two Cuddy ficlets
Two holiday gift-ficlets, for swatkat24 and hihoplastic. In my defense? YOU WERE THE ONES WHO ASKED FOR THIS.
Title: The Bottom of the Barrel
Fandom: House/How I Met Your Mother
Pairing: Cuddy/Barney
Notes: Hee. For swatkat24.
"Fore!" Barney yelled as he swung.
The shot indeed went wild.
Cuddy, hands on hips, said, "I thought you said you just came off the pro circuit?"
He was staring after his ball, but glanced back at her to say, "Well yeah, that was before I realised real golf is a lot harder than Marshall's Wii makes it look."
Cuddy found she had no response to that.
Barney, for his part, attempted to rally. "You just seemed like such an intelligent, successful woman, I had to come up with something to impress you." He gave her his most charming smile.
"Didn't really think it through, did you?" was the rather dry response.
"I'm only a," he appeared to think for a moment, "doctor. I know, it's so last century, right?"
"You. Are a doctor."
"Ye-es. Yeah. I work over at the hospital. I'm a brain surgeon."
"At Princeton-Plainsboro?"
"Sure. That would be my place of business, all right."
"Hi, Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at PPTH for the last ten years."
"Hi," he replied. "Ted Mosby, architect."
"I thought your name was Barney."
"I'm also a compulsive liar. It's a sickness. There's even a website, you should check it out."
Cuddy, watching him unless he made any sudden moves, went to get a club from her caddy. Teeing up her ball, she said, "Ever heard the term 'to quit while you're ahead'?"
"Man," Barney said, watching her ball arc gracefully through the air, "this is the last time I come all the way to Jersey to pick up socialites."
"Where do you... come from?" she asked, almost not wanting to know what kind of place spawned someone like this.
"Manhattan."
"And they don't have socialites in New York?"
"I figured the ones around here must be a lot more desperate. They're in New Jersey. Not that that's a bad thing. I like a hint of desperation about a woman."
"I'm not a socialite, in case you failed to notice."
"Of course not, you're way too intelligent, and witty, and just, so on the ball, seriously, you've impressed me in the short time we've known each other."
"I'm not sleeping with you."
Barney shrugged. "Eh, worth a try. So," he hefted a nine-iron, "which way did my ball go again?"
Cuddy sighed, and pointed.
Eight holes to go. Today, all she had intended was to spend a few hours playing a relaxing game of golf. This was the last time she let some guy buy her a drink in the country club bar. Even if it was turning out to be the best date she'd had in so long it was just sad. Or, more accurately, the only date.
On second thought, she mused as she trailed after him into the rough, maybe once they got back she'd let him buy her another.
He was clearly harbouring several major personality flaws - narcissism, ego-mania, sociopathy... But hey, at least he wasn't House.
The end.
Title: He Had It Coming
Fandom: House
Pairing: Cuddy/SWAT Guy
Notes: Um. Blame hihoplastic.
There was silence in the usually bustling hospital lobby.
It wasn't every day you saw the dean of medicine kneeing a man in the groin.
"What," House gasped out, as he writhed on the floor in pain, clutching his injured testicles, "the hell?"
"You don't think you deserved that?" She stood over him, hands on hips. And yes, as far as she was concerned, he had deserved that, right then and there, as much as he'd ever deserved such a crushing blow to both person and ego.
So she was going on a date. She had not thrown this fact in House's face, nor had she tried to keep it a secret - both avenues of action she had deemed pointless. She had simply been looking forward to it.
The low-key approach had nevertheless resulted in a big noisy confrontation upon the arrival of a certain handsome SWAT team leader at her office no less than five minutes ago.
Looking down at him, still rolling about, clearly over-playing it, the big baby, she restrained the urge to throw in a kick for good measure. "You don't want me," she said in lieu of further violence, "but no one else can have me? I call 'spoiled brat', House. I am not a toy you can pick up and toss aside when you feel like it."
"Well I call 'raging bitch' on that unprovoked assault. Hey," he turned his attention to her companion, "aren't you sort of like a cop? You can arrest her any time."
The other figure standing over House shook his head. "Wouldn't hold up in court."
"Who asked you?" House snapped, pausing in his writhing in order to glare up at his rival. "There are witnesses."
"Who will back me up," Cuddy pointed out. Then, altogether over it, she proceeded to ignore him entirely. "So."
"So," her date said, returning her smile.
"Thank you for not trying to step in there."
"I didn't think I needed to." He shrugged lightly. "Clearly I didn't."
Her smile not going anywhere anytime soon, she stepped over House's prone, still-protesting form. "Want to go?"
"Yeah. He's really not your boyfriend, is he."
"He's really not."
