Note – I'm bored. This is a 'deleted scene' type fic, if you will, from when House spiked Wilson's espresso with three doses of methamphetamine and Wilson went freaking NUTS. Heh. God, I love them.

Twitch

Cameron sucked in a deep breath as she pushed the door to House's office open, holding it for Foreman, and stepped inside. Her boss was holding his new cane – the ridiculous one with the flames on the bottom – like a guitar and playing a riff to some song she suspected was recorded the same year she was potty-trained.

"Addie's heart rate plummeted before we could administer the antibiotics course."

House stopped, his weight balanced on his good leg and his hand poised in mid-air. With a sigh, he grasped his cane and used it to turn his stereo off. His expression was grim when he braced the tip on the ground and did an about-face.

She licked her lips and continued. "We were wrong. It's not an infection. It wouldn't have caused a clot or her heart to stop."

Without a word – none that she'd care to repeat, at any rate – House limped into the conference room toward his white board. He stared at the list of symptoms and the mnemonic he'd written, finally crossing off the third word from the top of the list. "So we rule out infection. The antibiotic treatment isn't going to help."

"Chase is thinking-"

"If I wanted to know what Chase was thinking, I wouldn't have him going through the medical dictionary for all the infections," he cut her off brusquely. "We'll need an arteriogram to see what's throwing the clot, and where. Foreman, get the parents' consent."

The neurologist nodded and reached for the door, holding it open for a frazzled-looking Doctor Wilson, and stepped out into the hall. Cameron turned to go when she caught the wild look in the oncologist's eyes.

"Wilson? Wilson!" He jumped and stared at her, his eyes blinking rapidly. "Are – are you all right? What happened?"

"Nothing happened why would you think something happened do I look like something happened?" He stopped and continued to blink rapidly, as if he expected an answer from her.

Cameron tried not to stammer. "I, uh, it's just-"

"You're just like House sometimes you know that? And it's not a good thing – I don't need another House in my life. I can barely handle him as it is and don't turn that into a joke about homosexuality."

"I, uh, I wouldn't dream of it," she answered. The vein in her friend's forehead was throbbing, and she didn't like the light sheen of sweat on his face. "Wilson, are you-"

"Trying to analyze me," he was saying, and quite fast at that. "Just like he does. He always finds something to analyze, which is well and good for him because he's in love with puzzles and liable to die of curiosity but you Doctor Cameron, you – stop that. What are you doing?"

Cameron looked over her shoulder to find House smirking at his best friend. He shrugged and tapped his cane on the carpet. "I'm just looking at you, Wilson. You're very pretty in the evening light."

"You stop that!" he ordered, clapping a hand over his left eye. "You don't think I look pretty – you're looking at my eye!"

He spun around and faced Cameron so fast that she stumbled back and House had to lift his cane to her back to keep her from falling over. "He's looking at my eye, isn't he? It's twitching, isn't it? He thinks my eye twitches when I'm lying or when I'm evading or when I'm masturbating or God knows what else – in that twisted brain of his, you ever know. Every move's a wrong move! You sneeze and you're a Sherpa, you yawn and you're on anti-depressants, you scratch your nose with your toes and you've got a protein deficiency and your brain's on fire. Don't let him look at my eye!"

"Wilson…" She eased forward, her hands up in surrender. "I promise I won't let him look at your eye. Do you think that maybe you could sit down for a minute and let me-"

"Can't sit down, gotta go do a breast thing," he replied immediately before he suddenly shot her a mutinous look. "Now you're looking at my eye! You're trying to analyze my eye! I'm not a damn Sherpa, and I'm not masturbating and I'm not on anti-depressants!"

She'd never quite heard an impassioned explanation like that. "Wilson, I-"

"Stop analyzing me eye," he fired back, backing toward the door with his hand still covering half his face. "You and House and your eyes. On me. I have to go touch breasts and do things."

He whirled around and marched down the hall, nearly knocking Cuddy over in the process as she tried to flag him down.

Cameron gaped after him, trying to put together that frenzied, irrational conversation, and when nothing made sense she realized the one thing that always did.

House was smirking when she turned around and glared at him. "What did you do to him?"

"Oh, relax, Cameron," he chuckled, gripping his cane as he started to limp back into his office. "Wilson's a big boy. He doesn't need a mother, a doctor, or a stuffed animal, all of which describe you to a tee."

She growled under her breath and followed him into his office, standing between him and the television. House glared up at her, in the process of turning it on, and sat back in his seat.

"Is there a point to this?" He tapped his cane on the ground. "Or do you just want to stand here until we're both on the same cycle?"

Cameron's lips settled into a thin red line. "What. Is wrong. With Wilson?"

House let out a bark of laughter. "Nothing that a few anti-depressants won't fix. Oh…whoops."

Her eyes widened. "He's on anti-depressants?"

"…Anti-depressants and the finest amphetamines the pharmacy has to offer."

Her jaw dropped and Cameron reached out, leaning against the corner of his desk to steady herself. "You drugged him?"

"Oh, sure, the Vicodin-addicted doctor wants his friend to join him on the chase for the dragon," he replied with a smirk. "Addiction loves company, is that it?"

"You drugged Wilson!" Gone was the disbelief, replaced by pure indignance. "He's on anti-depressants and you gave him a stimulant like amphetamine? I don't believe you!"

"Well, then, I'm lying, as I'm known to do, and Wilson is spazzing around for no reason as he does his 'breast thing.' Excellent diagnosis, Dr. Cameron. Looks like I'll have to find another nickname for Chase, because you're the newly christened Dr. Idiot."

She crossed her arms across her chest and glared sternly down at him. "Did you see how red he was? How he was sweating? My God, his heart was probably racing. You have to give him some Vicodin or something before he strokes out."

His lips stretched into a thin smile, and House leaned on the two rear legs of his chair. "But if I give him Vicodin, that'll just be enabling."