Title: The Circle Of Compensation
Rating: T
Summary: Who's bright idea was it to give House sticky notes? His team will suffer like never before. Then again things to tend to come around full circle . . . Around and around they go!
Disclaimer: I don't own House.
IIIII
Whatever was so funny Wilson wasn't in on the joke. His patients were looking at him oddly everytime he turned back around to speak to them. Everytime he walked down the hall he could hear whispered snickers. Obviously, whatever it was, he was not supposed to know.
That meant House had something to do with it.
He had a break between patients so he went to visit House and get out of him what rumor he had started. Although when he went into the office he only found Cameron looking over an x-ray.
"Oh, hi Wilson," She said pleasantly.
He smiled back and asked, "Where is House?"
"Hiding from Cuddy and some other people who aren't happy with him," Cameron answered sounding perturbed herself. "Is there something wrong? Do you need a consult?"
"No. It's just that . . . do you know why everyone is staring at me? I'm suspecting House has something to do with it but only God knows why I would suspect such an angel of spreading gossip."
"Turn around," Cameron more-or-less ordered and Wilson did as suggested. She than tapped his shoulder for a signal to turn around and received a sticky note stuck to his forehead.
After taking the note off, Wilson read it out loud. "'Don't touch. House's bitch.'"
"Sounds like he's marking his territory," Cameron said openly chuckling.
"No wonder everyone was looking at me weird," Wilson said. "And who's bright idea was it to give him sticky notes?
Cameron shrugged. "Don't worry though. Everyone has been finding them all over the place."
"Did you get one?" When she nodded he asked, "What did it say? If you don't mind. I'm sure it wasn't exactly appealing."
Cameron began to turn a light tint of red. "'Watch out guys - she's a screamer.' Chase got one too. 'Will call out the wrong name during sex.'"
Wilson gave a mile-long sigh although he was trying to hide his smile. "Has anyone gotten him back?"
"I refuse to sink to that childish level."
"In other words you haven't thought of anything."
"As of yet." The immunologist had a sly grin on her face.
Foreman came in with such irritation that it took not five seconds to figure out he had been expecting to see - and yell - at House.
"Where is House?" He asked stilling holding the sticky note in his hand.
"Hiding from Cuddy, me, and Cameron I presume," Wilson answered. "And from the looks of it you're not happy with him either."
"What does your sticky say?" She asked curiously.
Foreman handed it over to her although seeming reluctant. "'He's like an Oreo - he's white on the inside. His rapping name is Saltine Cracker'," She read.
"Now our patient keeps looking at me weird," Foreman said.
"He'll run out of sticky's soon enough," said Cameron. Then again that was only wishful thinking coming from an optimist.
They heard the office door open and it was their prey. He put his cane in the door and then withdrew it when he saw everyone's faces . . . as though they would grab his walking stick and use it as a deadly weapon.
He was mostly right. They would not kill him . . . more like maim severely.
"Oh silly me. This isn't the little boys bathroom! Cameron and Wilson are in here!" House then began to limp away as fast as he could. He could hear them stomping their way behind him. He shouted over his shoulder, "If any one of you care about my feelings you would all be hopping on one leg to make this fair!"
Of course they caught up to him but he had an escape plan. House ignored their questions and when the elevator he was standing by began to close he went for the kill. He went into the elevator and all they could see before it closed shut was him waving goodbye.
"I'm not going to chase him," Foreman said to the other two as they started walking back from whence they came. "It's better to stay away from him anyway. That way we know for sure we won't get noted again."
"You don't think you should get him back?" Cameron questioned. She could always use an extra person in a scheme for revenge.
"I'd like to but I'd rather not feed his addiction for conflict."
"This isn't conflict. It's just a game," Wilson corrected. "He's probably bored with your case. Boredom brings out the worst in people."
"And here I thought he couldn't get worse."
"Where's Chase?" Cameron asked openly.
"Isn't he doing Clinic?" Foreman answered with a question.
IIIII
Chase wasn't sure what was making everyone hug-happy. Maybe someone brought in laughing gas and it sprung a leak thus making the love fest. Every patient he had seen had given him a hug and he was sure it wasn't just human beings being kind to eachother. Especially creepy was an old man who's hands wondered below the belt so he had to break it off.
Chase looked at the lock - ten to two. Ten more minutes until sweet freedom and his clinic hours fade into bad memories. It sucked loosing bets . . .
When he called for his next patient, a little girl and her mother, the child tugged on his sleeve.
"Exam room two, okay?" Chase said sweetly pointing to the room.
She extended out her arm holding a yellow note. "For you."
Chase, out of pure curiosity, took and read the note. Before he could say anything or even be angry the mother said, "There was this man with a cane who asked her to put that on you. You, um, might want to take off your coat, doctor . . ."
He took it off and grinded his teeth to keep himself from saying something he'd regret in front of certain company.
IIIII
"'My adorable hair is actually a wig, give it a really hard tug.'"
"'I prefer my girls young. Really, really young.'"
"'If you see me near children call 'To Catch A Predator.'"
"The man is mad!" Chase exclaimed hoping to interrupt his co-workers and Wilson. He didn't want to hear any more of the embarrassing notes.
"'If you are on meth - Call me!' Oh geez . . ." Foreman held back a grin under the glares of Cameron and Chase. "What? They're funny!"
"Shutup, whitey-on-the-inside," Cameron countered.
"I can't believe not one of the patients in the Clinic had the decency to tell me or say no!"
"That's because I gave them a dollar not to," House spoke up. He limped over to his chair and sat down pretending he didn't get the feeling they were trying to give him a painful disease through their angry stares.
"Why would you even do that? All they-" Chase motioned to the rest of the group "-got were one note each!"
