ReadingRat's Treadmill

 Act 4

Titania: Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away.
[A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 4 Scene 1]

3 am
“No, Mom, I don’t think either of us will be back anytime soon. Lucas has been admitted for observation and I don’t want to leave him until I’m sure he’s alright. ... No, it’s nothing serious, just a precaution ...Mom, please go to bed. There’s no sense in worrying – Lucas will be fine. ... Yes, I’ll lie down for a few hours in my office. ... Mom, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I’ll be fine! ... Yes, I can shower here and I have a change of clothes.” Cuddy rolled her eyes. “The babysitter will be in by seven-thirty, okay? ... Yes, I will. ‘Night, Mom.”

She put down the phone and leaned her forehead on her hand. Saying that she was staying in the hospital because of Lucas was far enough from the truth to qualify as an outright lie. She knew now what ailed Lucas, even if she didn’t know the hows and whys of it, but it wasn’t life-threatening. The reason she was staying was one she didn’t want anyone, least of all her mother to know, for fear that it might get around to Lucas.

House.
( Read more... )

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Author's Note: Feral Attraction is the porn film House digs up in Private Lives, staring a young and maybe not quite so innocent Wilson.

Act 3, Scene 1

Quince: [...] and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.
Bottom: Peter Quince?
Quince: What sayest thou, Bully Bottom?
Bottom: There are things in this Comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please.
[A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 3 Scene 1]

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10 pm

“Is everyone at their posts?” Quincy asked his walkie-talkie. The question was redundant, for there was no security staff member who couldn’t be seen on one or other of the monitors in security headquarters. “Let’s get going, shall we? It’s 8 am in the morning and Senator Woodward is approaching the main entrance with her entourage.”

Quincy and Lucas were at security headquarters, checking via the monitors whether the senator’s movements were covered at all times. Rob, who was impersonating the senator since he wasn’t needed to observe the monitors during the run-throughs, entered the lobby. Piccolo and Leo strode forward to flank him.

“Slower, Rob, you’re a lady. They don’t stride like the giant in ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’,” Quincy instructed.

( Read more... )

 Act 2, Scene 1

Oberon: Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling boy
To be my henchman.
Titania: Set your heart at rest,
The fairy land buys not the child of me.
[A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 2 Scene 1]

9 p.m.

The winter landscape below him was strangely calming. New snow at the beginning of March, an oddity of nature. The sounds of evening traffic drifted up to him muted by the thin blanket of snow. It was a good thing he’d left the bike at home and taken his car. He stuck out his tongue to catch a snowflake, glad to be able to indulge in such childish behaviour without a witness, for the roof was deserted thanks to the late hour and harsh weather. Not that he objected to an audience per se when he behaved like a juvenile, but playing with snow had a touch of sentimentality, somewhere along the same lines as liking fairy tales or rescuing kittens. Perhaps living with Wilson was beginning to rub off on him. You’re catching his girl cooties, he reprimanded himself.

Change was imminent. He didn’t like change, and had never done so. Now, however, it was inevitable. His mother used to say, and probably still did, “What can’t be cured has to be endured.” A stupid, defeatist adage. Admittedly he couldn’t ‘cure’ the problem, but he could give it a treatment of palliative medicine, making the transition from this state of being to the next easier on himself. He’d already applied a hefty dose of manipulative morphine today, screwing Foreman in front of the whole board. Wilson had texted him afterwards: ‘What r u up 2? 13 fuming!’ He wondered whether Cuddy had seen through his ploy.

She’d cornered him in the clinic two days ago, dragging him into an exam room, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it to prevent his departure before she was done with him. He had hopped onto the examination table patting the space next to him invitingly.

“Oh, are we skipping the verbal foreplay today? I love it when you want it hard and fast.”

( Read more... )

Author’s Note:
This fic is set in the weeks after Private Lives. It has the standard pairings as they exist in the series at that point, meaning Cuddy/Lucas, Cameron separated from Chase. Some of the plot might not be comprehensible unless you’ve watched Private Lives. I wrote this before Lockdown aired, so my assumption that Chase will file for a divorce has been proven wrong.
Warning: This will not end explicitly as Huddy, but the Cuddy/Lucas relationship will receive a major setback. Given our present knowledge, one can definitely see Huddy in it if one squints enough.
Further Warning: The fic is an exercise in plot conversion, i.e. I’ve tried to adapt A Midsummer Night’s Dream to fit into House MD. It’s possible to read and understand the story without knowing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but it does mean that I’m limited somewhat by the plot of the play. For instance, House does not turn up until Chapter 3.
Last Warning: A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a light comedy – this fic started off the same, but in the process of writing it turned rather sombre. I guess the fact is that House MD simply isn’t comedy – it’s mostly personal tragedy, really, so that mood has coloured this fic.

As always, a big thanks to my beta, Brighid45, for her indefatigable efforts.

Act 1, Scene 1
Theseus: Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
Hermia: So is Lysander.
Theseus: In himself he is.
But in this, lacking your father’s voice,
The other must be held the worthier.
[A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 1 Scene 1]

8 pm
Snowflakes drifted past the window, cascading gently onto the windowsill, flurrying up again whenever a gust of wind shook them, sparkling in the warm glow from the lights in the room. The surrounding roofs were already covered by a light powdering, as were the lawns of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, but the roads and sidewalks, warmer by a few degrees, were still clear. That would probably change in the course of the night, inundating the ER with careless drivers, but for the present the scene was idyllic, a picture-book winter evening that carried hints of crackling firewood, hot punch and baked apples.

Inside, the first board meeting of the year was drawing to a close. Casting a tired eye over the agenda, Wilson registered that all controversial issues had been dealt with. It shouldn’t take Cuddy long to dispose of the remaining topics. He glanced over to where she was sitting, legs folded demurely under her chair, and smiled inwardly. Cuddy was petite and feminine, but when she advocated and defended her proposals, she blew away resistance like a hurricane. She was now giving the board a very concise summary of the planned agenda for tomorrow – the visit of a political heavy-weight to the hospital – true to her axiom: The less information given, the fewer stupid questions were asked. ( Read more... )