Fic: A Little Pick Me Up (For mrs_huddles!)
So I don't usually write House, but between last season and this season my inner dork got a hold of me and, well, couldn't help myself.
Title: A Little Pick Me Up
Characters: House/Cuddy
Rating: PG/PG-13 - light cursing
Word Count: ~1,640
Summary: House, Cuddy, some sparring and, ultimately, The Motorcycle. (No spoilers, irrelevant time frame.)
Author's Note: mrs_huddles! You made me this lovely icon, and I told you I'd pay you back with a drabble, and I didn't forget! I started this a long time ago, then it grew out of hand, and now it's finally done. Two of the original prompts you supplied me were "history" and "chaos", and those were the basis for this. Not really sure how this came out of that, but none-the-less I hope you enjoy it! :)
Cuddy didn’t often take the bus home from work, and House had never taken the bus home from anywhere, unless he was piss drunk and had no other options-because before the bike, or even the car, he’d always managed to mooch rides from Wilson. But for some reason she wasn’t surprised when a motorcycle growled up to a stop just in front of her at the bus stop bench.
“Taken up your old street corner calling again?” He asked with certain glee.
She didn’t give him the satisfaction of eye contact and refused to lower the Financial Times she was reading. And aside from his obnoxiously loud breathing, it was almost as if he wasn’t there.
“How much for the night? I’ve got a five, but I think that might be a bit on the generous side.”
“Go away,” she demanded with a curt flip of the page. Sometimes she hoped that ignoring him might actually work. It never did.
“Thank you, I think I will sit down. How kind of you to offer.” His motorcycle rumbled quickly off and she heard the crisp snap of his cane releasing from its catch. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, gathering herself behind the paper. Game Face on, she folded the paper in her lap very deliberately and simply looked at him. When he lifted her briefcase off the bench with his cane and deposited it unceremoniously into the gutter so he could take its spot, she managed to withhold the outrage she knew he expected. She met his wicked side-glance with naught but her usual glare, and he frowned just faintly. She smiled, but she knew this was just the beginning of what was sure to be a long session of harassment.
“Since when does the Dean of Medicine take the bus home? I thought public transportation was above your ilk,” he drawled once he’d gotten settled beside her.
“Since when does my method of transportation concern the diagnostics department?” she retorted as she retrieved her briefcase before he got the idea to kick it into incoming traffic. “What if I want to save the environment? I know-it’s a concept you probably can’t understand, considering the only thing you’ve ever chosen to save is your own ass, but-”
“Not fair. I save lives, Cuddy,” he interrupted.
“Bullshit. You just like telling people they’re dying of new and interesting things.” She shoved her briefcase into his lap.
“And you,” he gestured at her triumphantly with his cane, “Drove your toxic, ozone-killing car to work today.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. He just smirked at her in that obnoxious, smug little way of his until she couldn’t take it anymore. “Why do you care anyway?” she blurted.
“I don’t.” He leaned back and crossed both his hands on top of his cane. He puffed out his cheeks in boredom as Cuddy watched him, waiting, but he didn’t budge. He just tapped his feet against the concrete and twiddled his fingers. He was in no hurry.
“So you just decided to ride your motorcycle two blocks out of the way so you could take a gander at the bus stop? That makes perfect sense.”
“Only as much sense as the fact that you haven’t yelled at me yet for getting your car towed this morning. Oops-did I say that out loud?”
“House!” she cried, “You towed my car?”
House continued on as if this was the most natural conversation he’d had all day and, knowing him, it probably was. “I didn’t tow anything-Timmy the Towtruck man did. I just called him and told him your registration sticker was three years expired.”
“Funny, considering I renewed it two weeks ago,” Cuddy growled.
“Oh, wait. Maybe that was my registration sticker. Now how did that get onto your car?” He rubbed his chin with his fist, acting very much the innocent, perturbed bystander-or he would be, anyway, if he weren’t smiling wickedly.
“House!”
“-Oh well. One of the universe’s many great mysteries, huh boss?”
She had unconsciously rolled her newspaper into a very tight, angry wad, which she crinkled indignantly as she spoke. “I’m going to kill you. Do not close your eyes when you sleep tonight, House, because I am going to kill you.”
He fidgeted, bored and unbothered by the threat.
“Do you know how much it’s going to cost me to get my car back?”
