(no subject)
Clinic Duty
Authors: starhawk2005 and katakombs
Date: August 2005
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: Adult. Under 18? Close your eyes and back away slowly from the monitor…now!
Summary: Cuddy pushes House to spend more time in the clinic. So he does…but not in the manner one might expect.
Disclaimer: We own not. Also, have money not. Please sue not.
Authors' note: We were so impressed by ibilic's efforts as back-up writer on behalf of katakombs during the First Annual House/Cameron ficathon, that we thought it would be cool to write her a thank-you fic. So here it is, ibilic, and we hope you enjoy (and we apologize for keeping you in the dark, but we thought you’d appreciate the element of surprise)!
Request:
Things I'd like to see in my story:
1. House/Cuddy snark
2. Smut
(And, of course, because I was involved, it's too bloody long for only one LJ field....so this is only part one - starhawk)
================================
“Dr. House!” House turned the corner and moved as quickly as his cane would let him down the other hall. Unfortunately, not quickly enough. Dr. Lisa Cuddy caught him as he rounded the corner by the supply closet.
“I’ve been checking the records for the clinic last month...” she began, matching him step for limp.
“Clever, those courses you keep going on, ‘administration’, they call them? Teach you how to count clinic hours?” he got in.
“... and you’re behind another seven hours this month. Unless you can come up with an explanation...”
House quickly turned a corner and continued down the hall as fast as he could. “Sick people, you know, patients, must go see them quickly. They like to have a doctor around.”
“... that actually makes sense, I’ll expect to see you fill in those hours in the next week. And since you’re scheduled to be in the clinic-” she looked at her watch “-twenty minutes ago, I suggest you turn around and head in that direction right now, or get yourself a map of the hospital.” She moved in front of him and stopped, looking him straight in the eye. Admitting defeat at last, House turned and headed toward the clinic. Cuddy stood watching him for a moment with a gleam of triumph in her eyes, before heading off to yet another administrative meeting.
*~*~*
The problem with being late for clinic duty was that he didn’t get to pick and choose his patients. The head nurse kept a baleful eye on the stack of charts, and any attempt to select an easier one rather than the one on top of the pile brought her charging down on him to hand him the next in line. So it was with an inward sigh that House read out the presenting diagnosis: delusions. Great, he thought, heading toward Room 2, another nut case. Who could he palm this one on to?
Pushing open the door, House entered to find two women. One paced agitatedly around, the other sat calmly scribbling something in a spiral notebook. “What seems to be the problem, er, Ms. Hawk?” he asked the woman pacing around the room.
“Oh, not me,” she replied, continuing to walk and now beginning to wring her hands. “I’m not the patient. That’s my friend, Star-” the woman with the notebook looked up and waved absently “-she’s the one who needs help. Are you the doctor?”
House leaned on his cane “Unfortunately for both of us, yes. What’s the problem?” He limped further into the room.
The woman with the notebook looked up from her writing for a minute. “Nothing, nothing at all. Don’t need to be here. I’m busy. Go away and let me get back to work.”
“Oh, Star, don’t say that. He’s going to help you, I know he is. Everything will be all right.” The other woman in the room was visibly upset, still wringing her hands in her agitation. “I just don’t know what to do for her, doctor. I brought her here because I thought maybe you could help her. I’m so worried about her. Do you see that notebook? She’s convinced she can make the future happen, that if she writes things down, anything that she writes down, it will happen the way she writes them. She thinks she can change the world, just by ...”
“Oh, do be quiet, Kat.” Star said, irritated. “You’re interrupting my concentration.”
At that point there was a knock on the door, and Cameron hesitantly poked her head in. “Dr. House? I need to interrupt you. There’s a complication with the Kaplow-Moran case: no matter how many times we try to explain the difference between moderation and excess, he doesn’t seem to get it.”
“Fine, I’ll go speak to him and then get back to work. You take care of these two, er, ladies, it’s a simple enough case.....”
