The Crush

There were certain days where it seemed like the hospital was a giant game of whack-a-mole: as soon as Cuddy resolved one crisis, another one popped up.

But today had been blissfully uneventful—PPTH was running like a well-oiled machine—and Cuddy strode through its halls feeling pretty darn good about herself.

She took note of a candy striper wheeling a (gleaming) cart of medical supplies down the hall. Even the candy stripers looked prettier today, she thought—their uniforms crisper, their hair shinier. Then she stopped, looked again.

"Ali?" she said, startled.

The girl looked up: It was, indeed, Ali Swanson, the teenager who had taken her school girl crush on House to an obsessive and possibly even dangerous level. What the hell was she doing here? In a candy striper uniform? At her hospital?

"Dr. Cuddy, I was hoping to run into you!" the girl said, cheerfully. "I just wanted to thank you so much for giving me a chance. I assumed that, after our—well, you know—history, you wouldn't let me work here and I'm just so grateful that you did."

Cuddy gaped at her. Hire this crazy girl? She had done no such thing!

Then it dawned on her: Joan Sanders, the head of nursing, had given her a bunch of new employment files to approve yesterday. She had scanned them, briefly, and signed. Joan's personnel decisions were always impeccable. She must have seen Ali's name, not recognized it, and blithely signed of.

"I'm just so glad that you didn't let my reckless behavior as a 17-year-old cloud your judgment," Ali was saying. "I'm a different person now, much more responsible. According to Dr. House, it wasn't even me, anyway—it was these spore things." Then, with a wink: "Although I do wish I could blame all my inappropriate teenage behavior on spores, if you know what I mean."

Ali was trying to talk to her, woman to woman. But she couldn't have been more than 21, and still looked as nubile and fresh faced as she had 4 years ago.

Cuddy collected herself. There was really nothing she could do about it now.

"Well, just work hard, keep things professional, steer clear of Dr. House and I'm sure we'll be fine," she said, without warmth.

"I will, Dr. Cuddy! I'll make you proud. And thanks again, for the opportunity."

Cuddy strode away, continuing her round of the hospital. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she told herself. The girl did seem contrite. And Joan was usually an excellent judge of character.

But she had to admit it: Her run-in with Ali had pretty much ruined her day.

#####

A few hours later, House was trying to nap in the clinic—his long legs stretched across two chairs, the latest Guardians of the Galaxy comic book shading his face—when a girlish female voice said: "So Dr. House, we meet again."

House started a bit. Then tilted to his head slightly, from under the comic book, to see where the voice was coming from. The red and white uniform: A new candy striper. House allowed his gaze to work its way up her form (hey, he was in love, not dead): Nice legs, decent rack, great skin, but way too skinny. Then he got to her face.

"Ali?" he said. He popped up so fast, the comic book slid off his face and fell to the ground.

"You remember me!" she sang.

"You're, uh, pretty hard to forget," he said. "What are you doing here? Are you a stripper posing as candy striper?"

"I work here, you naughty boy!" Ali said, flirtily.

"Dr. Cuddy hired you?" he said, in disbelief.

"She did. I guess she believes I second chances."

House scratched his head, thought about that for a second. "I guess she does," he said.

"So. . .I'm 21 now," Ali said, doing a little spin. "Do you like how I've grown up?"

"You're as easy on the eyes as ever," he said, truthfully.

"I'm easy in other ways, too."

"Still shy, I see," he cracked.

"I can be shy," she said, coquettishly biting her finger. "If that's what you're into."

"Gross," he said.

"In that case, I can be whatever you want me to be," she said, in a vampy, come-hither voice.

"Ali, you haven't changed one bit!" he said.

"Oh, I've changed a lot. In all the best ways. Why don't let me buy you a drink tonight after work and show you."

"No can do," House said.

She pouted at him.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Negative."

"Friday then?"

"Sorry."

"Well, when can you get a drink?" Her hands on her hips. A bit of teenage petulance had crept back into her voice.

"See the thing is, Ali, my girlfriend keeps me kind of busy these days," House said.

Now her face turned red.

"Your girlfriend?" she said.

"Ya," he said.

"Is it, like, serious?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but very."

"Is she a doctor here at the hospital?"

"Now that is definitely none of your business," House said.

"And you're totally, like, faithful to her?"

"Like, totally."

Ali folded her arms.

"We'll see about that," she said, with the confidence of a girl who knew that men found her alluring.

