Disclaimer- If I can't own them, and it would appear that is the case, do you think I could possibly just own House's snark?

Cafeteria 12.03pm

House spotted Wilson in the queue, waiting to pay for his lunch. Seizing the opportunity to reduce his waiting time significantly, he half-pushed, half-stumbled his way past a line of indignant medical personnel. As he did so loudly declaring, 'Peg-leg coming through, make way for the comedy cripple,' randomly swiping calves and treading down on the backs of people's shoes with his cane as he did so. As he got to where Wilson stood, he managed to butt in and order a plate of ham and eggs, with salad on the side, and a large cup of black coffee, which he promptly plopped on his friend's tray. And then, with a hearty slap on Wilson's back, he made his way past him, and deposited himself at the nearest vacant table.

Wilson joined him, resting the tray precariously on the table, as he returned the loose change to his pocket. House began hungrily tucking into his lunch, before Wilson even had time to take the plates off the tray. House looked up at him, cheeks puffed full of food, like a squirrel storing nuts for winter, and said gleefully, 'Who said there's no such thing as a free lunch?'. Grinning he returned his full attention to the feast before him.

'Well, clearly it's not a belief you hold dear. Do you ever pay for your own food? Or are you like the Queen, never carry any money on you?'

'It'd be wrong to have a dog and bark yourself,' House mumbled, greedily shoving another forkful of lettuce into his mouth.

'And I'm the dog in this scenario, right? Which would make you what exactly?'

'I am your bestest buddy, you noticed I was having a major emotional crisis, and thought the least you could do was treat me to some chow. Which, by the way, I very much appreciate.'

Wilson, watching House devour the contents of his plate, wondered if in fact the real reason his date with Cameron in the Italian restaurant hadn't gone so well, was because House had the table manners of a pig. And Cameron was the sort of girl who could stretch the consumption of a stick of celery and slice of cucumber out over an entire weekend. The sort who would take an eternity to order her food, have the waiter customise the dish exactly to her requirements and still fiddle with it when it arrived. Eat three forkfuls of something you might feed to a rabbit, then spend the next five days beating herself up about the fact she could no longer get into her jeans without the aid of a shoe horn.

'So, this emotional crisis, finally admitting you have feelings? That's progress of a sort,' Wilson ventured as he took another bite from his tuna salad roll.

'What emotional crisis? Nah, you should know me well enough by now to know I only said that to make you feel sorry for me. Common knowledge that I'm a cold-hearted son of a btch.' House paused, staring at Wilson as he ate his lunch. 'What is it with you and tuna salad rolls anyway? Just 'cause they put dolphin-friendly on the can, doesn't mean the proceeds of each sale actually gets to the dolphins.'

Wilson smiled. 'It's Julie, she wants me to eat healthily. Lower my cholesterol, protect my heart. You've heard of one of those, right?'

'Nice. And healthy means eating the same thing every day? I bet Julie has day of the week underwear. And that she totally flips out if she can't wear the right pair on the right day. I'm bang on the money aren't I?'

Wilson put down his roll and looked at House. 'You want me to discuss my wife's underwear with you? Are you for real?'

House gave Wilson a lop-sided grin. 'Nah, that's ok, you don't have to tell me about Julie's nik-naks. I got a vivid imagination...' He gave out a long sigh and looked into the distance. 'Thank goodness I daydream in colour. I have to say, the hot pink works well on her.'

'Ok, it's worked. You have my full attention. And I'm fairly annoyed. What's going on? You're especially irritating this afternoon, and believe me, that's no mean feat. You wanna talk about it?'

'Nothing to talk about. Everything's just wonderful, my life is exactly how I'd imagined it would be. Couldn't be happier.'

'Right,' Wilson remarked. 'You are an eternal ray of sunshine, the human representation of a Care Bear. You know, the pink one with the rainbow on his belly. Only with a deeper voice and ridiculous Charlie Chaplin walk.'

'Stop, I'm blushing. You say the sweetest things.'

House paused and took a slurp of coffee. 'I talked to Cameron.'

Wilson looked up at him. 'And...?'

'And nothing. Just a date, some Audrey Hepburn, a quiet table for two afterwards, nothing more, nothing less. According to her anyway.'

'And that was all you got? No finding out if they'd made it to third base. No tips on how to improve our techniques in the Olde Englishe style? Have I taught you nothing in all the years I've known you?'

House frowned. 'Now I know why these nurses form a queue at your door. You're so restrained, so gentlemanly-like in your approach. What is it with you and your need to further your sexual knowledge by poking your nose into other people's extra-curricular activities? You go round with a torch shining it into the window of parked cars? You should go see Cuddy. What she don't know about the dirty deed, ain't worth knowing.'

Wilson looked flustered. 'My sex life is fine, at least I have one. A real one, I mean. Unlike you. Seriously, have you done it this millennium yet? Do you know women don't wear foundation garments anymore? Can you even remember what a naked woman looks like without the staples across the middle? 'Cause I have to say, if you don't get any action soon, you may find the leg is the least of your worries in the performance department. I'd seriously consider trading your big white pills for some little blue ones.'

House finished his coffee, and began finishing Wilson's salad. 'Do you have worms, House? What is it with you and food today? You need a woman in your life, someone to take care of you. Cameron would make the perfect little House-frau. Knit you lovely winter sweaters, keep the meatloaf in the oven for when you got home after a long day on your foot, tuck you in at night and read you a bedtime story.'

'I so don't need a woman in my life. Been there, done that. They start marking their territory by leaving a pink razor here, a packet of tampons there, reason enough to knock it on the head in itself. Then they wheedle their way into your kitchen, filling your fridge with nasty, low-fat health food crap. Finally, the piece de resistance, they slink into your bedroom and transform it into a mid-19th century Parisian brothel, filling it with antique lace, lavender and trinkety type things. You are looking at one very contented bachelor. '

Wilson looked at his pager, which had begun beeping. 'Gotta go. Well, finally when you come to terms with the fact that you're in denial, you know where I am. If that day ever comes, I will be more than happy to sit there and tell you what a complete as you are, and show you the wedding snaps of the former Dr. Cameron. Potentially the fourth Mrs. Wilson, if Julie keeps up the silent treatment much longer. I think Allison and I would make a cute couple, don't you?'

House glared at him. 'You still here? Go save some sick children, go fight the fight. I'm bored with you now. You know I may have to start hanging with Kevin in book-keeping. He wouldn't be this obnoxious.'

'His name's Carl, and yes he would if he spent any considerable period of time with you.' Wilson smiled, knowing his comment to House about him and Cameron had made him see red. Considered the thought that he may have to try a new approach on him, think outside the box a little more. He continued thinking about it all the way down the corridor and into Cuddy's office.