Could you please write an imagine based on the episode where Greg House gives a lecture about the three cases and he's one of them (where we first see Stacy).
Reader is one of the students there, gives the correct answers, therefore grabs his attention and he offers a job and they end up dating
Thanks in advance!
chasing you ✩ gregory house
“What color is your pee?”
You watched House interrogate one of the few students that had been giving input on his three stories.
“Yellow,” she replied with a sharp tone.
“And what color is your blood?”
“Red.”
House nodded. “Yes. And what colors did I use to make this tea color?”
The female student stammers as she replies with “red, yellow, and brown.”
The man clicks his tongue. “And brown. How do we get the brown color?”
“Waste-“
“Thank means the kidneys are shutting down,” House cut in. “Why?”
“Could be damage done by the self injection. He has no history of trauma.
“Treatment?”
House’s rapidfire questions had rattled the woman, but she stiller answered. “Heat and rest-“
“Other possible causes?”
“Infection.”
House nodded. “Start him on antibiotics. What else?”
Silence filled the room. House looked around, expecting an answer. “Come on! What is it?”
“I-I don’t know,” the student admits. She looks away.
House sighs and walks down the steps. The paper with the tea color crumpled in his hand.
“You know, it’s hard to think with you in our faces,” starts the annoying student right up front.
“Yeah?” House scoffs. “You think it’s gonna be any easier with a real patient really dying?”
The guy looked down. Once again, silence reigned over the room as House prepared himself to speak. Until… you opened your mouth.
“The unknown factor would be muscle death.”
House looks up. Near the back of the auditorium by the window on the far left. A student House originally thought was uninterested. Sure, House had seen you around the hospital- practically every wide-eyed intern or student had met the witty man but he had never spoken to you.
Which was odd considering he took a little joy in making the interns and students squirm- especially the pretty ones. House was surprised he’d never even caught your name.
When House’s mouth opened and closed twice, you resumed carefully. “The dying muscle leaks myoglobin which is toxic to the kidneys. There’s your brown, Doctor.”
“Brilliant,” House murmured. He eyed you carefully as he went on. “MRI the leg. See what’s killing it.”
The Heath Ledger dupe spoke up again. “Why is the girl getting the MRI?”
“Because the neck skan revealed nothing and her doctor’s way more obsessive than she thinks she is.”
Heath tilted his head. “But you said the guy needed the MRI.”
“Because the mysteriously smart girl over there said muscle death. Not one of you came up with that. Not one of this guy’s doctors came up with it either,” he replied harshly. “They gave him bed rest and antibiotics- just like you guys would’ve.”
“Does he get better?” The female student from before asked.
House clicks his tongue. “No.”
“How long-“
“Three days.” He looks around the room, stalling when he made eye contact with you. “It is in the nature of medicine that you’re going to screw up. You are going to kill someone. If you can’t handle that reality, pick a new profession. Or finish medical school and teach.”
The female student from before spoke up. “It took three days for them to figure out about the muscle death?”
House shook his head. After heaving a sigh he answers “No, it took three days for the patient to suggest muscle death.”
“What caused the muscle pain?” You asked. “Was it- was it a clot?”
House nodded. “Don’t steal my thunder, young padawan. But… yes. A clotted aneurysm lead to an infarction in the patient’s leg.”
You nodded as House examined you intently as he went on. “After the surgery to remove the clot, the patient went in to wide complex tachycardia… The patient was technically dead for over a minute.”
“Do you think he was dead? Do you think those experiences were real?”
Every head in the room turned to the back. There stood James Wilson, leaning on the door. He looked knowingly at House, like he knew something everyone didn’t.
“Define real,” House shot back. “They were re experiences… What they meant- personally, I choose to believe that the white light people sometimes see, visions this patient saw… They’re all just chemical reactions that happen when the brain shuts down.”
“You ‘choose’ to believe that?” You ask curiously.
House’s eyes dart back over to you. “There’s no conclusive science. My choice has no practical relevance to my life,” he replies. As he starts to pace slowly around the front of the room, he proceeds. “I choose the outcome I find more comforting.”
“You find it comforting to believe that this is it?” Wilson asks accusingly.
House blinks. “I find it more comforting to believe that this isn’t simply a test.”
Everyone sat, listening closely to House’s every word. No other sounds could be heard despite House’s cane movement. He explained how, once the patient was put into a medically induced coma, his trusted proxy had made the decision to remove the dead muscle from his leg.
“Because of the extent of the muscle removed, the utility of the patient’s leg was severely compromised,” he told everyone slowly. “Because of the time delay in making the diagnosis, the patient continues to suffer chronic pain.” He tilted his head up to look at the crowd in front of him and then dropped his head to look at his hands.
“She had no right to do that,” piped up a different female student.
Heath Ledger look-alike scoffed. “She had the proxy.”
The woman argued back, “She knew he didn’t want the surgery!”
“Well, she saved his life,” Heath Ledger responded.
“We don’t know that,” the guy in the front row cut in. “Maybe he would’ve been fine.”
“Still, it’s the patient’s call!”