“I know how long it will take, and exactly how many hours it will keep you away from work-or from that hairless mole you call a child. Either one is fine by me.” He settled back into the bench and only now seemed to take notice of her briefcase in his lap. He flicked open the flap and began to rifle through the contents. He wouldn’t find anything of interest; she had learned long ago to keep any personal items at home.
“I am going to kill you.”
“Old news, Cuddy.” He procured a tube of lipstick and examined the label. “‘Jungle red’. What exactly does that mean? I, for one, always thought that jungles were green.”
“House-”
“Oh good, you know my name.”
“-Give that back.” She glared at him and snatched her lipstick out of his palm just as he popped off the lid to examine it further. She quickly grabbed her briefcase back and snapped it shut before standing up and turning away from him. “You’d better move your motorcycle before the bus mows it over. Actually, don’t. Nevermind.”
He stretched his legs lazily and watched her. “Bus doesn’t come for twenty minutes.”
She didn’t have to ask how he knew for him to answer: “I checked.” He glanced up at the dark grey sky and let his cane cut crisp circles through the brisk autumn air. Cuddy stood on the curb and pretended to ignore him, although she couldn’t help but peek over at him as he remained stoically silent.
Eventually she heard his cane clack against the concrete as he stood up. His motorcycle helmet had been tucked under his arm until now, but he flipped it up into his palm with ease. He limped forward a step and held it out to her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
Cuddy wasn’t sure what to do with this offer, so she resorted to her usual reaction: she narrowed her eyes once more, straightened her back, and stared at the helmet.
“Unless you still want to save the environment,” he added, beginning to retract his arm and the helmet.
“Wait.” Cuddy held her hand up to stop him. “Let me get this straight, you got my car towed to inconvenience me, but you want to give me a ride home?”
“What can I say? I’m feeling generous.”
“Right. I believe that.”
None-the-less he continued to hold the helmet out. Cuddy knew better than to buy into this, knew better than to believe this was an actual act of kindness and not some cockamamie cog in some crackpot scheme meant to, ultimately, drive her to the grave, but that part of her was quickly being overrun by the part of her that was intrigued by the spark in his eye and the way his lip was turned just slightly upward.
He didn’t think she could handle it.
“Okay,” is all she said as she yanked the helmet out of his grasp and pulled it over her dark curls. She knew she looked ridiculous in her two-piece dress suite, her tall black heels, and now House’s helmet, but it didn’t matter.
“Okay,” he repeated with smug delight as he limped back to the bike. He was getting ready to throw his leg over the seat when she stopped him.
“I’m driving,” she asserted, handing him her briefcase once more. He took it but didn’t move away from the bike immediately, which left them standing toe to toe in their usual silent battle of wits. This was a turn of the tables he hadn’t expected, especially so soon after he’d turned things on her-but as she had been intrigued, so was he. He just wasn’t as quick to admit it; he snorted disdainfully instead.
“You know, before I was Dean of Medicine, I had a boyfriend who rode a Yamaha.”
“I didn’t think they had motorcycles during the Dark Ages.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?”
House rolled his eyes but dramatically bowed out of the way. Cuddy swung her leg over the bike easily, kicked up the stand and revved it into gear in one fluid motion. Her skirt rode up her thighs a little, but she paid it no mind and wriggled comfortably into the seat instead. “Coming?”
House grunted and snapped his cane into the slot, sliding less gracefully into the seat behind her. “If you ruin my other leg, I swear-”
“-Swear you’ll what? Tow my car? Oh, wait…”
He grumbled something behind her as he settled in, the briefcase shoved awkwardly between their bodies. She thrilled a little at the feeling of his thighs brushing hers and his gruff hands on her hips.
“If you so much as scratch my bike, you’re paying for it,” he barked close to her ear.
“Uh-huh,” she dismissed, giving the bike a good rev.
She was lucky he couldn’t see the devilish grin that quickly spread across her lips. He could tow her car if he wanted to, but that wouldn’t be the end of this. He could be a pain in the ass and think it was cute, but she could do just the same. Oh, she knew how to ride a motorcycle all right, which meant she knew exactly how to ride a motorcycle badly, too.
She lurched the bike forward with a feigned ‘Oh!’ of surprise, and began the jerky, winding journey home. House hissed and cursed behind her, his fingers digging into her hips unconsciously.
