Title: And All Our Little Agonies
Pairing none (Gen)
Rating: PG
Length: 24 900 words
Spoilers: through season three
Author's Notes: Thanks for the swift beta read and medical knowledge, Lynnafer and Benjimmy!
Summary: When two new, unwanted patients throw his world into disarray, House questions his own medical ability. As the ketamine treatment for his thigh fails, House's friends begin to desert him.
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CHAPTER ONE (PART ONE)
It wasn’t as if Dr. House had better things to do. Seriously. His minions passed patient files underneath his nose like freshly-prepared plates filet mignon, but one bite of their fleshy interior revealed nothing but cheap gristle.
House grinned.
“What’s so funny?” Wilson asked, moving to stand beside House against the railing overlooking the lobby of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
“Just imagining what it would be like if all meat tasted like paper. Or vice versa? Would we stop eating meat and start eating paper?”
“PETA would be thrilled, but I doubt paper’s nutritional value would sustain us for very long.” Wilson stared at the lobby floor but saw nothing out of the ordinary, just groundlings House’s puzzle-seeking intellect would overlook.
House palmed a handful of sour skittles from a bright green bag and threw them into his mouth, eyes never leaving the lobby floor.
“Replacing the vicodin with candy, are we?”
House gave Wilson a level stare. “As if. I have a way better use for these puppies than becoming my pain meds of choice. Just because you can get those whiny dying kids to believe that a bit of sugar is a magical pill doesn’t mean I’ll be fooled so easily.”
“Heaven forbid. No one would ever compare you to an eight year old.”
“Your voodoo witchcraft won’t work on me, Doctor Wilson.” House’s voice rose, echoing into the lobby. Several people looked up.
Wilson’s lips thinned into a pale line as he turned away. He sighed. “You know, every conversation we have is not an excuse to humiliate or embarrass me.”
“You just wish it wasn’t. Now quit distracting me.”
“From what? Scoping out all the sick people?” Wilson paused. “If you’re trying to avoid clinic duty, this is probably the worst hiding place you’ve ever come up with.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh.” Wilson stared at the crowd with House for a few minutes in silence. Just as he was going to suggest an early lunch, House spoke.
“Ooh, look. Here she comes.”
Dr. Cuddy emerged from her office and crossed the lobby, stopping to speak with a receptionist at the front desk.
“So what? It’s Cuddy. You see her every day.”
“So what? You can practically see down her shirt from up here.”
Wilson seemed surprised to spot an overwhelming amount of cleavage and averted his eyes.
“I bet I can get one of these skittles down her shirt,” House said, rolling a single piece of the candy between his thumb and forefinger.
“What? I…no, House. You really shouldn’t.”
“You think I can’t?”
“No, I think throwing things down the chief of medicine’s shirt is a really good way to get fired.”
“Cuddy wouldn’t fire me. She loves me, just like you do.”
Wilson rolled his eyes.
“I’ll do my clinic duty to make it up to her, okay?” House said.
“No, because even if you weren’t lying to me right now, you still couldn’t make the shot.”
House raised his arm, poised to chuck the skittle. “The key here, Wilson, is not to squint. Squinting narrows your field of vision and throws off your arm.”
Cuddy turned in their direction, an open file held out before her, as House cocked his arm back and let the skittle fly.
House and Wilson traced the candy’s movement as if it were in slow motion, its lazy arc descending toward Cuddy. The skittle hit Cuddy’s sternum and rolled down her chest, disappearing into the depths of her low-cut top.
Cuddy yelped and all activity around her froze, every eye tracing the candy’s path upward to where Wilson and House stood.
Only, as Wilson’s throat dried out, he realized that House had vanished.
The flush staining Wilson’s cheeks had not abated since he fled the scene, finding House down a hallway, leaning against a wall nearly breathless with laughter. He posed no resistance as Wilson shoved him into the elevator, then dragged him into Cuddy’s office. “I swear, Dr. Cuddy, it wasn’t me,” Wilson said.
“I know.” Cuddy held the offending skittle up for them to see. “Throwing snack food isn’t your style.”
House levered himself into one of the chairs near Cuddy’s desk. “Can I have it back?”
“What?” Cuddy said, picking up the blue file she’d held earlier.
