Disclaimer: If I owned House, Wilson + everyone else, I would be hanging out with them and not sitting here with a slurpee watching Daily Planet as I wait to go to work in 45 minutes.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm a sucker for reviews and 32 for 2 chapters is like winning the lottery, so thank YOU for reading :D This one might not be as funny, but as I write this fic, I started thinking of the real things each other would experience. First up, Wilson's Adventure.

Bad Burritos - Chapter 2 (Wilson)

Okay this was bad, this was very bad. He had to pretend to be House in front of Cuddy? Very bad indeed. House transformed into almost another being when he was around Cuddy. One wrong move and she would have him admited to the psych ward. The cane Wilson was just getting used to smacked into a wall and he almost tripped and went flying into a nurse pushing a patient in a wheelchair. He let out a 'yelp' but then regained his balance and the nurse hardly even gave him a glance.

Oh but of course he would love to just go falling House all over the place. Maybe burst his ego a little bit when he got his body back. If he got his body back.

Wilson made it to the elevator in one piece and pressed the appropriate button. That's right Jimmy, take it one step at a time. Act casual. What does House do when he waits for an elevator? Well he's usually running from Cuddy, so he'd be hiding behind a plant right now..

"Dr. House, I think you might like to see this," Cameron came running up and Wilson's chest tightened in a matter of seconds, Not Cameron, noo. He cleared his throat and tried to pick an insult off the conveyer belt that was racing by in his mind. They were all lame. He gave her a quick sideways glance and tried his best to ignore her. She was holding an envelope.

Cameron took that as an invitation to elaborate on what mysterious thing she had to say.

"Turns out he doesn't have that heart condition after all. Although his condition is still related to his last surgery - they left a sponge next to his heart!" Cameron thrust the envelope towards Wilson, and his first thought was: Oh God, it better not have been our hospital.

"Not here, right?" He barked out frantically and immediately pulled back. House would never have been that scared. He swallowed.

Cameron hesitated for a second but answered, "No, Columbus."

"Well what are you waiting for, prep him for surgery." Well he had tried to sound sarcastic and mean, but it hadn't come out as dry as he had hoped. He was relieved when she nodded briefly, took the envelope back and walked away. Wilson let out a deep breath he had been holding in a big whoosh and stepped onto the elevator once the doors slid open. A man with an IV pole was standing there staring straight ahead.

"Nice day," Wilson remarked and then immediately felt uncomfortable as the doors slid shut.

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Nice boobs, Cuddy. No wait, House said funbags once didn't he? Funbags. Cleavage, spike heels, tampons, the way her face looked like a chipmunk when she was mad.. Was he forgetting anything? Vicodin, pop a vicodin. Open the container with the thumb, rest in palm, slam back..

Wilson rolled his eyes at all of this studying as he limped down the hallway towards Cuddy's office. Why was he even trying this hard to keep House in character, he knew for a fact that House was probably downstairs in the clinic tripping patients and playing bedpan bowling in the waiting room. He was just too goddamn nice.

Aha, maybe that was the problem. Think like House, be House. So what am I? I have a cane, one friend, no relationships, an addiction, and I'm probably depressed and definitely bitter. Come on Jimmy, just pretend you were talking to Julie. Let them roll off your tongue.

Wilson reached the door and opened it a crack, sticking his head inside.

"You rang?"

"Sit," Cuddy pointed towards the chair in front of her desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper. Wilson made his way in and sat down where she had ordered, not saying a word.

"What am I going to do with you.." she muttered under her breath and she set aside the papers she was working on. She looked up and him and crossed her arms.

...funbags.. cleavage.. tampons..

"You could pick me up for our date around seven," Wilson answered back but then kicked himself. Coming on to Cuddy had not been in the notes.

"House this is serious, you wouldn't let Mr. and Mrs. Bradley in their daughter's room. They're threatening to sue and pull a restraining order on you - again," Cuddy sighed. Wilson sighed too. He hadn't know about this before, but he knew that House was always up to all kinds of things. Problem was, he couldn't even defend House in any way because he didn't know what reasons he had for keeping the parents out of the room.

"I had my reasons," Wilson answered back trying to avoid the whole thing.

"Why, House, what possible reasons could you have. Their daughter is dying and you're denying them their child!" She paused after the exclaimation, then shook her head and grabbed some more papers. "I'm taking you off the case."

House would have outraged. Would have stood up, vein throbbing in his forehead, and started spitting down to Cuddy. Wilson wasn't exactly that type of guy. He stood up and started for the door instead.

"Fine, but don't blame me when she dies," he told her in the most hateful way he could manage. Of course Wilson had no idea why House had done what he had done, but he figured that statement was pretty safe and 'House like'. He was about to exit the office when Cuddy called out to him again. He turned.

"Why is your cane on the other side?"

Wilson looked down at the cane in his left hand. That was right, House walked with it in the right hand, but for him, the left hand felt more comfortable. Wilson's mind surfed for a good answer that would explain everything.

"Just trying something new today."

-----

It almost felt wrong to him lying to Cuddy like that; he didn't have anything against her personally, but he figured it was probably for the best. Greg House needed the help with her. Maybe he could get House a few bonus points to work with before everything went back to normal.

Wilson stood outside Cuddy's office, going over the short 'cane' discussion in his head. He switched the cane to his right hand and attempted to walk a few steps, hoping nobody was watching him. He stopped again and switched it back to his left hand.

"House is crazy," he said to himself, really hoping nobody was around, and walked towards the elevators again.

-----

The elevator doors opened to the clinic. Wilson really didn't think House would be down here but sure enough, he spotted 'himself' leaning over the nurse's admitting counter, chatting up a blonde beauty - Cheryl. Yes he knew her name. House saw him coming out of the elevator and waved with a grin. Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Down in the clinic - Dr. Wilson - aren't you supposed to be working.. or something?" Wilson raised his eyebrow and asked House.

"Didn't think I'd run into you here.. But ohh darnit that's right, you have clinic duty in fifteen minutes," House stood up straight and fiddled around with a small piece of paper. Wilson's brow furrowed.

"So what's on that paper there?" he asked. House started walking away from the desk, flipping the paper around his fingers like he used to do with his cane. He knew it was Cheryl's phone number, just by the way he was flashing it around. Like Wilson couldn't get the number but House could. He was wrong of course, Cheryl and him had already done lunch.

"You're married, remember?" Wilson almost laughed at the thought of House having to live with Julie. That was right, now he got a nice holiday and a sweet bachelor bad.

House stopped in mid step and he stared.

"No way," he said in shock. He didn't like anyone, much less Julie.

"Way. Oh, and you better make it home earlier tonight. You did something to make her upset this morning and I don't think she's going to be too happy if you're late, and without flowers and candy," Wilson slapped House on the back and made his way off to go start House's clinic hours.

House stood there with his mouth open, paper now crumpled in his hand.

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