Title: All Patients Are Idiots

Author: The First Chibi

Fandom: House

Pairing: No pairing as such, but you could call it House/Wilson Preslash if you ever so wished to do.

Genre: General Friendship

Rating: uhm...PG?

Word count: 1078

Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine. Oh, but what fun I could have if they were. But yeah, they belong to Fox and Co, so, please don't sue me :

Notes: Well, this is my first House fanfiction. Also, thankyou to riversbend, who beta'd this fic for me. Oh, and also, this is mostly diaologue. Urhm...yeah...Feedback welcome too.

House emerged from exam room 2, looking as though he'd had more than enough. He leaned over the desk to ensure the nurse was paying attention. "Dr House checks out at 2 pm. Write it down."

House missed the glare she aimed at him in response, as he was already walking away. Though limping was more accurate. His leg hurt more than usual after the round of idiots he had been forced to put up with today. When he got to the elevator, given his mood, he jabbed fiercely at the elevator call button. Whether it was the extra hard jab, divine intervention, or just pure coincidence, he'd never know, but mere seconds later, the elevator doors opened to let out a few weary patients, worried families and one dishevelled Dr James Wilson. He walked passed House without so much as a look in his direction. Tired as he was, House wasn't going to let that slide.

"Well hello, Jimmy. What makes you all bright and wonderfully happy this morning?" House boomed, whilst ignoring the elevator and heading towards Wilson.

"Knock it off, House. I've been with a patient all night."

"I didn't ask about your sex life, I wanted to know about why you're not all Mr Immaculately Spiffy this morning...Hey, you're not trying to steal my trademarks, are you? Cos Faith Boy pretty much had that all covered."

"All he was missing was a limp and a cane"

"Not forgetting the degrees, the killer motorbike and the oh so sexy scruff." House rubbed his chin to emphasise his point.

"Give him a few years with the beard. He still believes he has God on his side, so I doubt he'd need the degrees. And, well, I agree with what you said about the motorbike."

"That it's the best form of transportation?"

"No, that it's a killer and it'll kill you one day driving that thing." Wilson, apparently thinking he'd got in the last word, tried to walk away, but House followed.

"You should take some happy pills, Wilson. You're becoming more and more negative everyday. So really, what crawled up your ass and died?"

House allowed his look to belie his sarcastic words. Wilson had been grumpier and more distant recently. As much as House didn't want to sit through hearing Wilson complain, he did care what was hurting his best friend. If it was something big Wilson was bound to tell him sooner or later. He tried to catch Wilson's eye and hint that sooner was fine. House wasn't patient enough to wait for the hospital grapevine to get to him on the subject.

Wilson, moving around to behind the clinic desk searching for something, looked at House and sighed. "You owe me $30. And-"

House cut him off, "Another 3 patients thanked you? What do you do, put on a song and dance and emphasise the effort you went through to make them happy?"

Ignoring him, Wilson went on to say "And I was-"

House went on as though Wilson hadn't spoken. "They thank you when you tell them they're going to die. They do realise you mean that permanent, ends in a trip to the morgue kind of dead, right?"

"Of course they do" Wilson was clearly getting tired of this circular conversation.

"You really must be a treat to them. Either that, or they're idiots. Hell, what am I saying? All patients are idiots."

"House, knock it off. I was with a dying patient last night, her parents are suing me. And, oh yeah, Cameron dropped by today." The end of that statement was accompanied with a glare aimed at House. A glare that really, only Cuddy and Wilson could get away with.

"Allison Cameron?"

"No, Richard Cameron from the Dead Poets Society movie dropped by. He was in the area and wanted to say hello. Yes, Allison Cameron, who else?"

"No need to get snippy, I was plainly enquiring. What did she want?"

"She wanted to talk about you. Apparently you keep shouting down her differentials. She wondered if, and I'm quoting here, if 'Everything was alright, because, he can be a bastard, but not like how he's been recently.'"

"And that's what pissed you off? Cos, i mean, no wonder your patients-" House was cut off with a glare from Wilson. 'OK, so really pissed you off' he thought to himself.

"House, it's not that she came to see me, it's not that she asked me about you. It's that every time you act like a bastard, to Cuddy, to your hand-picked, more than capable team of doctors, I get dragged into it, as if I can fix it." Wilson, clearly agitated, finally found the patient file he'd been looking for, and headed back towards the elevator. House, once again on his tail.

House grabbed Wilson's wrist, stopping him in the middle of the corridor. "You're angry because you're the go-to-guy when I upset people?" Wilson pushed House out of the way of a passing gurney.

"See, that's the thing. I know you're sarcastic, that you upset a lot of people. But I have my own patients. I can't always be following you smoothing down the feathers of the people you disgruntle."

"You're bein-"

Wilson cut him off. "Don't tell me I'm being dramatic"

"Oh, no, dramatic is when love-sick teenage boys nearly burn off their face with bleach to get rid of spots. I was gonna say you're being ridiculous."

"...Bleach? What?"

"Patient in the clinic. He was lucky he didn't blind himself"

"He tried to bleach off his spots? Really?"

"No, I just made it up for comparison purposes. Yes, really."

With a sigh and a glance at his watch, Wilson headed again for the elevators. "Just quit snarking at your team. I have 3 patients to try and save."

House stayed back a few seconds, until he remembered he too was headed back upstairs, accutely aware that he was now trailing Wilson for the third time in twenty minutes. He got to the elevator just as the doors were opening.

Wilson was the first to speak.

"Did you really have a patient who tried to bleach off his spots?"

"When will you have faith in the fact that all patients are idiots?"

"When will you have faith in the fact that only your patients seem to be idiots?"

With a quick, amused glance towards Wilson, House nodded. "Touché," he said, tilting his cane to emphasize the word.

The End