Why do you have peanut butter in your hair, Wilson?” As she said the words, staring at the rumpled and flushed Wilson before her, something clicked in the back of her mind and she felt the sense of impending doom explode.
Stunned, she yelled, “You stole my disk?”
“No,” she heard House say.
Before she could turn on House, Wilson jumped to his feet, pointed an accusing finger at House, and shouted, “It was his idea!”
“What was his idea, trying out the positions or stealing the disk?” she shouted back.
“Both!”
“Oh, fine-- blame me,” House grumbled behind her.
Wilson waved his arms. “Hey, you’re already in trouble!”
“You’re both dead is what you are!”
As Cuddy tried to catch her breath, panic clenching her chest as the full impact of what the two of them had discovered hit, she noticed House trying to casually lean over her shoulder so he could get a better view of her breasts.
“You wrote it,’ he said without looking up. “Not my fault you left it sitting on top of your desk.”
She flipped her jacket closed. “What part of “my desk” do you not understand?” she said.
“What, you told me to get a disk off your desk for my budget report-- you didn’t bother to mention there’d be more than one for me to choose from.”
“So you took them all?”
House actually seemed surprised by the question. “Well, duh.” He suddenly smirked and made a quick nod in Wilson’s direction. “And, just so you know, he’s the quiet one during sex; might want to fix that when you get around to doing the revisions.”
Oh God. “What makes you think I was writing about you two?” she said as she tried to figure out how to distract House from his line of thought before she died from total embarrassment.
“Who else would you be writing about?” House answered reasonably.
Damn you and that mind of yours.
***
House was torn. Part of him desperately wanted to tease the hell out of Cuddy regarding what they had found on the disk, but the little voice of compassion that sounded suspiciously like Wilson was telling him to back off.
Clearly, Wilson had become a stronger influence than he thought since he was having a hell of a time overriding that voice.
As Cuddy raised a hand to rub her temple, House noticed Wilson was on the move; and felt a bit of smug satisfaction at the sight of the younger man’s flustered appearance. Wilson was cautiously approaching Cuddy-- a beer in his hand and an apologetic look on his face. Cuddy’s head snapped up when Wilson cleared his throat and held the beer in her direction.
“We promise, we won’t tell anyone about what we found,” he said.
Cuddy snatched the beer out of his hand. “You’d better not or I’ll make both your lives a living hell.”
“How would that be any different from now?” House felt the need to ask.
The look Cuddy gave him left no doubts in his mind that he really didn’t want to find out.
Wilson also gave him a look, though his was more one of exasperated annoyance than anything else, before saying to Cuddy, “Actually the story was really good-- is there more?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously when he became the focus of Cuddy’s glare. “I'm, um, curious to see what happens next.”
Cuddy stared at him. “You two are hopeless,” she said.
Wilson chuckled. “I don’t think we’re in any position to argue with that observation at the moment.” As he dropped his hand away from his neck, Wilson sighed as he looked at the peanut butter that was now stuck to his fingertips.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’m going to go see if I can get some of this out of my hair. I‘ll be right back.”
Cuddy waved one hand in the air then surprised House by walking over to the couch and dropping into it before sucking down a good portion of her beer.
Wilson gave him another look and mouthed, ‘be nice’ before heading for the bathroom.
House rolled his eyes. “Coward,” he said to Wilson‘s retreating back.
Dropping the file on the coffee table and grabbing a beer for himself, House settled on the opposite end of the couch from Cuddy. As she picked up another beer and leaned back to drink, he decided to get at least one more dig in before Wilson came back and spoiled his fun.
“So, how many three-ways have we been involved in?” he said. “Be real interested in reading those.”
She gave him a disgusted look. “What makes you think I’d want to write myself into those stories? Please, I have enough trouble dealing with you in real life, why would I want to in my fantasies?”
“Why write them then?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“'Cause I can make you do what I want without listening to you complain about it.”
He hadn’t thought of that but it sure as hell made a warped kind of sense.
“I can’t believe you read that,” Cuddy said as she pushed herself deeper into the couch.
Relenting a little, House said, “Actually Wilson was right, it was good and pretty damn hot.” House took a sip of his beer, and then asked, “Where’d you get the names Hugh and Robert from?”
“I don‘t know,” Cuddy answered. “They just popped into my head one day. They seemed to fit so I used them.”
“Uh huh, and care to enlighten me as to why you started writing slashy stories about us?” When Cuddy scowled at him, he pointed out, “Hey, cat’s already out of the bag.”
“Yeah, and it was really out of the bag when you bought Wilson those flowers.” she said.
