There really is no purpose to this story. I wrote it when I was terribly bored and procrastinating on the edit of my novel... Please don't review with critique: just enjoy. Thanks and happy reading!
House certainly thought he ruled the world, at the very least, if not the galaxy and surrounding star clusters.
Wilson forgave himself for being so nerdy as he contemplated House's latest accomplishments. The latest case, a young man with a rare form of bacteria, had been solved only after the grizzled doctor had insulted Cuddy on numerous occassions, exploited Cameron's emotions and Foreman's ethics, and ignored Chase completely. All over the phone. A new record for House, who was now tapping his foot in time to the eighties rock song playing over the airport courtesy speakers. His cane drew several stares as House popped it against his shoe every other beat. Wilson knew at least a few of the other fliers wished the flames decorating House's essential yet hated everyday item would come to life and light the cranky doctor's shoes on fire. Already House had barked at a man who came too close to his carry-on suitcase he had laying in an inconvenient spot, blocking at least two chairs in the already crowded boarding area, as well as glared a little girl into silence after the child put up a fuss about having to stick close to her mother. The girl practically clung to her middle-aged mother now, frowning at House. Her mother was frowning as well in reply to House's unique raised eyebrows of semi-apology, semi-amusement as she tried prying her daughter's tugging hands off her shirt. House was scaring people left and right just because he felt like it. At least Wilson knew this was definitely typical behavior and not just limited to the familiar settings of the hospital.
"You know," Wilson said, flipping the page of his magazine after looking up over the edge to watch House's knee continue it's up and down pattern, slamming his heel against the floor with every beat of the song that was hopefully almost over, "I think it's better to enjoy the music in silence." House snorted, looking around the boarding area, ignoring Wilson. He was definitely fidgeting and Wilson was about the give up and go back to his reading when House answered.
"You know," he began in mockery, "I don't have to listen to you anymore." He tapped louder just to make a point, and continued for several seconds after the song ended, grinning as Wilson raised one eyebrow and shook his head.
Wilson had been given orders from Cuddy to keep House under control at all times, if possible. Of course, it wasn't humanly possible to keep House from being an ass to anyone and everyone he came across, but Wilson had done his best to apologize on behalf of the brilliant doctor who limped through the hallways of the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota for three days. House, on top of solving the case of the bacteria, gave two lectures and assisted in an experimental surgery in the prestegious hospital, insulting the staff and playing up every chance to snag another prescription for more painkillers from sympathetic female doctors.
Wilson had sat in with the rest of the doctors during House's lectures and observed the surgery, but knew he wasn't there for anything more than damage control on Princeton-Plainsburogh's behalf. He had met a very pretty neurosurgeon who had given him her number, in case he was ever in the cold state again. Wilson doubted he would ever see her again unless she came out to New Jersey because he could never come back to Minnesota unless there was a sign of life among the ice and snow in the next five years. A summons to the coldest place Wilson had ever been in order to keep the biggest man-child, grouchy man-child at that, from being kicked out of the medical profession entirely... Wilson couldn't believe he had agreed to do it. And now he was sitting in the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport, in uncomfortable little orange chairs all bolted to one another, without change to buy coffee from the little shop a few hundred feet away.
"Why do you think I answered the way I did when Dr. Smartypants asked me the question about the new test with-"
"I won't even venture a guess," Wilson interuppted, turning a page in the nearly completed read, not even looking up. "I don't know why you do what you do. And would Dr. Smartypants be Dr. Hacoto or Dr. Reguqui?"
"Reguiqui," House stated, twisting the cane between his hands, leaving a mark on the industrial carpet with the black rubber endcap. "What a stupid name. Do you suppose it's Spanish or-"
"I don't care," Wilson replied, beginning to flip through the rest of the pages in the magazine, aggravated, "I really don't care. Don't you have a report to prepare for Cuddy?"
"What report? Just a bunch of nonsense that I completed a surgery and gave half a lecture while looking at the cleavage of a nurse in the front row? She would just get jealous."
Wilson had learned to ignore Cuddy-insults. House made too many of them and they seemed to be getting worse and less imaginative over the last few weeks. The doctor talking deragatorily about the Dean of Medicine was as normal as the snowfall in Minnesota: constant and a way of life. Instead of answering House, Wilson looked out the large wall to wall windows overlooking the runways. It didn't seem like a single airplane had taken off in at least fifteen minutes, the aircraft either in taxi or parked. Perhaps the snowstorm was really going to be as bad as they said it was going to be, "they" being the doctors who were also Minnesota locals that had warned Wilson their travel may be delayed.
Almost on cue, there was an announcement cutting through what must have been an entire six-CD collection of eighties rock ballads, saying all flights had been delayed until the storm passed. Of course, the polite speaker apologized, her voice riddled with Minnesotan accent, for the delay and that they would be broadcasting weather and travel information on all monitors and keeping passengers up to date with information as it became available. It was too good to be true: trapped with House in the airport for what was going to be most likely a delay of nearly four hours. Wilson tossed his magazine in the seat next to him, one of those that House's carry-on bag was blocking, and stood up, stretching. As he took out his cellphone, Wilson made a mental list of all the people he had to call, all the patients he was going to cancel, and see if the pretty oncologist he had met would have a room open for the night just in case the storm increased and cancelled travel in general. In Minnesota, anything could happen.
"Where are you going?"
House couldn't hide the slight concern that snuck into his voice at the last moment as Wilson walked away. He noticed his friend didn't look back to answer him.
Nndndndndndndndndndndndndndnd
"You really don't remember? I was the oncologist with the brown hair, I was with Dr. House at both his lectures. We sat right next to one another- No, you gave me this number! I just-"
Wilson gave up and put his phone back in his pocket after the woman hung up on him. If he hadn't decided to just shrug it off and forget about the lady all together, he might have just gone insane by the time the weather would have cleared up. Wilson, already standing next to one of the large windows in a relatively quiet corner, looked outside at the nearly empty runways and boarding docks. The weather report, the feature on the ten o'clock evening news, wasn't promising. Refocusing his gaze, Wilson saw House's figure limping toward him, an unmistakable figure even in the reflection of the glass. He didn't turn, only shifted his sight to the two cups of coffee House had balanced on top of one another, utilizing the spill covers that happened to stack. Remembering vaguely House had once spiked Wilson's coffee with amphetamines, the coffee was accepted hesitantly.
"She hung up on me."
"You're not a memorable person, apparently."
"Very funny, House. And by the sounds of it, there are hardly any hotel rooms open; some computer convention of some sort."
"Great. Every geek in the midwest has the honor of enjoying this frozen tundra, too."
"Let's just wait out the storm, House," Wilson said, sipping his coffee and giving a little grin.