A Prank Too Far

Okay, since SOME people were complaining that I hadn’t updated any of my older fics, here we are. I feel that this one’s a little disjointed but I really don’t care.

And don’t say that I’m mean like you’re surprised.

You fooking KNOW I’m a bad bastid.

Carry on.

Chapter 13: And It All Goes…Awry


“Get away from my mum.”

House blinked at the growl that had just issued from between Lorcain’s lips. The usually charming and light featured boy had his head tilted forward, looking up at House from under his fall of deep brown hair with murderous eyes. House frowned and lifted his hands away from Tawny’s front.

“Now, kid, are you gonna believe what you see or what I tell you?” House asked in his best patronising tone to cover his embarrassment. He hadn’t planned on being caught in this…compromising position.

House barely saw Lorcain move.

One second he had been by the door, standing by the gaping and tearing Stacy, the next he had launched himself over House’s desk and had tackled the older and larger man to the floor.

“Bastard!”

House’s chin was jerked violently to the side by the savage uppercut Lorcain delivered, straddling House’s chest and already hauling back his left arm for a bone breaking punch to follow the first. House reacted first though, he didn’t want the kid hurt, it was understandable to want to protect his mom, but House wasn’t about to be signing up for reconstructive surgery anytime soon. A swift rabbit punch to the nose had Lorcain tumbling back and dazed. House surged up onto his knees and yanked Lorcain’s arm up and behind his back, pushing his face down into the carpeting and using his free hand to wipe the blood seeping from his split lip.

“Jesus…”House panted and looked up to Tawny. She had removed her shirt in the scuffle and had replaced it with her crimson jacket. “I take it you taught him how to fight?” He demanded of her and a flush stained her cheeks.

“I taught him to think before he acted too.” She snapped, her voice shaking only slightly. She shoved her shirt close to Lorcain’s face, the stain visible to the struggling boy. He still wanted to tear chunks out of House. With his teeth if necessary. “I had blood on me Lorcain, I got it from a patient and I didn’t realise until I got up here. The man had been in a fight.”

That was apparently all she needed to say. Lorcain went limp against the floor. Breathing hard but no longer homicidal.

“Oh.” His voice was small. He turned his head and rested it against the carpet. “Sorry, Doctor House.”

House frowned but leant back, easing his knee off the boy’s shoulder and releasing his arm so that it could fall back to its normal position. Damn, his face hurt.

“It’s alright, she’s your mom.” That was about as understanding as he was prepared to be at the moment, but it was enough for Lorcain. He lay still for a moment and then curled up and onto his feet. He reached over and then sheepishly handed House’s cane back to him. His colour high and obviously embarrassed at losing control like that. House had a slight inkling of how Lorcain had managed to go through three schools in as many months now. House didn’t see the need to humiliate him further, besides, he didn’t need Tawny going all maternal on his ass either. He took his cane and lumbered to his feet.

Tawny snatched her son by the scruff of the neck and hauled him out of the room with the intention of ‘cleaning up’. Lorcain looked slightly resigned to his fate of getting a strip torn out of him, but not too bothered about it besides that.

House heaved in a breath and turned to see Stacy. He noted mentally that she seemed to have gotten herself under control. Thankfully. He didn’t really feel the need to suffer through another water works performance. She stepped warily towards him. Reaching up she touched his lip and her finger came away stained in a rosy tint of his blood.

“I have that effect on people.” He dismissed it and she almost managed a smile.

“Were you really…?”

“About to have wild sweaty sex on my desk?” House asked with a smirk and an arched brow. She couldn’t really think that he and Tawny…he tried to picture the scene from her point of view. He resisted the urge to laugh. He supposed it could have looked like a bit of a ‘private’ moment that had been interrupted.

“Well, I don’t think I would have put it exactly like that…”

“Well, we weren’t.” He snapped and kicked the trash can under his desk. The last thing he needed was her seeing the gore in there and demanding to know where it had come from. “I’m not her type, I don’t have enough tattoos.” He sat on the edge of his desk further blocking her view from the tell tale trash can with his body.

