Archive of Our Own (BETA rev. 2101)

Fishbowl

House stops short when they round the corner and he sees where Cuddy is leading him. "You have got to be kidding me. You're pulling my mangled leg."

"You got me. This is an elaborate practical joke, except the part where your old office has a wrecking ball in it." Cuddy lets herself smile--it was no mean feat getting House's belongings moved without his knowledge, which was the only way he'd ever agree to it. She knew this because he'd told her as much during the planning meetings; he'd actually threatened to get a ringbolt and chain himself to the wall. She leans forward with a flourishy little bow. "Your new office."

House stumps forward a few paces, far enough to bang the end of his cane against the 'wall.' The glass dongs and shivers, and Cuddy steps up next to him. "Unacceptable," he pronounces.

"This is one of the best suites in the hospital," Cuddy hisses. "The restrooms are around the corner, the elevators are right there, and you have a balcony."

"It's a fishbowl," House growls back.

"Oh, please, you love having an audience."

"How am I supposed to work like this?"

"The day you actually do any work--"

"Cuddy." House snaps his fingers and looks like he's dying to share some secret, which is just-- "I'm incredibly flattered," he says earnestly.

Cuddy finds herself incredibly discomfited. "House, what are you--"

"You redesigned the entire hospital just so you could keep an eye on me."

"We--what? No!" Cuddy splutters. "There was a--a team of architects and...and--this was not done with-- No one thought of you at all!"

House just grins that grin which she knows he knows sends her into high alert, and pulls open the door where his name is etched tastefully into the glass. "I love it. Just think of all the things I can do now that everybody can see me. I have a balcony, you said?"

---

Terrarium

"Dr. Cuddy, if I could have a word?"

Cuddy looks up from the latest revision of the promotion policy. "Dr. Adams, welcome," she says with a smile and waves him toward a chair in front of the desk. "What can I do for you today?"

He perches in the chair, leaning forward anxiously. "I would like to request an office transfer. As soon as possible."

"You've only been in your new office two weeks," Cuddy points out, even though she probably should have seen this coming. "After the negotiations--"

Dr. Adams raises both hands in a gesture of supplication. "No, no, see, I appreciate that you got me into one of the non-glass offices. My clients appreciate the privacy." He finally slumps a little into the chair and says, "I just don't think it's possible to practice psychiatry with Dr. House as a neighbor."

Cuddy rubs her hand across her forehead and does her best to stifle a groan.

"He sits outside my office looking like a street bum and calls my clients crazy," Dr. Adams continues, almost like he's checking off items in a list he started two weeks ago. "He pounds something against the wall at the perfect time to interrupt a sensitive session. He heckles my secretary about her lunch and steals all the candy from my desk. He rebuffs all attempts to open a dialogue about his own iss--"

"No kidding," Cuddy can't help herself interrupting.

"I can't help but think Dr. House is engaged in a campaign to drive me out. Yesterday all the pens in my pen cup were glued together. And today is the final straw."

Cuddy laces her fingers together on the desk and marshals all the poise she can manage.

"Dr. House is smoking a cigar on the balcony." Dr. Adams says this like it's the most scandalous thing he's ever seen.

She swallows the laughter that's trying to escape and points out, "Smoking a cigar out-of-doors is hardly against hos--"

"He's wearing chaps. Leather motorcycle chaps, and nothing else. His office is entirely glass, everyone in the hallway can see him sitting there, and I got a full frontal view." Dr. Adams is turning a rather alarming shade of purple.

She wishes House could see the way he's so spectacularly broken the good psychiatrist, but she doesn't want to reinforce his behavior. She ushers Dr. Adams out with promises that she'll fix it, and manages to keep her giggles contained until the outer office door closes.

Cuddy laughs until she cries, and then she goes to grab her camera.

---

Habitat

"Let me get this straight--you want me to move, again." Wilson is sitting at his desk, leaning his elbows on the blotter like a high school principal prepared to argue his way through a parent-teacher conference.

"Yes," Cuddy answers calmly. She knows full well what she's asking, and it's not going to make Wilson's life any easier.

"You want me, the newly-appointed head of the Oncology Department, to leave the oncology ward entirely. To vacate my spacious and personally-designed suite of brand-new offices. All so I can be a neighbor to House."

"In a nutshell," Cuddy agrees and gives him her most persuasive smile. "You know how hotly contested the non-glass office spaces were."

"He's driven Adams out already?" Wilson asks. "It's only been two weeks."

"He didn't tell you about his campaign?"

"Oh, he did," Wilson says, "but I didn't think he'd escalate so quickly."

"Apparently Dr. Adams annoyed him," she says and hands him her camera. Wilson starts looking through the pictures; he does an admirable job containing his laughter, although he can't prevent the smile.

She sighs loudly. "I can't leave that office vacant, and hell will freeze before I let Diagnostics have it."

"You could always stick the lawyer in there," Wilson muses, tilting his head and turning the camera at the same time. Cuddy giggles inwardly; she knows which picture he's looking at.

"As convenient as that may be, I'm going to have to say . . . no," she replies. "The hospital needs a lawyer who at least marginally wants to help House, not somebody who'll throw him under the bus at the first opportunity just so he can have some peace."

Wilson sets the camera on the desk between them and gives her a shrewd look. "Give oncology a new tenure-track position, and I'll do it."

She frowns her best you're fucking kidding frown. "And my answer is the same as it was last year. Absolutely not."

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair and adopting an air of nonchalance. "I know the board approved funding for three new positions. I was also going to offer my services as a successful House-wrangler, which I assume you considered before asking me to move, but if you don't--"

"Dr. Wilson," Cuddy interrupts, "we have a deal."