FF: Valid Argument
Wow, it's been a while since I've written much. RL has been totally out of control the last few weeks (though not in a bad way) and I've had no time to do more than jot down ideas as they come to me, and sometimes not even that much. Hopefully I'll get my ass back in gear in the next couple of weeks.
Title: Valid Argument
Author: Ellie
Rating: PG
Summary: “And it doesn’t bother you at all that I lied to you about having brain cancer? That everyone thought I was dying?”
Post-“Half-wit”
***
He often felt as if there should be a referee and a bell in on their conversations. He was reasonably certain that on her best days, she could have gone a couple rounds with Dempsey on chutzpah alone.
Now, he supposed, there was some validity to her argument. Mostly, however, he was bothered that her fury was at his preventing a patient of the hospital’s from receiving the appropriate treatment, and attempting to ruin the study of a bunch of Harvard doctors she didn’t much care for anyway. He let her rail for a while, making half-hearted parries to her thrusts, but not putting up much of a fight.
After five minutes she seemed to figure out he cared even less than usual, and slowed up. It was then that he shocked her silent with a quietly reasonable query.
“And it doesn’t bother you at all that I lied to you about having brain cancer? That everyone thought I was dying?”
She glared at him across her desk, her face stern, but her eyes, so easy to read, flashed with hurt. “You…you didn’t say you had brain cancer,” she said slowly. “You didn’t want to talk about it at all. We all leapt to that conclusion after I called them.”
“So this is all your fault, then?” He avoided the temptation to steeple his fingers like a movie villain explaining his nefarious plot.
“That I found out what you were going to do, regardless of the why or how, doesn’t change the facts of what you did. You’re lucky I found out before you went through with it! You have no idea what that sort of treatment could have done to you!”
“I know exactly what it could have done!” He slammed one open palm down on the desk, rattling paperclips and pens. “Why the hell else do you think I would go to such lengths to get it?”
Cuddy sighed and stared at her disheveled pens for a moment before looking up at him. “Has it really gotten so bad?”
Slowly, reluctantly, he shook his head. “Not yet. But I’d like to keep it from getting to that point. It’s going to.”
“And you couldn’t have just discussed this with someone? With me?”
“Would you have let me grab your ass?”
It was her turn to shake her head, curls catching the late afternoon sunlight. “Unbelievable.” But her crooked smile said otherwise, that she would have expected no less from him.
“Much like your ass,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I called Make a Wish, by the way. Said there was nothing to be done, since I wasn’t dying. Pity.”
For a moment, she sat back in her chair and studied him before a wicked smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Would you have really wanted it to be pity sex?”
He considered for a moment, drumming his fingers along the handle of his cane as he stared at the curve of her breasts under her shirt. “No,” he admitted, allowing some degree of sincerity to creep into his voice before continuing, “but I hold out hope that one day you’ll do more than tease me with all those low-cut shirts and too-tight skirts.”
As he rose, he saw her gaping just a little, and heard the stapler thunk against the door as it swung closed behind him. He chuckled and headed for the elevator bay.
****
End
*****
Title: Valid Argument
Author: Ellie
Rating: PG
Summary: “And it doesn’t bother you at all that I lied to you about having brain cancer? That everyone thought I was dying?”
Post-“Half-wit”
***
He often felt as if there should be a referee and a bell in on their conversations. He was reasonably certain that on her best days, she could have gone a couple rounds with Dempsey on chutzpah alone.
Now, he supposed, there was some validity to her argument. Mostly, however, he was bothered that her fury was at his preventing a patient of the hospital’s from receiving the appropriate treatment, and attempting to ruin the study of a bunch of Harvard doctors she didn’t much care for anyway. He let her rail for a while, making half-hearted parries to her thrusts, but not putting up much of a fight.
After five minutes she seemed to figure out he cared even less than usual, and slowed up. It was then that he shocked her silent with a quietly reasonable query.
“And it doesn’t bother you at all that I lied to you about having brain cancer? That everyone thought I was dying?”
She glared at him across her desk, her face stern, but her eyes, so easy to read, flashed with hurt. “You…you didn’t say you had brain cancer,” she said slowly. “You didn’t want to talk about it at all. We all leapt to that conclusion after I called them.”
“So this is all your fault, then?” He avoided the temptation to steeple his fingers like a movie villain explaining his nefarious plot.
“That I found out what you were going to do, regardless of the why or how, doesn’t change the facts of what you did. You’re lucky I found out before you went through with it! You have no idea what that sort of treatment could have done to you!”
“I know exactly what it could have done!” He slammed one open palm down on the desk, rattling paperclips and pens. “Why the hell else do you think I would go to such lengths to get it?”
Cuddy sighed and stared at her disheveled pens for a moment before looking up at him. “Has it really gotten so bad?”
Slowly, reluctantly, he shook his head. “Not yet. But I’d like to keep it from getting to that point. It’s going to.”
“And you couldn’t have just discussed this with someone? With me?”
“Would you have let me grab your ass?”
It was her turn to shake her head, curls catching the late afternoon sunlight. “Unbelievable.” But her crooked smile said otherwise, that she would have expected no less from him.
“Much like your ass,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I called Make a Wish, by the way. Said there was nothing to be done, since I wasn’t dying. Pity.”
For a moment, she sat back in her chair and studied him before a wicked smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Would you have really wanted it to be pity sex?”
He considered for a moment, drumming his fingers along the handle of his cane as he stared at the curve of her breasts under her shirt. “No,” he admitted, allowing some degree of sincerity to creep into his voice before continuing, “but I hold out hope that one day you’ll do more than tease me with all those low-cut shirts and too-tight skirts.”
As he rose, he saw her gaping just a little, and heard the stapler thunk against the door as it swung closed behind him. He chuckled and headed for the elevator bay.
****
End
*****