Title: Closet of a Coma Guy
Author: tiflissa
Rating: PG
Warnings: Um…none?
Summary: I've noticed most of the bizarre things that happen around here are directly related to him. Maybe that cane of his has evil powers.

Spoilers: I think it's Distractions? You know, with the migraine meds? It's small, blink and you'll miss it, but there is a spoiler there.

Disclaimer: They are mine! All mine! is hit on the head with blunt object Wha? Of course they aren't mine. What a silly idea.

Author's Notes : Mucho thank-yous to my lovely, wonderful betas, 2tailswaggin and jdaisy. It wouldn't have been nearly as polished without you, my dears! huge hugs and cookies

A/N 2: The muse ordered me to do it. Alas, I'm unable to resist her evilness. sigh ;) It would be helpful to read the first Coma!Guy fic (You can find it in my profile. Sadly, it's the only other story there.) before embarking on this little piece of nuttiness. There's kind of a House/Cameron established relationship, but it's a bit slight.

Closet of a Coma Guy

By tiflissa

Never have I missed my sister more than yesterday. Why yesterday? It has to do with Dr. House. Again. I've noticed most of the bizarre things that happen around here are directly related to him. Maybe that cane of his has evil powers.

Dr. House did a truly cruel thing to one of his fellows. I know that isn't really a huge shocker, but paging someone to my room just so he could yell at them? Cruelty, I tell you. Okay, so maybe I have a stake in this too. But you would think his fellows would catch on by now that whenever Dr. House pages them to this room, disaster follows.

My eardrums still hurt. I can only imagine what kind of pain Dr. Foreman's ears are in.

There was so much yelling between the two of them that I couldn't make out what the argument was about. Judging from the thump-pacing House was doing, he was quite put out. I also noticed the more Dr. Foreman talked (yelled), the thumping of House's cane got louder. Soon someone's going to have to pay to repair the floor in here.

Which brings me back to why I miss Liz. She's probably one of the few people who could put House in his place. And she could do it in two seconds flat. There is no filter between her brain and her mouth, there never has been. Needless to say, she was a little hellion in high school; even in elementary school, for that matter.

Finally, when Dr. Foreman had grumped his way out of my room, House spent a few moments banging his cane on every conceivable nearby surface. It wasn't pleasant to listen to, but I can't complain much. Last time he gave me a headache, it was because he evidently lost his guinea pig and needed a fill-in. He didn't see fit to inform me of what the drug was that he injected into me, but if I ever wake up, that will be one of the first things I ask him. My next question will be, "Where can I get a large supply of it?" along with a warning to watch his back.

Anyway, House only calmed down from this latest temper tantrum when Dr. Cameron walked in.

Of course, she knocked first. She's polite like that. What's she doing with House?

I'm still trying to figure that one out.

Anyway, I heard her hesitant footsteps close in on House, followed by a brief rustling of fabric. When Dr. Cameron spoke, her voice was muffled, "rough day?"

House only grunted, but the cane stopped tapping on the floor. They were silent for a while before House finally cleared his throat. "Well, as enjoyable as this is, I have doctors to annoy."

Cameron groaned. "Who's on your list this time?"

"Grubler."

"Dare I ask why?"

"Nope."

"Good. Plausible deniability."

"On second thought, if I'm going down, you're coming with me."

"We're filling up seats on the bus to Hell, aren't we." It wasn't a question.

Snort. Good one, Dr. Cameron.

"You're an athiest. You don't believe in Hell."

"I believe you could create a very special Hell for anyone who knows you."

House step-thumped to the door, and paused, sneakers squeaking as he turned around. "That may just be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"I believe it," she retorted, heels clicking as she strode out the door.

Sometimes I really wonder about those two. Of course, this incident was not the strangest thing to happen in my room that day. That was proven just a few hours later. Once again, House was in here, and once again, Cameron joined him.

They hadn't been here very long before I heard House sit straight up in his chair. "Crap. The HMS Funbags is coming. Quick," he hissed, "in here!"

"House, wha-" was all Cameron got out before the rest of it was muffled, presumably by House's hand, and a squeak signaled the opening of the tall storage cupboard in the corner of my room.

Dear Lord. Were they doing what I thought they were doing?

"This is ridiculous, House!" she whispered at him.

I couldn't have agreed more.

"No, what's ridiculous is that harpy badgering me to wipe runny noses when I could be saving lives."

Over my acquaintance with Dr. House, I've come to the conclusion that he is full of crap.

I don't know if Dr. Cameron made any further protest, because after a few more squeaks, thumps and rustles, a click sounded, signaling the closing of the closet door.

Not a moment too soon, apparently. The next sound was that of Dr. Cuddy barreling down the hallway with a full head of steam. "House!" she shrieked. Must people abuse my ears like this? The door was flung open with such velocity that it bounced off the wall. Let me tell you; the vibrations generated from that one were incredible.

Dr. Cuddy should look into therapy.

She ranted as she entered, but stopped short at the sight of an empty room. Well, not quite empty; I was there after all, but her target had evidently escaped her. A frustrated sigh was let loose as she turned on her heel and marched out the door.

Silence – blissful silence – reigned for a few moments in the aftermath. Then I heard House say, "is she gone?" and my serenity was shattered. Like usual. Their voices may have been muffled, but they still came through loud and clear to me.

"Yes, she's gone, you big baby."

"Did you just call me a baby?"

"Yes. Would you get your elbow out of my side?"

More rustling. Then, "Cameron, your shoes are murdering my toes."

"Sorry. This isn't the most comfortable of hiding spots. Can we get out of here now? I'm starting to feel like a sardine."

"Oh, I don't know, I think I like where I am."

There was a beat of silence before Cameron yelped, "House!"

"What? It's not like anyone's going to walk in on us."

"We're at the hospital!"

"Huh. That explains all the people in white. I thought it was the psych ward."

"Moron. You should be in a psych ward."

"Tried. They kicked me out."

I can't say I blame them. If I could, I'd kick him out of my room, too.

They managed to untangle themselves and emerge from the closet, but not without a lot of maneuvering. I'd rather not go over the details. It's one of the more disturbing conversations I've heard.

I have no idea if Cuddy finally caught up with House or not, but since she runs the hospital, it's a pretty good bet she found him at some point. I'm just glad that for now I'm alone.

"House? You in here?"

Wilson. Great. Maybe I won't get any alone time today.

END

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