I Really Don't Like You
folder
G through L › House
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,729
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › House
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,729
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 Two
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
Part Two
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Are you now?” She pushed a mop of dark, curly hair out of her eyes. “And how is this different from any other time he’s driven you crazy?”
“It isn’t that.” He turned onto his side, propped up on one elbow. The sheet pulled down and away from breasts that could be called nothing smaller than generous. He touched one, watched it shift back and forth. “I know you and he… were intimate.”
She slapped a hand down onto the bed. Both breasts bounced in what he considered a rather pretty way. “You’ve got to be kidding me! So I slept with him, and now that bothers you?”
“Of course not! I know you weren’t a virgin… I mean, come on, I’m a realist.”
“Are you saying I’m a slut?”
“Don’t be silly.” There was a twinkle in her eye that said she knew he’d take it the right way. “It’s just… knowing that at some point in the relatively-recent past, it was him that was making you come like that, and not me.”
She leaned over and kissed him, slowly and gently. “He didn’t make me come like that,” she said, her voice low and raspy. “It was nice, but he didn’t make me scream. You made me scream.”
He smiled. “I think I might need to make you scream again. Just to prove it to myself.”
Her smile was wide, taking over her face. She kicked off the top sheet, legs apart, left knee bent with her foot flat on the bed. The two remaining candles cast flittering light that made the dark thatch between her legs shine. “By all means, Doctor. Do whatever you need to do, just make me feel better.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“So it is.”
“I like you.”
“So you do.”
“Just making sure you know.”
Cameron’s left eyebrow arched elegantly. Chase grinned.
“Now, what is it that Dr. Montgomery wants us to do?”
She slid a file across the table in House’s conference room. “One of her patients from Seattle. She had a baby a year ago, and last week she collapsed on her couch. Her other son’s three; he called 911.”
“Noble of him.” Chase skimmed the paperwork. “I’m surprised the doctors there haven’t a clue what’s going on. I took a symposium with their head of immunology; he’s no slouch.”
“But he’s not House.”
“No one’s House but House. And maybe Foreman, though he’s loath to admit it.”
Cameron let out a short bark of laughter, that sarcastic “ha” that Chase privately thought was so very endearing. “Montgomery asked us to review the file so she could forestall any of House’s bitchiness.” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?’
A slight flush burst into her cheeks. “Never mind,” she told him. “Do you see anything?”
“Not yet, but we’ll still have to work her up. How’s she getting here?”
“Apparently Montgomery chartered a private plane for her. They land this evening.”
“So we’re going to be working late?”
“Looks that way.” She held out a hand, and Chase pushed the folder back to her. “Have you seen Foreman, speaking of?”
“Probably at another interview.”
“Not exactly.”
They both looked up. Dr. Cuddy – their boss, though they’d never admit it to House’s face, or even behind his back if he was anywhere in the same solar system – was standing in the doorway between House’s office and the conference room. “Foreman is down in neuro, consulting with Dr. Wilson.”
“Oh.” Cameron closed the folder and set it in a stack with a few others. “Excuse me for asking, but why are you telling us?”
“I was in the neighborhood.” She lowered her voice a little. “Dr. Cameron, could I have a word?”
“Of course.”
“Come down to my office. Fifteen minutes.”
She left quickly.
Chase and Cameron looked at each other. “Was she glowing?”
Chase shrugged. “I wasn’t looking. Did she look glowing to you?”
“Little bit. Wonder who it was.”
Cameron stepped into Cuddy’s office; Cuddy waved, and the immunologist closed the door. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” She motioned to a chair in front of the desk; Cameron took it, and when Cuddy flicked her eyes downward, opened the file on the blotter.
She looked at the name on the top and looked back up at Cuddy. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no, nothing.” Cuddy folded her hands on her desk and took a breath. “Look… Allison…”
“That may be the first time you’ve ever called me by name since you met me.”
Cuddy laughed. It sounded forced. “Well, it is your name.”
“It is.” This was decidedly strange.
“Okay, Allison, here’s the deal. I’m not that young anymore, but I’m young enough to conceive a child. And at this point, I’ve decided I’m not ready for that yet.”