“That was a joke!”
“And you breaking into my office all protective of Wilson after I asked him out on a date was just you showing concern for my well-being?”
He didn't bother responding to that jab, since that was pretty much when he had started stalking Wilson. “When did you figure out something was up?” House asked instead.
She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure until I caught the two of you kissing in your office.”
“You were spying on us? Perv.”
“Yeah, right, I live for moments like that.” She shook her head. “Actually I was there to ream you out for something but…” Cuddy sighed. “You both looked happy; I didn’t want to spoil that.”
House’s mind locked a moment on that comment. “Wait, you want me to be happy?”
Cuddy rolled her eyes. “Yes House, as amazing as that may seem to you I do-- though moments like this make me want to kill you as slowly and painfully as I can.” Her expression shifted, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it as she admitted softly, “That’s why I started writing those stories.” She stared down at the beer in her hand. “You don’t get happy endings in real life.”
House's thoughts drifted a moment to Wilson-- a man who had the ability to love someone as screwed up as he was, even after all the shit House had put him through during their friendship-- before returning his attention back to Cuddy.
“Sometimes you do,” he said in a voice that was softer than he intended.
Cuddy gave him a small understanding smile and raised her beer. “I hope you’re right, House.”
He raised his own beer. “Hey, I’m never wrong; would have thought you’d have learned that by now.”
“Arrogant ass,” Cuddy grumbled, but there was a smile on her face as she went back to drinking her beer.
***
Wilson was surprised to find Cuddy gone when he returned to the living room. He sat down next to House and scrubbed his hair dry with a towel.
Pulling the towel away, resting his head against the arm House had stretched out across the top of the couch, he asked casually, “So how many extra clinic hours are we going to have to do?”
“None.”
“None?”
“Nope.” House glanced at him. “We’re doing paperwork instead.”
Wilson frowned. “She’s got us doing her paperwork?”
“Nope, she’s got us doing mine. Apparently she’s going to lock us in a room tonight till we’re done doing my budget.”
“Why do I have to be there? I gave her my budget.”
“Yeah, but you read the disk too.”
Wilson couldn‘t argue with that and dropped the towel into House’s lap as he pushed himself off the couch. “Right,” he said, “I’ll go get ready.”
As he walked away, House called out, “Won’t be so bad. We’ll be locked in the room, not like anybody’s gonna be able to walk in on us.”
Wilson paused a moment to digest that. Looking back at the smug look on House’s face, Wilson knew exactly where House’s thoughts had gone and smiled as his thoughts followed right along with them.
“I’ll get the handcuffs.”
Story contents: © January 8, 2008 by dragonwrangler
Rating: PG (House/Wilson implied)
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy
Warnings: Minor spoilers for the S2 episode "Forever" and the S3 episode "Act Your Age."
Summary: House and Wilson stumble across Cuddy’s secret hobby.
Author’s note: Inspired by the above icon by
bironic and a comment laurazel left after reading this little ficlet of mine. Thank you to elva_barr and jdr1184 for comments made on the early drafts, and obsessist for catching a few punctuation mistakes. All remaining mistakes are my own fault-- comments, critiques, and corrections are always greatly appreciated!Disclaimers: House MD is the property of Universal Studios and Fox. I’m making no profit from this story- I just like messing with the characters.
Also, the first six lines of dialog belong to
bironic.The contents of one of the discs House had swiped off Cuddy’s desk had been a bit of a shock, but as Wilson continued to read, he found his shock quickly turning into something else.
As House settled back in his chair with a non-committal “ngh,” Wilson leaned forward to scan the text lower down.
“Is… that even physically possible?” he blurted out, more than a little turned on by what he was reading.
There was a moment of silence.
“We could do a hands-on trial,” House said thoughtfully.
Wilson nodded. “The peanut butter does sound like fun,” he said.
House glanced up. “I’m free Friday. My place?”
“I’ll…” Wilson paused, raising an eyebrow while muttering a fascinated ‘wow’ as he read a little more.
“…bring the handcuffs,” he finally said.
They stared at the screen a little longer, and then Wilson asked, “Do you think she’s tried that?”
“Well, they do say ‘write what you know.’”
“I know, but...”
House looked up again, but this time, there was an evil gleam in his eye. “We could just ask.”
Wilson shook his head. “Uh, no-- I happen to like my job.”
“Coward.”
Friday night found Cuddy storming up the stairs leading to House’s apartment, a patient file clenched tightly in one hand. She had been looking forward to enjoying her first weekend off in months; but of course she had-- once again-- underestimated House‘s ability to completely screw her life.
