As it turned out, Wilson had already eaten and was making rounds with his patients, so House was on his own for lunch. He grabbed a sandwich, some chips and a soda and brought it back to his office to eat in peace, away from the crowds of worried loved ones and nosy hospital staff in the cafeteria.
He was just about finished with his meal when the smell of popcorn hit his nostrils, bringing immediate images of Cameron and her little pink tongue to mind. The way she'd eaten it at the movies was just about the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. His response was Pavlovian; the smell went straight from his nostrils to his groin. With a groan of frustration, he hefted himself out of his seat and followed the scent to the conference room, where he found Chase pulling a bag out of the microwave.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he admonished, knocking the bag of popcorn out of Chase's hands with his cane.
"Dammit House! Have you gone mad?" Chase huffed, glaring at him as he scooped the bag off the floor.
Ignoring him, House grabbed it from his hands and immediately dumped it in the trash. Fixing Chase with a stern look, he growled, "No popcorn!"
"What the hell? I'm not allowed to have popcorn now?" Chase flipped his hair out of his eyes angrily.
"I don't pay you to eat popcorn. Haven't you got work to do?"
"No. We don't have a case. I've already done my clinic hours and some of Cameron's..."
"Well then go do some of my clinic hours," House ordered, tossing his name badge without warning and smirking when it almost hit Chase in the head. "And don't stop to fix your hair on the way," he added. "I think you've reached your quota of hair care products for today."
Chase brushed past Wilson on his way out, muttering "sorry" as they nearly collided.
"Torturing your employees again?" Wilson asked as he sauntered in, his hands in his pockets. "You know, you could take a cue from Cameron and be a little nicer."
"Right, and you could stop cheating on your wives," he shot back, moving back to his desk.
"That well never goes dry, does it?" Wilson sighed.
"Nope. It's artesian," he quipped, sitting behind his desk and starting a search on his computer while Wilson sat opposite him. "Where've you been anyway? I had to buy my own lunch."
Wilson gasped in exaggerated shock. "You bought your own lunch? I'll alert the media."
"Bwahahaha," House fake laughed before going back to his search.
"So, how was your date, really?" Wilson settled back in his chair as if preparing for a good gossip session.
"Great. She had the ravioli, I had the puttanesca." Meeting Wilson's eyes briefly, he waited for the real inquisition to begin.
"Yes, because I really wanted to know about the food," Wilson sighed impatiently. "Did you pull out her chair for her? Compliment her earrings and shoes? Ask her what she wanted out of life?"
"Yes mom, I was a perfect gentleman." He turned away to hide his guilty expression, but it was too late.
"What did you do, House?"
"Hypothetically...I might have told her she only wanted me because I'm damaged. That she has a pathological need to fix people and she's chosen me as her next charity case."
Wilson groaned and rubbed his forehead. "You didn't?" he asked, but they both knew he already had the answer.
"She took it surprisingly well," House continued. "After that, her company was quite pleasant." He didn't mention the part about following her to the movie theater, nor the fact that she'd tried to get rid of him. He'd already disclosed more than he'd intended.
Wilson opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish, obviously perplexed with the last part of the story. Before he could ask anything further, House changed the subject. "You ever hear of Dr. Kyle Phillips?" he asked, waving toward the computer.
Wilson leaned forward to get a better view of the monitor, staring at the picture of Phillips without recognition. "No, what's his specialty?"
"He's an intensivist. Graduated from Hopkins in '93."
"Why so interested? You planning on hiring him?"
House fixed him with his best you're a moron look. "And replace Chase? He's got a lot more sucking up to do before I set him free. Phillips is treating Cameron's dad."
"Ahhhh," Wilson drew out, his face a picture of sudden understanding. "And you don't like it that he's young, virile, handsome, and available to your pretty immunologist right now. I mean, what distraught family member wouldn't want to be reassured by a doctor with those sensual lips and gentle, dreamy eyes?"
"You really are gay, aren't you?" House said impatiently. "I just want to make sure he's qualified to treat more than a head cold. The sooner he cures her dad, the sooner she comes back."
"Right. 'Cause you miss her. You luuurrve her," he teased, and ducked when House threw his sandwich wrapper at his head.
"I don't miss her, you moron," House insisted. "There's just an imbalance in the team without her. Ebony and Ivory have lost that lovin' feeling. And the mail is piling up. Think of all those poor potential patients out there who are missing out on Cameron's kindly worded rejections." He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, sniffed and blinked away fake tears.
Wilson shook his head at this, stood and started making his way out of the office. Turning at the door, he pointed at House and said, "You're in denial...and for the record, I am NOT GAY!" Two passing nurses gave him a funny look, and House smirked at Wilson's reddened face.
After Wilson left, House sat contemplating Dr Phillips. He'd never admit it out loud, but Wilson was right about the young, handsome, and available part. The guy looked like every woman's dream. Of course, he also looked perfectly healthy and that would be a huge turn off for Cameron. Unless of course he was mistaken about his theory that she only went for damaged men. But he was rarely ever wrong and didn't want to think about the implications if this was one of those rare occasions.
Then again, what was a Hopkins grad doing out in the middle of butt crack, USA? Maybe, House theorized, there really was something wrong with the guy. Unless--and at this he rolled his eyes--Phillips was one of those do-good docs that wanted to bring his medical expertise to the poor and medically deprived among the amber waves of grain and the fruited plains. Wouldn't someone like that appeal to Cameron, whose heart was three sizes too big as it was?
His cell phone vibrated on his desk, sliding across the glass, and he started to wonder if she had some kind of radar that made her call every time he was thinking about her.
"Spare me the details and just tell me I was right," he answered. "I'd like to get right to the basking."
"He's negative for Lyme," she responded, dejected. "Any other ideas?"
The desperate sound in her voice melted another chunk of ice around his heart. Pulling out the crumpled page of symptoms in his pocket, he asked, "What's his history?"
"There's nothing that fits. No history of cancer, heart disease, diabetes...He has high blood pressure, but otherwise he's always been healthy."
He heard papers shuffling around and then she said, "He had a check up just three months ago, got a flu shot and a clean bill of health."
And there it was, the epiphany that would eventually come with every complex case presented to him. "Get an LP and check his protein levels," he ordered, "and call me back when you've got the results."
A/N: Some of the dialogue between House and Wilson in this chapter was paraphrased directly from the episode Love Hurts. It's just a couple of lines, but if you recognize it, that's probably why. All due credit to the writers of that episode.
