Who'd He Rather
What up, Huddy Nation? Long time no hang. I’ve been in a Hugh Laurie mood lately (it’s a Veep/Night Manager thing), which has put me in a Huddy mood lately, which has led to this fic-my first in two years! (What?!). A word of warning: I’m VERY rusty. Like, I haven’t been watching the show at all, so the voices aren’t as perfectly clear in my head, plus I’ve forgotten random shit I used to know (like how old Cuddy is supposed to be), plus I’m just not as invested in the characters as I once was, which I guess is inevitable, I guess. Also, if you’re expecting something intense and momentous, this will let you down. It’s light-hearted. Finally, I don’t think means I’m going to become a fic maniac again, but yeah, I guess you’ll be seeing a little more of me around here again. (Especially since this is the first of a two-part fic!) - atd
It was a nice day outside so Amber and Thirteen decided to remove themselves from the stress of competing against 25 other people for three fellowships and eat lunch in the park
After a few minutes of idle small talk, Thirteen got a distinct gleam in her eyes.
“So what do you think of House?” she asked, provocatively.
Amber swallowed her mouthful of sandwich and gave a half shrug.
“He’s everything as advertised, I guess,” she said. “Terrifying, brilliant, exhilarating, terrifying, funny, a total dick. And did I mention terrifying?”
Thirteen grinned.
“Yeah, but do you think he’s hot?”
Amber hesitated. This suddenly felt like a trap.
“Do you?” she said, pointedly.
Thirteen laughed.
“Totally. Like a young Clint Eastwood, gone to seed.”
Amber looked down.
“I guess he’s…pretty handsome,” she said. “He has beautiful eyes.”
Thirteen ate a forkful of salad, although she suddenly seemed much more interested in the conversation than her food.
“So we both agree he’s fuckable. The question is, who is he fucking?”
“What makes you so sure he’s…fucking anyone?”
“I mean, he’s a dude. He’s got needs. And the world is filled with dumb women who think they have the magical power to tame the savage beast.”
Amber considered that for a second.
“I’ve noticed him looking a lot at Dr. Cameron.”
Thirteen snorted.
“I’ve noticed him looking a lot at Dr. Cuddy.”
Now it was Amber’s turn to laugh.
“What? He can’t stand her.”
“You are so naïve. He’s totally hot for her. All those hate-sparks between them? It’s called chemistry, my friend.“
“He looks at Dr. Cameron with more…tenderness,” Amber said.
“Tenderness is for teen romance novels,” Thirteen said. “House is a grown man. I guarantee you it’s Dr. Cuddy he wants. Assuming they’re not doing it already.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Amber said, skeptically.
“Medical conditions aren’t the only thing I’m good at diagnosing,” Thirteen said.
They were friends, kind of (although it was more a friendship of convenience than anything else), but competitors more-and suddenly this felt a bit like a challenge.
“And I say he likes Dr. Cameron,” Amber said, stubbornly.
“Wanna bet?” Thirteen said, leaning forward.
“Bet?” Amber said, intrigued. “Like, what kind of bet?”
“I prove that he has the hots for Cuddy or you prove that he has the hots for Cameron.”
“And how exactly do we prove this?”
“I don’t know. That’s part of the fun. We can try getting him drunk. Liquid truth serum.”
Amber squinted at her.
“Okay, what are the terms of the bet?”
“Loser drops out of contention for the fellowship,” Thirteen said.
“Fuck that,” Amber said.
“Less confident all of a sudden, huh?” Thirteen said, her eyes still dancing.
“No, but I’m also not dumb enough to bet my livelihood on something as unpredictable as our pill-popping boss’s love life.”
“If you can’t read House, you won’t get the job anyway,” Thirteen said. “And besides, you know he’s not picking two pretty young women for his team. It would be a bad look. You’d be getting rid of your most direct competitor.”
Amber considered it. Thirteen was right. The odds of both of them making the team were remote at best. And she was 90-percent sure she was right about House. Dark, cynical guys like him always went for the nice girls. Plus, she really wanted to wipe the cocky look off Thirteen face.
“Proof has to be definitive,” she said. “Not circumstantial.”
“Of course,” Thirteen said.
“Then okay, it’s a bet.”
######
Their plan was to get a little tipsy-just tipsy enough so they could credibly pretend to be more drunk than they really were-and walk past his office after hours.
“No man can resist two drunk girls and an open flask,” Thirteen said, confidently.
And damned if it didn’t work.
House came to the door of his office as they went giggling by.