The man had not bothered to fill out his projected budget for the coming fiscal year, the budget she needed to present to the Board of Directors on Tuesday-- but that problem she was prepared for. All she needed to do to correct that issue was to lock House in a room Monday until he got it done. All the man had to do was plug the numbers in and save it to the disk she had let him borrow-- how difficult could that be?
What she had not prepared for was him pulling one of his brilliant but idiotic stunts just before leaving for the weekend, saddling her with even more paperwork that had to be filled out right now to keep the legal powers-that-be happy.
There was no way in hell she was going to suffer through all that paperwork alone; even if it meant being stuck with a whinny, six foot tall eight year old on her day off.
“House!” Cuddy pounded on the door to 221b with her free hand. “I know you’re in there, House! Open the door!”
She could hear more than one voice on the other side of the door; and knowing there was only one person who would willingly hang out with House, she shouted, “Wilson! Get his ass over here!”
There was a quick, unintelligible exchange before the door swung open, revealing House, barefoot but otherwise looking like he always did-- slightly rumpled in a jeans and t-shirt combo.
“Finally getting around to starting that escort business?” House asked, his eyes immediately dropping from Cuddy’s face to her chest. “’Cause, you know, I’m always up for supporting a worthy cause.”
“Shut up.” She slapped the file she was carrying against his chest. “Care to explain what the hell you were up to?”
A sudden choking sound from the vicinity of the couch pulled her attention away from House.
Over the years, Cuddy had developed a sense of impending doom to give herself a chance to move proactively against whatever chaotic event House was generating; and that sense was now revving into overdrive as she stared past House to look at Wilson.
Moving against her better judgment, she took another step into the apartment when Wilson turned and gave her a wide-eyed, panicked look. It took a moment for Cuddy to figure out what was wrong about the scene before her; until she realized Wilson’s shirt was buttoned up wrong and that his perfect hair was no longer perfect.
And there was something stuck to it.
“Why do you have peanut butter in your hair, Wilson?” As she said the words, staring at the rumpled and flushed Wilson before her, something clicked in the back of her mind and she felt the sense of impending doom explode.
Stunned, she yelled, “You stole my disk?”
“No,” she heard House say.
Before she could turn on House, Wilson jumped to his feet, pointed an accusing finger at House, and shouted, “It was his idea!”
“What was his idea, trying out the positions or stealing the disk?” she shouted back.
“Both!”
“Oh, fine-- blame me,” House grumbled behind her.
Wilson waved his arms. “Hey, you’re already in trouble!”
“You’re both dead is what you are!”
As Cuddy tried to catch her breath, panic clenching her chest as the full impact of what the two of them had discovered hit, she noticed House trying to casually lean over her shoulder so he could get a better view of her breasts.
“You wrote it,’ he said without looking up. “Not my fault you left it sitting on top of your desk.”
She flipped her jacket closed. “What part of “my desk” do you not understand?” she said.
“What, you told me to get a disk off your desk for my budget report-- you didn’t bother to mention there’d be more than one for me to choose from.”
“So you took them all?”
House actually seemed surprised by the question. “Well, duh.” He suddenly smirked and made a quick nod in Wilson’s direction. “And, just so you know, he’s the quiet one during sex; might want to fix that when you get around to doing the revisions.”
Oh God. “What makes you think I was writing about you two?” she said as she tried to figure out how to distract House from his line of thought before she died from total embarrassment.
“Who else would you be writing about?” House answered reasonably.
Damn you and that mind of yours.
House was torn. Part of him desperately wanted to tease the hell out of Cuddy regarding what they had found on the disk, but the little voice of compassion that sounded suspiciously like Wilson was telling him to back off.
Clearly, Wilson had become a stronger influence than he thought since he was having a hell of a time overriding that voice.
As Cuddy raised a hand to rub her temple, House noticed Wilson was on the move; and felt a bit of smug satisfaction at the sight of the younger man’s flustered appearance. Wilson was cautiously approaching Cuddy-- a beer in his hand and an apologetic look on his face. Cuddy’s head snapped up when Wilson cleared his throat and held the beer in her direction.
“We promise, we won’t tell anyone about what we found,” he said.
Cuddy snatched the beer out of his hand. “You’d better not or I’ll make both your lives a living hell.”
“How would that be any different from now?” House felt the need to ask.
The look Cuddy gave him left no doubts in his mind that he really didn’t want to find out.
Wilson also gave him a look, though his was more one of exasperated annoyance than anything else, before saying to Cuddy, “Actually the story was really good-- is there more?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously when he became the focus of Cuddy’s glare. “I'm, um, curious to see what happens next.”
