A/N: Here's more. I hope it's working for you. And Happy New Year!

Chapter 6

Dr. House studied the MRI results in Exam Room One as Cuddy stood next to him observing. Across the room, Wilson sat quietly on the exam table wearing a pair of scrubs. Since his clothes had been torn and stained with blood, he had asked Cuddy to discard them. What he really wanted to do was to take a shower but decided to wait until he was in House's apartment.

"No evidence of a contusion or hematoma," House said smiling. He looked at his latest patient. "So you're good to go."

Cuddy frowned.

"What?" the older doctor snapped.

She shook her head. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. I'd like to admit him for observation."

"No way," House protested. "I just got my boy toy back. I'm going home to play with him tonight."

"But the vertigo attack….he should really stay here, at least for 24 hours."

"I can take care of him."

"Sure you can," she snipped. "You'll probably feed him beer and chips."

"Cuddy, I'm a doctor, I know how to treat a patient with a concussion. And what's wrong with beer and chips?"

Wilson held up his hand. "Hello! I'm in the room."

Cuddy looked at Wilson and smiled. "Sorry." She sighed. "Okay, I'm going to release you to House's care…but under protest."

Scowling at his boss, the older man turned his attention to his best friend and smiled. "You want to go home and play doctor, Doctor?"

Wilson pointed to the scrubs he was wearing. "Since I'm wearing the clothes I get to do the exam this time."

"Okay, I'm game. Let's go with crabs."

Cuddy scrunched up her face in confusion. "What are you talking about?" she asked as she placed her hands on her hips.

"If Wilson and I are playing doctor I need to have a disease, don't I? Duh."

The oncologist jumped in. "Well technically, crabs is not a disease. It's more of an infection."

Cuddy threw up her hands. "You two deserve each other." She looked at Wilson. "I'll talk to Dr. Brown about having your patients reassigned. And I'd like to see you on Monday to see how you're doing." The young doctor nodded his gratitude.

She looked pointedly at House. "That gives you three days to take care of him."

"Yes, Mommy."

She ignored his comment. "So, I guess this means you won't be coming in tomorrow." She paused. "But what about your patient…I mean…your other patient? You haven't diagnosed her yet."

"Since when do I need to be here to make a diagnosis?" House asked somewhat agitated. "And why are you disparaging the talents of my brilliant diagnostic team?"

She sighed. "Take care of him," she ordered as she turned and left the exam room.

"House leered at the door. "She wants me."

"Don't we all," the young doctor said, smiling.

House limped over to the cabinet where the pre-filled syringes were kept. Opening the drawer, he began removing several syringes along with packaged alcohol wipes, placing them into his jacket pocket.

"What are you doing now?" Wilson asked, shaking his head. "Stealing medication?"

"I'm taking cyclizine and sumatriptan. You're probably going to need them."

Unlike his friend, Wilson wasn't very keen on taking medications, but based on his aching head and his continuous battle with nausea, he didn't argue.

House turned and sat down next to him on the exam table. "How are you feeling now?"

He smiled sadly. "Could be better… could be a lot better actually."

The older man scratched his chin. "You know, you managed to age me significantly tonight." He peered up at the ceiling in thought. "Your reported death cost me about twenty years and that vertigo attack cost me another five." He turned his attention back to his colleague. "I trust you'll make it up to me."

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I can try. I'm not sure how though."

"Oh, I can think of plenty of ways."

The young doctor attempted to smile but didn't quite get there. He looked into House's eyes. "Thank you for tonight."

"Don't thank me." House studied his friend. "You're afraid of another attack, aren't you?"

"No, not really. Well, yes."

"Are you feeling nauseous right now?"

"It hasn't really stopped."

House stood up. "I'm giving you a shot of cyclizine." He removed a syringe and alcohol wipe from his pocket, motioning to his patient to lower his pants.

"What's wrong with my arm?"

"It's not as much fun."

"Fine." Wilson untied the scrubs lowering the waistband over his hip as he leaned his elbow on the table. "But this counts towards making it up to you."

The older doctor smiled as he administered the injection. "I don't get to do this nearly enough." The shot just added to Wilson's misery causing him to grimace slightly. "Okay, done. You should start feeling better pretty fast."

"Thanks," the oncologist said as he sat upright and tied his pants back around his waist.

House discarded the wipe and empty syringe.

"Now what?" Wilson asked, rubbing his hip.

"Now we go home and play doctor."

tbc