A/N: For a standard disclaimer see my profile. Thank you very much for all your reviews, I hope you'll like this chapter as well. : Chapter Three should be up tomorrow.
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"General Hospital" was over and House switched to Wednesday's Monster Truck Rally in Seattle. TiVo really is a brilliant invention...
Half an hour later he begun to doze of, so reluctantly he started to get up, waking Wilson, who was sleeping curled up on his knees, in the process.
"Hey, don't give me that look, I'm not spending the whole night here."
The cat looked at him reproachfully. "Yeah, right, you'll be all cozy and comfortable and I won't be able to move my right leg in the morning. I'm going to bed."
House stood up and yawned. Wilson stretched, bending his back in a way that should be anatomically impossible and followed him.
"And where do you think you're going?"
The cat tilted his head and looked in the direction of House's bedroom.
"Oh no, you don't. Rule number one - you don't get to sleep in my bed, unless you're a long-legged twenty year old with no inhibitions."
"Meow?"
"Besides, if anyone found out I let a cat sleep on my pillow, my reputation would be ruined. Someone might think I'm nice and have a good heart. And then what?"
"Meow?"
"Cameron would fall in love with me all over again."
"Meow?"
"No way, do you have any idea how hard it was to get rid of her the first time? And Wilson..."
"Mui!"
"...would say I'm turning into an old lady and would by me an embroidery hoop for my next birthday."
The cat rubbed against his legs and looked up at him pleadingly. House almost smiled, but he caught himself in time. What was that little pest doing to him?
"Okay, fine. Just this once!" he pointed out in a grim voice. It didn't impress purring Wilson one bit. House expected he would have to prepare a new list of arguments for the next night.
oooooooooooo
House blindly reached for the clock on his nightstand and switched off the alarm. For a moment he lay buried under the covers, waiting for his brain to wake up. And for his right leg to start demanding it's morning dose of Vicodin.
Few minutes later his mind no longer resembled a ball of cotton wool, but the leg was acting surprisingly tame. Which, given the fact that he had spent the last week overexerting it without mercy, shouldn't be possible. After almost six days (and nights) of that kind of treatment, he was expecting cramps, the pulsating pain of strained tendons and the feeling that someone poured gasoline on his thigh and set it on fire. Instead he felt only mild discomfort and pleasant warmth.
"What the hell?.." muttered House and opened his eyes.
On top of his blankets, nestled next to his right thigh, lay Wilson, curled in a little furry ball. For a moment House stared at the cat with disbelief, then he sat up and scratched his ears. The cat woke up and blinked his sleep-dazed eyes slowly.
House shook his head. "Know what? Maybe there's some use for you, Wilson."
"Mui!"
Wilson nuzzled against his hand and started purring.
oooooooooooo
House got out of bed, went to the bathroom (Wilson sat on the edge of the sink and watched with interest as House brushed his teeth) and then made himself a cup of wonderfully aromatic coffee, and shared the rest of the tuna salad with Wilson. He was planning on spending the rest of his well earned free day lounging about in his pajamas and channel-surfing, but it seemed he would have to go out after all. He had nothing against ordering pizza, but he didn't think pepperoni and olives would be good for the cat.
The noon passed and Wilson, sprawled on a couch next to him, started throwing fitful glances in the direction of the kitchen.
House let out a heavy sigh. "If not for the fact that the cat-compress is apparently good for me, you'd be getting leftover pizza. And maybe some mustard" he said, getting up.
"Mrau."
"You're welcome. I was going to go get some beer anyway. And don't expect me to fawn over you all the time. Cats are supposed to be independent and self-reliant" he added over his shoulder as he entered the bedroom.
Before he managed to get dressed (Wilson was sitting on the floor next to his bed and playing with the shoe-laces of his Converse sneakers) the phone in the living room rang. The cat stooped playing and looked at House.
"No way, I'm not picking up."
"Meow!"
"No, I'm sure it's nothing important. Either Wilson..."
"Mui!"
"...woke up in his hotel bed with somebody else's wife and he's panicking..." The cat glared at him. "...or Cuddy wants me to come to the hospital and save some idiot's life."
"Meow!"
"Wilson..."
"Mui!"
"...can take care of himself, he's got experience after all. And somebody else can save the idiot. It's a hospital after all, plenty of doctors wandering around."
The machine beeped three times and Cuddy's voice came from the living room. "House, pick up!"
"No way" muttered House, digging in his drawer in search of clean socks.
"House, I know you're there!"
"And?"
"We need you at the hospital. We've got a patient..."
"Incredible! A patient? In a hospital?!"
"...nausea, hallucinations, muscle tremors, problems with his sight and hearing, rash..."
"He ate some shrooms or some other crap!"
"...perfectly clean tox report."
House stopped tying his shoe-laces and looked up at the phone.
"House?"
A small smile appeared on his face. House stared at the phone and waited. He knew Cuddy and Cuddy knew him - he knew what his boss would say in a moment. He didn't have to wait long.