Cuddy’s irritated voice interrupted him from the doorway. “I heard that, House. Don’t think you can get away with passing your work onto your fellows. You’re paid to teach them, they’re here to learn, and I don’t just mean how to skip clinic duty.”
Cameron looked awkwardly at House. “I was just about to tell you that Dr. Cuddy was standing just outside the door,” she said softly.
For a moment, House looked like he was about to try to make a break for it. Then he nodded once and said, “I’ll meet the three of you upstairs in few minutes.”
Cameron smiled briefly and turned to the door, her lab coat stretched taut over her ass from her hands shoved in her pockets, and leaving behind a faint scent of lilies of the valley that sounded a wistful note amongst the antiseptic smells of the room.
House looked after her, lost in the moment, until Kat’s pleading voice recalled him back to the clinic room, and he turned back to the women and picked up the chart. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
Ignoring House’s questions, Star got a strange gleam in her eye, and started to scribble frantically.
*~*~*
“Delusional thinking.” House wrote on the whiteboard.
“Compulsive note-taking behaviour.”*
“Energetic writer - interferes with daily social and work functioning.”
“Obsession with story plotting and details.”
“Self-isolating behaviour.”
“Well, people?” he turned to the waiting fellows.
“Alcoholism or drug use can produce delusions,” volunteered Chase.
“True, but while there was the distinct smell of alcohol in the room, it was coming from the table by the supply cabinet, not the patient. No signs of needle marks, no malnutrition, runny nose or lost weekends.”
“Marijuana, then,” Chase wasn’t giving up. “You said she was Canadian. Or amphetamines, that’s common in academic circles and can cause the obsessive behaviour.”
“Lewy bodies.” suggested Foreman.
“Too young for that.” replied Cameron. “She’s only thirty.”
“But not too young for other forms of dementia,” broke in House.
“We could do a Trails test to confirm,” volunteered Cameron.
“Any psychiatric history?” asked Foreman.
“Yes,” replied House. “But it’s not going to do us much good. ‘Claims she was on the therapist side of the locked door, and has the paperwork to prove it.”
“Porphyria can cause paranoia and delusions,” volunteered Cameron.
“We just got rid of Mark, it’s not going to be porphyria again so soon,” Chase scoffed. “What about post partum psychosis?”
“She’s never been pregnant,” replied Cameron. “The delusions aren’t because she’s a woman and weak, lack of sleep would be a better option.”
“Lupus,” broke in Foreman.
“Get the blood test,” House instructed him. “Also, the cerebrospinal fluid for ADDL.”
“What about the self-isolating behaviour? Is that another symptom of paranoia?”
“’Claims she does it so that she’s not distracted from writing. Avoids work too, says it keeps her from thinking about potential plots.”
“Like playing with a Gameboy during clinic hours?” The sarcastic question was the first indication that Wilson had joined them.
“Sign of superior intelligence,” retorted House.
And on they continued, going around in circles.
The next day, House headed toward the exam room again, trying to take as long as he could to walk from the nursing station to the exam room, in order to draw out his clinic hours while doing the minimum of actual work. Inside, the same sight as the day before met his eyes, Star scribbling away as if in a compulsion while Kat chewed her fingernails distractedly. He entered and dropped his charts on the table.
“The tests are all negative, psychological tests as well as lab work. Physically, you are in good shape. There’s nothing we can find that would indicate there’s anything wrong, and you don’t appear to be incapacitated or upset about your condition. I figure that as long as it doesn’t injure anyone, a little delusional thinking never hurt. Get out of here so I can get out too, this place gives me the creeps.”
*~*~*
Some days later, in the early evening hours, House was busy leaning against the side of the Whiteboard, listening to the Ducklings trading diagnoses and tests back and forth, wondering privately whether he dared to fulfill Cuddy’s ‘more-clinic-hours’ command....but in his own particular fashion.
