Title: Pills Do Crazy Things Whee!
Wordcount: 500
Spoilers: Short fic based on the events in "Resignation" (322), and slightly AU.
Pairing: House/Wilson, one step over implied
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cameron goes looking for House, but finds... well, someone else.
Warning! If you do not like slash, or support the House/Wilson ship, read no further. This is your final warning.
The door was unlocked and the apartment silent; Cameron peeked her head inside the room, but couldn't see anything in the near-darkness. "House?" Cameron murmured, not wanting to rouse him. Silence. Feeling slightly frustrated, but also curious of what was keeping House, she knocked once to announce her presence, then stepped inside and started moving toward where she thought his room would be. The dim lighting softened everything's edges, and she often found herself tripping on a piece of clothing or empty can on the floor. She couldn't remember the apartment's layout, but, as the piles of dirty laundry got bigger and more haphazard, she found herself being unintentionally led towards House's room.
This door had been left ajar by its occupant; from what she could see in the sliver of illumination, House's room was as messy as the rest of his place. Cameron stepped forward with greater confidence. "House?" she called, just loud enough to wake up –
"Gnnergh!" The startled grunt was made by the tousled-looking, dark-haired figure lying next to House, who shot straight up. The comforter was pulled carelessly over to one side of the bed, presumably hiding House himself. Cameron blinked rapidly, mouth open, stiff with embarrassment. Then, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the figure, whose short hair and wider shoulders definitely implied... a guy?
"House isn't awake yet," the figure informed her. The sudden spout of words made Cameron start. "I'm pretty sure he's not awake. He sort of conked out right after the – oh God," it suddenly burst into giggles, "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. Really. You might have come at a bad time." The figure, almost certainly a he, ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and grinned, slowly, lazily. "I took some pills," he confided. "Was drugged, actually, I was drugged, but, you know, it wasn't half-bad. The drugs. And the what-came-after. Ha-ha."
Beside him, the lined face of Greg House frowned in its sleep. Cameron was still trying to place the figure next to him. The only thing worse than discovering House in a state of semi-lucidity at an ungodly hour like this was discovering House in bed, with another guy in a state of semi-lucidity, who face she was now sure she recognized.
"Hey, I think know someone who looks like you..." House's companion muttered, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "...Is that... a Fellow?"
"Uh... I work with House..."
"I do know you!" he crowed triumphantly.
House stirred. "...Wilson?"
Cameron froze.
"Wilson?"
"I have no idea," he said dreamily. "Nothing I'm saying makes any sense at all."
"Actually, this can wait," said Cameron hastily, whirling around and shutting the door behind her. She stumbled back over the mounds of discarded clothing, nearly dashed out of the apartment, and drove as fast as she could back to the hospital, only one thought in her mind:
She would never be able to look the Head of Oncology in the eyes again.