I Really Don't Like You
folder
G through L › House
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,730
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › House
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,730
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the television series that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part One
Original ideas ©2007 - may not be reprinted, except for personal use. Archive or repost only with permission - e-mail me for that. All non-original ideas owned by their original creators.
***********
I Really Don't Like You
a fan-fiction story about House
* For the sake of argument, the 2006/7 season of Grey’s Anatomy ended one month before the 2006/7 season of House – about the time Foreman sat up with the dying woman.
Part One
“I really don’t like you, you know,” she said. “Not even a little bit.”
“Of course you do.” He laced his hands and stretched, knuckles cracking. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
She laughed, showing perfect teeth – good genetics plus treatments at the dentist’s with that ultraviolet thing all the right-wing talk show hosts advertised. She even threw her head back a little bit, red hair tousled and mussed but still flying around her bare shoulders.
“Now you’re going to tell me not to confuse sex with like, aren’t you.”
She propped herself up on her right elbow so she could look at him. “It’s the truth. I don’t like you, but I do like to sleep with you.”
“At least I’m good for something.”
“Something.” She rolled over and put her feet on the hardwood floor, then got up and walked across the bedroom and into his bathroom, unconcerned that she was naked – after all, she’d just slept with him; she’d never understood how people accepted actresses putting on robes after sex just to go to sleep.
Through the closed bathroom door, she heard the bed creak, heard the rubberized tip of his cane hit the floor. “My pills are in there,” he said. “Do you mind?”
She’d seen him popping them into his mouth like candy every so often as they passed in the hospital hallways. Now she saw them on the little shelf above the sink. “Just a minute.”
The door opened as she was sitting on the toilet; she squeezed her knees shut and yanked the hand towel onto her lap. “What the hell?”
“Oh, come on,” he told her, not even looking down as he snatched up the bottle. “A, I’m a doctor and I’ve seen them before. B, you’re an OB, so you’ve seen, what, hundreds?” He flipped off the cap and threw back a couple of the white tablets. “And C, I’ve seen yours up close.” Cap back on bottle, bottle back on shelf. “And D, I’m standing here, wearing nothing but a lack of a smile, so if you really feel the need to see me pee too, you’d better open your legs or get ready for a shower.”
She flicked blue-green eyes up at him, then down to his groin. “If you do that, I’ll rip it off.”
“Now I just have to see if you’ll really do it.” But he didn’t. He left the bathroom, leaving the door open, and she heard him limping down the hallway toward the living room. “I don’t care if it’s yellow,” he called to her, “I don’t believe in letting anything mellow.”
“Of course you don’t,” she muttered, pulling off a few squares of paper from the roll.
Dr. James Wilson wasn’t at all surprised to hear his office door open without so much as a knock. He didn’t even bother to look up from his notes as House limped in, his cane making no noise on the rug.
“Go ahead,” House said. “Gloat.”
“What?”
House lowered himself into Wilson’s guest chair and helped himself to one of the cups of coffee on the oncologist’s desk. “Gloat. Tell me how great it is that you get to shack up with Cuddy.”
Now Wilson slapped down his pen. His eyes were dark, but it was the only sign of anger he showed. He never could manage to look angry; so many years being compassionate, giving bad news to his patients, it took it out of him. “We are not shacking up,” he said quietly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought that’s what you call it when I show up at your house at ten on Saturday and she’s wearing your bathrobe, drinking out of your mug, and leaving heel prints on your coffee table.”
“She doesn’t… how do you know what my bathrobe looks like?”
“I know everything.”
“Of course you do.” Wilson picked up his pen, regarded the reflective silvery surface. “So I’m sleeping with Cuddy. What’s your point?”
House shrugged. He still hadn’t had any of the coffee. “It’s just funny,” he said as he pulled himself to his feet. “You didn’t even try for her until after I’d had a turn.”
“Just go, House.”
“I’m just saying.” He put the coffee back on the desk and left Wilson’s office with about as much ceremony as he’d entered.
Wilson just kept staring at the pen.
Foreman and Chase were off doing some sort of tests, he didn’t know which and frankly didn’t care. Cameron was in the conference room, earbuds firmly tucked in, reading one of those publications she always had in her planner, probably the same Journal of Immunology that he’d left on the table for three weeks, waiting to see if she’d pick it up and see that one of their cases was published.