Decision finally made, he broke into their discussion. “Foreman, you do the blood tests. Chase, run the urine screens. And then you can go. Cameron, you’re with me.” Allison might have been surprised to be singled out, but she knew better by now than to give anything away. House didn’t know if Chase or Foreman realized that their fellow Duckling was ‘banging the boss’, but even if they did know, Allison wouldn’t have told them. Not after what had happened just before their first ‘official’ date, back when he’d coaxed her to return to work at PPTH.
Chase and Foreman did look questioningly at House, particularly Foreman, who still obviously did not trust House when it came to his ‘homegirl’ Cameron, but House just stared him down. Shrugging, they finally got up and left.
Allison also got to her feet. “What’s up?” she asked.
He didn’t want an argument, so he didn’t give her an explanation. “Come with me.” He limped out into the hallway, not waiting for her reply. And was very gratified to hear the click of her heels as she followed immediately along behind him.
A long hallway. A short elevator ride. And then they were entering the Clinic, which had already closed up shop for the night. Good.
“What are we doing here?” she asked him. “Don’t tell me you actually have a patient here, waiting for you?”
He didn’t answer immediately, just hitched himself over to Exam Room 2, reaching for his master key when the door proved to be locked. Unlocking the door, he finally turned, to meet Allison’s slightly confused blue eyes.
“No. But I have a little experiment I want to try out. And I need you to help me with it.” Managing to keep a straight face as he said it.
“Uh-huh.” She didn’t look convinced, but House maintained his ‘serious doctor’ façade as he pushed the door open, motioning her in ahead of him. She just stood there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling and shaking her head - oh, she was onto him, all right - but then she walked into the exam room without challenging him further.
He limped in himself, and then shut the door, making sure it was locked behind them. When he turned to face the room, Allison was standing in the middle of it, next to the examination table, arms crossed and a sly look on her face. “Why do I get the feeling that your little ‘experiment’ is going to require me to remove my clothes?”
“Is that what you feel?” he asked, widening his eyes at her in theatrical surprise, as he limped over to her.
“Yup.” She raised her eyebrows, plainly waiting to see what he would do.
“Well, you’re wrong , Dr. Cameron. You’re not required to remove your clothes.”
“No?” She obviously didn’t believe him. This is what comes of someone knowing you too well, he thought to himself. Not that such a thing was all bad, though. He laid his cane across the examination table, leaning his weight against the side of the table instead.
“No. I’ll do that.” He reached over and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her closer, and then tugged at her crossed arms. “You’re not being a very cooperative research subject,” he opined, when he couldn’t get her arms loose…not without fighting her.
“Greg, what if someone catches us?” She continued to resist his attempt to uncross her arms.
“Well, unless you’ve become a screamer since we were engaging in ‘bedroom aerobics of the naked variety’ last night-” Allison actually blushed at this, which amused House to no end - “I imagine we should be undisturbed. C’mon, stop defying your boss.”
“You’re only my boss during work hours. This qualifies as not-work hours.” She shot back at him, deliberately being a brat, now - he could see it in the coy little smile she was wearing. Luckily for her, he had always found that look to be quite the turn-on.
“This qualifies as overtime. So still work-hours. Arms down, now.” He put his best commanding growl into his voice. It was a tone that had always worked on Allison in the past, and it didn’t fail him now, as she suddenly swallowed hard, and put her arms down by her sides.
“That’s better. You of all people should know the importance of medical research, Allison,” he said, starting to unbutton her lab coat. “How could we cure our hapless patients, without the advances that medical science has given us?” Again, he was pretending to be taking the whole thing seriously, as if he wasn’t disrobing his girlfriend in the middle of an empty clinic. Allison looked like she was going to start giggling any second.
He finished unbuttoning her coat, pulling it down her arms, and then tossed it to land on the small room’s single chair. When he turned back, she had moved much closer, her face tilted up for a kiss, but he wasn’t about to let her be the only brat in the room.
