Master of Games by Needlessnoodles
Words: 230
Summary: Gregory House is anything but stupid. He's the master of games at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. It's no wonder he knows eveything. Wilson/Buffy
Disclaimer: I do not own either Buffy nor House.
A/N: A little one shot that's been lying around for almost two years now. Short, plain. Don't know id there will ever bee more. And it was either Buffy or Faith, and personally I found Buffy peaking House's interest more than Faith. But then, maybe later on I'll be inspired to write a bit about that encounter...
Wilson entered the elevator with House right beside him. "I've been dating someone on the side," he announced without prompt. House only grunted, leaning heavily on his good leg. Wilson paused, confused at his best friends lack of response. "That's it? You're not going to at least ask who it is; guess at how long; anything?"
Looking sideways at his friend, House only grunted again. The elevator came to a stop and both men stepped off. Before heading for his office Wilson stopped and turned to his friend. "Are you sure you're alright?" He asked, eyes squinted with confusion.
"Never said that I was," quipped House over his shoulder.
Frustrated at his friend's lack of reaction Wilson daringly called out, "her name's Buffy." He waited for a response and only got a half-hearted wave. He watched House walk around the corner - cane and limp rapping out a distinct pattern that belied the depressed air around the man - before shaking his head and unlocking his office door.
House gulped down a full mug of coffee, then sipped on another before turning to his fellows. "Oh, God!" He exclaimed in faux shock. "What happened to you?"
Taub gritted his teeth and winced as the motion pulled at the tender flesh around his black eye. "Adolescent female;"
Foreman had thus far been quiet. He sat at the end of the table (or conference desk all depending on whom you asked and what mood they were in) with one leg crossed over the other. He snorted at Taub's suggestion, placing his white coffe mug on the table before him as he continued to fill out paper-work. "Really?"
Taub questioned House with an inquiring look.
"Well, how about a 25 year old woman with a Jesus complex. . ."
The End.