“You guys read the sign on the door, right?” he said. “It says Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Not Prince Plainsboro Sorority.”
They giggled some more.
“Sorry,” Thirteen said. Then she put her finger to lips, Elmer Fudd style and said, “We’ll be vewy, vewy quiet.”
House crossed his arms, smirked at them.
“You’re drunk,” he said, amused.
“Not drunk,” Amber said. “Tipsy. And you can’t blame us for blowing off some steam.”
“You see, we’re undergoing the world’s most intense job interview,” Thirteen agreed.
“There are these things called bars…”
“Why go to a bar when we have our own flask?” Thirteen said, holding up the bottle. “Want some?”
House peered at them-both pretty, both drunk, standing in front of his office with an open flask of alcohol at 10 pm. Something told him this was a bad idea.
“Why don’t you come in, ladies?” he said. (Avoiding bad ideas had never been his forte.)
“You better catch up,” Thirteen said, thrusting the flask into his chest. He laughed, shrugged, and took two healthy swigs. Then he led them into the DDx room. He hopped up on the table and they both took chairs.
“So how are you girls enjoying the game of Survivor: Diagnostics so far?” he said, already loving this.
“Thrill a minute,” Thirteen said, taking a swig herself.
“It’s like Gladiator,” Amber said, taking a sip. (Amber noticed that Thirteen hadn’t wiped off the mouth of the flask before taking a swig so she didn’t either.) “Except with more bloodlust.”
“But you girls secretly hate each other, right?” House said, peering at them knowingly. “You’ve done the math. You’re each other’s prime competition.”
“Thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” Thirteen said, breezily.
House shot her a skeptical look.
“We’re kind of stuck with each other,” Amber noted. “Who are we going to hang out with: Father Time? Big Love? The Pyromaniac?”
“And the short guy keeps telling me how much hotter I’d be if I got my boobs done,” Thirteen snorted.
“He’s not wrong” House said, leering at her a bit, taking another swig.
“So tell us more about what you’re looking for in a fellow,” Thirteen said.
“Other than big boobs,” Amber cracked.
“Like, tell us what you liked about Dr. Cameron,” Thirteen said.
Amber side-eyed her. She was so confident in House’s feelings for Dr. Cuddy she was bringing up Amber’s choice first.
House frowned a bit.
“She was a good doctor,” he said.
“There are lots of good doctors,” Thirteen said. “Did the fact that she was pretty help?”
She handed him back the flask. It was nearly empty.
He finished it, in one swig.
“It never hurts,” he said, slamming the empty flask on the table. Thirteen smiled, reached into her purse and pulled out a second flask. “The night is young,” she said with a shrug.
House arched an eyebrow, impressed, commandeered the flask and took another healthy swallow. He was fully drunk now.
“What else?” Thirteen said.
“What else what?”
“What else did you like about Cameron?”
“Cameron was the yin to my yang. The Desdemona to my Iago. The beauty to my beast. She completed me.”
Amber gave a tiny, barely detectable smile of triumph.
“So were you two ever…an item?” she asked.
House nearly choked on the whiskey.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “I meant that she completed me, diagnostically. I see symptoms. She sees feelings. She’s wrong 95 percent of the time. But 5 percent of the time, she actually came in handy.”
Now it was Thirteen’s turn to smile.
“But if you had slept with her, would you tell us?” Amber said, leadingly.
“Of course not,” House said.
Amber nodded, moderately satisfied.
“Well, what about Dr. Cuddy?” Thirteen said, ignoring the fact that Amber was still technically in the game.
“Why are you only interested in the women I work with?” House said. “Don’t you want to know how Foreman completes me?”
“No,” Amber and Thirteen said, in unison.
House folded his arms and got a slightly dirty look on his face.
“Okay, what do you want to know about Dr. Cuddy?”
“What’s it like working for a woman?” Thirteen asked.
“Same as working for a man. If said man got extremely emotional once a month and had an ass as big as Texas.”
“You’re a pig,” Thirteen said, laughing.
“I’m a dude. That goes without saying. But if you two were smart you’d watch Dr. Cuddy closely. She runs the entire hospital and takes no shit from anyone, including me.”
“So you admire her?” Amber said.
“The only person in this hospital I admire is myself,” he lied.
“And yet, when you and Dr. Cuddy talk, even in a crowded room, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world,” Thirteen said.
House rolled his eyes.
“What is this? House and Cuddy fan fiction?”
“It’s not fiction if it’s true,” Thirteen countered. “I’ve never seen such chemistry.”
House gave her a knowing once-over.
