Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, nor does the dialogue. I'm just having fun with them. So please don't sue, if you do own them. You make more money than you'd get from me if you did.

Author's Note: This is from Damned If You Do. The inner thoughts of Wilson. Just so it's (hopefully) less confusing,dialgoue in italics and contained inthese: >is House dialogue. Any dialogue in italics and contained in these, is Cuddy dialogue.

A notation is made in a patient file as the cheeful tune of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer fills the air. With a flick of the wrist, the folder closes and is methodically dropped onto the top of a pile. I wonder if it's possible that the case files managed to multiply while my back was turned.

These deeply meaningful and philosophical thoughts are interrupted as a yellow piece of paper flies at my head. I lift my eyes, meeting the gaze of a dangerously bored House.

"We are condemned to useless labor.">

Encouraging him would be bad. But after multiple eternities of filing, Housean logic starts to sound downright sane.

"Fourth circle of Hell. - "

Dante's fairly non-commital, right?

"Charting goes a lot faster when you eliminate all classic poetry."

And when you actually work on it. I probably should have nodded and turned back to my work while I still had a chance.

"Writing down what we already know, to be read by nobody. I'm sure Dante would agree that qualifies as useless.>

He's probably comepletely wrong, but he has this annoying habit of making sense.

"You're over two weeks behind on your charting."

At least. I've lost count. I shoot him an annoyed look. I try to, anyway. I can never tell if my face reflects annoyance or mirth with him. After so many years, he can read me like an amused book.

I settle for a, 'Wait 'til Cuddy gets you,' look that I know he understands. I may have lost count of his hours, but I'm sure she hasn't. And speak of the low cut blouse. Administrators ahoy.

House takes aim and sends another paper missile through the air. It flies, narrowly missing the exasperated, and only slightly amused, woman.

"Oops. I missed.">

I try not to smile but to no avail. I'm pretty sure it's just impossible for me to control. Instead, I turn my head, grinning at my folders.

"What are you, eight?"

Yes. At heart.

"Could an eight year old do this?">

He crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue, causing Cuddy to put on her exasperated face.

I rest my case.

He may be a medical genius but he's also the man who gave me the cold shoulder for an entire week when I beat him at Donkey Kong. There was a rematch... He won.

"You better stop or it'll stick that way. "

Something tells me that he's tempted to test that theory. I can just picture it now, me sitting at my desk doing paperwork, or in the clinic treating a patient, and him, constantly popping in and asking, "Has it frozen yet?"

"You have a patient in exam one!"

She gives him a look that almost makes me want to duck and cover.

"Yeah, but see, I'm off at twelve and it's already five off.">

Oh yeah, because that's convincing. Does anybody really see this ending with her saying okay and ushering him out of the hospital with some mistletoe and a "Merry Christmas"?

"She's been waiting for you since eleven."

That would be a "no". She saunters off in that way that only administrators can and I peek up from my folders to make sure she's gone, before allowing myself a full force grin.

"Melancholy without hope. Which circle is that?">

I would tell him it's the eigth, just to see that look that only House can do, but I bite my tongue. I'll have to re-read Dante now.