Oh was payback sweet.
Title: A Little Pick Me Up
Characters: House/Cuddy
Rating: PG/PG-13 - light cursing
Word Count: ~1,640
Summary: House, Cuddy, some sparring and, ultimately, The Motorcycle. (No spoilers, irrelevant time frame.)
Author's Note: mrs_huddles! You made me this lovely icon, and I told you I'd pay you back with a drabble, and I didn't forget! I started this a long time ago, then it grew out of hand, and now it's finally done. Two of the original prompts you supplied me were "history" and "chaos", and those were the basis for this. Not really sure how this came out of that, but none-the-less I hope you enjoy it! :)
Cuddy didn’t often take the bus home from work, and House had never taken the bus home from anywhere, unless he was piss drunk and had no other options-because before the bike, or even the car, he’d always managed to mooch rides from Wilson. But for some reason she wasn’t surprised when a motorcycle growled up to a stop just in front of her at the bus stop bench.
“Taken up your old street corner calling again?” He asked with certain glee.
She didn’t give him the satisfaction of eye contact and refused to lower the Financial Times she was reading. And aside from his obnoxiously loud breathing, it was almost as if he wasn’t there.
“How much for the night? I’ve got a five, but I think that might be a bit on the generous side.”
“Go away,” she demanded with a curt flip of the page. Sometimes she hoped that ignoring him might actually work. It never did.
“Thank you, I think I will sit down. How kind of you to offer.” His motorcycle rumbled quickly off and she heard the crisp snap of his cane releasing from its catch. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, gathering herself behind the paper. Game Face on, she folded the paper in her lap very deliberately and simply looked at him. When he lifted her briefcase off the bench with his cane and deposited it unceremoniously into the gutter so he could take its spot, she managed to withhold the outrage she knew he expected. She met his wicked side-glance with naught but her usual glare, and he frowned just faintly. She smiled, but she knew this was just the beginning of what was sure to be a long session of harassment.
“Since when does the Dean of Medicine take the bus home? I thought public transportation was above your ilk,” he drawled once he’d gotten settled beside her.
“Since when does my method of transportation concern the diagnostics department?” she retorted as she retrieved her briefcase before he got the idea to kick it into incoming traffic. “What if I want to save the environment? I know-it’s a concept you probably can’t understand, considering the only thing you’ve ever chosen to save is your own ass, but-”
“Not fair. I save lives, Cuddy,” he interrupted.
“Bullshit. You just like telling people they’re dying of new and interesting things.” She shoved her briefcase into his lap.
“And you,” he gestured at her triumphantly with his cane, “Drove your toxic, ozone-killing car to work today.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. He just smirked at her in that obnoxious, smug little way of his until she couldn’t take it anymore. “Why do you care anyway?” she blurted.
“I don’t.” He leaned back and crossed both his hands on top of his cane. He puffed out his cheeks in boredom as Cuddy watched him, waiting, but he didn’t budge. He just tapped his feet against the concrete and twiddled his fingers. He was in no hurry.
“So you just decided to ride your motorcycle two blocks out of the way so you could take a gander at the bus stop? That makes perfect sense.”
“Only as much sense as the fact that you haven’t yelled at me yet for getting your car towed this morning. Oops-did I say that out loud?”
“House!” she cried, “You towed my car?”
House continued on as if this was the most natural conversation he’d had all day and, knowing him, it probably was. “I didn’t tow anything-Timmy the Towtruck man did. I just called him and told him your registration sticker was three years expired.”
“Funny, considering I renewed it two weeks ago,” Cuddy growled.
“Oh, wait. Maybe that was my registration sticker. Now how did that get onto your car?” He rubbed his chin with his fist, acting very much the innocent, perturbed bystander-or he would be, anyway, if he weren’t smiling wickedly.
“House!”
“-Oh well. One of the universe’s many great mysteries, huh boss?”
She had unconsciously rolled her newspaper into a very tight, angry wad, which she crinkled indignantly as she spoke. “I’m going to kill you. Do not close your eyes when you sleep tonight, House, because I am going to kill you.”
He fidgeted, bored and unbothered by the threat.
“Do you know how much it’s going to cost me to get my car back?”