"Just because Daddy pick on you more than them doesn't mean you should flaunt it in front of the other children. They might feel left out."
"Just give it up," Foreman said to everyone. "Can't we call it a truce and focus on our jobs?"
"Boring," House said twirling back-and-forth in his chair. "He has a benign, but growing, tumor on his brain. Operate and take the bugger out. Either he'll die or survive with minimal brain damage."
"I already scheduled him for surgery," said Chase.
House looked at Foreman expectantly. The neurologist shook his head admitting defeat. "Alright but if you're going to play games leave me on the sidelines."
"Don't you all have something to do?" House sounded irked.
Of course that was all too true so they all scrambled. Although they made sure nobody touched their backs out of paranoia.
IIIII
Cameron decided that Wilson would be the best partner for the project. She grabbed two rolls of masking tape from a nurse's desk and stuck it into her pockets before making her way down to oncology.
Wilson was saying goodbye to his patient when Cameron knocked on his door. When the teenager and his parents left she made her way into his office sitting down in a chair in front of the desk.
"Did you need something?"
"I figured out what to do. Now House wants sticky? Let's show him really sticky. So after he leaves . . ."
IIIII
House thought it would be another day of boring patients, filled with his minions complaining about everything he said and did. Ethics, ethics, ethics. He knew that he wouldn't be able to prank anyone with sticky notes since they would expect it. That was the real loss.
Besides Cuddy told all the nurses to never lend him another sticky. Ever. She had found the note he laid sticky side up on her chair in her office. Thing was Cuddy didn't notice until she had outside help.
'Give me a quarter and I'll show you my back door. Fifty cents gets you in the club.'
Apparently she had gotten a request. Poor guy got chewed out for having hormones.
House went into the conference room and started the coffee. He didn't notice the little smiles on his lackey's faces. He was going to sit down when he looked at his office.
"What . . . the . . . hell?"
House limped slowly over to look at the office more closely. There was long pieces of masking tape hanging from the ceiling and to add insult to injury the pranksters cruelly taped his favorite toy, his ball, to the ceiling. There was no getting that down without help; he had the feeling he wouldn't be getting any if all of his ducklings decided to step over to the dark side not just for cookies. Not to mention simply moving around in his office would be difficult. Whomever did it decided to pull out long pieces of tape, stretching them from one side to the other side so you couldn't move without getting stuck.
"Someone sure did a number in there," Foreman couldn't help but feel a little happy someone had pranked House.
"I don't think they wrote anything, but to me atleast, I think the message is clear," Cameron said smiling.
"I'm rubbing off on you too much," concluded House. He turned to his workers asking, "Now who wants to clean it up?"
"I say whoever made the mess," Chase suggested clearly nodding to Cameron as the culprit.
"Alright. The golden snitch it is," House said. Before Chase could object he clarified, "Remember. Snitches end up in ditches, homie. Or in this case stuck in your boss's office. Literally."
"I'll help," Cameron offered. She felt somewhat guilty since she had made the mess along with Wilson.
House patted her shoulder. "Good job," was all he said before making his way to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"You can't make me clean that up!"
House waved his cane at him but not because he was trying to threaten. "Now how is a cripple supposed to do that? I can pull that card out you know and make you look like a jerk for trying to make me do it. Pity tends to cloud people's minds when they really don't know the person."
"You . . . I just . . . You're an ass you know that?"
"Would I be even more of an ass if I say I'll enjoy your screams of anguish as you inevitably get stuck into a giant ball of tape?"
IIIII
"Ow! Ow!" Chase hissed as Cameron tugged out the pieces of masking tape from his hair.
"Sorry about you getting the job of clean up," She apologized.
"Don't worry. Any tape left over I used to tape his cabinets shut and his extra Vicodin bottle on the ceiling. Almost broke my damn neck trying to balance on his desk . . . OW!"
IIIII
House sat in his chair looking up at his Vicodin bottle and ball that he was still trying to figure out on how to retrieve. On the bright side he finally taught them to be sneaky little jerks. Then again he hadn't intended for them to be sneaky little jerks to him.
Wilson came into the office with his lunch and looked up to the taped objects. "Payback sucks, huh?"
"Never teach your minions new tricks because someday they'll mutiny your ass."
"You probably haven't learned your lesson have you?"
"Yeah. I have," House said. "I've learned that the 'bro's before ho's' theory doesn't apply between Dr. James Wilson and Dr. Gregory House."
"What makes you think-"
"Cameron needed help reaching the ceiling. Your shoulders seem the perfect place to stand on since my desk is too short."
"Still that doesn't prove-"
"Chase wouldn't do it because he's a pansy. Foreman wouldn't stoop to my level, allegedly," House explained. "And you've always been a sucker for a pretty girl in need."
"Atleast you aren't mad," Wilson said.
"Why would I be mad?" House asked. "Just take a seat and stare up at the ceiling until gravity strikes again."
Wilson made sure there was nothing on his seat than sat down. "How are you going to get them down?"
"Call my magic carpet and fly around the room singing Disney songs while popping Vicodin. Works all of the time!"
"Sounds like you've popped more than Vicodin if that happens."
"Climb on my desk and get em' for me. Least you can do since you conspired with the enemy!"
Wilson hesitated for a moment but tried to get out of his seat. Tried being the key word. "What did you do?"
House only smirked.
Wilson tried to pry himself out of the seat but it was hard to maneuver on account of his coat being stuck to the back of the chair as well. Wilson slid out of his doctors coat, very glad that he personally didn't sit on the chair. That was because it would be awkward walking out of the office hunched over as though the chair was a massive tumor.
"The great thing about glue sticks is that you can't see it if you pick out the chunks," House said while still smirking. "Payback sucks, huh?"
IIIII
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