“Oh…” She looked down and inspected her shoes. Readjusted her jacket over her arms. House tried to quietly analyse what he felt at seeing her again. Recognition mostly. She had been a big part of his life. They had been together a long time…but he had known Lisa longer.

Where the hell had that thought come from?

House shoved it aside and tried to focus on Stacy. He looked at her downcast face and felt…not a whole hell of a lot. He was mildly glad to see her, he hadn’t missed her but he didn’t particularly want to make her suffer upon seeing him again. The wrench of sending her away had dimmed. On top of that there was a thin film of mild irritation. Her timing probably could have been worse but only if she’d brought a bomb with her…he was busy trying to figure out Lisa at the moment and he really didn’t need Stacy’s particular brand of ‘use ‘em and loose ‘em’ to contend with.

“Why are you here?”

Her head shot up, okay, that might have come out a little harsher than he had intended.

“I came to see you.”

He blinked at her in an ‘annd…?’ expression.

“I came…to talk to someone…about Mark.”

“You drove two and a half hours to talk? About your husband. To me?” Now he definitely sounded abrasive but he couldn’t help it.

Stacy glared at him. “Have you been talking to Cuddy, because I just got a variation on just that theme from her. I know she’s sick, but Jesus, I don’t think I deserved that!”

House arched a brow. Exactly how sick had Cuddy seemed? He asked instead. “You came to me for comfort?”

“Well, no…yes…I know you. You know me.”

“Uh-huh…” he cast about the office briefly for inspiration and finally shrugged. “Go back to Mark, Stacy. Talk to him, try not to lie too much and…stay away from your ex-boyfriends. Having never been married, I’m not sure, but most folks tend to take the vows seriously.” He patted her shoulder and stood. He didn’t particularly want to be vicious to her but neither did he want to be her shoulder to cry on. That was what Wilson was for.

She gaped at him and he found himself tightening his fingers on his cane at the lash of irritation that slashed through him.

“You know this, Stacy. If you’re not happy with him, leave him. But don’t toy with him because it’s not fucking fair.” He straightened away from her and he could see the brewing of anger deep in her eyes…he just didn’t care. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient to see to.”

It wasn’t really a lie…it just wasn’t the patient she expected.

He was headed to one very hot and bothered Dean of Medicine…and he doubted he’d be getting back to the hospital any time today.


$inister $cribe


Cuddy lay in the tub and tried to stop shivering. She felt reasonably peaceable so, either the drugs were slowly leeching out of her system or sitting in an ice bath was working. She would get out when her lips went blue. She checked in the mirror, they were a charming shade of violet at the moment so perhaps another five minutes. It wasn’t really a proper ice bath. She didn’t have enough of the treys in her tiny freezer to fill the tub, but the water was still damn cold and it was taking forever for the ice she had poured in to melt.

Eventually, she could stand it no longer and she hauled herself, limbs numb and shaking, from the tub. She staggered to a towel and wrapped it around her pale skinned body. Goddamn this…thing that had been done to her. If she ever actually caught the bastard that had spiked her whisky there wasn’t a jury in the country that would convict…besides, she knew she was smart enough to get away with murder. She let the water out with a long sucking gurgle and padded through to her bedroom, finding the terrycloth robe that she usually only wore in the winter months and yanking it on with jerky movements.

She staggered through to the kitchen. Next stop was food. It got worse if she was hungry. The pangs in her stomach seemed to echo off the ones in her libido and amplified one another. She slapped together a turkey sandwich and wolfed it down in short order. She was so famished that she simply ripped open the packet of meat, sloshed mayonnaise over it and ate with her fingers.

On the bright side, everything tasted…more. Better more vivid, brighter and with a distinct sultry flavour to it. She snapped open a carton of orange juice and drained a gulp or three. Warmth beginning to return to her body now. For the moment she could handle it…but she dreaded when it would become intolerable. When she would be forced to call him, slide into his arms, let him have her and relinquish control. She shut her eyes as she shiver of anticipation trickled down her spine.

