Work Text:
you recently got hired by dr. lisa cuddy to work for in princeton-plainsboro teaching hospital. she had appointed you to work under dr. gregory house, whoever he was. you had yet to meet him.
you wore your lab coat and a shirt that flattered you, along with work pants. clipboard held close to your chest, hiding the name tag that was on your lab coat. you had your hair done nicely, though your makeup stayed neutral.
you then found a glass office with the words 'DR. GREGORY HOUSE. HEAD OF DIAGNOSTICS MEDICINE' printed on it. inside there was a man playing with a huge tennis ball, his legs propped on top of the cedar desk. he had a pensive expression on his face. then there were three more people. a young woman who was pacing around the room, a man with blonde hair that shined, and another man whom had broad shoulders.
knocking softly on the door, they all turned their heads to see you, except the man with the tennis ball. after a second, you let yourself in, giving them all a shy smile before you cleared your throat. as soon as you were about to introduce yourself, the man turned his gaze to you. he had icy blue eyes, you could see he was a very solemn man. he spoke before you could.
"who are you?" he asked, setting down the ball he kept throwing in the air. you responded, your voice soft. he hummed in acknowledgement and stood up. you took a note of the cane he had as he walked towards you, a limp in his step. "goodbye now." he said, now standing in front of you, as he loomed, his intense stare boring into your eyes. almost as if he was threatening you, or analyzing how you'd react. maybe both.
"i was hired by dr. cuddy. not you." you quipped, to which he let out a breathless chuckle, biting his tongue with his teeth, and looked down. shaking his head, he turned around to his other peers and and scratched his chin, his other hand making his cane tap against the floor, as if he was pondering. "i see." he said, letting out an exhale, pushing past you, he opened the door to his office and turned to you. "c'mon, we are gonna go see why cuddy did what she did, and then prepare your resignation letter. a little trip!" he said excitedly, though it was evident that sarcasm was clearly dripping from his mouth, giving you a smile. you could tell he was feeling anything but ecstatic.
--
it had been a few months since then, dr. house being forced to keep you on the team. you became close with dr. cameron, as she was the only other woman, and dr. foreman, who you found out was very logical but empathetic. you also met dr. wilson, who was dr. house's best friend, though some would say they were boyfriends.
dr. wilson was cute, brunette man with puppy eyes. he was charming. you were seeing him treat a patient, your reflection barely noticeable on the glass. you weren't aware that dr. house was next to you. "he's been married like, a thousand times." he muttered, to which you jolted. cursing under your breath, you glared at him, and dr. house smiled at you. they were never real, genuine smiles.
"dr. house." you said, your jaw tightening from the scare he had given you. he copied you, and returned the greeting. you backed away from the glass and began to walk away, with dr. house following your trail. "you know, i never took you as the type to fancy dr. wilson." he commented, his voice gruff. "why is that?" you questioned him.
"he's not your type, you like an older guy." he replied, to which you scoffed and turned around, looking up at him, your brows furrowed. "is he not older than me?" you asked tauntingly. with one hand gripping his cane, his foot tapped on the floor as he rubbed his chin, sort of mocking you by pretending he was a cartoon character thinking. "hmm, he is by all technicalities, but you're a young girl. you have those 'i can fix him' daddy issues. he does not fit the criteria." he rebutted.
you rolled your eyes, and before you could even think about how your question would come across, you spoke, "and what? you do?" though he never gave you a verbal response, his jaw clenching and unclenching was an answer in itself.
--
the case that was presented was about a 16 year old male who had complained of night terrors and double vision after some head trauma he had received at a lacrosse game. house was slouched next to a small whiteboard. foreman, chase, cameron and you were all sitting at a small table, each with your own copies of the boy's medical history, symptoms, and other notes taken after the initial assessment. house worked his jaw, and then wrote the main complaints on the small board, his handwriting messy.
