Disclaimer: Only Fox, Cuddy, and Gregory House own "House, M.D." Therefore, I am not making any money off this little expression of an underused imagination. (My pile of unfinished fics should prove that) Do me a favor, don't sue, I have no money. Reviews ARE welcome and encouraged however.
"Look, all I'm saying is, if you stayed an extra hour a week, it would be like getting a week free every month from your deal with Cuddy."
Doctor James Wilson emphasized his words with a meaningful stare as he leaned against the nurse's station for the clinic at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Crossing his arms, he waited for his friend and colleague to reply.
"True as that may be, if Cuddy gets wind I'm readily agreeing to spend more time with miserable, time-wasting liars, then she'll expect it of me; she'll just rewrite the terms." Shaking his head emphatically, Dr. Gregory House made a face of distain and shuddered slightly to emphasize his view. "No, I'll put in my four hours per week until she gets fed up with me and kicks me out of the clinic altogether; not a minute more."
Turning from the desk after signing out, House bore down on his cane and made his way through the crowded hallway full of clinic patients waiting to be seen. It was flu season, and the waiting room had been stacked two deep for most of the week. Today hadn't been any exception.
Sighing, Wilson hurried after him, shooting the charge nurse and apologetic smile, as she stood with the next chart in hand – proffered to the retreating department chair.
"House," he called, somewhat frustrated but mildly amused at the same time. His friend would have kept walking rapidly towards the elevator, pretending not to her, were it not for a young woman. At that precise moment, she came from the opposite direction, nearly crashing into him and causing him to stumble, despite the added support of his cane.
Irritated, House didn't even try to bite back the growl that escaped his lips. "It's only fifty points for the cripple in the video game version," he managed to spit out before Wilson caught up to their group again. "In real life there's no points meter…" Glancing down at this left arm, House took in the two sets of fingers that were now clenching his coat, only adding to his irritation.
"Never mind," he continued, his eyes still not seeking out the woman's face. "I'm quite sure I'm not going to come tumbling down now, so you're welcome to let go of me at any time."
House slowly drew his eyes up from his sleeve as his request went unheeded. One of his patented glares ought to do the trick, he reasoned. They could wither Popeye and the Jolly Green Giant in one fell swoop, except…
"Damnit," House swore softly under his breath as the woman's eyes faded and closed, rolling up into her head as her legs buckled beneath her. Having his good arm out of commission since it was still stuck in her two handed grasp, he could only watch as Wilson lunged to keep her from hitting the floor hard.
So much for getting out of clinic duty on time, he mused, as he called urgently over to the nurse for a gurney.
"You know," joked Wilson as he checked to make sure she was still breathing and had a pulse, "You might try honey instead of vinegar. The sick ones are especially sensitive to the difference."
House glared half-heartedly at his friend as he adjusted his stance to get off his bad leg. Sometimes, he mused, just being able to stand around all day made a man feel damned helpless.
"I distinctly recall saying 'Gurney', nurse" House's sarcasm oozed anew as the nurse arrived with a wheelchair.
"This is all there is Doctor," she replied, her eyes displaying the unspoken 'so you're just going to have to deal with it' that her tone hinted at. She remained - locking the wheelchair in place as Wilson carefully scooped the woman up from the floor. Luckily, it hadn't gotten bitter cold in New Jersey yet, so she had opted for layers and a scarf instead of a bulky coat. Even then, James was surprised at how light she was.
His eyebrows pulled together sharply though when he slid his hand out from between her body and the seat of the chair. Eyes widening slightly, his gaze met Greg's as he swiftly swung the chair around.
"Four's open," he heard his friend say gruffly, before he sent the nurse to find his interns. Things were going to get a lot more chaotic if Wilson's bloodstained hand was any indication, and they'd need all the extra hands in the clinic they could manage.
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