She couldn’t pretend she didn’t like it. The fireworks they created so easily together. She had to admit that he’d even been more…discreet than she had thought he would be. He hadn’t blabbed to Wilson or made any more inappropriate comments than usual. He had soothed her, in the exact way she had needed. He had taken her discomfort and replaced it with mind blowing pleasure…he had been almost tender while doing it as well. The way he had met her eyes with his, something deeper than lust flashing in the heated blue depths, the way he had called her Lisa-love…the way he didn’t know any better than she did when it came to dealing with whatever this thing was between them.

Cuddy felt a clasp of concern tighten around her chest when she realised this wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t some impersonal ‘treatment’ that he was doling out to her. At least, not on her side. She had always cared for him. Since college when he had been ‘that guy’ that she had fought with and toyed with. Since he had needed a job and she’d been in a position to give him one when no one else would have him…since the infarction and she’d scarred him in many more ways than one. She didn’t feel guilty about that exactly. She wished that it could have turned out differently. She wished that he didn’t have to suffer through that horrible pain of his every day. She wished that he hadn’t let it take over and ruin his life…but it had been necessary and if she’d had to do it all over again she still would have gone to Stacy and offered her that illicit treatment. She still would have saved his life no matter what.

Stacy…

Cuddy’s mind shied away from that and she suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. She shoved the turkey and the juice back into the fridge and scowled. Time for bed. She had come prepared today. House was with Stacy and she doubted that he’d be swinging by to see how little old her was doing if he was occupied with the Southern Belle lawyer. Cuddy moaned and rubbed her fingers over her temple. She should not be bitching like this. House was not hers to be possessive of…no matter how much she might wish it.

She trailed back to her bedroom and yanked her medical kit out from the drawer in the unit. She selected the syringe and the vial carefully and measured out the small dose of sedative carefully. The last thing she needed was to OD and have to be carted off to the hospital…that was a sobering thought. Who exactly would come looking for her?

A sudden wave of loneliness swept over her and she shook her head rapidly to fight it back. She was not alone. If nothing else she had her job and people that depended on her at the hospital. Being depended upon was better than nothing. Even if the words felt empty in her head she thought them anyway. It was a survival instinct by now. A mantra to get her through the days.

So, her personal life was shit, so were a lot of peoples. They still functioned. They still went on and she was not giving in. She was only thirty eight, she had plenty of time left. So long as she kept telling herself that she might actually begin to believe it.

Cuddy selected the vein with care, holding the tourniquet with her teeth and depressed the plunger in the syringe. She tidied up her mess before taking off the tightened band of tubing around her arm. She removed that once she was settled in her bed. She didn’t have much experience of self medicating and wasn’t particularly fond of the thought of taking a face-plant in the carpet of her bedroom.

Sleep swept over her just as the beginning burn began to register low in her womb.


$inister $cribe


House rode along on his motorcycle and let his brain whirl over the events of the day. That letter, the third in as many weeks, did bother him. It bothered him a lot more than he had let on…and he wouldn’t tell anyone. Only Tawny knew and he was pretty sure he could convince her to keep quiet.

She was right though, as much as it irked him to admit it. She was right. The guy was escalating. House doubted that he would ever actually follow through and try to hurt him…but there was always a chance.

He was adamant about not telling Cuddy though. She would just flap and worry about things she couldn’t change…and he really didn’t need that kind of angst. Plus he didn’t think he really wanted to hear about how she was so worried about the hospital and how inconsiderate it was of him to piss so many people off that he’d attracted a stalker.

He smirked behind the visor of his helmet.

He supposed it was just his natural magnetism. He was indiscriminately antagonistic. He supposed at least one of them would have been a psycho. Statistically speaking.

A frown flickered onto his face next. Perhaps he should got to the police. Just let them know what was going on. It went against his nature but…it might keep Tawny happy if nothing else. She had reacted badly today and she had lied to Lorcain about where the blood had come from. Which was understandable he supposed. Mothers were well known for lying to their children if they thought it was for the right reasons. House just hadn’t got the feeling that Tawny lied about much, especially to Lorcain.

What had she said?

She had gotten blood on her shirt. Lorcain had relaxed almost immediately at those words. It stood to reason that he would know about his mother’s phobia if she was indeed afraid of the sight of blood.

She had gotten it off a patient in the clinic. Fair enough, not true, but nobody wanted to tell their kid that they had just spilled their boss’s death threat over themselves. It was the last part that really nudged at the grey matter though.

