Slight Misinterpretation

Part 1: House, House, House

His words were drawled out, slightly lecherous in its tone, enveloping my senses, closing them off, suffocating them. Suffocating me.

"Ah, new top." He let his fingers slide down his cane, his eyes lit like a light bulb on crack, but in this case, Vicodin. "Almost as revealing as that.. skirt." His eyes flashed and glowed; the set up to yet another joke on me was already complete before the line escaped his snarky lips.

Pretending his words were mere gibberish, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. I smiled slightly.

He tapped his cane to the floor, making me jump. I finally looked up at the irritant. I was soon faced nose to nose with the very same irritant that could so effortlessly wheedle strange, obscure clues and unscramble it into a very uncommon answer, but, the right answer nonetheless. The same genius that came crashing into sanity and said with a single glance, 'Reality, your no match for me.' And with that, my quiet, florescent, rule-stricken world came to a erratic halt and crashed in an explosion of House, House, House.

I lifted my eyebrow as I looked at the insolent, sarcastic little... god, his eyes looked right through you. I shook my head and he yawned in what was probably boredom, drawing back, and finally I could breathe again.

"Hey, Cuddy, I thought we had a rule for skirts like that... below the knee, too low to see.. above the thigh, well, I can't think of a good rhyme for that. Let's just say rowr!" He distastefully bowed, with the biggest grin plastered on his face. I shook my head severely, trying not to laugh at the immature antics, just... breath. I let the the slightly warm air flow in my nose, out of my mouth. Ah, that's better.

I knew he was staring at me, with an odd little expression, an expression that said 'You know, I'm not your mother, so stop pretending like your a good liar.' It stung true in more ways than I thought was possible. But it was House, so anything was possible.

I coughed, feeling a slick heat flow into the room. Now, I knew it wasn't just me, House was sweating too. I saw a bead slow down his forehead to his cheek. He didn't seem to notice, nor care.

It burned my eyes, looking at him, especially when my eyes would corner a specific spot for too long, and just thinking about it made the heat skim across my skin. I was blushing.

He ignored it, probably to taunt me later. I finally let my logic win.

"House, is there a reason you came in here, or are we gonna play this game all day?"

"Well, seeing as how its almost time to go home, it wouldn't even be worth it, now, would it?" His words wore an ironic grin.

I rolled my eyes and sank into my chair, the sulky florescent lights giving us a shallow emptiness, but for some reason, he glowed all the more. "Must have lost track of time..." I said lowly, and House smirked.

"Hey as much fun as it is watching you argue with yourse- oh look, it's WILSON!" He yelled, shuffling off to catch up with his friend, who either could wait up for him, or run. It was hard to choose which of those choices would suit him best. House was VERY loud, and VERY needy... sometimes.

I peered away from my current surroundings and saw it was indeed Wilson, with his oh so fashionable blue colored tie and gray button up shirt, black dress up shoes and black slacks. House, however, wore jeans and a band tee ensemble with his black coat. They were so opposite, SO opposite. And yet, they were so close, and even now, after the death of Amber, Wilson's girlfriend, they were even closer...! I'm sure that surprised House more than I, but then again, there could be ulterior motives for Wilson's actions. Maybe... nah.

It was a good thing, I mean, they were best friends, each others scapegoat for when Wilson had yet another messy divorce, or when House just couldn't take it anymore, and not even another strong drink would help. I couldn't help but smile, they were made for each other... but... then again, what about..

I coughed again.

Me?

Just then the lights seemed to dim and my stomach did a flip flop. Everything became dizzy and...

Part 2: Imprints

Cuddy’s perspective

-Several days earlier-

"House... you are such a damn tease." I tittered and pushed the snickering figure away. The man grinned and leaned toward my ear. He ghosted his breath along the outline of my earlobe, then turned away, making me shudder.

"Good to see you again, oh magical Dean of Medicine." He twirled his cane and walked away.

My insides twisted pleasantly, my heart pounding blood into my ears, especially in that ... spot. I caught my bearings and walked a little too quickly to catch up to him. It was not as if he could walk very fast-

I caught a little of his light blue shirt into my well manicured fingers and pulled him close.

Our lips drew to each other as though they had a mind of its own. The lights flickered and shadows fell around us.

We kissed with breathless persistence, our eyes locking in fervor. After every kiss, I ghosted my lips upon his oh so lightly, leaving my imprints on them.

Soon the shadows drifted off and he was nothing but air and all at once my mind and lips whispered his name. "House..."

I woke to the familiar sounds and scenery of my office. Damn, I just had to doze off.

"BOO!"

"AHHH!" I let out a high pitched scream, making passersby wince and look nosily into my office.

