A Heat Wave Bet
Seven days post-op and two days out of the Ketamine coma, the prognosis for House is guardedly optimistic, and Cuddy drops by to check on him. As she approaches his room she notices Wilson furtively peeking under House's gown, eyes near his belly button. This doesn't look like a medical check, and she pokes her head in the door.
"What's going on in here?"
Wilson's face appears from under the covers, "What do you think's goin' on?"
"High-jinks of the juvenile boy variety?"
"You guessed it. We were just comparing all of House's scars."
"Sounds like fun. Are you guys nuts, or what?"
House grins, and points to the bandage on his neck, "It's still pretty gross under here. But not as lengthy as the belly scar'll be."
Cuddy considers a snide retort, but opts for compassion instead. "They'll heal right up."
"Ah, yes. They'll heal, they'll fade. Can't hide the neck though, unless I switch from Ts & Oxfords to turtles all the time. I hate turtles, unless it's like 10 below out."
"When is it ever 10 below in Jersey?" Wilson says.
"Exactly. Which is why I don't wear turtles."
"It'll give you character, House. Like Scarface," says Cuddy.
"Well, it's just skin. Still no match for a crater of missing muscle – that'll always be the winner in the gruesome department."
"Did you ever think that might also give you character?"
"Oh, Cuddy, you're too kind! Where's the snark? I get shot and all of a sudden you've gone soft on me! Or maybe you're just used to its gruesomeness. You and Jimmy are the only ones who've seen it in ages – except for the random hooker, masseuse, or nurse, who've all been trained not to gasp, and, of course, 'she-who-must-not-be-named'."
"So if it's 100 degrees on an August afternoon at the beach, you'll still be wearing jeans?" asks Wilson.
"I wouldn't go to the beach, no matter how hot it got."
"Well, that's just ridiculous. They've got those long shorts that go down past the knee."
"Yeah, usually with the crotch at mid-thigh. You think I wanna dress like some idiot teenager with pierced eyebrows who listens to nothing but rap?"
"Better than sweltering in jeans" says Wilson.
"Oh, give it a rest. You're not the one who'd get stared at, and you have no idea how that feels."
"No, guess I don't. It's just that you never give a damn what anyone thinks, so why should you care what looks you'd get in shorts?"
"So, have a pool party. I'll show up in a Speedo and be better entertainment than a horror flick."
"I don't have a pool."
Cuddy chimes in, "I do."
"Okay. When I'm outta here, you throw that party. And I promise I'll bare myself in front of a crowd – for the cheap price of a thousand bucks and a month off clinic duty."
Wilson jumps on it. "I'll take that bet."
"You're a sucker, Jimmy. You think I wouldn't do it?"
"Not in a million years. But, if you did, I'd be happy to pay up."
"But all you've got is the money. You can't give me the time off. Cuddy, sweetie! Pretty please."
"Oh, why not? You'd enjoy my pool."
"Another sucker! When will they ever learn?"