House stood up, grabbed his cane.

"Ali, there are plenty of other older men at this hospital for you to creepily obsess over. I just happen to not be one of them Might I suggest Chris Taub?"

######

That night, in bed, Cuddy turned to him, tried to keep her voice casual: "You'll never guess who Joan Sanders hired as a candy striper," she said.

Crap. He'd been hoping to put off this conversation for at least a few days.

"Ali?" he said.

She turned on the light on the nightstand, surprised.

"You saw her?"

"She came into the clinic when I was, uh, diligently treating a patient."

"I specifically told her to avoid you!"

"Then she specifically chose to ignore you."

"Did she say anything?" Cuddy asked.

House gave a half-shrug.

"She wanted to buy me a drink."

"That little nymphet!" Cuddy said, shaking her head. "She lied to my face. What did you say to her?"

"Is it 11 o'clock?" House said, pretending to get out of bed. "Because I better get dressed. I'm meeting her at Sullivan's in an hour."

Cuddy gave him a death stare and he laughed nervously.

"Christ, I'm kidding," he said, putting his arms protectively around Cuddy and kissing her forehead. "What do you think I said to her? I told her I was unavailable—for drinks, or anything else."

"You sure?" Cuddy said.

"Of course, I'm sure."

"She's 21, gorgeous, and still, apparently, obsessed with you. She's dangerous."

"Maybe to herself. Maybe to society. Not to me. And most definitely not to us." He kissed her on the mouth, then nibbled on her ear, trying to distract her.

"Even I can see that she's desirable," Cuddy said.

"You're desirable," House said huskily, kissing her throat, getting worked up.

"Don't humor me," Cuddy said.

"I'm not!" he protested. "Girls like Ali are a dime a dozen. Go to any college campus across American and you'll find one. You, on the other hand, are a rare jewel."

"A rare jewel, huh?" Cuddy snorted, slightly mollified.

"Like the Hope Diamond," he said, kissing her cleavage.

"Just behave around her," Cuddy said.

"As long as I can misbehave around you," he said, burrowing under the covers and kissing her inner thigh.

"Now that I encourage," she sighed, arching her back and moaning a bit as his mouth made its way between her legs.

######

A few days later, House and Cuddy were having lunch in the cafeteria when Ali materialized beside their table.

"Hello Dr. House. Dr. Cuddy," she said. She had a way of making even the most innocuous remark sound suggestive. "May I join you?"

"Ali, it's not appropriate for a candy striper to join the Dean of Medicine and the Head of Diagnostics when they're having lunch," Cuddy said.

"Sorry," Ali said. "Just being friendly."

"No need to be friends," Cuddy said. "Just do your job."

Ali gave a leading look to House, hoping he was going to defend her.

"What she said," House said.

Ali pouted again, began to walk away, then stopped.

"It's her!" she said, getting it. "Dr. Cuddy is your girlfriend!"

She smirked a bit.

"Everything is so much clearer now," she said.

"What's clear?" House said, as Cuddy shot him a "don't engage her" look.

"Why Dr. Cuddy was so jealous of my. . .intentions toward you."

"I wasn't jealous, Ali. I was upholding the law—both of this hospital and of the State of New Jersey."

"You locked me in your office!"

"Better that than a holding cell in Trenton," Cuddy said.

"You managed to conveniently interrupt every time I was actually getting someplace with him."

"Hey, hey, hey," House said, holding up a hand defensively, and glancing nervously at Cuddy. "There was no getting anywhere with me. That was strictly in your spore-fevered imagination."

"This actually makes sense," Ali said, surveying them. "Why shouldn't two sexy older people be together?"

"Older?" Cuddy said, irritably.

"You should look so good when you're Dr. Cuddy's age," House said.

"Oh, I agree," Ali said, sizing her up. "Dr. Cuddy is hot."

Something in her voice suggested she would be game for a threesome.

"I approve of this relationship," Ali said.

"Oh thank God," Cuddy said.

"Enjoy your lunch, lovebirds," Ali said.

And she sashayed away.

######

A few days later, House was in the hospital men's room, washing his hands, when Ali slipped into the room, locking the door behind her.

"Are you out of your mind?" House said. "Wait, dumb question. We've already clearly established that you are."

"I can never find a place to be alone with you," she said, hopping up on the sink.

"Why, pray tell, do you need to be alone with me?"

"So we can talk and. . .other things," she said.