“Uh-uh, Allison,” he said, easily avoiding her attempt to kiss him. There were some decided advantages to being tall. “That’ll skew the results of our testing. Arms up, now.” He waited until she complied, dropping her head back down and backing away with her arms raised, and then he reached for the hem of her sweater, slowly pulling it up until it was half-way off her head. He briefly considered leaving her like that, effectively blindfolded by the sweater over her eyes, arms entangled in the fabric, briefly even considered leaning forward and kissing her, but he resisted both impulses, pulling the sweater completely off her, and tossing it onto the chair as well.
“Does this mean you’re going to be conducting these tests on other members of the staff, as well? Maybe Dr. Chase or Dr. Foreman?” she asked teasingly.
He scrunched up his face, as if he was giving the matter careful consideration, while he busied himself undoing her pants. He gave them a hard shove, so they’d fall and pool around her feet. “Chase, maybe. He’d do anything to get back into my good graces, little suck-up that he is. Foreman, though...” he shook his head. “I don’t think he’s as committed to this kind of research as you are.”
“You still haven’t told me what this ‘research’ is, Dr. House,” she said, smiling.
“And I don’t want to potentially bias the results, by giving away the true purpose of my study right now. I’ll debrief you later...and speaking of briefs....or rather , bikinis - whatever it is you call these female underthings these days...” He hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties, leaning down a bit to slide them down to her knees, and then letting them drop down to join her pants on the floor.
She was standing there in only her bra - Interesting picture, he thought - but it would have to go, too. We must remove all impediments to ‘research’, he snarked to himself, reaching around her to undo the clasp with practiced ease.
He tossed the bra towards the chair, and then motioned her to step completely out of the pile of pants and underwear, and then directing her to kick them out of the way as well.
As she returned to his side, he ordered her to turn around and face away from him. He used the opportunity to take her hair out of its customary ponytail, loosening the strands so that they fell in loose dark waves over her shoulders. He pocketed the elastic, ordering her to turn and face him again, and then he shifted back a pace or two to admire her.
So beautiful. He didn’t know how he had ever managed to resist her considerable charms for so long. Had Stacy’s betrayal really hurt him so badly, that he’d grown effectively immune to gorgeous females? It seemed to have been the case….Good thing he’d finally woken up to that fact not too long ago.
“House,” Allison said, starting to look uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“Sssh. I’m gathering data,” he admonished her. He let his gaze travel down her body, from head to toe. That soft, dark hair that he loved to twist around his fingers when they were lying in bed at night. Those lovely clear blue eyes. Delicate pink mouth. Skin that was as pale as ivory and that always felt like dry silk under his hands. And he was already hardening inside his jeans, as he thought of what he planned to do with her… he was already hardening inside his jeans, as he thought of what he planned to do with her…
He resisted the urge to touch that skin, that hair - for the moment - instead continuing to ‘gather data’. His eyes moving down to take in beautifully pale breasts, the left one a little rounder and larger than the right - which was, of course, completely normal - her nipples nearly the same colour as her lips…he’d had almost instant hard-ons at PPTH for nearly a whole week after he’d first discovered that fact....it had only taken one glance at her face - her lips - to remind him powerfully of what lay under those cute little vests of hers. And now his gaze moved further down to her slender waist, the smooth flare of her hips, the neatly trimmed curls between her thighs, those long shapely legs, her feet with their painted toenails…nails painted a different colour than her fingernails, the diagnostician in him noticed... ‘Examination’ completed, House moved to the next ‘item’ on his internal agenda.
Limping back towards her, he ordered her to bend at the waist, hands braced on the edge of the examination table. Her nipples were already hard, he noticed, and she seemed to be shaking slightly.
“Cold, Allison?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted.
“Well, don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” He limped quickly over to the wheeled stool in the corner, sitting on it and pushing with his good leg to bring himself back to her side.
