thirteen/cuddy
title: Peanut Butter
author: lilallisun
pairing: Thirteen/Cuddy
rating: PG
summary: Thirteen is both fighting and trying to accept the way she is.
author notes: Reviews are very much appreciated. =) cross-posted to house_slash and housefemslash.
Thirteen is eating lunch in the conference room today. She’s not sure why she doesn’t like to stray very far from Diagnostics.
Her peanut butter and jelly sandwich is childish, and she doesn’t even really like peanut butter. But she’d feel even more childish eating a jelly sandwich. She drinks coffee and a bottle of water, even though she doesn’t really like water. She’s always doing things she doesn’t really like.
She likes working with House, though. Sometimes. She principally hates bullshit but she takes a secret, strange pleasure in his brand of it. His antics give her a perverse sense of enjoyment that she believes she hides rather well. She doesn’t even really mind the bi jokes- if that’s what they really are. It might just be paranoia that turns so many of his comments into innuendo; she has no idea how he would have found out. Then again, she had never expected it from Foreman and House is a far sight cleverer.
It doesn’t really matter. Sometimes she likes working with House, and the rest of the time she just feigns indifference or annoyance. It’s all pretty easy.
What’s apparently not easy is avoiding hospital administrators. House could have told her the same thing, but if he knew about this he would be much more concerned with the puzzle of it. “Why would Thirteen try to avoid Cuddy?”; it was almost as obvious as it was pathetic.
Cuddy stands, framed by glass, in the doorway. Thirteen imagines a delicate glass picture frame on the dresser; first displaying a handsome man, then another. And another. And then, a woman- young, petite, dark-skinned... And at least four men and women after that. She’s glad she smashed the damned thing six months ago.
“Where’s House?”
Cuddy wastes no time. Straight and to the point.
Straight.
Thirteen shakes away these thoughts- brushes them off like dust on her shoulders. Every day she valiantly fights her natural pessimism. It’s an uphill battle.
“I don’t know. Probably pestering Wilson,” she replies, playing with the cap of her water bottle. She feels the nagging, embarrassing presence of her unfinished PB&J sandwich on the table in front of her. She wishes she could hide it. Hide herself.
“Let me know if you see him, will you? He owes me three clinic hours,” Cuddy says.
Thirteen wonders if Cuddy realizes how repetitive she is. Predictable. But then again, it’s not her fault that House acts like an irresponsible child.
She nods, and Cuddy turns to leave. The clacking sound of her heels is like a warning. Nevertheless, she can’t help but stare after that smooth, straight skirt.
Thirteen tries to remember if she’s ever heard Cuddy say her real name. Just the thought of it calls very different ideas to mind. She wants to say “Lisa”. She wants to hear her own name, or even “Thirteen” if the words are accompanied by those long fingers trailing…
She squashes that thought before it can get off the ground. Locking it into the back of her mind, where ridiculous thoughts belong, she continues eating.
author: lilallisun
pairing: Thirteen/Cuddy
rating: PG
summary: Thirteen is both fighting and trying to accept the way she is.
author notes: Reviews are very much appreciated. =) cross-posted to house_slash and housefemslash.
Thirteen is eating lunch in the conference room today. She’s not sure why she doesn’t like to stray very far from Diagnostics.
Her peanut butter and jelly sandwich is childish, and she doesn’t even really like peanut butter. But she’d feel even more childish eating a jelly sandwich. She drinks coffee and a bottle of water, even though she doesn’t really like water. She’s always doing things she doesn’t really like.
She likes working with House, though. Sometimes. She principally hates bullshit but she takes a secret, strange pleasure in his brand of it. His antics give her a perverse sense of enjoyment that she believes she hides rather well. She doesn’t even really mind the bi jokes- if that’s what they really are. It might just be paranoia that turns so many of his comments into innuendo; she has no idea how he would have found out. Then again, she had never expected it from Foreman and House is a far sight cleverer.
It doesn’t really matter. Sometimes she likes working with House, and the rest of the time she just feigns indifference or annoyance. It’s all pretty easy.
What’s apparently not easy is avoiding hospital administrators. House could have told her the same thing, but if he knew about this he would be much more concerned with the puzzle of it. “Why would Thirteen try to avoid Cuddy?”; it was almost as obvious as it was pathetic.
Cuddy stands, framed by glass, in the doorway. Thirteen imagines a delicate glass picture frame on the dresser; first displaying a handsome man, then another. And another. And then, a woman- young, petite, dark-skinned... And at least four men and women after that. She’s glad she smashed the damned thing six months ago.
“Where’s House?”
Cuddy wastes no time. Straight and to the point.
Straight.
Thirteen shakes away these thoughts- brushes them off like dust on her shoulders. Every day she valiantly fights her natural pessimism. It’s an uphill battle.
“I don’t know. Probably pestering Wilson,” she replies, playing with the cap of her water bottle. She feels the nagging, embarrassing presence of her unfinished PB&J sandwich on the table in front of her. She wishes she could hide it. Hide herself.
“Let me know if you see him, will you? He owes me three clinic hours,” Cuddy says.
Thirteen wonders if Cuddy realizes how repetitive she is. Predictable. But then again, it’s not her fault that House acts like an irresponsible child.
She nods, and Cuddy turns to leave. The clacking sound of her heels is like a warning. Nevertheless, she can’t help but stare after that smooth, straight skirt.
Thirteen tries to remember if she’s ever heard Cuddy say her real name. Just the thought of it calls very different ideas to mind. She wants to say “Lisa”. She wants to hear her own name, or even “Thirteen” if the words are accompanied by those long fingers trailing…
She squashes that thought before it can get off the ground. Locking it into the back of her mind, where ridiculous thoughts belong, she continues eating.