"What part of, 'I have a serious girlfriend' don't you understand?"

"I get it. Dr. Cuddy is beautiful and classy and great. But man can't live by caviar alone."

"Trust me. Dr. Cuddy is a veritable buffet table."

Ali raised her eyebrows.

"You have to admit it, you're getting a little hot knowing that it's just the two of us here in this bathroom."

"Nope," he said breezily.

She reached out for the top of his jeans.

"Just the idea that I could unsnap your jeans and pull out your cock and give you a mind-blowing blowjob at any moment and no one would ever have to know about it—it must be drivng you crazy."

"No," he said, matter-of-factly. "It's not."

She licked her lips, unbuttoned his top snap, bent toward him.

"Okay, play time is over," he said, picking up her off the sink counter and placing her squarely down on the floor. (Of course, Ali acted like this was some sort of foreplay.)

"I love a man who plays hard to get. Emphasis on hard."

Much to her dismay, though, House didn't seem the slightest bit aroused by her handiwork.

"Ali, it's not sexy. It's not cute. It's just kind of sad. Get help."

"You get help!" she retorted.

"Good comeback. Can we leave now?"

He unlocked the door, they exited the bathroom and, much to his horror, bumped right into Cuddy.

"What the hell is she doing in there?" Cuddy said.

"She got confused," House said, shooting Ali a look. "She thought it was the ladies' room. But she assures me she'll never make that mistake again."

"Ali, what did I tell you about behaving yourself like an adult and leaving Dr. House alone?" Cuddy said.

"It was an honest mistake, Dr. Cuddy," Ali said. "I'm new here. The doors look similar."

"All doors look similar," Cuddy said. "That's why you read the sign on the door. This one says: Men."

"Got it," Ali said. "Men. Duh. I see it now. My bad."

"Ali, consider this your second strike. Three strikes you're out."

"What was my first strike?"

"Seeking out Dr. House in the clinic."

"He told you about that?"

"Dr. House tells me everything."

Ali's eyes danced mischievously

"Not everything," she said, skipping off.

At that exact moment, both House and Cuddy noticed that his jeans were unsnapped.

"Oh shit," House said, closing it. "It's not what you think.".

"I think she tried to take off your pants and you rejected her," Cuddy said.

"Okay, it is what you think," House said.

He studied her for a moment.

"You really believe me?" he said.

"I do," she said. Then sighed. "I need to fire her don't I?"

"Probably. But before you do that: I'm a dude who just rejected an afternoon blow job from a super hot 21-year-old. It seems to me that the least my beautiful girlfriend can do is reward my good behavior."

Cuddy looked at him, snorted.

"No chance," she said.

House shrugged.

"It was worth a shot."

#####

Cuddy called Ali into her office.

"I'm afraid you leave me not choice but to let you go," she said.

Ali's lower lip began to quiver.

"But why?"

"You know why. You've been harassing Dr. House."

"No, I haven't! I told you! I went into the men's room by accident!"

"That doesn't ring true."

"But it is!"

"And then you locked the door?"

"I always lock the door when I go to the bathroom!"

"You unbuttoned his pants! And …propositioned him!"

"I did not!"

"Then how did his pants get unbuttoned?"

"He just came out of the bathroom. It's not exactly a stretch that his fly might be open."

"That's not what he says happened."

"He's confused. He likes to flatter himself into thinking I still have the hots for him."

"I don't think that's it."

"He misunderstood my intentions."

"I don't believe you, Ali."

"So you believe him over me!"

"Yes."

"Of course you do. He's your boyfriend."

"I've seen you harass him with my own eyes."

"And I promised I'd stop! And I did! I swear it was a misunderstanding! Nothing happened! You said I only had two strikes! I get one more strike!"

"That was before I knew about your behavior in the men's room."

"You can't fire me! I need this job! My parents cut me off. I have no other way to make money!"

Ali's face crumpled into a mask of tears. Mascara streaked down her cheeks.

Cuddy looked at her. She'd had nurses–and even some doctors—crying in her office many times before and was generally unmoved. After all, her job wasn't to be everyone's best friend, it was to run the hospital. But Ali's crying was particularly pathetic, almost childlike. And, it was true, she had promised the girl three strikes.

"Okay," Cuddy said. "But I'm serious now. This is it. Your absolute last chance."

Ali abruptly stopped crying, wiped her eyes.

"Thank you, Dr. Cuddy," she said, in a sweet voice. "I promise, I'll be good."