“You… want me to prescribe you something?”
“In short, yes.” Cuddy took a capped syringe and a vial of something out of her desk, and passed it over to Cameron. “My birth control is due to wear off. My doctor moved to Boca. I need you to write a prescription and give me the shot.”
“Of course.” Cameron took out her prescription pad and quickly wrote up a dose of depo-provera for a woman Cuddy’s weight, then filled the syringe. “Where do you want it?”
“Can I trust you not to tell House you saw my ass?”
“Doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“I make her scream.”
House looked up from a salad that he didn’t seem particularly interested in. “Congratulations.”
Wilson set down his tray. “I make her scream. You didn’t make her scream, and I did.”
House rolled his eyes. “I didn’t make her scream because I didn’t care to make her scream. I wasn’t doing it for her; I was doing it for me.”
The oncologist had had his sandwich halfway to his mouth; he set it down slowly. “That’s the most chauvinistic thing I’ve ever heard you say that didn’t relate to a patient.”
“Then you haven’t been listening.”
“How… how could you not…?”
“Not what?” House had a can of Coke; he drank a bit of it. “Not want to give her head? Not want to lay there and watch her bounce and jiggle?”
“House, you’re an ass.”
“I know. But my ass is still smaller than Cuddy’s.”
Wilson opened his mouth, then closed it. And he did it again.
“You know, that works a lot better with the food in there.” House snatched half of Wilson’s tuna salad sandwich, took a bite. Around the food, he said, “they forgot the mayo.”
“I… I don’t like mayo… what the hell does that have to do with anything? Why didn’t you do her the right way? Why’d you just sleep with her and leave her?”
“It’s the chase.” He unhooked his cane from the side of the table and used it to push himself to his feet. “Once she gave in, I didn’t care anymore.” He took another bite. “But once she’s naked, I’m not going to stop myself.”
Wilson had no clever rejoinder; he just watched House limp away.
***********
More to come... your reviews are welcome, and make sure to check out my original stories, also on this site...
***********
I Really Don't Like You
a fan-fiction story about House
Part Two
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Are you now?” She pushed a mop of dark, curly hair out of her eyes. “And how is this different from any other time he’s driven you crazy?”
“It isn’t that.” He turned onto his side, propped up on one elbow. The sheet pulled down and away from breasts that could be called nothing smaller than generous. He touched one, watched it shift back and forth. “I know you and he… were intimate.”
She slapped a hand down onto the bed. Both breasts bounced in what he considered a rather pretty way. “You’ve got to be kidding me! So I slept with him, and now that bothers you?”
“Of course not! I know you weren’t a virgin… I mean, come on, I’m a realist.”
“Are you saying I’m a slut?”
“Don’t be silly.” There was a twinkle in her eye that said she knew he’d take it the right way. “It’s just… knowing that at some point in the relatively-recent past, it was him that was making you come like that, and not me.”
She leaned over and kissed him, slowly and gently. “He didn’t make me come like that,” she said, her voice low and raspy. “It was nice, but he didn’t make me scream. You made me scream.”
He smiled. “I think I might need to make you scream again. Just to prove it to myself.”
Her smile was wide, taking over her face. She kicked off the top sheet, legs apart, left knee bent with her foot flat on the bed. The two remaining candles cast flittering light that made the dark thatch between her legs shine. “By all means, Doctor. Do whatever you need to do, just make me feel better.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“So it is.”
“I like you.”
“So you do.”
“Just making sure you know.”
Cameron’s left eyebrow arched elegantly. Chase grinned.
“Now, what is it that Dr. Montgomery wants us to do?”
She slid a file across the table in House’s conference room. “One of her patients from Seattle. She had a baby a year ago, and last week she collapsed on her couch. Her other son’s three; he called 911.”
“Noble of him.” Chase skimmed the paperwork. “I’m surprised the doctors there haven’t a clue what’s going on. I took a symposium with their head of immunology; he’s no slouch.”
“But he’s not House.”
“No one’s House but House. And maybe Foreman, though he’s loath to admit it.”
