U.S. House-fraus, we've almost survived the 4th Season.
Title: Looking For Clues
Fandom: House MD
Characters: Greg House with multiple pairings. (Het, slash, femslash included.)
Notes/Warnings-Missing scene from "House's Head." 4TH SEASON SPOILERS GALORE!!!
Thanks again to beta_goddess for the quick turnaround, allowing me to post this one in time for the Season Finale.
Summary: House tries another method to remember what happened.
He’d tried everything else; maybe a date with Palmela Handerson would do the trick.
Nurse Ratched was waiting outside the locked door, but he had everything he needed right here in the bathroom. It wouldn’t be easy. It was never easy anymore. He envied horny teenage boys with their insta-rections and cheap fantasies.
“What’s going on in there?”
House turned on the water in the tub to drown out her singularly unsexy voice.
“Taking a bath,” he called out. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
As if he cared about either one.
With great care, he eased his pajama bottoms down and reached for Eucerin. The cool lotion smoothed the way for his hand. Now for his mind. Cuddy’s pole-dancing had already failed to rouse much of anything, so he excused her from the line-up and focused on the rest of the usual suspects.
There was always Cameron, although he still hadn’t adapted to the blonde hair. He liked his mental smut to be unchanging. He still thought about Stacy exactly the way she’d looked the first time he saw her, downing a boilermaker in that strip club. Was it the same club he’d woken up in? Did it matter? Why had he gone there?
Shit. He was getting distracted and sad. Since when did strippers depress him? This was supposed to be happy, or at least productive. Forget Cameron and Stacy, although he’d always thought they were going to end up in a cat-fight that would lead to some kind of hot lesbian action.
Oh, that got your attention.
Things were proceeding, but even a girl-on-girl scene between his ex and his never-would-be wasn’t quite enough.
He still wasn’t sure why he’d hired her in the first place, but the bisexuality was the gift that kept on giving, between the endless string of one-liners and the mix-and-match sexual pairings he could imagine her in. Thirteen and Cuddy. Thirteen and Foreman. Thirteen and Cameron.
And she couldn’t do anything about it. Or could she?
“Stop doing that.”
“If you’re going to show up in my fantasy, you’re going to co-operate.”
“What’s going on in there?”
Oops. Bye-bye Thirteen. Fine. Next time he’d imagine her with Taub. See how she liked that.
“Want to come in and scrub my back?”
“I’m calling Dr. Cuddy.”
“Tell her to bring the maid’s outfit this time.”
Time for the big guns. His own feelings for men were perfectly normal, as long as no one but himself ever found out about them. Chase’s voice had been extremely provocative during the hypnosis session, leading to a few notions of what he might be convinced to do without actually having to admit he wanted to do it.
“You can’t use me that way.”
“Watch me, Chase. Don’t even think of looking away.”
He was fully hard now. The leg was starting to throb, but so was his cock. He had to finish quickly. The pills were in the living room and so was the Devil’s Handmaiden.
House stroked faster, gripping slightly harder than was completely comfortable, and bit down on his lower lip. Might as well have some more blood to go with the stuff that kept oozing out of his ear. Blood. There’d been blood everywhere. Someone on the bus was bleeding and it wasn’t him.
So close, so close, but Chase was leaving.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m not the answer.”
And the bastard left, with a shrug and a cocky grin, leaving him on the verge of crashing into orgasm alone. Even more alone than he’d already been. He knew the answer and it was the last person he wanted to think about, but that had to mean something too.
Fine. He’d do it.
Eyes closed tightly, body fighting to release before the next pain-wave kicked in, toes curling against the cold tile floor, and there he was.
“House? Are you ok?”
“Yeah, Wilson. Just fine.”
The gush in his hands, the spasm through his body, the second of relief that barely offset the pain, and a single moment when his mind might be clear enough to solve the mystery.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Complete fucking waste of time.
“Cuddy, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Thank god you’re here. She’s got me locked in and won’t let me out.”
“Very funny. Turn off the water and put on your pants. I’m bringing you back.”