*~*~*
Keep reading....
Authors: starhawk2005 and katakombs
Date: August 2005
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: Adult. Under 18? Close your eyes and back away slowly from the monitor…now!
Summary: Cuddy pushes House to spend more time in the clinic. So he does…but not in the manner one might expect.
Disclaimer: We own not. Also, have money not. Please sue not.
Authors' note: We were so impressed by ibilic's efforts as back-up writer on behalf of katakombs during the First Annual House/Cameron ficathon, that we thought it would be cool to write her a thank-you fic. So here it is, ibilic, and we hope you enjoy (and we apologize for keeping you in the dark, but we thought you’d appreciate the element of surprise)!
Request:
Things I'd like to see in my story:
1. House/Cuddy snark
2. Smut
(And, of course, because I was involved, it's too bloody long for only one LJ field....so this is only part one - starhawk)
================================
“Dr. House!” House turned the corner and moved as quickly as his cane would let him down the other hall. Unfortunately, not quickly enough. Dr. Lisa Cuddy caught him as he rounded the corner by the supply closet.
“I’ve been checking the records for the clinic last month...” she began, matching him step for limp.
“Clever, those courses you keep going on, ‘administration’, they call them? Teach you how to count clinic hours?” he got in.
“... and you’re behind another seven hours this month. Unless you can come up with an explanation...”
House quickly turned a corner and continued down the hall as fast as he could. “Sick people, you know, patients, must go see them quickly. They like to have a doctor around.”
“... that actually makes sense, I’ll expect to see you fill in those hours in the next week. And since you’re scheduled to be in the clinic-” she looked at her watch “-twenty minutes ago, I suggest you turn around and head in that direction right now, or get yourself a map of the hospital.” She moved in front of him and stopped, looking him straight in the eye. Admitting defeat at last, House turned and headed toward the clinic. Cuddy stood watching him for a moment with a gleam of triumph in her eyes, before heading off to yet another administrative meeting.
*~*~*
The problem with being late for clinic duty was that he didn’t get to pick and choose his patients. The head nurse kept a baleful eye on the stack of charts, and any attempt to select an easier one rather than the one on top of the pile brought her charging down on him to hand him the next in line. So it was with an inward sigh that House read out the presenting diagnosis: delusions. Great, he thought, heading toward Room 2, another nut case. Who could he palm this one on to?
Pushing open the door, House entered to find two women. One paced agitatedly around, the other sat calmly scribbling something in a spiral notebook. “What seems to be the problem, er, Ms. Hawk?” he asked the woman pacing around the room.
“Oh, not me,” she replied, continuing to walk and now beginning to wring her hands. “I’m not the patient. That’s my friend, Star-” the woman with the notebook looked up and waved absently “-she’s the one who needs help. Are you the doctor?”
House leaned on his cane “Unfortunately for both of us, yes. What’s the problem?” He limped further into the room.
The woman with the notebook looked up from her writing for a minute. “Nothing, nothing at all. Don’t need to be here. I’m busy. Go away and let me get back to work.”
“Oh, Star, don’t say that. He’s going to help you, I know he is. Everything will be all right.” The other woman in the room was visibly upset, still wringing her hands in her agitation. “I just don’t know what to do for her, doctor. I brought her here because I thought maybe you could help her. I’m so worried about her. Do you see that notebook? She’s convinced she can make the future happen, that if she writes things down, anything that she writes down, it will happen the way she writes them. She thinks she can change the world, just by ...”
“Oh, do be quiet, Kat.” Star said, irritated. “You’re interrupting my concentration.”
At that point there was a knock on the door, and Cameron hesitantly poked her head in. “Dr. House? I need to interrupt you. There’s a complication with the Kaplow-Moran case: no matter how many times we try to explain the difference between moderation and excess, he doesn’t seem to get it.”
“Fine, I’ll go speak to him and then get back to work. You take care of these two, er, ladies, it’s a simple enough case.....”