Without so much as a backward glance, she took his arm and together they left to go and enjoy their evening.
The end.
Title: The Bottom of the Barrel
Fandom: House/How I Met Your Mother
Pairing: Cuddy/Barney
Notes: Hee. For swatkat24.
"Fore!" Barney yelled as he swung.
The shot indeed went wild.
Cuddy, hands on hips, said, "I thought you said you just came off the pro circuit?"
He was staring after his ball, but glanced back at her to say, "Well yeah, that was before I realised real golf is a lot harder than Marshall's Wii makes it look."
Cuddy found she had no response to that.
Barney, for his part, attempted to rally. "You just seemed like such an intelligent, successful woman, I had to come up with something to impress you." He gave her his most charming smile.
"Didn't really think it through, did you?" was the rather dry response.
"I'm only a," he appeared to think for a moment, "doctor. I know, it's so last century, right?"
"You. Are a doctor."
"Ye-es. Yeah. I work over at the hospital. I'm a brain surgeon."
"At Princeton-Plainsboro?"
"Sure. That would be my place of business, all right."
"Hi, Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at PPTH for the last ten years."
"Hi," he replied. "Ted Mosby, architect."
"I thought your name was Barney."
"I'm also a compulsive liar. It's a sickness. There's even a website, you should check it out."
Cuddy, watching him unless he made any sudden moves, went to get a club from her caddy. Teeing up her ball, she said, "Ever heard the term 'to quit while you're ahead'?"
"Man," Barney said, watching her ball arc gracefully through the air, "this is the last time I come all the way to Jersey to pick up socialites."
"Where do you... come from?" she asked, almost not wanting to know what kind of place spawned someone like this.
"Manhattan."
"And they don't have socialites in New York?"
"I figured the ones around here must be a lot more desperate. They're in New Jersey. Not that that's a bad thing. I like a hint of desperation about a woman."
"I'm not a socialite, in case you failed to notice."
"Of course not, you're way too intelligent, and witty, and just, so on the ball, seriously, you've impressed me in the short time we've known each other."
"I'm not sleeping with you."
Barney shrugged. "Eh, worth a try. So," he hefted a nine-iron, "which way did my ball go again?"
Cuddy sighed, and pointed.
Eight holes to go. Today, all she had intended was to spend a few hours playing a relaxing game of golf. This was the last time she let some guy buy her a drink in the country club bar. Even if it was turning out to be the best date she'd had in so long it was just sad. Or, more accurately, the only date.
On second thought, she mused as she trailed after him into the rough, maybe once they got back she'd let him buy her another.
He was clearly harbouring several major personality flaws - narcissism, ego-mania, sociopathy... But hey, at least he wasn't House.
The end.
Title: He Had It Coming
Fandom: House
Pairing: Cuddy/SWAT Guy
Notes: Um. Blame hihoplastic.
There was silence in the usually bustling hospital lobby.
It wasn't every day you saw the dean of medicine kneeing a man in the groin.
"What," House gasped out, as he writhed on the floor in pain, clutching his injured testicles, "the hell?"
"You don't think you deserved that?" She stood over him, hands on hips. And yes, as far as she was concerned, he had deserved that, right then and there, as much as he'd ever deserved such a crushing blow to both person and ego.
So she was going on a date. She had not thrown this fact in House's face, nor had she tried to keep it a secret - both avenues of action she had deemed pointless. She had simply been looking forward to it.
The low-key approach had nevertheless resulted in a big noisy confrontation upon the arrival of a certain handsome SWAT team leader at her office no less than five minutes ago.
Looking down at him, still rolling about, clearly over-playing it, the big baby, she restrained the urge to throw in a kick for good measure. "You don't want me," she said in lieu of further violence, "but no one else can have me? I call 'spoiled brat', House. I am not a toy you can pick up and toss aside when you feel like it."
"Well I call 'raging bitch' on that unprovoked assault. Hey," he turned his attention to her companion, "aren't you sort of like a cop? You can arrest her any time."
The other figure standing over House shook his head. "Wouldn't hold up in court."
"Who asked you?" House snapped, pausing in his writhing in order to glare up at his rival. "There are witnesses."
"Who will back me up," Cuddy pointed out. Then, altogether over it, she proceeded to ignore him entirely. "So."
"So," her date said, returning her smile.
"Thank you for not trying to step in there."
"I didn't think I needed to." He shrugged lightly. "Clearly I didn't."
Her smile not going anywhere anytime soon, she stepped over House's prone, still-protesting form. "Want to go?"
"Yeah. He's really not your boyfriend, is he."
"He's really not."
Without so much as a backward glance, she took his arm and together they left to go and enjoy their evening.
The end.