House laughed as only a child could, looking at me with slight amusement. Damn him.

"I'm bored, entertain me." House whined, tapping his cane impatiently on my desk.

Again, damn him.

—-

Part 3: There is the Moon

(Several days ago)

A slick chill of a sweat paints thickly on my neck and forehead, as I'm trying to sleep, slathered and sticky, chilly and warm.

Tonight, Lisa Cuddy will rest, I thought. But I knew that tonight, especially, that wasn't going to be true. My thoughts ran rampant, a cliche run away train, licked in despair and flames and screaming people, wild and desperate. The thoughts flow into my sight, hidden under my soft eyelids.

I was in that rough edge of a sleep; the kind where sleep is so close that it teases and stays at a stand still, and won't delve into what the body really wants, what the mind desires, what the soul craves. REM dream sleep.

There was a nagging, a sort of realization that I could feel on the tip of my tongue, and though I wanted to know, my gut told me to forget it. I hate that, when you want to remember something so badly but for some deep dark reason your gut won't let you. Well, until its too late, that is.

I was on the verge of waking almost completely, when the scattered thoughts halted and I was soon droning... in and out of dreams... until it was deep. The dream became lucid and deep:

She gazed over the steep building, her eyes peeking over the second story of the apartment complex. The sky was so starkly black, the only light her eyes had was the darkly outlined, ethereal star known as the moon, dotted with random street lamps. Her hands gripped along the banister of the high porch...

"What.." A voice called, barely distinguishable. A hand jutted from the shadows of the next room, reflected secretly in my mirror. I shuddered as it was lain quietly upon my shoulder. I sighed in slight relief as I recognized the hand, and the familiar form. Why would I think this shadow a stranger? "What are you doing? There couldn't be anything more interesting to look at than me in boxers, drinking a beer, watching reruns of some dumb old football game I don't even care about... huh?" He smirked, his face lying on the small of my neck, resting and breathing.

"There is the moon." I said slowly.

House groaned a cliche, "Women." and turned around, saying nothing as he walked away.

...as her eyes traveled lower, to the ground, as though they were falling, and her body was still up high, watching. But that was impossible, right? Her body felt twisted, and her mind was as ambiguous as a shadow in a street corner. Her eyes finally found that spot her pairs seemed so fixated on.

I sighed and went back inside the dimly lit room, the droning of the television playing the promised reruns of some random football game.

My eyes set on the figure, the figure my eyes seemed to be so fixated on, the person that could never give me that satisfaction of knowing just exactly is going on in that mind of his.

I guess it's better not knowing...

She hiccuped in a strange nervousness, startled at the scene drawn out so vividly, so up close, all the way down, two stories. It was an owl, it seemed, dead, lying on the cool pavement. Its eyes stood out, seeming to catch her own, vibrating echoes of color in her vision. The monstrous eyes were as wide as a chestnut, only rounder. They possessed a chilling hue, of that a pale gray as the outline of the orbs, inside, a deep shade of blue.

Then... black.

Its wings were spread, as though they were ready to fly, but now, they were fluttering in the atmosphere uselessly.

Everything

Became

Dizzy

And...

Two pairs of separate hands connect as one, gripping tightly and then sliding away, cool blue eyes settled on a tranquil emerald pair.

I finally woke and shuddered in dizzy chills, coughing, and soon, I finally began to breathe. Lifting my hand to wipe sweat from my forehead, sliding down my neck and throat, I gazed across my room, to the mirror at the other end, catching a glimpse of my reflection. I saw a confused woman, teeth clattering, as her eyes felt like large stones were being thrown into her soft, calming pools, the 'crazy' spilling over her eyes to her lips, teeth, shoulders, hands and fingers. I didn't know this woman? I didn't know her.

I shook my head insistently, over and over, knowing, repeating...

Reality was still in my grasp. I just needed to look harder. I wasn't going crazy. I'M NOT.

But, these dreams had to be telling me something. It seemed obvious... but House was in my dream. Nothing can ever be obvious with that man.

All I really know is I am left with the aftertaste of House—- and it always lingers throughout the day and after I leave and go home. The smells of his aftershave, his clothes, soft and with the inescapable Cologne that always waterfalls into my senses, the Cologne that made women swoon. That undeniable scent of a man. But, of course, House had another scent, a sort of smell that drew you to him, and yet made you want to run away, far away.

I sighed, frustrated, slipping deeper into my covers, trying to douse the flames and stop the train and save those people. But, it crashed and exploded, in a massive destruction. But out of the ashes, maybe there was hope.

Maybe there were survivors.

****

Originally posted on my fanfiction account