“I never took you for a romantic, Thirteen.”
“I never took you for a liar, Dr. House,” she responded.
They contemplated each other.
“Dr. Cuddy is a very formidable woman,” he admitted.
“Aha!” Thirteen said. “And you think she’s pretty.” It was less a question than a statement of fact.
House looked around his office with mock suspiciousness.
“Why do I suddenly feel like you guys are narcs for Human Resources?” House said.
“We’re not, I assure you,” Thirteen said. “Just fishing for insight.”
House started to think about Cuddy, despite himself.
“Dr. Cuddy isn’t pretty…” he started, as Amber gave a smug smile. “She’s…a fucking knockout.” (Amber’s face fell.)
He suddenly realized he’d said too much. He hopped off the table. “And thus ends tonight’s session of This is Your Life, Gregory House.”
Then he grabbed the flask from Thirteen’s hand.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate this. No drinking at the hospital.”
######
Afterwards, Thirteen and Amber compared notes. They both agreed that the results were inconclusive. He had gotten poetic when describing Cameron-“Desdemona to my Iago”-but had pretty quickly shut down any talk of romance. Meanwhile, he praised Dr. Cuddy, then deflected, then admitted she was a “fucking knockout.”
“And formidable,” Thirteen added, helpfully.
“I’d say it’s a tie,” Amber said.
“What part of fucking knockout don’t you understand?” Thirteen said.
“What part of she completes me don’t you?”
They both laughed in a touché sort of way.
“Okay,” Thirteen said. “Round one results: A draw. But the games have just begun.”
“What do you propose?”
“You do your intel, I’ll do mine. Then we’ll reconvene and see if anyone comes away with definitive proof.”
Amber gave a quick nod. Then she said, “We should get drunk with House more often. He was actually…less mean.”
“Hey, he didn’t steal your flask,” Thirteen said.
######
In bed that night-that is, once the room stopped spinning-House had a vague sense that he’d messed up. Not just fraternizing with two potential employees after hours-hell, he usually committed worse HR violations before lunchtime. But that he’d revealed too much about his feelings. Particularly his feelings for a certain Dean of Medicine.
“It’s like you’re the only two people in the world,” Thirteen had said. That had flattered him somehow, excited him. He found himself thinking of Cuddy, the way she stood in the doorway of the lecture room, her eyes flashing as she scolded him. He imagined standing up, passing the fellow candidates without looking at them, focused only on her, as though they were the only two people in the world, reaching for her, kissing her, undressing her. . .
His hand went down his boxers. The irony of the fact that he had just spent the evening getting drunk with two beautiful twenty-somethings but was about to jerk off to the image of his 37-year-old boss did not escape him.
To be continued...
It was a nice day outside so Amber and Thirteen decided to remove themselves from the stress of competing against 25 other people for three fellowships and eat lunch in the park
After a few minutes of idle small talk, Thirteen got a distinct gleam in her eyes.
“So what do you think of House?” she asked, provocatively.
Amber swallowed her mouthful of sandwich and gave a half shrug.
“He’s everything as advertised, I guess,” she said. “Terrifying, brilliant, exhilarating, terrifying, funny, a total dick. And did I mention terrifying?”
Thirteen grinned.
“Yeah, but do you think he’s hot?”
Amber hesitated. This suddenly felt like a trap.
“Do you?” she said, pointedly.
Thirteen laughed.
“Totally. Like a young Clint Eastwood, gone to seed.”
Amber looked down.
“I guess he’s…pretty handsome,” she said. “He has beautiful eyes.”
Thirteen ate a forkful of salad, although she suddenly seemed much more interested in the conversation than her food.
“So we both agree he’s fuckable. The question is, who is he fucking?”
“What makes you so sure he’s…fucking anyone?”
“I mean, he’s a dude. He’s got needs. And the world is filled with dumb women who think they have the magical power to tame the savage beast.”
Amber considered that for a second.
“I’ve noticed him looking a lot at Dr. Cameron.”
Thirteen snorted.
“I’ve noticed him looking a lot at Dr. Cuddy.”
Now it was Amber’s turn to laugh.
“What? He can’t stand her.”
“You are so naïve. He’s totally hot for her. All those hate-sparks between them? It’s called chemistry, my friend.“
“He looks at Dr. Cameron with more…tenderness,” Amber said.
“Tenderness is for teen romance novels,” Thirteen said. “House is a grown man. I guarantee you it’s Dr. Cuddy he wants. Assuming they’re not doing it already.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Amber said, skeptically.