Cuddy’s irritated voice interrupted him from the doorway. “I heard that, House. Don’t think you can get away with passing your work onto your fellows. You’re paid to teach them, they’re here to learn, and I don’t just mean how to skip clinic duty.”
Cameron looked awkwardly at House. “I was just about to tell you that Dr. Cuddy was standing just outside the door,” she said softly.
For a moment, House looked like he was about to try to make a break for it. Then he nodded once and said, “I’ll meet the three of you upstairs in few minutes.”
Cameron smiled briefly and turned to the door, her lab coat stretched taut over her ass from her hands shoved in her pockets, and leaving behind a faint scent of lilies of the valley that sounded a wistful note amongst the antiseptic smells of the room.
House looked after her, lost in the moment, until Kat’s pleading voice recalled him back to the clinic room, and he turned back to the women and picked up the chart. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
Ignoring House’s questions, Star got a strange gleam in her eye, and started to scribble frantically.
*~*~*
“Delusional thinking.” House wrote on the whiteboard.
“Compulsive note-taking behaviour.”*
“Energetic writer - interferes with daily social and work functioning.”
“Obsession with story plotting and details.”
“Self-isolating behaviour.”
“Well, people?” he turned to the waiting fellows.
“Alcoholism or drug use can produce delusions,” volunteered Chase.
“True, but while there was the distinct smell of alcohol in the room, it was coming from the table by the supply cabinet, not the patient. No signs of needle marks, no malnutrition, runny nose or lost weekends.”
“Marijuana, then,” Chase wasn’t giving up. “You said she was Canadian. Or amphetamines, that’s common in academic circles and can cause the obsessive behaviour.”
“Lewy bodies.” suggested Foreman.
“Too young for that.” replied Cameron. “She’s only thirty.”
“But not too young for other forms of dementia,” broke in House.
“We could do a Trails test to confirm,” volunteered Cameron.
“Any psychiatric history?” asked Foreman.
“Yes,” replied House. “But it’s not going to do us much good. ‘Claims she was on the therapist side of the locked door, and has the paperwork to prove it.”
“Porphyria can cause paranoia and delusions,” volunteered Cameron.
“We just got rid of Mark, it’s not going to be porphyria again so soon,” Chase scoffed. “What about post partum psychosis?”
“She’s never been pregnant,” replied Cameron. “The delusions aren’t because she’s a woman and weak, lack of sleep would be a better option.”
“Lupus,” broke in Foreman.
“Get the blood test,” House instructed him. “Also, the cerebrospinal fluid for ADDL.”
“What about the self-isolating behaviour? Is that another symptom of paranoia?”
“’Claims she does it so that she’s not distracted from writing. Avoids work too, says it keeps her from thinking about potential plots.”
“Like playing with a Gameboy during clinic hours?” The sarcastic question was the first indication that Wilson had joined them.
“Sign of superior intelligence,” retorted House.
And on they continued, going around in circles.
The next day, House headed toward the exam room again, trying to take as long as he could to walk from the nursing station to the exam room, in order to draw out his clinic hours while doing the minimum of actual work. Inside, the same sight as the day before met his eyes, Star scribbling away as if in a compulsion while Kat chewed her fingernails distractedly. He entered and dropped his charts on the table.
“The tests are all negative, psychological tests as well as lab work. Physically, you are in good shape. There’s nothing we can find that would indicate there’s anything wrong, and you don’t appear to be incapacitated or upset about your condition. I figure that as long as it doesn’t injure anyone, a little delusional thinking never hurt. Get out of here so I can get out too, this place gives me the creeps.”
*~*~*
Some days later, in the early evening hours, House was busy leaning against the side of the Whiteboard, listening to the Ducklings trading diagnoses and tests back and forth, wondering privately whether he dared to fulfill Cuddy’s ‘more-clinic-hours’ command....but in his own particular fashion.