“I know how long it will take, and exactly how many hours it will keep you away from work-or from that hairless mole you call a child. Either one is fine by me.” He settled back into the bench and only now seemed to take notice of her briefcase in his lap. He flicked open the flap and began to rifle through the contents. He wouldn’t find anything of interest; she had learned long ago to keep any personal items at home.
“I am going to kill you.”
“Old news, Cuddy.” He procured a tube of lipstick and examined the label. “‘Jungle red’. What exactly does that mean? I, for one, always thought that jungles were green.”
“House-”
“Oh good, you know my name.”
“-Give that back.” She glared at him and snatched her lipstick out of his palm just as he popped off the lid to examine it further. She quickly grabbed her briefcase back and snapped it shut before standing up and turning away from him. “You’d better move your motorcycle before the bus mows it over. Actually, don’t. Nevermind.”
He stretched his legs lazily and watched her. “Bus doesn’t come for twenty minutes.”
She didn’t have to ask how he knew for him to answer: “I checked.” He glanced up at the dark grey sky and let his cane cut crisp circles through the brisk autumn air. Cuddy stood on the curb and pretended to ignore him, although she couldn’t help but peek over at him as he remained stoically silent.
Eventually she heard his cane clack against the concrete as he stood up. His motorcycle helmet had been tucked under his arm until now, but he flipped it up into his palm with ease. He limped forward a step and held it out to her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
Cuddy wasn’t sure what to do with this offer, so she resorted to her usual reaction: she narrowed her eyes once more, straightened her back, and stared at the helmet.
“Unless you still want to save the environment,” he added, beginning to retract his arm and the helmet.
“Wait.” Cuddy held her hand up to stop him. “Let me get this straight, you got my car towed to inconvenience me, but you want to give me a ride home?”
“What can I say? I’m feeling generous.”
“Right. I believe that.”
None-the-less he continued to hold the helmet out. Cuddy knew better than to buy into this, knew better than to believe this was an actual act of kindness and not some cockamamie cog in some crackpot scheme meant to, ultimately, drive her to the grave, but that part of her was quickly being overrun by the part of her that was intrigued by the spark in his eye and the way his lip was turned just slightly upward.
He didn’t think she could handle it.
“Okay,” is all she said as she yanked the helmet out of his grasp and pulled it over her dark curls. She knew she looked ridiculous in her two-piece dress suite, her tall black heels, and now House’s helmet, but it didn’t matter.
“Okay,” he repeated with smug delight as he limped back to the bike. He was getting ready to throw his leg over the seat when she stopped him.
“I’m driving,” she asserted, handing him her briefcase once more. He took it but didn’t move away from the bike immediately, which left them standing toe to toe in their usual silent battle of wits. This was a turn of the tables he hadn’t expected, especially so soon after he’d turned things on her-but as she had been intrigued, so was he. He just wasn’t as quick to admit it; he snorted disdainfully instead.
“You know, before I was Dean of Medicine, I had a boyfriend who rode a Yamaha.”
“I didn’t think they had motorcycles during the Dark Ages.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?”
House rolled his eyes but dramatically bowed out of the way. Cuddy swung her leg over the bike easily, kicked up the stand and revved it into gear in one fluid motion. Her skirt rode up her thighs a little, but she paid it no mind and wriggled comfortably into the seat instead. “Coming?”
House grunted and snapped his cane into the slot, sliding less gracefully into the seat behind her. “If you ruin my other leg, I swear-”
“-Swear you’ll what? Tow my car? Oh, wait…”
He grumbled something behind her as he settled in, the briefcase shoved awkwardly between their bodies. She thrilled a little at the feeling of his thighs brushing hers and his gruff hands on her hips.
“If you so much as scratch my bike, you’re paying for it,” he barked close to her ear.
“Uh-huh,” she dismissed, giving the bike a good rev.
She was lucky he couldn’t see the devilish grin that quickly spread across her lips. He could tow her car if he wanted to, but that wouldn’t be the end of this. He could be a pain in the ass and think it was cute, but she could do just the same. Oh, she knew how to ride a motorcycle all right, which meant she knew exactly how to ride a motorcycle badly, too.
She lurched the bike forward with a feigned ‘Oh!’ of surprise, and began the jerky, winding journey home. House hissed and cursed behind her, his fingers digging into her hips unconsciously.
Oh was payback sweet.