She got that indignant expression and closed the journal, slapped it on the table, and stormed out of the room.
House allowed a tight grin as he put his feet up, head to the side, watching his little television.
“I hear you and House…”
Cameron’s head snapped up and she nearly dropped the blood sample in her left hand. “What did he tell you?”
Addison folded her arms, not quite relaxing as she leaned against the wall of the lab. “He didn’t tell me anything. But people talk.”
“I’m sure they do.” She set the vial in the centrifuge and programmed it. “What did you hear?”
“You and House… uh…” Addison vaguely waved her hands in circular motions. “You know…”
“Oh my God,” Cameron almost-mumbled. “What is it about you doctors from Seattle and sex?”
“What about us?”
She stripped off the gloves and dropped them in the bin. “Last year, this resident, Torres, she came to Princeton-Plainsboro for a seminar and got pressed into service.”
“Callie came here?”
“Callie, that was her name, right.” Cameron pushed back from the bench and tucked her hands in the pockets of her white coat. “She made some reference to sex in elevators. Made me uncomfortable. Was she coming onto me?”
“What, Callie?” Cameron nodded, and Addison let out a low chuckle that trailed away. “Actually, I don’t know. Maybe she likes girls. But at the time, no, I think she was dating one of the interns.”
“Just as well. For all you know, I like girls.”
“Well, I will certainly keep that in mind.”
“Oh, no, no,” Cameron said quickly, “I don’t mean…”
“It’s okay,” Addison said, grinning. “It’s been more than 15 years since college and my experimental phase. Besides, I… I have someone right now.”
Cameron blinked a few times and, with one hand, pushed her glasses up on her nose. “You were asking me about House… because you and House…”
Addison felt her pale cheeks flush, and felt a twinge a few feet below that. “Don’t let it get around,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t like him.”
“No one likes him.” This was a new voice. Foreman’s voice. “He’s an asshole. What shouldn’t we let get around?”
Addison didn’t have time to stammer; Cameron shrugged at the black doctor. “She’s new. She doesn’t want House knowing she doesn’t like him.”
“Work a case with him,” Foreman said. “He’ll figure it out real fast.”
***********
More to come...
***********
I Really Don't Like You
a fan-fiction story about House
* For the sake of argument, the 2006/7 season of Grey’s Anatomy ended one month before the 2006/7 season of House – about the time Foreman sat up with the dying woman.
Part One
“I really don’t like you, you know,” she said. “Not even a little bit.”
“Of course you do.” He laced his hands and stretched, knuckles cracking. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
She laughed, showing perfect teeth – good genetics plus treatments at the dentist’s with that ultraviolet thing all the right-wing talk show hosts advertised. She even threw her head back a little bit, red hair tousled and mussed but still flying around her bare shoulders.
“Now you’re going to tell me not to confuse sex with like, aren’t you.”
She propped herself up on her right elbow so she could look at him. “It’s the truth. I don’t like you, but I do like to sleep with you.”
“At least I’m good for something.”
“Something.” She rolled over and put her feet on the hardwood floor, then got up and walked across the bedroom and into his bathroom, unconcerned that she was naked – after all, she’d just slept with him; she’d never understood how people accepted actresses putting on robes after sex just to go to sleep.
Through the closed bathroom door, she heard the bed creak, heard the rubberized tip of his cane hit the floor. “My pills are in there,” he said. “Do you mind?”
She’d seen him popping them into his mouth like candy every so often as they passed in the hospital hallways. Now she saw them on the little shelf above the sink. “Just a minute.”
The door opened as she was sitting on the toilet; she squeezed her knees shut and yanked the hand towel onto her lap. “What the hell?”
“Oh, come on,” he told her, not even looking down as he snatched up the bottle. “A, I’m a doctor and I’ve seen them before. B, you’re an OB, so you’ve seen, what, hundreds?” He flipped off the cap and threw back a couple of the white tablets. “And C, I’ve seen yours up close.” Cap back on bottle, bottle back on shelf. “And D, I’m standing here, wearing nothing but a lack of a smile, so if you really feel the need to see me pee too, you’d better open your legs or get ready for a shower.”
