A fun little drabble. Established Hilson, btw. Had a little moment in English earlier this week when we were watching the 90s version of "Much Ado About Nothing", just looked up to see a really young (and good-looking) Robert Sean Leonard... awkward... Anyway, this is with the original ducklings (Cameron, Chase and good old Foreman). Please remember to rate and review!

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Hunger gnawed at House's stomach as the ducklings conducted the differential diagnosis, arguing passionately about their personal views.

"All of the symptoms point to autoimmune," Cameron insisted, waving the file. "Could be lupus."

"It's never lupus," House said, banging his cane on the glass table to disguise his stomach growling loudly. "I'm going to watch General Hospital until you lot stop arguing like a bunch of puppies."

Rising, he limped as fast as he could out of the door, ignoring the shouts of the team behind him. He smirked; he loved it when the ducklings hated what he did, but were powerless to stop him.

He turned into the doctor's lounge. The small recreational space was deserted, the TV left on in the others' haste to leave. Clearly news travelled fast that House was on the move. He ignored the Foosball table, which was rocking feebly, and even General Hospital playing on the telly, and made a beeline for the fridge. Opening the door, he immediately spotted his own lunch, wrapped in a brown paper bag. Opening the bag, he saw that the fluorescent green post-it-note attached read:

House,
This is YOUR lunch. Don't you dare eat mine again, I made you one for a reason.
Love you
Wilson xoxo

He smiled at Wilson's simpering romantic ways, but ignored the entire message of the note and took Wilson's lunch. Some sort of salad was rolling around in the tub; House didn't really want to eat it, but hey, for old times sake.

Wilson was going to get so mad.

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Wilson's head lay on the desk, a file obscured underneath the wavy chestnut hair. Small snoring sounds came from his unmoving figure, and his pen was still held loosely in his hand. The room was completely tranquil, barely a sound in hearing range.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, jolting the oncologist awake. He jumped up, looking around blearily. His eyes fell on House and he sighed, letting his head slam back onto the desk.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," House yelled in a sing-song voice, shutting the door noisily. Wilson sighed, looking up unhappily.

"Just let me sleep," he mumbled, trying to sort out his hair without a mirror whilst rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"'Fraid I can't do that, sweet-cheeks," the diagnostician replied wittily, taking another bite of the salad. Wilson smiled, but he raised an eyebrow when he saw the box.

"My lunch? Really?"

House shrugged, sitting on the chair in front of Wilson's desk.

"Old times," he said, absent-mindedly scratching at his arm. Wilson spied this, and quickly noted the perspiration on his forehead.

As he realised, his face fell like an avalanche.

"Oh, God," he mumbled.

"What?" House asked, mouth full. Wilson cleared his throat nervously.

"Oh God," he repeated urgently. "Please tell me you have an EpiPen on you."

"No," the older doctor replied, swallowing another bite. "You know I never carry the stupid thing around. Never needed it."

"You know that salad?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how you're sort of deathly allergic to avocados?"

"Yup."

"The salad has avocados in it."

Both of their eyes widened; House peeled back the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the angry red, blotchy hives, which were swelling to an impressive size. Both of their breathing sped up. Wilson jumped up and began looking desperately around his office as House scratched at his arm again, watching bemusedly.

"Stop scratching," Wilson ordered, his head virtually inside his desk drawer as he searched for an EpiPen.

"Sorry mum," House muttered before groaning and wrapping a hand around his stomach. Wilson whipped round, crouching down to look House in the face.

"Nausea just hit?" he said worriedly. House nodded as he paled considerably. He tried to motion to Wilson's jacket, but his hand simply flopped uselessly. Wilson gently felt House's throat, looking up, shocked. "Your throat's beginning to close up."

With renewed flustering, Wilson began looking in the most unlikely places; under the sofa cushions, on the bookcase, in the wastepaper bin. House wheezed, but managed to shout the much-needed answer.

"COAT!" he yelled before throwing up all over the carpet, spluttering and choking. Wilson fled over to his white jacket, and, reaching into the inside pocket, pulled out the small orange tube. Rushing over to House, he elevated the others' lolling head before plunging the EpiPen into (unfortunately) House's bad leg, House howled in pain, resting his head on Wilson's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, shh," Wilson soothed, placing a gentle kiss on House's head just as Cuddy burst in, looking panicked.

"What-what's going on?" she panted, trying to catch her breath. "Why is there sick all over the carpet?"

"Avocados," Wilson answered shortly, carefully lifting House's head. "Flat out. Trust him to go the whole 9 yards. Scared me half to death."

"Wilson," Cuddy said quietly, kneeling down to join him on the floor. "Are you and House a... thing?"

Wilson looked upset, looking everywhere but at Cuddy, yet nodded all the same, silently stroking his partner's thinning grey hair. Cuddy smiled, watching the obvious affection Wilson had for the older man.

"I'm admitting him," Wilson said, clearing his throat. "The EpiPen will wear off soon, and he needs the stronger stuff. Can you get me a private room for him; he hates this, sees it as a weakness."

Cuddy nodded, leaving the two of them alone just as House began to come around.

"You bastard," were the first words to tumble out of his mouth as he rubbed his leg agitatedly.

"Yes, I'm sorry for saving your life," Wilson quipped sarcastically, bringing out his penlight and checking House's pupils. "How'd'you feel?"

"Just peachy," the other replied in the typical Housesian way. "Of course I feel like crap, Wilson, I just went into anaphylactic shock."

"No need for the sarcasm."

"Who remarkably not like me are you saying that to?"

Wilson laughed, looking down at the floor before meeting House's eyes.

"Go and sleep it off, you idiot" he said. "Just remember, this is why you don't eat my lunch."

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Sorry for the awful ending.