A/N: [Written for Livejournal's comment_fic comm.] I never thought I'd be good at fourth wall situations, but apparently I was wrong. o.0 Or so I think? Either way, this was fun because I got to write about House being an ass. (: Which is always a winning situation.
Characters: House, Foreman, Thirteen, Taub, Wilson, Amber
Prompt: Breaking the fourth wall / "I'm getting a bit tired of not-quite dying every second episode, how about someone else has a go?"
Genres/Warnings: Humor, language, and House being... well, House.
Word count: 482
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Prick
Wincing as he sat up from the hospital bed, House touched the side of his head that was bandaged. Three days before, an ex-patient had slammed a metal pipe against his head. He had been unconscious for a whole day, visiting the light on the other side and even chatting with Amber for a little while before she shoved him out of the ethereal other side. Even dead, Amber disliked House's insensitive jokes.
"House, you should be laying down. You lost a pint and a half of blood three days ago before we could stitch you up." Foreman said, entering the room.
Behind Foreman, Thirteen, Taub, and Wilson followed, each with concerned written across their faces. House rolled his eyes at them, reaching for the food on a nearby table. He hated when people pitied him.
"You know, with all the hard work I put in around here, they could at least go down to McDonald's and get me something good to eat." He complained picking at the green jello. "Like a McFlurry or something."
Wilson stepped up to his friend, shaking his head. "You're an idiot. Even with seventeen staples and fifty stitches in your head, you still manage to revert back to being an asshole."
"Amber said 'hi', by the way." The injured man said, sipping some water.
"Prick." Wilson growled, as he turned and walked out the room. "I like you better unconscious!"
House turned his attention to his team, who frowned back at him. "What did I do? She really did."
"How's your head?" Thirteen asked, trying to change the subject.
"I'm sure it's fine and he doesn't seem to be suffering from amnesia." Taub commented. "God forbid that were to happen."
"Thank you so much for your diagnosis, doctor." House said mockingly.
Pushing the food away, House rubbed his head as he shifted in bed. Pain blossomed rapidly through his head and he decided moving too much was a stupid idea.
"I'm getting a bit tired of not quite dying every second episode, how about someone else has a go?" He said, reaching for his cane.
"What are you talking about?" Foreman asked.
"I'm sick of this no fourth wall shit. Especially since it keeps me from commenting about the numerous times I've almost died." Pointing his cane at Taub, House nodded. "It should be you."
"Me what?"
"It's your turn to almost die. Foreman had a go once before, Thirteen's already living on borrowed time, and Kutner got a better offer, so we know what he did. I think you fit the criteria nicely."
Taub crossed his arms. "I think that guy hit you way too hard, House. Or not hard enough. You're not making sense anymore."
House wasn't listening though as he shook his cane menacingly at the balding man, imagining it was him for a change being bludged or shot by a disgruntled ex-patient.
-End-