“The candy. I’ll treasure it forever.” House did his interpretation of a lovesick teenager, holding both his hands against his heart.
Cuddy threw the skittle into the trash can by her desk, where it clanged against the metal.
“You’re a cold, cold woman, Doctor Cuddy.”
“And you’re either a complete moron or a deranged lunatic. I haven’t decided which. Here.” She dropped the file into House’s lap. “Go do some work.”
“But this is a file from the clinic.” House stood, leaning against his cane.
“I told you that was the worst hiding place ever,” Wilson said.
“And I told you I could make that shot.”
“House, please. Go do something useful. I have a meeting in ten minutes and I don’t need you here scaring off the donors.” She ushered both men to the door. “And stop throwing candy or I’ll have the snack machines removed.”
House poured more skittles in his mouth before he and Wilson walked into the lobby.
“Oh, Wilson, wait,” Cuddy said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Aw, why can’t I have some alone time with Cuddy? I know she loves my cane.” House tapped it against the floor. “Can’t get enough of it.”
Wilson sighed, turning back to Cuddy’s office. “Just try not to act like a child while you’re treating patients, all right?”
“I thought we decided I wasn’t eight?”
“They jury’s still out, House.”
“So, what seems to be the trouble, Miss…Grayson?” House said, letting the exam room door close behind him as he sat on a rolling stool before his patient.
“I—I’m not feeling too well,” she said, smoothing out her black skirt with her fingers. House wished his patient shared Cuddy’s taste in tight clothing, as this appointment was sure to be boring as hell.
“Ah. And here I thought you just wanted a pat on the back for staying so gosh-darned healthy.” House flipped open Miss Grayson’s file, but was still able to see a shocked expression flit across her face. She recovered, continued as though nothing untoward had happened.
“I’m getting these awful headaches.” She pressed her black, horn-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose.
“Uh-huh.” House didn’t look up from the file. “Anything else?”
“I’ve been feeling weak lately, like I can’t move my feet very well. I trip over things a lot.”
House looked up. “Open your mouth.”
Miss Grayson raised her eyebrows.
“Open your mouth, pretty please, and say ah?”
Miss Grayson opened her mouth wide as House leaned in close to her, sniffing the air.
“Minty fresh. Did you brush your teeth this morning?”
“Yes, but I don’t see what that has—”
“Mouthwash?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been covering up more than bad morning breath with all that brushing. Quit making yourself puke and you’ll feel all better.” House grabbed his cane and walked to the door.
Miss Grayson’s mouth hung open for a moment before she spoke. “But I don’t make myself throw up.”
“Sure you do. Your chart says you’ve lost almost thirty pounds in the last six months and since you certainly look more like the bride of Dracula than a bodybuilder, I’d say you didn’t drop all those pounds working out.”
“But what about the stumbling? I really have been having trouble walking recently.” Miss Grayson clutched her large black handbag to her chest as if it were armor.
“No food in the body means no energy for the body to use. A lack of energy causes extreme fatigue and a loss of coordination.” House pulled out his prescription pad and wrote on it. “Here.” He handed the scrip to his patient.
“A ham and cheese sandwich?” Miss Grayson said.
“As long as you let it sit in your stomach long enough to digest, your symptoms will improve immediately.” House opened the door and walked out. Cuddy was waiting at the main clinic entrance for him.
“I see you’re actually doing your job, for once.”
House handed Miss Grayson’s file to a random nurse. “How many more patients do I have to see before I turn into a real boy?”
Cuddy smiled. “Your team just came to see me.”
“Oh? Planning a mutiny, are they?”
“Close enough. They said you’ve rejected over ten cases this week.”
“They were boring.”
“And now your team is bored. Just pick something and let them handle it.”
“Can’t. I have clinic duty, remember?”
A heavy thud, then several screams shattered the relative calm of the waiting room before Cuddy could reply. Nurses surrounded Miss Grayson who lay on the floor, limbs flailing as blood flowed from a cut on her forehead.
“She’s seizing,” a nurse shouted.
“Get her some lorazepam,” Cuddy said to the nurse, cutting through the chaos. She turned back to House. “Once she’s stabilized, she’s all yours.”
chipper
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