Taking the Charge by stenveny (R)

[flywoman.livejournal.com]

Fandom: HOUSE M.D.
Pairing: House/Dominika
Length: 9 chapters
Author on LJ: stenveny
Author Website: Author's Fic on LJ

Why this must be read:
This is the fic that finally won over many of my House/Wilson friends. In this fascinating departure from her popular Sharkverse, stenveny shows us how House's impulsive green card marriage following his break-up with Cuddy could lead to something real after all. There are a number of great fics out there that give us a delightful Dominika, and this is one of my favorites - she's clever and spunky and sweet and pragmatic and hilarious. Especially in light of the way Season 7 actually ended, I really appreciate the hope and humor offered by this AU version.

House dropped his medical file into his lap, and pushed his glasses down his nose.  “What are you doing here?” 

“The girl on the phone, she told me you had been shot.” If  Dominika Petrova House, or whatever her name was,  Lord love her, had a disingenuous bone in her body, it wasn’t visible to James Wilson. He’d learned from long affiliation with House, who tended to spread cynicism and distrust everywhere he went -- a sort of anti-missionary who brought believers to lack of faith, Cameron had called him once -- to doubt the sincerity and question the motive of every expression of feeling.  The woman now walking nervously into House’s hospital room, looked genuinely, and seriously, alarmed by the condition of her husband of one month.  

Wilson scratched his head:  if they were only married, according to their coldly practical contractual agreement, for four days each week, how did their anniversaries get calculated?  

“I thought you were with Paul,” House said.  

Tendrils of dark hair came out of her loose ponytail as Dominika shook her head.   “We are broken up.”

“Again?” 

Dominika propped a duffel bag up onto the bedside table beside House.  “For good this time,” she responded.  “I told him he is bad in bed.  It’s sure-fire way to get rid of a man.  My grandmother taught me:  they never come back when you say that.” 

“Your grandmother told you that?” Wilson couldn’t help asking.  

“The only trick is, men are arrogant pigs.  You must get them to believe they are not studs.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” 

Actually, Wilson was going to do his best to forget it.  Trying to understand the weird dynamic and “three-sevenths open” marriage between his best friend and his green card bride, was enough to give him migraines.  Going beyond that, to contemplating Dominika’s  on-again, off-again, on-again, relationship with her married boyfriend, and House’s cavalier attitude toward it, would have him splitting his own head open.  

 “I brought you clean pajamas,” she said, unzipping the bag.  “I don’t know which of all the books beside the bed you are reading, so I brought them all.”  She looked doubtfully at the bed.  “Those sheets, that pillow, are they soft?”  She put out a hand to caress the fabric and frowned; she had a “thing”, House claimed with some irritation, about cheap linens.   House was compiling a list of Things With Which Dominika Would Not Allow House to Put Up: so far, it included scratchy linens, a shortage of toilet paper, an inadequately covered head in cold weather, dirt, germs, day-old coffee, and anything baked from a mix.  

 “Doesn’t matter.”  House shrugged her off.  “I’m not staying.”

“But, you were shot.”  She recoiled and gave House a confused look.  

“By a vegetable,” Wilson added.

“Tuber,” House corrected in an annoyed tone.  

“You have needles and things in you,” Dominika pointed out, and pursed her glossed red lips together.  

“Temporarily.  Soon as they uncath me, I’m outta here.”

Dominika looked worriedly over at Wilson, who shrugged helplessly.    “This seems like a good idea to you, Wilson?”  

“That’s why it’s called Against Medical Advice,” Cuddy said sternly.  She addressed House from the doorway:  “You’re an idiot.”

“Oh, stop with the sweet talk, already,” House sneered.  

Dominika said something to House in Russian and stepped closer to him.  

“First, you and one of your …” Cuddy scanned Dominika, her eyes panning from the top of her ponytail, down her jeans to her heeled boots.  "...Associates, turn the lobby of a respectable teaching hospital into Shootout at the OK Corral, with a vegetable theme,” 

“It’s a tuber, it was not my idea, and is my boss actually yelling at me for being assaulted with a deadly weapon in my place of work?”

“And then, you decide to check out AMA.”  She moved to the foot of the bed and glared weakly.  “I warn you, if you go home with kidney damage ...”

Dominika said something else to House.  House nodded tiredly.   

At this point, Dominika said several things, very quickly, many of them punctuated with hand gestures that set the silver bangle bracelets she was wearing jangling.  House looked uncharacteristically lost. 

 “The hell is she saying?” Cuddy asked House impatiently.  

 “No idea; I don’t speak Polish.”

“Well, tell her to quit,” Cuddy said.  “She’s freaking me out.”

“I think it’s kind of hot,” he observed, tilting his head.  He said something very softly in Russian, and the always resilient Dominika gave a little smile and quieted.

“A complete lack of communication would be one of your turn-ons,” Cuddy commented dryly.   “At least stay long enough for us to monitor your i/o for a day.”

“If I do, can I get cable in my room?” 

“No.”

House laid his head back against the bed.  “Extended visiting hours?”

“I’m not letting you use this insane injury  --- and my equally insane concern for you -- as an excuse to bring a hooker onto a patient ward, House.”

“She’s not a hooker,” House snapped, and then leered pointedly at Cuddy’s form-fitting suit.  “She doesn’t even dress like one.”   Cuddy inhaled just a little sharply, and his eyes glittered with vindictive amusement.  

“AMA it is, then,” Cuddy announced brightly.  With one deft movement, she reached forward, twisted her wrist, and yanked.  House gasped and sat bolt upright, gripping the bedrails as the catheter was abruptly removed from his urethra.  

Watching Dominika’s face as the dean’s backside sashayed away, her hips moving in a way that was definitely not intended to be seductive, Wilson got the distinct impression that Lisa Cuddy was earning a position somewhere below Bisquick on Dominika’s list.

Taking the Charge