“Medical conditions aren’t the only thing I’m good at diagnosing,” Thirteen said.
They were friends, kind of (although it was more a friendship of convenience than anything else), but competitors more-and suddenly this felt a bit like a challenge.
“And I say he likes Dr. Cameron,” Amber said, stubbornly.
“Wanna bet?” Thirteen said, leaning forward.
“Bet?” Amber said, intrigued. “Like, what kind of bet?”
“I prove that he has the hots for Cuddy or you prove that he has the hots for Cameron.”
“And how exactly do we prove this?”
“I don’t know. That’s part of the fun. We can try getting him drunk. Liquid truth serum.”
Amber squinted at her.
“Okay, what are the terms of the bet?”
“Loser drops out of contention for the fellowship,” Thirteen said.
“Fuck that,” Amber said.
“Less confident all of a sudden, huh?” Thirteen said, her eyes still dancing.
“No, but I’m also not dumb enough to bet my livelihood on something as unpredictable as our pill-popping boss’s love life.”
“If you can’t read House, you won’t get the job anyway,” Thirteen said. “And besides, you know he’s not picking two pretty young women for his team. It would be a bad look. You’d be getting rid of your most direct competitor.”
Amber considered it. Thirteen was right. The odds of both of them making the team were remote at best. And she was 90-percent sure she was right about House. Dark, cynical guys like him always went for the nice girls. Plus, she really wanted to wipe the cocky look off Thirteen face.
“Proof has to be definitive,” she said. “Not circumstantial.”
“Of course,” Thirteen said.
“Then okay, it’s a bet.”
######
Their plan was to get a little tipsy-just tipsy enough so they could credibly pretend to be more drunk than they really were-and walk past his office after hours.
“No man can resist two drunk girls and an open flask,” Thirteen said, confidently.
And damned if it didn’t work.
House came to the door of his office as they went giggling by.
“You guys read the sign on the door, right?” he said. “It says Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Not Prince Plainsboro Sorority.”
They giggled some more.
“Sorry,” Thirteen said. Then she put her finger to lips, Elmer Fudd style and said, “We’ll be vewy, vewy quiet.”
House crossed his arms, smirked at them.
“You’re drunk,” he said, amused.
“Not drunk,” Amber said. “Tipsy. And you can’t blame us for blowing off some steam.”
“You see, we’re undergoing the world’s most intense job interview,” Thirteen agreed.
“There are these things called bars…”
“Why go to a bar when we have our own flask?” Thirteen said, holding up the bottle. “Want some?”
House peered at them-both pretty, both drunk, standing in front of his office with an open flask of alcohol at 10 pm. Something told him this was a bad idea.
“Why don’t you come in, ladies?” he said. (Avoiding bad ideas had never been his forte.)
“You better catch up,” Thirteen said, thrusting the flask into his chest. He laughed, shrugged, and took two healthy swigs. Then he led them into the DDx room. He hopped up on the table and they both took chairs.
“So how are you girls enjoying the game of Survivor: Diagnostics so far?” he said, already loving this.
“Thrill a minute,” Thirteen said, taking a swig herself.
“It’s like Gladiator,” Amber said, taking a sip. (Amber noticed that Thirteen hadn’t wiped off the mouth of the flask before taking a swig so she didn’t either.) “Except with more bloodlust.”
“But you girls secretly hate each other, right?” House said, peering at them knowingly. “You’ve done the math. You’re each other’s prime competition.”
“Thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” Thirteen said, breezily.
House shot her a skeptical look.
“We’re kind of stuck with each other,” Amber noted. “Who are we going to hang out with: Father Time? Big Love? The Pyromaniac?”
“And the short guy keeps telling me how much hotter I’d be if I got my boobs done,” Thirteen snorted.
“He’s not wrong” House said, leering at her a bit, taking another swig.
“So tell us more about what you’re looking for in a fellow,” Thirteen said.
“Other than big boobs,” Amber cracked.
“Like, tell us what you liked about Dr. Cameron,” Thirteen said.
Amber side-eyed her. She was so confident in House’s feelings for Dr. Cuddy she was bringing up Amber’s choice first.
House frowned a bit.
“She was a good doctor,” he said.
“There are lots of good doctors,” Thirteen said. “Did the fact that she was pretty help?”
She handed him back the flask. It was nearly empty.
He finished it, in one swig.
“It never hurts,” he said, slamming the empty flask on the table. Thirteen smiled, reached into her purse and pulled out a second flask. “The night is young,” she said with a shrug.
House arched an eyebrow, impressed, commandeered the flask and took another healthy swallow. He was fully drunk now.