Decision finally made, he broke into their discussion. “Foreman, you do the blood tests. Chase, run the urine screens. And then you can go. Cameron, you’re with me.” Allison might have been surprised to be singled out, but she knew better by now than to give anything away. House didn’t know if Chase or Foreman realized that their fellow Duckling was ‘banging the boss’, but even if they did know, Allison wouldn’t have told them. Not after what had happened just before their first ‘official’ date, back when he’d coaxed her to return to work at PPTH.
Chase and Foreman did look questioningly at House, particularly Foreman, who still obviously did not trust House when it came to his ‘homegirl’ Cameron, but House just stared him down. Shrugging, they finally got up and left.
Allison also got to her feet. “What’s up?” she asked.
He didn’t want an argument, so he didn’t give her an explanation. “Come with me.” He limped out into the hallway, not waiting for her reply. And was very gratified to hear the click of her heels as she followed immediately along behind him.
A long hallway. A short elevator ride. And then they were entering the Clinic, which had already closed up shop for the night. Good.
“What are we doing here?” she asked him. “Don’t tell me you actually have a patient here, waiting for you?”
He didn’t answer immediately, just hitched himself over to Exam Room 2, reaching for his master key when the door proved to be locked. Unlocking the door, he finally turned, to meet Allison’s slightly confused blue eyes.
“No. But I have a little experiment I want to try out. And I need you to help me with it.” Managing to keep a straight face as he said it.
“Uh-huh.” She didn’t look convinced, but House maintained his ‘serious doctor’ façade as he pushed the door open, motioning her in ahead of him. She just stood there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling and shaking her head - oh, she was onto him, all right - but then she walked into the exam room without challenging him further.
He limped in himself, and then shut the door, making sure it was locked behind them. When he turned to face the room, Allison was standing in the middle of it, next to the examination table, arms crossed and a sly look on her face. “Why do I get the feeling that your little ‘experiment’ is going to require me to remove my clothes?”
“Is that what you feel?” he asked, widening his eyes at her in theatrical surprise, as he limped over to her.
“Yup.” She raised her eyebrows, plainly waiting to see what he would do.
“Well, you’re wrong , Dr. Cameron. You’re not required to remove your clothes.”
“No?” She obviously didn’t believe him. This is what comes of someone knowing you too well, he thought to himself. Not that such a thing was all bad, though. He laid his cane across the examination table, leaning his weight against the side of the table instead.
“No. I’ll do that.” He reached over and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her closer, and then tugged at her crossed arms. “You’re not being a very cooperative research subject,” he opined, when he couldn’t get her arms loose…not without fighting her.
“Greg, what if someone catches us?” She continued to resist his attempt to uncross her arms.
“Well, unless you’ve become a screamer since we were engaging in ‘bedroom aerobics of the naked variety’ last night-” Allison actually blushed at this, which amused House to no end - “I imagine we should be undisturbed. C’mon, stop defying your boss.”
“You’re only my boss during work hours. This qualifies as not-work hours.” She shot back at him, deliberately being a brat, now - he could see it in the coy little smile she was wearing. Luckily for her, he had always found that look to be quite the turn-on.
“This qualifies as overtime. So still work-hours. Arms down, now.” He put his best commanding growl into his voice. It was a tone that had always worked on Allison in the past, and it didn’t fail him now, as she suddenly swallowed hard, and put her arms down by her sides.
“That’s better. You of all people should know the importance of medical research, Allison,” he said, starting to unbutton her lab coat. “How could we cure our hapless patients, without the advances that medical science has given us?” Again, he was pretending to be taking the whole thing seriously, as if he wasn’t disrobing his girlfriend in the middle of an empty clinic. Allison looked like she was going to start giggling any second.
He finished unbuttoning her coat, pulling it down her arms, and then tossed it to land on the small room’s single chair. When he turned back, she had moved much closer, her face tilted up for a kiss, but he wasn’t about to let her be the only brat in the room.