"I'll give you a week off clinic duty" sighed Cuddy.
A little longer...
"Two weeks! And don't push your luck, you won't get more!"
Bingo!
House went to the living room and picked up the phone. "I'll be there in half an hour" he said and hung up.
"Meow!"
House stopped mentally pursuing the list of possible diagnoses for his new case and looked at Wilson, sitting in the bedroom door, with surprise. He forgot about the cat!
"Hm. Now what?"
"Meow?"
"No way, I have no food and no litter box. You'd pee on my shoes or something."
"Meow!"
"I can't say I believe you. Besides, the way this apartment looks right now, if I left you here alone, you'd probably chew through some cords and I'd find a fried cat under my armchair."
House rubbed his eyes and came to a decision. He picked up his backpack and nodded towards the cat. "Hop in. Looks like we're going for a ride."
oooooooooooo
After arriving at the hospital, House quickly made his way to his office. Luckily the Ducklings were not in the conference room. House locked the door, closed the blinds and let slightly shaken up Wilson out of the backpack. The cat apparently didn't enjoy crazy motorcycle rides much.
"Okay, new rules" said House, sitting on the recliner and giving the cat a solemn look. "First, you do not leave this room. Second, no noise. Third, if you scratch my chair, eat the plants or pee on the carpet, you're getting mustard for dinner."
"Meow."
"Glad we understand each other. Here" said House, placing a bowl under his desk and filling it with cat food he bought on his way to the hospital. "I'll be back in few hours, behave."
oooooooooooo
Five hours later tired House got out of the elevator on the third floor. Diagnosing the patient went rather smoothly and now his Ducklings were busy with administering the right meds and monitoring him. I'm getting the cat and going home... thought House, slowly walking towards Diagnostics.
The door to his office was open.
House almost ran inside and quickly looked around the room. No cats in sight.
"Great" he muttered to himself and carefully knelt down, peering under the desk.
"House, the meds are working, the patient... What are you doing?" said Foreman, who just then appeared in the door.
"Looking for Wilson" growled House from under the desk.
"Under your desk?"
Cameron stood behind Foreman and looked with confusion at her boss, who was currently moving the bookshelf and looking behind it.
"What are you looking for?"
House grumbled something unintelligible and leaned down to look under the recliner.
"Wilson" slightly worried Foreman answered her question.
"In your office? Under the recliner?"
"I hoped" replied House, straightening back up. "But some moron left the door open and Wilson apparently did a bunk."
Foreman and Cameron traded confused glances.
"House, Wilson is in New York, at a conference" said Cameron gently.
"Not that Wilson!"
"There's two of them?"
"Yes! One is probably hitting on some cute oncologist at a hotel bar in Manhattan. The other one is wandering around the hospital, because someone was snooping around my office and let him out!"
"I wasn't snooping, I brought you your mail!" huffed Cameron. "And there's no second Wilson, are you crazy?"
House ignored her and started towards the door.
"Where are you going?" asked Foreman.
"Where do you think? To find Wilson, before someone locks him in the morgue or finds him and throws him out the door!"
Foreman and Cameron looked at each other helplessly and followed after him.
"Wilson!"
"House, are you feeling all right?"
"Shut up, I won't be able to hear him. Wilson!"
"House..."
"Wilson!" bellowed House. The nurse who was passing by jumped nervously.
House stopped suddenly in the middle of the hallway and Foreman, who was running after him, almost bumped into him.
"Did you hear that?" asked House.
"Hear what?"
"That squeaking. There" said House, pointing in the direction of Oncology.
"Squeaking?"
"Wilson!"
Muffled Mui! came from behind the office door. Cameron raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to say something, but House pushed between her and Foreman, walking back towards his own office. Two doctors followed him and watched with worry as their apparently insane boss walked out on a rain-soaked balcony, jumped over the low wall and entered his best friend's office.
"House, Wilson's in New York, he's not..."
"There you are!" came from the office. Cameron and Foreman looked inside and froze. House, the terror of Princeton, was holding a small, brown cat in his arms and patting it's head.
"What did I say about leaving my office?"
"Meow."
"Yeah, right. I can see how sorry you are. And how did you get in here?"
"Meow."
"You have a cat?" Foreman finally stuttered out. Cameron stared at House with her mouth hanging open.
"Meow!" said the cat.
"You do realize it's just coincidental similarity of names, right?" House asked the cat.
"Meow."
"The couch in my living room is yours, this office belongs to that other Wilson."
"Mui!"
"Your... your cat's name is Wilson?!"
"Mui!"
House pushed his way between his two employees and went back on the balcony, completely ignoring their stunned expressions.
"No tuna for you" he said categorically. "And no more trips to work. Bad Wilson."
"Mui!"
House put the cat in his backpack and left, leaving two completely bewildered doctors behind.
oooooooooooo
tbc.