SUMMARY: Hey, even House has his off days, right?
DISCLAIMER: The setting and characters belong to various networks and production companies. Sadly, I'm not making a red cent off how much I love them.
NOTES: This is a birthday present for DebC. It's a suggested title I gave to her, but I'm borrowing it back ;)
"I can't believe it," Cuddy said, leaning back in her chair, trying to keep her jaw from dropping.
"It's true," Wilson said, grinning madly.
"You're not just saying this to make me feel better?"
"Would I do that?"
"Yes."
"Okay, you're right." Wilson shrugged. "But I'm telling the absolute unvarnished truth."
"Wow."
"House not only made it through the case without pissing anyone off, the patient and his family have sent a thank you for his care."
"Unbelievable." Cuddy paused. "Wait, what's the catch?"
Wilson's lips twitched. "Well..."
"Tell me."
"The patient and the family don't speak a word of English. Everything was done through a translator."
Cuddy took a deep breath. "You had me worried there for a minute."
Cuddy generally kept ahead of her paperwork. In the back of her mind, she felt as if letting her desk get too crowded meant that she was out of control--and control was more important than just about anything else.
So woe betide the person who kept her from clearing her desk when it started to pile up. Staff at Princeton-Plainsboro learned early on that when the Dean of Medicine was tearing through piles of folders, the only reasons to interrupt her were fire, flood, famine, or plague.
Which was why Cuddy couldn't understand why a shame-faced Chase was spinning a patently false tale about needing her help with something. Halfway through the story, she stopped listening because it had House's fingerprints all over it.
She considered sending Chase away with a lecture about not letting House send him off to find a left-handed board stretcher, but as Chase's sorry tale wound to a close, she decided it was time for a break anyway.
While she was out of her office, several actual crises occurred, which made her forget the original distraction entirely.
To Cuddy's surprise, when she returned to her office, the pile of folders had been greatly reduced, and her eyebrows went up in surprise. Could it be that some of her department heads had actually taken responsibility for things? Miracles did happen, she decided.
She never did look at the neat stack of folders in her secretary's outbox, each with House's scrawled notes telling the doctors in question how to fix their problems.
House did look entirely too pleased with himself for a week, but she chalked that up to getting laid and didn't ask.
The vase sat on her desk looking entirely harmless, but Cuddy frowned at it anyway. There was a reason she kept her birthday a closely guarded secret, and her family and friends knew to send everything birthday-related to her home.
So who in the world would send her a gigantic bouquet of flowers today of all days?
She stepped closer and realized that not only were they flowers, they were her favorite roses, an obscure variety called Fire and Ice. Even her father could never remember to get her those.
Taking a deep breath, she searched the bouquet for a card, but found nothing. There wasn't even a note as to whom they'd been ordered from.
With a scowl, she stepped back. Who knew that--
A memory surfaced and Cuddy blinked. No. Absolutely not.
True, House had been present when Max had given her those flowers. And she might very well have said they were her favorites. But he...
He wouldn't...
He'd been so scornful of Max and caused such a scene that she'd blotted out the memory. So he couldn't...
Cuddy sat down heavily in her chair. Absolutely not. House must have...told Wilson about the flowers.
Right.
As they continued down the hallway, Cuddy pointed toward an open doorway. "And over here--"
"Did that man just say what I thought he said?" Leslie Arminh, the prospective head of Radiology asked, craning her head around to watch House walk away.
Cuddy rolled the conversation back in her head. Oh. That. "Yes, he did. Don't pay him any mind. Dr. House is, ah, not one of our more conventional staff members."
"Oh. I see."
"No, you really don't." Cuddy suppressed a sigh. "But he's a really good doctor, believe me. One of the best."
"And when he says things like that...?"
"The best thing to do is ignore him. I know I do."
Under the warm covers, Cuddy felt content and sleepy, obscurely comforted by the way House's fingers softly traced the path of her circulatory system. Surprisingly, he'd managed to avoid saying anything annoying the entire time, keeping his mouth busy with...better pastimes.
It had been a long road that got them to this point, but she couldn't find it in herself to regret it.
He grinned. "So, not half bad in the sack, huh?"
"Don't push it, buster," she mumbled into his shoulder.
When he laughed, she tackled him with a kiss bold enough that he forgot what he was doing.
Yep, Cuddy thought, as she straddled him, there was one thing always guaranteed to shut House up. And it was remarkably pleasant to boot.
--end--