Cameron let out a short bark of laughter, that sarcastic “ha” that Chase privately thought was so very endearing. “Montgomery asked us to review the file so she could forestall any of House’s bitchiness.” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?’
A slight flush burst into her cheeks. “Never mind,” she told him. “Do you see anything?”
“Not yet, but we’ll still have to work her up. How’s she getting here?”
“Apparently Montgomery chartered a private plane for her. They land this evening.”
“So we’re going to be working late?”
“Looks that way.” She held out a hand, and Chase pushed the folder back to her. “Have you seen Foreman, speaking of?”
“Probably at another interview.”
“Not exactly.”
They both looked up. Dr. Cuddy – their boss, though they’d never admit it to House’s face, or even behind his back if he was anywhere in the same solar system – was standing in the doorway between House’s office and the conference room. “Foreman is down in neuro, consulting with Dr. Wilson.”
“Oh.” Cameron closed the folder and set it in a stack with a few others. “Excuse me for asking, but why are you telling us?”
“I was in the neighborhood.” She lowered her voice a little. “Dr. Cameron, could I have a word?”
“Of course.”
“Come down to my office. Fifteen minutes.”
She left quickly.
Chase and Cameron looked at each other. “Was she glowing?”
Chase shrugged. “I wasn’t looking. Did she look glowing to you?”
“Little bit. Wonder who it was.”
Cameron stepped into Cuddy’s office; Cuddy waved, and the immunologist closed the door. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” She motioned to a chair in front of the desk; Cameron took it, and when Cuddy flicked her eyes downward, opened the file on the blotter.
She looked at the name on the top and looked back up at Cuddy. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no, nothing.” Cuddy folded her hands on her desk and took a breath. “Look… Allison…”
“That may be the first time you’ve ever called me by name since you met me.”
Cuddy laughed. It sounded forced. “Well, it is your name.”
“It is.” This was decidedly strange.
“Okay, Allison, here’s the deal. I’m not that young anymore, but I’m young enough to conceive a child. And at this point, I’ve decided I’m not ready for that yet.”
“You… want me to prescribe you something?”
“In short, yes.” Cuddy took a capped syringe and a vial of something out of her desk, and passed it over to Cameron. “My birth control is due to wear off. My doctor moved to Boca. I need you to write a prescription and give me the shot.”
“Of course.” Cameron took out her prescription pad and quickly wrote up a dose of depo-provera for a woman Cuddy’s weight, then filled the syringe. “Where do you want it?”
“Can I trust you not to tell House you saw my ass?”
“Doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“I make her scream.”
House looked up from a salad that he didn’t seem particularly interested in. “Congratulations.”
Wilson set down his tray. “I make her scream. You didn’t make her scream, and I did.”
House rolled his eyes. “I didn’t make her scream because I didn’t care to make her scream. I wasn’t doing it for her; I was doing it for me.”
The oncologist had had his sandwich halfway to his mouth; he set it down slowly. “That’s the most chauvinistic thing I’ve ever heard you say that didn’t relate to a patient.”
“Then you haven’t been listening.”
“How… how could you not…?”
“Not what?” House had a can of Coke; he drank a bit of it. “Not want to give her head? Not want to lay there and watch her bounce and jiggle?”
“House, you’re an ass.”
“I know. But my ass is still smaller than Cuddy’s.”
Wilson opened his mouth, then closed it. And he did it again.
“You know, that works a lot better with the food in there.” House snatched half of Wilson’s tuna salad sandwich, took a bite. Around the food, he said, “they forgot the mayo.”
“I… I don’t like mayo… what the hell does that have to do with anything? Why didn’t you do her the right way? Why’d you just sleep with her and leave her?”
“It’s the chase.” He unhooked his cane from the side of the table and used it to push himself to his feet. “Once she gave in, I didn’t care anymore.” He took another bite. “But once she’s naked, I’m not going to stop myself.”
Wilson had no clever rejoinder; he just watched House limp away.
***********
More to come... your reviews are welcome, and make sure to check out my original stories, also on this site...