“What else?” Thirteen said.
“What else what?”
“What else did you like about Cameron?”
“Cameron was the yin to my yang. The Desdemona to my Iago. The beauty to my beast. She completed me.”
Amber gave a tiny, barely detectable smile of triumph.
“So were you two ever…an item?” she asked.
House nearly choked on the whiskey.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “I meant that she completed me, diagnostically. I see symptoms. She sees feelings. She’s wrong 95 percent of the time. But 5 percent of the time, she actually came in handy.”
Now it was Thirteen’s turn to smile.
“But if you had slept with her, would you tell us?” Amber said, leadingly.
“Of course not,” House said.
Amber nodded, moderately satisfied.
“Well, what about Dr. Cuddy?” Thirteen said, ignoring the fact that Amber was still technically in the game.
“Why are you only interested in the women I work with?” House said. “Don’t you want to know how Foreman completes me?”
“No,” Amber and Thirteen said, in unison.
House folded his arms and got a slightly dirty look on his face.
“Okay, what do you want to know about Dr. Cuddy?”
“What’s it like working for a woman?” Thirteen asked.
“Same as working for a man. If said man got extremely emotional once a month and had an ass as big as Texas.”
“You’re a pig,” Thirteen said, laughing.
“I’m a dude. That goes without saying. But if you two were smart you’d watch Dr. Cuddy closely. She runs the entire hospital and takes no shit from anyone, including me.”
“So you admire her?” Amber said.
“The only person in this hospital I admire is myself,” he lied.
“And yet, when you and Dr. Cuddy talk, even in a crowded room, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world,” Thirteen said.
House rolled his eyes.
“What is this? House and Cuddy fan fiction?”
“It’s not fiction if it’s true,” Thirteen countered. “I’ve never seen such chemistry.”
House gave her a knowing once-over.
“I never took you for a romantic, Thirteen.”
“I never took you for a liar, Dr. House,” she responded.
They contemplated each other.
“Dr. Cuddy is a very formidable woman,” he admitted.
“Aha!” Thirteen said. “And you think she’s pretty.” It was less a question than a statement of fact.
House looked around his office with mock suspiciousness.
“Why do I suddenly feel like you guys are narcs for Human Resources?” House said.
“We’re not, I assure you,” Thirteen said. “Just fishing for insight.”
House started to think about Cuddy, despite himself.
“Dr. Cuddy isn’t pretty…” he started, as Amber gave a smug smile. “She’s…a fucking knockout.” (Amber’s face fell.)
He suddenly realized he’d said too much. He hopped off the table. “And thus ends tonight’s session of This is Your Life, Gregory House.”
Then he grabbed the flask from Thirteen’s hand.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate this. No drinking at the hospital.”
######
Afterwards, Thirteen and Amber compared notes. They both agreed that the results were inconclusive. He had gotten poetic when describing Cameron-“Desdemona to my Iago”-but had pretty quickly shut down any talk of romance. Meanwhile, he praised Dr. Cuddy, then deflected, then admitted she was a “fucking knockout.”
“And formidable,” Thirteen added, helpfully.
“I’d say it’s a tie,” Amber said.
“What part of fucking knockout don’t you understand?” Thirteen said.
“What part of she completes me don’t you?”
They both laughed in a touché sort of way.
“Okay,” Thirteen said. “Round one results: A draw. But the games have just begun.”
“What do you propose?”
“You do your intel, I’ll do mine. Then we’ll reconvene and see if anyone comes away with definitive proof.”
Amber gave a quick nod. Then she said, “We should get drunk with House more often. He was actually…less mean.”
“Hey, he didn’t steal your flask,” Thirteen said.
######
In bed that night-that is, once the room stopped spinning-House had a vague sense that he’d messed up. Not just fraternizing with two potential employees after hours-hell, he usually committed worse HR violations before lunchtime. But that he’d revealed too much about his feelings. Particularly his feelings for a certain Dean of Medicine.
“It’s like you’re the only two people in the world,” Thirteen had said. That had flattered him somehow, excited him. He found himself thinking of Cuddy, the way she stood in the doorway of the lecture room, her eyes flashing as she scolded him. He imagined standing up, passing the fellow candidates without looking at them, focused only on her, as though they were the only two people in the world, reaching for her, kissing her, undressing her. . .
His hand went down his boxers. The irony of the fact that he had just spent the evening getting drunk with two beautiful twenty-somethings but was about to jerk off to the image of his 37-year-old boss did not escape him.
To be continued...