“Uh-uh, Allison,” he said, easily avoiding her attempt to kiss him. There were some decided advantages to being tall. “That’ll skew the results of our testing. Arms up, now.” He waited until she complied, dropping her head back down and backing away with her arms raised, and then he reached for the hem of her sweater, slowly pulling it up until it was half-way off her head. He briefly considered leaving her like that, effectively blindfolded by the sweater over her eyes, arms entangled in the fabric, briefly even considered leaning forward and kissing her, but he resisted both impulses, pulling the sweater completely off her, and tossing it onto the chair as well.
“Does this mean you’re going to be conducting these tests on other members of the staff, as well? Maybe Dr. Chase or Dr. Foreman?” she asked teasingly.
He scrunched up his face, as if he was giving the matter careful consideration, while he busied himself undoing her pants. He gave them a hard shove, so they’d fall and pool around her feet. “Chase, maybe. He’d do anything to get back into my good graces, little suck-up that he is. Foreman, though...” he shook his head. “I don’t think he’s as committed to this kind of research as you are.”
“You still haven’t told me what this ‘research’ is, Dr. House,” she said, smiling.
“And I don’t want to potentially bias the results, by giving away the true purpose of my study right now. I’ll debrief you later...and speaking of briefs....or rather , bikinis - whatever it is you call these female underthings these days...” He hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties, leaning down a bit to slide them down to her knees, and then letting them drop down to join her pants on the floor.
She was standing there in only her bra - Interesting picture, he thought - but it would have to go, too. We must remove all impediments to ‘research’, he snarked to himself, reaching around her to undo the clasp with practiced ease.
He tossed the bra towards the chair, and then motioned her to step completely out of the pile of pants and underwear, and then directing her to kick them out of the way as well.
As she returned to his side, he ordered her to turn around and face away from him. He used the opportunity to take her hair out of its customary ponytail, loosening the strands so that they fell in loose dark waves over her shoulders. He pocketed the elastic, ordering her to turn and face him again, and then he shifted back a pace or two to admire her.
So beautiful. He didn’t know how he had ever managed to resist her considerable charms for so long. Had Stacy’s betrayal really hurt him so badly, that he’d grown effectively immune to gorgeous females? It seemed to have been the case….Good thing he’d finally woken up to that fact not too long ago.
“House,” Allison said, starting to look uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“Sssh. I’m gathering data,” he admonished her. He let his gaze travel down her body, from head to toe. That soft, dark hair that he loved to twist around his fingers when they were lying in bed at night. Those lovely clear blue eyes. Delicate pink mouth. Skin that was as pale as ivory and that always felt like dry silk under his hands. And he was already hardening inside his jeans, as he thought of what he planned to do with her… he was already hardening inside his jeans, as he thought of what he planned to do with her…
He resisted the urge to touch that skin, that hair - for the moment - instead continuing to ‘gather data’. His eyes moving down to take in beautifully pale breasts, the left one a little rounder and larger than the right - which was, of course, completely normal - her nipples nearly the same colour as her lips…he’d had almost instant hard-ons at PPTH for nearly a whole week after he’d first discovered that fact....it had only taken one glance at her face - her lips - to remind him powerfully of what lay under those cute little vests of hers. And now his gaze moved further down to her slender waist, the smooth flare of her hips, the neatly trimmed curls between her thighs, those long shapely legs, her feet with their painted toenails…nails painted a different colour than her fingernails, the diagnostician in him noticed... ‘Examination’ completed, House moved to the next ‘item’ on his internal agenda.
Limping back towards her, he ordered her to bend at the waist, hands braced on the edge of the examination table. Her nipples were already hard, he noticed, and she seemed to be shaking slightly.
“Cold, Allison?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted.
“Well, don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” He limped quickly over to the wheeled stool in the corner, sitting on it and pushing with his good leg to bring himself back to her side.
*~*~*
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