Heath Ledger shrugged. “Patient’s an idiot.”
“They usually are,” House agreed. “Do you have a buzzer? What time does this class end?”
This time, a mew voice answered House’s question. “20 minutes ago.”
For a moment, House looked at Cuddy with an unreadable expression. Then he clicked his tongue and stood up. “I’m not doing this again,” he informed Cuddy. “And this guy is not the world’s greatest dad- not even ranked. Who the hell let’s their kids play with lead based paint? That’s why he’s always sick. Find him some plastic cups and the class is all his again,” he told Cuddy, placing the yellow hand-painted mug in her hands. He started to walk out, but paused and hobbled back to point his cane directly at you. “Except you. Come with me.”
With haste, you gathered you books and writing utensils and shoved them into your bag. As you followed the limping man out of the classroom, you felt everyone’s eyes on you.
“I have a job for you if you want it,” House tell you finally, stopping in front of a door. “It’s tough, people lie to you every day, and we don’t even have decent coffee.”
You look from him to the door that reads ‘Gregory House M.D. - Head of Diagnostic Medicine’. “I have literally spoken to you three times. How do you know I won’t accept the job, wait until you trust me, and then steal all your money and leave?”
House paused. “Good question. Will you accept the job, wait until I trust you, and then steal all my money and leave?”
“Probably not,” you reply.
“Great!” House exclaims. “You’re hired.”
Over the course of the next few month, you had clicked immediately with Chase. You spoke passionately about different types of literature with Cameron, and joked with Foreman about anything and everything.
Your relationship with House was complicated to say the least. During your first official case, House insisted he followed you everywhere. You more than understood his hesitance to let you do tests completely on your own. But when he limped around, tracking you like a damn dog… you wondered why he still hadn’t trusted you enough.
To your fortune, Wilson had cornered you in the cafeteria as you were getting lunch. “We need to talk,” he had said before plopping down next to you.
You paused, looking up from your cafeteria spaghetti. “About what?”
“House.”
Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”
Wilson looked at you with an expectant expression. “Because I want to know what you said. Duh.”
“I think I’m missing something,” you told him. “What was I supposed to say to him? What was he supposed to say to me?”
Wilson dropped his silverware. “Are you serious? He didn’t- You don’t- What?”
“I’m lost here, Wilson,” you tell him.
Wilson looks around suspiciously before licking his lips. “So… you know how the medical gala is coming up?”
Nodding, you shove a forkful of noodles in your mouth. “Chase won’t shut up about seeing ‘all the hot babes in tight dresses’ or something,” you inform Wilson.
After guffawing over your imitation of Chase’s accent, he gets serious. “It’s in a week. Are you sure he hasn’t talked to you?”
You throw your hands up and sigh. “Just spit it out already, Wilson. I feel like a high schooler trying to get my friends tell me who they have a cute little crush on. Tell me or I’m gonna pop a blood vessel!”
Wilson looks away. “I can’t. I’m scared of House.”
With that, he picks up his tray and goes to leave.
“Bye bye, Willie!” You call.
James turns and glares at you before walking out of the room. You chuckle and attempt to finish your meal before your beeper will inevitably go off.
You just start chowing down on the garlic bread (read: bread with butter and garlic) when you hear the dreaded beeping. You bite off a large chunk of the bread and dump your tray before reading the ‘MY OFFICE- EMERGENCY’ that was from House.
When you finally pushed open the door, you saw House facing the window outside.
“Is our patient with the living?” You ask, taking a step towards House.
House doesn’t turn around. “I need you to go to the winter gala thing with me.”
You stiffen up. Throughout your whole body, your muscles tighten as your freeze midstep. Your face drains of blood and your heart feels like it just dropped into your stomach and was dissolved by the acid. Bile had just started rising up your esophagus when House turns.
“Don’t look so excited,” he insists sarcastically. “But seriously. Why are you looking at me like I have a tumor growing out of my eyeball?”
“No,” you mutter raspily. “Take Cameron.”
House’s eyebrows furrow as you turn on your heel and start to leave.
“Why won’t you go with me?”
You gnaw deeply at your lip as you turn. To your surprise, House was standing- watching you leave without his cane in his hand. “Go with Cameron,” you say again. “I don’t- I’m- No. Just no.”
“Y/n, why-“
You practically run out the door before Greg can even say your name. He stands by his desk, staring intently at the ground where you just stood. “Hm,” he hums. He sighs and thinks about what to say to you next.
The next three days consist of House trying and failing to speak to you. To his own surprise, you have completely stopped talking about personal matters with him and have withdrawn any of your own opinions except for facts having to do with the patient.
House had just finished off another bottle of pills when Foreman barged into the room. “What did you say?”
House blinks. “Uhh… to who? Where? When?”
“To y/n, House. What did you say to y/n?”
“I told her that I needed her to go to the winter gala with me,” House answered truthfully. “Why? Has she said anything to you?”
Foreman flops down in the chair facing House. “Do you like her?”
“Well, I hired her, didn’t I?”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it, House,” Foreman snaps. “Answer me. Do you like her?”