"Yeah, I've heard that song before."

#####

Ali's strike three came a mere three nights later. Cuddy was working late—a "State of the Hospital" board meeting.

House decided to spend the night at his own apartment, a rarity these days.

He was actually relishing the chance to drink some scotch, listen to his own music—not that insipid Phinneas and Ferb, which was all they seemed to listen to at Cuddy's place—and even play a little piano.

He was three scotches in—and feeling no pain—when there was a knock at his door.

He immediately assumed it was Cuddy—and got a little excited; they hadn't had sex at his place in months. (The last time they did it, she had let herself in with his spare key to surprise him. When he got home, she was lying on his bed, wearing nothing but a red thong and high heels. "I'm the luckiest fella alive," he had said, diving for her.)

"I hope you're wearing your red thong," he said now, eagerly, opening the door.

"Actually, it's white," Ali purred.

House's face fell.

"You're not who I was expecting," he said, equal parts disappointed and annoyed.

"Surprise!" she said, ironically.

"How'd you even know I was here?"

"I sometimes drive past your apartment."

"Sometimes?"

"Okay, every night. Anyway, I saw your bike. . Can I come in?"

"Absolutely not."

"Pleeeeeease."

"No."

She set her jaw a bit.

"If you don't let me in, I'll start screaming."

He sighed, rolled his eyes a bit, gestured for her to come in.

"Leave now, Ali. Or I call Dr. Cuddy and this is your third strike and the gig is up."

"I don't care about that job. I just care about us."

"There is no us."

"That's because you won't even give me a chance."

"Ali, I love my girlfriend. And even I didn't, you're not my type."

"I'm all men's type," she said.

"Not mine."

"I'm pretty sure I could change your mind," she said. "If you just let me try." And she began to unbutton her shirt. Naturally, she wasn't wearing a bra.

He grabbed her by the wrists, hard.

"Ali, cut it the fuck out or I won't just call Dr. Cuddy, I'll call the cops."

Because he was gripping her rather tightly and because his face was contorted in genuine anger—for the first time, she seemed to realize that he wasn't playing around.

"Let go of me!" she shrieked, terrified.

"I will, if you promise to get out of my apartment and leave me the fuck alone."

"Okay, okay…I promise."

"No more finding me in the clinic. No more locking yourself into the men's room with me. And definitely no more coming by my apartment at night. Stay out of my life. Got it?"

"Got it," she said, her shoulders slumping.

He let go of her wrists.

"Go find a nice young boyfriend who will want to fuck your brains out. It shouldn't be that hard."

She jut out her lip.

"All I wanted to do was give you a little pleasure. You don't have to be so mean about it," she said.

"I don't want anything you have to give," he said. "Now get the hell out of here."

"You're a real jerk, you know that?"

"And you're a raging psychopath."

She gave him one last mournful look and left.

When he was alone, he poured himself another glass of scotch.

He was torn. He never wanted to lie to Cuddy, but he thought, in this case, it might be the path of least resistance. For one thing, his natural instinct was not to be a narc—he wasn't the kind of guy who got other people fired, no matter how irritating or deluded they were.

Also, Cuddy had been trusting enough to believe him when he emerged from the bathroom with his pants unsnapped. But if she found out that Ali had been alone with him in his apartment? She might not be quite as understanding.

He decided the best thing to do was leave well enough alone. Ali had gotten the message this time. The scared look on her face made that perfectly clear. The best thing for all parties involved was to put it behind them.

######

The next day, House was conducting a DDx with his team when an orderly came in.

"Dr. Cuddy needs to see you in her office. Right now," he said.

House frowned. This was unusual.

"She's insatiable," he cracked to his team, pretending not to be concerned.

He limped quickly down the hall.

When he got to her office, she was sitting behind her desk, looking upset.

The hospital lawyer was there, as well as the head of HR, and another well dressed woman, who also looked to be a lawyer.

"This looks serious," House said. "I'll come back later."

"House, this concerns you," Cuddy said.

"If this is about the hospital dress code again, I promise to start tucking in my shirt…"

"Ali Swanson filed a formal complain against you and the hospital this morning," Cuddy said. Her demeanor might've seemed composed to an outsider. But he knew her well enough to know that she was very upset.

He scratched his chin.

"What kind of complaint?"

"She says that you had a sexual relationship that ended a few years ago and that, since then, you've been sexually harassing her."

To be continued. . .