I'm going to crossover hell.
Oct. 10th, 2007 04:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: Lifestyle
Summary: Being Lisa Cuddy.
Fandom: House/Firefly
Word Count: 497
Rating/Warnings: PG, AU, WTF
Pairing: Het. I think it's better if I don't tell you more.
A/N: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wtf27. No, I don't know WTF. This idea has been bouncing around my head for some time, which says something (not flattering) about me.
It's hard the first few days, the clothing unfamiliar and restricting, the food delicious but confusing. People keep coming into her office spouting off bits of jargon that she doesn't understand at all, but they seem to go away happy when she doesn't yell at them.
The grand receptions and two-martini lunches, those are achingly familiar. She's grateful to whomever this body belongs to- used to belong to? There's a whole section in her calendar concerning who to ask for what and what never to promise, and years of training take her through the rest. It's practically restful after a while, the only difference from home that she goes to bed alone.
Her office door swings open one afternoon, a man with a limp and fiery eyes following it. Her new body has an immediate reaction when he walks in, pulse rising, cheeks flushing just the smallest bit. She's forcibly reminded of the last time she felt that way, of a man thousands of miles and maybe even years away. The thought comes clear and sharp- is the real Lisa there with him? She doesn't really want to consider what she'd do to him if she wasn't herself.
She reads their familiarity in the way he lazily drapes himself over the couch. "You're glowing," he says, like an accusation.
"It's a good day," she replies. "No one has caused a lawsuit in at least two hours."
He crosses his arms behind his head and puts his good leg up on the edge of the couch. "All those extra hormones explain the glow, sore nipples explain why you're wearing a shirt that actually fits today."
She isn't quite sure if she's stepping on a landmine. Lisa has a stack of receipts from some kind of fertility center, but certainly no baby and no notes reading, "Warning- Do not discuss lack of fetus." She cuts her losses, rolling her eyes for good measure. "I'm not pregnant."
"That's what they all say."
"Did you want something?" she asks, in a voice that says she's only indulging him because he's him.
He sits up, giving her a suggestive waggle of the eyebrows. She laughs, maybe a shade louder than she should. "You couldn't afford me," she tells him, grinning, her own private joke.
"I didn't know the rates had gone up," he replies, swinging his legs to the floor. "Must be inflation."
"Go do your job," she responds, smiling too much for it to be a reprimand. He complies with only token grumbling, giving her an appraising, incandescent look when he thinks she won't see.
She pushes her chair back from the desk, pulling at the sleeves of her lab coat. She takes a moment to center herself, locking up all these appealing new thoughts to be pulled out later. It's time to do some good, whatever that means, to slip further into this strangely comfortable new life.
Inara puts on her most calming smile and walks out into the clinic.
Summary: Being Lisa Cuddy.
Fandom: House/Firefly
Word Count: 497
Rating/Warnings: PG, AU, WTF
Pairing: Het. I think it's better if I don't tell you more.
A/N: For
wtf27. No, I don't know WTF. This idea has been bouncing around my head for some time, which says something (not flattering) about me.It's hard the first few days, the clothing unfamiliar and restricting, the food delicious but confusing. People keep coming into her office spouting off bits of jargon that she doesn't understand at all, but they seem to go away happy when she doesn't yell at them.
The grand receptions and two-martini lunches, those are achingly familiar. She's grateful to whomever this body belongs to- used to belong to? There's a whole section in her calendar concerning who to ask for what and what never to promise, and years of training take her through the rest. It's practically restful after a while, the only difference from home that she goes to bed alone.
Her office door swings open one afternoon, a man with a limp and fiery eyes following it. Her new body has an immediate reaction when he walks in, pulse rising, cheeks flushing just the smallest bit. She's forcibly reminded of the last time she felt that way, of a man thousands of miles and maybe even years away. The thought comes clear and sharp- is the real Lisa there with him? She doesn't really want to consider what she'd do to him if she wasn't herself.
She reads their familiarity in the way he lazily drapes himself over the couch. "You're glowing," he says, like an accusation.
"It's a good day," she replies. "No one has caused a lawsuit in at least two hours."
He crosses his arms behind his head and puts his good leg up on the edge of the couch. "All those extra hormones explain the glow, sore nipples explain why you're wearing a shirt that actually fits today."
She isn't quite sure if she's stepping on a landmine. Lisa has a stack of receipts from some kind of fertility center, but certainly no baby and no notes reading, "Warning- Do not discuss lack of fetus." She cuts her losses, rolling her eyes for good measure. "I'm not pregnant."
"That's what they all say."
"Did you want something?" she asks, in a voice that says she's only indulging him because he's him.
He sits up, giving her a suggestive waggle of the eyebrows. She laughs, maybe a shade louder than she should. "You couldn't afford me," she tells him, grinning, her own private joke.
"I didn't know the rates had gone up," he replies, swinging his legs to the floor. "Must be inflation."
"Go do your job," she responds, smiling too much for it to be a reprimand. He complies with only token grumbling, giving her an appraising, incandescent look when he thinks she won't see.
She pushes her chair back from the desk, pulling at the sleeves of her lab coat. She takes a moment to center herself, locking up all these appealing new thoughts to be pulled out later. It's time to do some good, whatever that means, to slip further into this strangely comfortable new life.
Inara puts on her most calming smile and walks out into the clinic.