A moment of silence fills the air. House thinks back to the first time he interacted with you- how confidently you completely the puzzle that certified doctor’s couldn’t figure out. How you had matched House’s wit on your very first day. How you- despite being babysat- had completed every test and blood swab and every challenge House had put in your way. How your face often spoke before you did, how House unconsciously searched for you in a crowd, how House looked for your input after almost anything is said, how House wants your company.
“No,” he answers. “Yes. Maybe. Why?”
Foreman looks at House like he’s stupid. “Because she likes you! How have you not figured that out?!”
“Uh, maybe because of the fact that she seemed to want to projectile vomit all over me and then sprinted out of the room? Sorry, I was too focused on the horror in her eyes to consider the fact that y/n really wants that enemies to lovers trope in real life,” House rambled.
“She thinks you’re gonna make a fool out of her, House, and I think you are too,” Foreman answers. He stares at House, searching for information he won’t get. “But… you’re less abrasive when she’s around.”
“You’re acting like she’s your precious little baby sister about to be wed to an evil ogre in the woods,” Greg mutters.
Nodding, Foreman quirked his eyebrows. “I feel like I am.”
House looks at Foreman for a long moment. “Why did you come here to tell me this?”
Eric heaves out a sigh heavy enough to know down an elephant. “Because she wants you to mean it. Y/n wants you to want her. To show her that you want her.”
“I see.”
Foreman nodded. “Don’t tell her I conversed with the enemy.”
Greg scoffed. “As if she’d voluntarily talk to me.”
Eric’s face turned sympathetic. “Just talk to her. Show her this isn’t some whim to- I don’t know, win a bet against Cuddy. Show her you feel the same.”
It was the day of the gala when House found you testing a patient’s blood. You whispered lyrics to a song Greg didn’t know as he stealthily approached you.
“Y/n.”
Your breath caught in your throat in a weird choking noise as you leapt back. “Christ, House!”
“Sorry,” House said with a very unapologetic tone. “I want to talk to you.”
“About what?” You ask plainly, looking through the low power lens of the microscope.
House leans on the table as you adjust the stage. “About… the dance. Tonight.”
You adjust the fine adjustment knob slowly, clicking your tongue unconciously. “What do you have to tell me?”
Greg looks around the lab awkwardly. He silently tried to encourage himself, mentally recalling the nights before, thinking about what to say to you. “I want to formally ask you to go to the gala with me.”
You stand at full height, facing him directly. House held his breath. He was so close to you, he thought he felt your breath on his face. “I don’t want to go. With you, Cameron, Chase, or Foreman. I don’t want to go.”
“Why?” House asked immediately.
You shake your head. “I’m-These things never go well for me House. Besides, you could just go with Cameron. I know she’s dying to go with you.”
House watches you watch him. “I don’t want to go to Cameron. I want to go with you,” he admits lowly.
“And why do you want to go with me?”
House pauses to see your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips- so fast that he almost didn’t notice. “Because I don’t like her the way I like you.’’
You swallow. “How do you like me, House?”
“Like this,” he tells you before dropping his cane and grabbing your waist. Hearing no complaints from you, Greg pulls you close to him and brings his face close to yours. At this point, House swears his vision is blurred by how fast his heart his pumping. House’s hold on your waist is possessive, protective. He hesitates, hoping you won’t reject him now.
You- thankfully- understand the words House is trying to tell you through his eyes. You carefully let your hand cup the nape of House’s neck and pull his lips down to yours. A breathless moan escapes your lips as Greg pulls you flush against him.
House’s head- for once- is silent. And his leg doesn’t seem to hurt quite so bad with your hands on his body: feeling him like he’s only dreamt about before.
And then- when you do pull back- House keeps his grip on your waist as he looks you in the eyes. “I want to go to the gala with you. If you don’t have a dress, then we can just go home.”
Your flushed lips pull into a dazed smile. “How much cleavage do you want to see?”
House groans and lets his head fall back as his eyes close. “As long as I can take it off tonight and any other day I don’t care.”
“Is that- Are you- Are you hinting at commitment? Who are you and what have you done with Gregory House?”
House guffaws sarcastically. “Careful, there. I could get you fired.”
You just laugh. “Yeah, and have the others bicker like siblings and let patients almost die thrice before diagnosing them? I don’t think so.”
“You know, you have a pretty big ego for someone who hasn’t worked here for a full year, yet,” House chides.
Scoffing, you attempt to return to the blood you were looking at before House interrupted you. “First of all, you would know about egos. Second of all, I’m good. Cuddy has spoken to me… about other positions,” you tell him vaguely.
House is taken so off guard, his arms go limp. “What?”
“Nothing I accepted,” you answer, turning back to the microscope.
House just hums. “Good.”
You murmur a quiet ‘good’ in reply. “I know how to cure this guy,” you breathe quietly. With a growing smile, you take the slide off the stage and turn off the microscope before discarding the bio-waste.
House struggled to keep up with how fast you were walking, but your kiss had definitely left him chasing you- literally and figuratively.