She flicked blue-green eyes up at him, then down to his groin. “If you do that, I’ll rip it off.”
“Now I just have to see if you’ll really do it.” But he didn’t. He left the bathroom, leaving the door open, and she heard him limping down the hallway toward the living room. “I don’t care if it’s yellow,” he called to her, “I don’t believe in letting anything mellow.”
“Of course you don’t,” she muttered, pulling off a few squares of paper from the roll.
Dr. James Wilson wasn’t at all surprised to hear his office door open without so much as a knock. He didn’t even bother to look up from his notes as House limped in, his cane making no noise on the rug.
“Go ahead,” House said. “Gloat.”
“What?”
House lowered himself into Wilson’s guest chair and helped himself to one of the cups of coffee on the oncologist’s desk. “Gloat. Tell me how great it is that you get to shack up with Cuddy.”
Now Wilson slapped down his pen. His eyes were dark, but it was the only sign of anger he showed. He never could manage to look angry; so many years being compassionate, giving bad news to his patients, it took it out of him. “We are not shacking up,” he said quietly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought that’s what you call it when I show up at your house at ten on Saturday and she’s wearing your bathrobe, drinking out of your mug, and leaving heel prints on your coffee table.”
“She doesn’t… how do you know what my bathrobe looks like?”
“I know everything.”
“Of course you do.” Wilson picked up his pen, regarded the reflective silvery surface. “So I’m sleeping with Cuddy. What’s your point?”
House shrugged. He still hadn’t had any of the coffee. “It’s just funny,” he said as he pulled himself to his feet. “You didn’t even try for her until after I’d had a turn.”
“Just go, House.”
“I’m just saying.” He put the coffee back on the desk and left Wilson’s office with about as much ceremony as he’d entered.
Wilson just kept staring at the pen.
Foreman and Chase were off doing some sort of tests, he didn’t know which and frankly didn’t care. Cameron was in the conference room, earbuds firmly tucked in, reading one of those publications she always had in her planner, probably the same Journal of Immunology that he’d left on the table for three weeks, waiting to see if she’d pick it up and see that one of their cases was published.
She got that indignant expression and closed the journal, slapped it on the table, and stormed out of the room.
House allowed a tight grin as he put his feet up, head to the side, watching his little television.
“I hear you and House…”
Cameron’s head snapped up and she nearly dropped the blood sample in her left hand. “What did he tell you?”
Addison folded her arms, not quite relaxing as she leaned against the wall of the lab. “He didn’t tell me anything. But people talk.”
“I’m sure they do.” She set the vial in the centrifuge and programmed it. “What did you hear?”
“You and House… uh…” Addison vaguely waved her hands in circular motions. “You know…”
“Oh my God,” Cameron almost-mumbled. “What is it about you doctors from Seattle and sex?”
“What about us?”
She stripped off the gloves and dropped them in the bin. “Last year, this resident, Torres, she came to Princeton-Plainsboro for a seminar and got pressed into service.”
“Callie came here?”
“Callie, that was her name, right.” Cameron pushed back from the bench and tucked her hands in the pockets of her white coat. “She made some reference to sex in elevators. Made me uncomfortable. Was she coming onto me?”
“What, Callie?” Cameron nodded, and Addison let out a low chuckle that trailed away. “Actually, I don’t know. Maybe she likes girls. But at the time, no, I think she was dating one of the interns.”
“Just as well. For all you know, I like girls.”
“Well, I will certainly keep that in mind.”
“Oh, no, no,” Cameron said quickly, “I don’t mean…”
“It’s okay,” Addison said, grinning. “It’s been more than 15 years since college and my experimental phase. Besides, I… I have someone right now.”
Cameron blinked a few times and, with one hand, pushed her glasses up on her nose. “You were asking me about House… because you and House…”
Addison felt her pale cheeks flush, and felt a twinge a few feet below that. “Don’t let it get around,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t like him.”
“No one likes him.” This was a new voice. Foreman’s voice. “He’s an asshole. What shouldn’t we let get around?”
Addison didn’t have time to stammer; Cameron shrugged at the black doctor. “She’s new. She doesn’t want House knowing she doesn’t like him.”
“Work a case with him,” Foreman said. “He’ll figure it out real fast.”
***********
More to come...