Summary, disclaimer, etc. in chapter 1.

Hope you guys like! I know House/Wilson scenes are in demand, but this came to me first. (I personally love cats and my wonderful kitty is asleep next to me on the couch as I write this, but I don't see House being a big fan of a cat in this situation. So, no cat hate intended!)

Man or Mouse?

March 1999

"Tell me again how long it's going to be here?" House asked. He glanced nervously at the hissing ball of fur cornered in their apartment.

"She's a she," Stacy corrected, making a kissy face at the cat, "and just for the weekend. Sam gets back Sunday night and she couldn't leave her alone because she has some kind of ear infection." She shook the bottle of medicine she was holding to emphasize her point.

"Can't a vet take care of it better than we can?" House asked. He tried cautiously to reach for the cat and snatched his hand back just in time to avoid being scratched. "It doesn't like me," he said.

"You're scaring her," Stacy admonished. She knelt down and slowly extended her hand toward the cat, saying "kitty, kitty, kitty," in a soothing voice. She, too, barely avoided being scratched.

"Okay," Stacy said straightening up, "she's an evil beast from hell. But we still have an obligation to take care of her."

"You're cleaning the litter box," House said quickly. He made a face at the cat. "I'll make sure it's fed."

Stacy rolled her eyes. "I'll take care of the litter box and make sure she's fed. She'd starve if I left her alone with you."

House threw up his hands in defense. "Hey, I didn't agree to this," he said. "It was forced on me."

Stacy signed a long-suffering sigh. "Can't you be useful and hold her while I give her this medicine?" she asked.

The cat swiped at his leg and House took an anxious step back.

"You know cat scratch fever is real, don't you?" he said nervously. "I'm not kidding. So is toxoplasmosis, which is transmitted through cat feces. It can be fatal. And who knows what kind of infection it has. Probably worms too." He paused and turned to her. "Is this friendship really worth dying for?"

Stacy glowered at him. "Greg, are you going to hold the cat down or not?" she asked.

House glared at her and leaned forward. "Sit," he commanded. He reached tentatively toward the animal, which growled and tried to scratch him again. "Down!" He reached toward her again. "Stay." The cat hissed loudly and he snatched his hand back. "Play dead."

Stacy watched the exchange without amusement. "Greg, you're bigger than she is," she said wearily, "just grab her."

"It's going to scratch me," House said, trying to grab the cat and jumping back when she swiped at him again. "I can tell."

"I'll be sure to kiss it and make it better later," Stacy said sarcastically, quickly losing patience. "Now will you hold the damn animal down?"

"Why do I have to hold it down?" House whined. "Why can't I give it the medicine? That's my job."

"And you're very good at it," Stacy said, "but right now I need you to hold the cat down."

"Can't we wait until it goes to sleep?" House asked.

"Greg…"

"I really don't wanna."

"You really gotta."

House made a childish sneering face at Stacy.

He turned back to the cat. "It doesn't look sick," he said. "I'm sure it'll be fine for a few days." Before Stacy could object, he added, "And if it really is sick, it'll start acting sick. Then we can sneak up on it."

"Well, now I know why you get sued so often," Stacy said.

"You know, the lawsuit jokes are getting kind of old."

"So are the lawsuits."

House sneezed suddenly. "I may be allergic to cats," he said wiping his nose. "Better not touch it. I could break out—hives are really itchy and gross—or stop breathing. Then you'd feel really bad."

"Greg, I know you're not allergic to cats," Stacy said.

"Dammit, that was you," House said to himself.

Stacy sighed and thrust the bottle to him. "Fine," she said. "I'll hold her down and you give her the medicine. Can you read the instructions or do I have to do that for you too?"

"Can you read the instructions or do I have to do that for you too?" House parroted nastily. "You sound really bitchy."

"With good reason," Stacy said. She squared on the cat. "Ready?"

House scratched his head, reading the label. "How much am I supposed to give it?"

Stacy took the bottle from him, grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck, pinned her, tilted her head and gave her the medicine. The cat hissed and growled, shook her head getting medicine on Stacy, and bolted once she was let go.

House almost choked, he was laughing so hard. Stacy brushed cat hair off her slacks and wiped her hand on his t-shirt.

"Hey!" House objected, trying to duck out of the way.

"You're cleaning the litter box," Stacy said and stormed toward the bathroom to wash the cat's medicine off.

House watched her go, then exploded into laughter again. Toxoplasmosis? Totally worth it.