AN: This was written for a lj ficathon entry. Required - (1) Snark (2) Appearance by Wilson and (3) Duckling roped by House into doin' something bizarre to outsmart Cuddy. Verboten - (1) no Season 4 (2) no weak Cuddy (3) no Angst.
Consequences
Consequences suck, House thought, as he closed the door louder than necessary to exam room three, and cringed as he heard his so-called best friend's voice.
"Oh... ho ho... Look at this…"
House glared at Wilson as he placed yet another completed patient file down on the desk in the clinic.
"Don't," he warned, as he picked up another file and headed towards yet another exam room, most likely occupied by yet another annoying, pointless, pathetic, piddling, and whiney patient.
"This is your own fault you know," Wilson said, now walking beside him.
"In what twisted world is this my fault? I did what I had to do to save my patient, and now Cuddy's punishing me, sending me to the pits of hell to make me suffer by…by…"
"By doing your job?" Wilson supplied with a slight smirk. "Besides, she probably wouldn't have been as mad if you didn't rope your fellows into planning a coup, and undercut her authority… again."
"I wasn't trying to undercut anyone's authority. My patient needed…"
"Oh, you were undercutting…"
"I was simply trying to delay…"
"With handcuffs?" Wilson asked incredulously.
"The handcuffs were not my idea," House said emphatically. "Why will no one believe me when I tell them that?"
Wilson gave him his patent Did you seriously just ask me that? stare.
"So, how long are you in for?"
"Every day for the next two weeks," House grumbled, before reaching behind him to open the door to exam room one. "Wish me luck."
***
Cameron was sitting at her desk, glasses perched on her nose, and files scattered around her. Foreman and Chase had already called it quits for the day and headed home.
Paperwork.
Of course, they would get stuck doing paperwork. And not just any paperwork, clinic backlog paperwork. The most boring and tedious kind of paperwork possible.
Consequences suck, she thought.
And to add to the headache, she already had a pile stacked a mile high. She cringed to even think about it, let alone touch. It was all of House's charts, complete with questionable handwriting, indecipherable symptoms without a decoder ring, and random doodles, one a remarkable likeness of Cuddy at the hangman's noose.
Taking off her glasses, Cameron closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She should probably head home herself. It was getting late, but looking over to see House's bike jacket hanging over the chair where he carelessly threw it earlier, made her feel slightly guilty for even thinking about leaving.
Just because the guys ditched her didn't mean she should ditch.
Ugh. House was right. She was pathetic.
She had just put her glasses back on to go back over the chart she was just reviewing when she saw House coming down the hall from the corner of her eye.
Thank God!
As much as everyone thought she enjoyed being the sacrificial lamb, she enjoyed a bubble bath, a juicy Philly cheese steak, a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice-cream and good nights sleep even more.
"Where's the Wallaby and Run DMC?" House asked, as he crossed over to his open office door.
"It was their turn for seven minutes in heaven," Cameron deadpanned, while standing up and straightening as many piles as she could until she could come back again tomorrow.
She bent to pick up her purse and her computer bag, slung them over her shoulder, and turned to find House leaning against the threshold of his office and the conference room with his arms crossed and one of his eyebrows raised.
"They left an hour ago," Cameron said tiredly.
"And you just decided to stay and wait until I got back?"
"We all decided the patient needed..."
"Hmm," House grunted, interrupting her and tilting his head a bit to the side as he observed her.
"What?" she asked.
"I'm just wondering what my immunologist was doing with a spare set of handcuffs," House said, a slight smirk gracing his features, clearly amused.
Cameron sighed. She should have known House would have figured it out sooner rather than later. She was just hoping it was later.
"They weren't mine."
"Really?"
Cameron came around the desk and gently leaned against the front facing House.
"One of the nurses, Sherry, works as a security guard and pulls doubles. Her locker's next to mine."
"And she just let you borrow her cuffs? That's awfully generous."
"You're not going to let this go, are you?"
House shrugged, "I can negotiate."
Cameron huffed, "Yeah right."
House pushed himself off the wall.
"Pizza." He said, as he made his way over to his jacket and put it on.
What? Pizza?
"Huh?" Was the only word that made it out of Cameron's mouth.
"You owe me pizza. I won't tell Cuddy or the boys it was you who talked the crazy man into shackling himself to our boss, and you buy me a pizza."
Cameron narrowed her eyes, slightly suspicious. There was no way she was getting out of this that easily, "Just pizza? That's it? You won't bring this up again if I buy you... pizza?"
House screwed up his face as if in deep thought while looking up at the ceiling, then nodded his head.
"Yup," he finally said as he made his way towards the door, and then turned back.
"Oh, and a month worth of my clinic duty," he said, with a small smirk, before leaving.
Cameron smiled at his retreating back, and pushed herself off of her desk.
Sometimes you just have to live with the consequences. Besides, pizza didn't sound so bad.
FIN.