'night terrors, double vision, and a myoclonic jerk i noticed.' house began, his back turned to all of you. then he faced you all, and leaned his body against the board, still using his cane for support. the room went quiet, to which house looked around and let out a loud sigh, "maybe i'm having hallucinations, no one's talking," he started, limping to the table and smacking the top with his cane, "c'mon ducklings, work those young brains, give me something." he said hurriedly.
you each bounced ideas off of one another, and while house stayed silent, he made a bet with almost everyone but you to see if the parents of the child were actually their biological parents. unethical, yes, but this was house. nothing about him was ethical.
let alone the way his hands looked. or how good he looked in those shirts of his.
--
it was late at night, you were in the lab trying to figure out what dan, the 16 year old patient, was suffering from. you had stress written all over your body language. after another negative, your fists slammed on the table, making the items clattering.
"jeez, remind me to never piss you off, hulk." house teased, sucking in teeth as he entered the lab. you pinched your nose in frustration before you faced him, and he was looking at you, his eyes squinting. he was trying to figure out what was wrong. "another negative. nothing is coming up. his symptoms don't make sense, and it's pissing me off." you rambled. house was never good at comforting, the man avoided emotions like the plague.
you heard him shuffle to you and take a seat next to you, setting his cane next to him, propped up against the edge of the table. he nodded, his jaw slacked as he poked his cheek with his tongue, his long fingers drumming against the counter. "go home. you'll mess up in your state. you can't focus with stress. i personally don't want two patients." he responded, and you knew that in his own way he was trying to comfort you. but it wasn't working. not tonight.
pinching the skin at your hands, you turned to face him, your eyes intense. he looked at you, though for a brief second you could've sworn that his stare flickered down to your lips. "i can't do that." you whispered, he nodded and did a 'pop' sound with his lips. standing up, he signaled you to stand up, to which you did and he took your seat. "not very gentlemanly of you, dr. house." you commented. he chuckled, closing his eyes, "when have i ever been a gentleman."
he wasn't wrong.
he grabbed your wrist, and made you sit in his lap. which was strange. you went quiet. "i'm gonna give you a massage. i can't do that standing up, thanks to the leg." he whispered in your ear, his beard tickling your skin. you tried to not shiver, but you probably did. your ears were always very sensitive.
you felt his thumbs push against your back, close to your shoulder blades. you sighed in bliss, your head lulling backwards, and your back arching. house was quiet, which wasn't typical, he was known as a 'condescending chatterbox'. he worked his hands, trying to remove the knots in your back. you couldn't see, but his eyes were concentrated on you, and he could feel your hips shifting on his thighs. he tried bitting his tongue, but a few groans of pleasure slipped. "you know..." he began, his voice low and rough, "out of all the ways i had thought of you, you moaning on my lap was not one of them." he confessed to you, his hands moving down to waist, and then lower to your hips, gripping them. "you've thought of me like that?" you asked, your voice a bit high pitched thanks to the arousal between your legs. he hummed and kissed the back of your neck, nibbling a bit, "i never said that, but your question only confirmed that you have. thanks for that." he mocked you. you grounded down, hard, against his bulge. he let out a deep growl, one that bubbled in his chest. at that, you whimpered, your hands flat against the table, propping you up.
"naughty girl, wanting to fuck her boss, who's over half her age." he teased, a grin evident from how he sounded. he moved your hips against him, and you allowed him to, "yeah. slutty little thing like you would love this, fuck, you'd let me fuck that pretty little mouth under my desk, hm?" he asked rhetorically, and you nodded incoherently, agreeing with him.
"mm. already dumb with no dick inside of her. i'd hate to think how you'd handle my fingers..." he began, letting his fingers go in on your inner thighs, putting pressure on your clothed clit, as he rubbed his dick against your ass, "my tongue..." he added, biting your neck, and licking at the hickey that'll surely form there, "or my cock." he finished, using his other hand, he spread your thighs wider as he played with the buttons on your pants.
"say you need me, sweetheart, go on." he egged you on, putting more pressure on your swollen clit. "tell me." he said, the vibrato in his statement lower, his desire for you growing evermore like his confined cock. you mumbled pleas, your eyebrows squinting together, eyes screwed shut.
"you're my number one fascination, baby." he whispered, skillfully unbuttoning your pants, his hand going underneath the waistband of your panties, and he let out a throaty moan feeling your wetness soak his digits. "jesus.." he said to himself, amazed at how much you really needed him.
he needed you, too.