A/N the "How" and the "why" wil be answered in the next chapter. Written based off a comment that a friend made over a round of beerpong that House would be the world's greatest beerpong partner if only for the amount of trash he'd talk. (that, and that he can drink like a tank.) Thus, the birth of this. Not intended to be at all serious, but I will make every effort to keep them in character, please let me know if I stray.

"Why am I here?" It was easily the sixth time he'd asked the question, and the sixth time he received a shrug in response.

"Because you're my bestest friend in the whole wide world?" The effect of sarcasm was slightly stunted by the fact that the words were partially slurred. "Hit this." He found a brown-wrapped blunt being waved in his face, and he sighed.

"House-" He attempted to wave away the smoldering item, but House was all but shoving it between his lips.

"You're an oncologist, you should know the benefits of medical marijuana."

"It doesn't mean that I have to smoke it."

"Shut up and hit the goddamn blunt man!" House smirked at Wilson as someone else echoed his opinion.

"See, I'm not the only one that thinks you should hit this." Wilson rolled his eyes, and took a cautious puff, before taking a bigger one under House's glare.

"Happy now?" He asked as he passed it to whoever was on his right.

"Quite."

"The question should be not why am I here, but why I am your friend." Wilson asked, as he looked around at the other people there.

"If you don't like me, go find your future fourth wife." Wilson scoffed.

"I don't even think most of these girls are legal-"

"They're in college, they should be over eighteen. Why do you think I taught you how to play, rather than take that rad tech who actually knew the game? So that I wouldn't be the creepy old man at a college party." One of the boys there-Wilson had figured out he was one of the owners of the home he was current at-tugged at House's sleeve, and Wilson did not like the smirk on House's face. Nor did he like the familiar rattle of pills, or the exchange that went on in front of him.

"Did you just sell someone your pills?"

"I've got more." He said, popping one himself.

"You know people go to jail for that."

"Have another beer, and lighten up, man." It was a little bit more exaggerated than it should have been, and Wilson sighed, taking a large gulp out of the red cup in his hand, wondering how he had allowed himself to be dragged into this. No, scratch that, he knew exactly how he had allowed himself to be dragged into this. It was House. He had convinced himself that he was doing this to make sure that House didn't do anything stupid. But at the moment, he was on his way to doing something stupid himself. Like allowing himself to play some stupid college drinking game, because House had asked him to.

"Hey, doc! You're up." The boy who had just bought some of House's Vicodin from his friend was gesturing to the other room, and the table set up inside.

"You heard the man, Wilson, we're up. Time to shine." Wilson groaned as he was given a forceful shove in the direction of the table, repeating for the seventh time the one thing that had been running through his mind for the past half-hour.

"Why am I here?"