The supposed patient had been in a fight.

That was superfluous information. She could have said that she had gotten the blood on her from the guy in the clinic and left it at that…but she hadn’t. She had gone out of her way to tell her son that violence had been involved.

Why?

Unless, of course, it wasn’t the actual spilling of blood that she was afraid of. Or even getting it on herself, it was the reason said blood had been spilled in the first place. In this case violence. It was an odd thing to be afraid of. Blood, sure, but blood only spilled in violence? How would she know unless she had actually been the one doing the cutting? She was a surgeon, was she afraid of hurting someone? Now that made sense and it didn’t at the same time. She was a good doctor, if she didn’t want to be a surgeon she didn’t have to.

House sighed and pulled his bike to a purring halt in Cuddy’s driveway. He saw a few lacy curtains twitched in the neighbourhood and made a point of grinning and waving to the woman across the street. The one that smelled of old carpets and had six cats. He tugged his cane from the clips on the side of his bike and then dismounted as gracefully as he knew how. He considered popping a vicodin so the woman could see, she was still watching him, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was more outside interference to make Cuddy fight him.

He had meant what he said. He had no idea how to deal with whatever it was that was between them but that didn’t mean that he was just about to let it go. They were onto a good thing. Well, a good thing for him anyway. He toyed with his cane for a moment and considered if it was really a good thing for her to be getting mixed up with him. They were good together, physically anyway, and there was more than a fair chance that they could be great together elsewhere as well…he just had to convince her to let him try.

He had stolen a key so it looked, to nosy neighbour at least, that he belonged here. The interior of the house was dim and he didn’t bother with the lights. He was tired, it had been a long day staying up to ponder his patient, Tawny and Lisa…as well as having to deal with Stacy. Why were all the women in his life unnecessarily complicated? Well, he didn’t know if his patient was a woman or not…had Cameron muttered something righteous along those lines?

He shook the thoughts away and ambled through to the bedroom. He shunted open the door with his cane and sidled inside. The lamp was on. Had she left it on for him?

He rolled his eyes at the thoughts of the insecure teenager who had infiltrated his brain. This was going beyond ridiculous to the point of hilarity. Well, it would be funny if it was happening to anyone else. All thoughts momentarily stalled when he found himself looking down at Cuddy deep in sleep.

She lay on her stomach, her face half buried in the plush mountain of pillows that she insisted on piling at the head of her bed. Her hair tumbled wildly about her face and she was naked as far as he could tell. The robe she had worn having been struggled out of earlier in her sleep lay massacred hanging off one side of the bed. He sat beside her, her soft moan when the mattress dipped filtered through the room. His fingers reached out and touched gently on her spine, following the trail of delicate bones down the curve of her body. She arched under the touch, this time her moan was louder, tilted by lust to the throatier range of her voice.

He kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks.

His fingers slid back up her spine and trailed patterns over the bare planes of her shoulder blades. She wriggled and rolled onto her side. He smiled, dropping his cane and removing his jacket.

He nudged one shoulder, rolling her gently onto her back and removed his shirt and tee shirt. He stood somewhat awkwardly and stripped his jeans and shorts in one movement. He could feel his burn for her deep in his veins. His skin heated and prickled with it. He climbed into bed with her, smoothing back the sheet, out of his way so he could see all of that pale creamy skin in all its glory. He trailed his fingers over her skin again, teasing her gently, wanting to awaken her to pleasure from the start.

She didn’t waken. In fact, she rolled closer to him, slung her arm over his chest and gave a contented sigh. House frowned down at her. This was not going the way he had planned. She snuggled closer to him and went completely slack over his body. Deep in sleep. House pursed his lips, there was something not right about this…his eyes landed on a length of rubber tubing…the same kind of rubber tubing one might use to tie off their arm for injecting, oh, say a sedative? House eased open the drawer in her bedside table and growled when he found a suspiciously disturbed medical kit there. A one handed perusal of said kit’s contents revealed a slightly less than full vial of sedative.

House flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling with a gusty sigh.

It was going to be a long night.

TBC...