Chapter Text
“You two run the EEG. Thirteen, go get mommy dearest’s consent for the biopsy. Foreman, check the house for toxins.” House grabbed the file off the desk and prepared to sweep out the room in his usual fashion when his arm spasmed.
He gasped at the sharp pain and the file fell to the floor as his fingers twitched. His team turned to look at him.
“House…” Thirteen was giving him the concerned puppy look that Cameron used to. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease her about it. That spasm was familiar. Very familiar. The question was not why, but how. He had taken his potion that morning. Had he built up a tolerance? Was there something wrong with the batch? The first was highly unlikely, tolerances were rare in the potions world. The second was also unlikely. He had brewed the potion himself and years of practice had made him a master at it.
He stalked past his confused team and into his office. Throwing open the mini-fridge he kept under his desk, he pulled out one of his “energy drinks.” They weren’t really energy drinks of course. Just potions disguised to look like bottles of an off-brand energy drink.
He popped open the bottle and sniffed before taking a small sip.
Ah.
Definitely not his potion. It tasted almost like an energy drink. An actual energy drink. Before taking his potion every day, he cast a taste-canceling spell. Sugar made it ineffective but there were other ways to make it palatable (namely by not palleting it per se).
He always scanned his potion to check for toxins though, years of paranoia made it a habit. But it wouldn’t pick up muggle toxins would it? Certainly not nonlethal muggle toxins.
He hadn’t done anything to Wilson in a while which left Cuddy as the most viable candidate. She had been trying to get “vengeance” for him making her come back to work instead of being with her new daughter.
He could feel the stabbing tingling in his hands and along his spine, the cold patches of numbness in random parts of his body. He flinched at a sudden twisting feeling in his right knee. Enough of this.
“What are you all standing there for! I gave you your commands, go forth, soldiers!” House called over his shoulder as he strode past them and towards the elevators.
----
“Where are they?” House’s voice was unusually tight and low, the result of a combination of pain and anger.
Cuddy glanced up, unimpressed. “Where are who House?”
“Not who. What. Where are my energy drinks.” Cuddy met his glare with a slightly baffled look.
“In the sink…” She said slowly, as though it were obvious. He growled.
“Do you have any idea- the rar- Agh!” Cuddy’s eyes widened in surprise at his spluttering, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done!?” He was shaking now, though not from anger. “I need those poti-AHH!” House cried out and fell to the floor.
“House!” He felt hands on him as Cuddy helped him sit upright. “What wrong?! What happened?”
He grit his teeth, “Those ‘energy drinks’ you dumped out were my meds. That was the last of this batch and ingredients are very hard to come by on short notice. Those bottles were supposed to last me another two months.” House bit the inside of his cheek as another jolt of pain went through him.
“Meds? For what?” Cuddy’s eyes grew wide, “You said ingredients. Were you,” Her voice dropped, “making your own drugs?”
He scoffed, “That surprises you? You thought I was on heroin last week and barely bat an eye.” He sat upright and looked her in the eye, “I have a license if that’s what you’re worried about. I make it because I don’t trust others to get it right. Besides, it’s hard to find, especially on this side of the pond.”
“What are they for?” Cuddy asked softly.
House considered lying, it would be so easy. Telling the full truth could work too. It was so outrageous she would assume it was a lie. For some reason though, he didn’t want to lie about this. He wanted Cuddy to believe him.
“I… It’s a severe atypical case of neuropathy.”
“...Neuropathy isn’t a diagnosis, it’s a symptom.”
House wanted to say It’s from being tortured by terrorists as a teenager but she might pick up from his tone that that wasn’t an outrageous story. Well, he still could tell the truth, just the most insane version of the truth.
“It’s from a magical nerve-destroying spell my magical godfather’s cousin used on me because she believed I was the chosen one meant to destroy her Dark-Lord-Baby-Daddy,” Cuddy’s eyes narrowed at his slightly-off sarcastic tone.
“ House.” He raised his eyebrows.
“ Cuddy.” House said back in the same tone. She huffed and deflated slightly.
“Look, I’m sorry for pouring out your meds but I didn’t know. This is the sort of thing I, as your boss and dean of medicine, should know about. Honestly, why would you disguise them as energy drinks?” A thought seemed to occur to her and she clicked her tongue.
“The most common prescription for neuropathy is opiates. Please don’t tell me you have bottles of illegal opiates in your office.”
“Ok. I don’t have bottles of illegal opiates in my office.” He said placidly. Cuddy winced.
“Right. Because I poured them out.”
“Also they weren’t illegal. Technically the FDA doesn’t know they exist.”
“Is that supposed to be better?! You’ve been taking unapproved, presumably untested opiates for- how long have you been taking them?”
“About 30 years.”
“30-” She gaped at him, “This wasn’t caused by Vicodin or some other drug then?”
“Last I checked Vicodin doesn’t cause neuropathy.”
“In combination with some other drugs it might. It’s not like you take random --sometimes illegal and impure drugs-- in different combinations without properly considering the interactions.”
“Hey! They’re not random. I always have a reason to take the drugs I do. Just because you don’t think the risk is worth whatever benefit I’m trying to get, that doesn’t make it random.”
“You’re trying to derail this conversation, what did cause the neuropathy then?”
“Wow, you know me so well.” He leaned toward her with a cheery smile, “But apparently not well enough because by now you should know that if I don’t want to answer a question, you can’t make me.”