ETA: I changed a few bits in this first part too.
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You do it to yourself, you do
And that's what really hurts
~Radiohead, Just
The only thing worse than having to go to a conference, thought one Doctor Gregory House, was having to go with Cuddy.
Doctor Lisa Cuddy, funnily enough, was thinking the exact same thing about the man seated next to her. The whole week had been exasperating ever since the subject had been raised. She'd expected him to protest, of course, but he'd been unusually nasty about it this time around, and had been doing everything in his power to give her hell since she'd coerced him into going.
He'd hit a new low with the mass e-mail of a photo from her 9th grade year book, when she'd had braces, big glasses and bigger hair, to every doctor who worked at the hospital and a sizable proportion of the nursing staff. Where the hell he'd managed to track down a copy of that book, she'd likely never know.
Usually, after he'd gotten his pound of flesh from her after making him do something unpleasant, he'd back off, sinking into an immovable sulk for a few days and eventually getting over it. Today, though, it seemed he was feeling especially spry -- upon arriving at the airport, he'd done everything in his power to annoy, embarrass and generally piss her off.
Currently, he was tapping the handle of his cane on the window incessantly, garnering looks of annoyance from surrounding passengers. She glared at him; he leered back at her.
It was an unusual relationship they had - a true blue love/hate relationship (mostly being that he loved to hate her and she loved him just enough to not murder him in broad daylight).
They played games with each other. Not chess or poker or parcheesi, but the sort of games you might expect two overly territorial felines forced to share living space to play. Neither of them admitted what the game was, or even that it existed, but it was a constant struggle between the two of them to gain the high ground, as it were. As it was, House was constantly pulling at his leash, seeing just how far he could stretch it before Cuddy jerked his mangy hide back where it belonged; Cuddy yanked his chain until he turned around to deliver a bite.
She glanced past his tapping cane to the window outside, the clouds darkening and rain whipping past. The plane had hit a few rough spots already; they were going to be laid over in St. Louis for at least a night. She rubbed at her aching brow as the plane began its decent. She was not looking forward to a night in a hotel room with the unshaven menace beside her.
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Greg House hated airports, he hated conferences, and he really hated cheap hotels. He tossed his bag into a corner and wheeled around on his boss with the biggest sarcastic grin he could muster.
"How about a nice pleasant dinner between two old friends?"
Cuddy rolled her eyes, and placed her own things on one of the twin beds. She wanted nothing more than to soak in a hot shower and then collapse into bed.
Of course House would want to do something that involved going back outside. Never mind the thunderstorm.
She glared at him and walked towards the bathroom. She had half a mind to tell him to go eat by himself, but some slight remnant of pity for him she hadn't managed to stomp out yet poked at her fiercely.
"Fine, you call the cab."
She paused before heading into the bathroom
"But I get to pick the restaurant"
She might put up with his company, but she wasn't about to end up eating greasy burgers and fries for dinner.
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Ooh. This is positively bursting with possibilities. Great idea, Sam. I especially like the bit about House's "mangy hide." :)
Yea, it is. But I'm kind of at an impasse as far as plot goes. I want them to end up locking horns somewhere down the road; I just haven't decided what to do to them yet to get them there. ;)
A/N: I still have no frikkin idea where I'm going with this story. Any ideas/suggestions appreciated.
Just a little more.
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It took all the willpower Cuddy possessed not to grab the fork out of his hands.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?”
He’d been picking at his dinner for nearly two hours now, barely halfway finished. She wanted to get back to the hotel and shower, so of course he’d dawdle as much as humanly possible.
He just smiled insipidly at her.
“Don’t you just love the ambiance in this place?”
He openly ogled the waitresses wandering around the Italian restaurant as they passed, making Cuddy want to smack him even more so. He kept flirting with the waitress that was serving them, solely for the purpose of bother her. She knew it was a stupid thing to get annoyed at; it wasn’t as if she had designs on him anyway. Mostly she felt sorry for the young woman having to put up with vaguely lewd comments and clearly unwanted attention. Could he not be civil in any situation for once in his life?
She was feeling particularly mean tonight after putting up with him for over a day.
“You know, you might actually get asked out once in a while if you’d stop being a jackass for ten minutes. Can’t say why, but for some reason, women tend to like men who are nice.”
“Oh, but what’s the fun in that?”
She rolled here eyes for what must have been the five hundredth time of the evening, half muttering under her breath.
“Well of course we all know you’d rather just make everyone hate you. Then you can have an excuse to feel sorry for yourself.”
He didn’t even reply to that. It was an admonishment that was a common refrain from Cuddy. Depending on House’s mood, he’d either pop out a particularly nasty personal retort, or else clam up completely and sulk. This time he opted for the latter, as he sneered at her and stabbed at the now room-temperature remains of his dinner and called for his check as a waitress passed by.
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The ride back to the hotel was filled with uncomfortable silence as House stared at the rain hitting the car window, purposefully not looking at the woman in the other seat. She knew he was watching her as she watched him though; observing her reflection on the dark glass. She was not intimidated by him the slightest, and continued to stare his reflection directly in the eye, waiting for him to blink.
Whoa! *Sooo* much potential here, Sam! Cool idea.... :)
First thing that came to my mind as a plot possibility is a medical emergency at the hotel where they're staying... right at their feet, even, so they *have* to get involved, even before anyone can call 911....
Or an outrageous statement by House that distracts the cabbie enough to get them into an accident...?
(Any explanation for why they've been forced to share a room? I wouldn't think either one of them would do so voluntarily...)