Cuddy stared at him. “You two are hopeless,” she said.
Wilson chuckled. “I don’t think we’re in any position to argue with that observation at the moment.” As he dropped his hand away from his neck, Wilson sighed as he looked at the peanut butter that was now stuck to his fingertips.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’m going to go see if I can get some of this out of my hair. I‘ll be right back.”
Cuddy waved one hand in the air then surprised House by walking over to the couch and dropping into it before sucking down a good portion of her beer.
Wilson gave him another look and mouthed, ‘be nice’ before heading for the bathroom.
House rolled his eyes. “Coward,” he said to Wilson‘s retreating back.
Dropping the file on the coffee table and grabbing a beer for himself, House settled on the opposite end of the couch from Cuddy. As she picked up another beer and leaned back to drink, he decided to get at least one more dig in before Wilson came back and spoiled his fun.
“So, how many three-ways have we been involved in?” he said. “Be real interested in reading those.”
She gave him a disgusted look. “What makes you think I’d want to write myself into those stories? Please, I have enough trouble dealing with you in real life, why would I want to in my fantasies?”
“Why write them then?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“'Cause I can make you do what I want without listening to you complain about it.”
He hadn’t thought of that but it sure as hell made a warped kind of sense.
“I can’t believe you read that,” Cuddy said as she pushed herself deeper into the couch.
Relenting a little, House said, “Actually Wilson was right, it was good and pretty damn hot.” House took a sip of his beer, and then asked, “Where’d you get the names Hugh and Robert from?”
“I don‘t know,” Cuddy answered. “They just popped into my head one day. They seemed to fit so I used them.”
“Uh huh, and care to enlighten me as to why you started writing slashy stories about us?” When Cuddy scowled at him, he pointed out, “Hey, cat’s already out of the bag.”
“Yeah, and it was really out of the bag when you bought Wilson those flowers.” she said.
“That was a joke!”
“And you breaking into my office all protective of Wilson after I asked him out on a date was just you showing concern for my well-being?”
He didn't bother responding to that jab, since that was pretty much when he had started stalking Wilson. “When did you figure out something was up?” House asked instead.
She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure until I caught the two of you kissing in your office.”
“You were spying on us? Perv.”
“Yeah, right, I live for moments like that.” She shook her head. “Actually I was there to ream you out for something but…” Cuddy sighed. “You both looked happy; I didn’t want to spoil that.”
House’s mind locked a moment on that comment. “Wait, you want me to be happy?”
Cuddy rolled her eyes. “Yes House, as amazing as that may seem to you I do-- though moments like this make me want to kill you as slowly and painfully as I can.” Her expression shifted, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it as she admitted softly, “That’s why I started writing those stories.” She stared down at the beer in her hand. “You don’t get happy endings in real life.”
House's thoughts drifted a moment to Wilson-- a man who had the ability to love someone as screwed up as he was, even after all the shit House had put him through during their friendship-- before returning his attention back to Cuddy.
“Sometimes you do,” he said in a voice that was softer than he intended.
Cuddy gave him a small understanding smile and raised her beer. “I hope you’re right, House.”
He raised his own beer. “Hey, I’m never wrong; would have thought you’d have learned that by now.”
“Arrogant ass,” Cuddy grumbled, but there was a smile on her face as she went back to drinking her beer.
Wilson was surprised to find Cuddy gone when he returned to the living room. He sat down next to House and scrubbed his hair dry with a towel.
Pulling the towel away, resting his head against the arm House had stretched out across the top of the couch, he asked casually, “So how many extra clinic hours are we going to have to do?”
“None.”
“None?”
“Nope.” House glanced at him. “We’re doing paperwork instead.”
Wilson frowned. “She’s got us doing her paperwork?”
“Nope, she’s got us doing mine. Apparently she’s going to lock us in a room tonight till we’re done doing my budget.”
“Why do I have to be there? I gave her my budget.”
“Yeah, but you read the disk too.”
Wilson couldn‘t argue with that and dropped the towel into House’s lap as he pushed himself off the couch. “Right,” he said, “I’ll go get ready.”
As he walked away, House called out, “Won’t be so bad. We’ll be locked in the room, not like anybody’s gonna be able to walk in on us.”
Wilson paused a moment to digest that. Looking back at the smug look on House’s face, Wilson knew exactly where House’s thoughts had gone and smiled as his thoughts followed right along with them.
“I’ll get the handcuffs.”
hopeful28 comments to read | Your thoughts?