Diagnosis is Far From Supernatural
Part V
Dean Winchester couldn't believe the wave of nausea sloshing up to his throat. The bit of food he just consumed wanted its way out above and below. And it'd be damned if it were stopped.
Thus, he breathed a deep sigh of relief as Dr. Wilson pushed him into the restroom.
"You need me to . . .?"
"No, no. I got it, man."
Dean hefted himself out and into a stall. Geez, I hope my flu is not regressing.
He wiped his sweaty brow and well, got to business.
Wilson leaned against the sink as Dean relieved himself. The depression of his non lunch was taking its toll. And he wondered if he could make it to dinner without passing out on one of his cancer ridden patients.
Before he could ponder further on his woe the bathroom door slammed open.
"Cuddy?" Wilson gasped, as the dean of medicine strode in.
"Wilson, you're here. That means House is here. And I need his ass back at the clinic. Now."
"But you're in the men's restroom . . ." Wilson said, staring.
"Yes. And it's worse than I expected. House!" Cuddy called.
"You. In. The. Restroom," Wilson said, still staring.
"Yes, I think we established that a moment ago," Cuddy said. Her heels clicked loudly as she went to the stall door.
"House! I know you're in there!?" Cuddy shouted.
Man, that chick sounds like she's going to kill someone even if I'm not Dr. House! Dean thought wildly.
Dean smashed his finger on the door lock as he tried to open it and pull his pants up at the same time. He stumbled out the stall into something wonderfully soft and smaller in frame than himself.
"You're not House. Who are you?"
Dean would have expressed apology for knocking into her but the spectacular view down into her low cut blouse had already turned his thoughts to other things.
"I hurt my finger. I'd like my booboo kissed, please?"
"Sorry, not qualified. Where's House?" Cuddy said, shortly.
"Darn. Where's Sammy when you need him?"
"If you're in cahoots with House, I swear—"
"I'm Dean. Your name?"
"You will not be excused from—"
"You know you look like a Mandy. Hi, Mandy."
"Any punishment."
"Punish? Whoa, slow down there Mandy. I'm not quite the masochist."
Cuddy paused as Dean looked down with a roguish grin. She turned to Wilson.
"Who is this idiot?"
"This idiot is a patient," Wilson said, restraining a smile.
"I'm a single idiot," Dean added, helpfully.
Cuddy turned back to Dean and squinted at him. "You're sweating."
She reached up and touched his forehead. "And you're burning up. Put him to bed, stat."
Wilson nodded. "I was just about to suggest that. I don't know what House was thinking letting him gallivant around."
"House is thinking what he also is thinking. How to wring a potential lawsuit out of every patient he encounters," Cuddy said.
Dean looked crestfallen. "But Mandy, we just met? No time for a quick coffee or—"
"I think you should finish pulling up your pants first," Cuddy remarked, looking down.
Dean looked down and shrugged. He turned around and Cuddy was able to catch narrow peek of the behind.
It was more than enough.
"Wait a minute. I recognize that ass. Someone sent it in a text message for wallpaper."
Dean turned around as he finished zipping up his pants. "And?"
"Nice. Maybe we'll catch that coffee later."
Dean winked as she left struggling not to smile back at him.
Wilson watched her leave with something akin to awe.
"You just got hooked up in the restroom," Wilson said, helping him back into his wheelchair.
"What can I say? I got the touch," Dean said.
- - - - - - - --
Meanwhile with Sam and House . . .
"I bet this bag of onion and garlic potato chips that you went to one of those good universities. Harvard, maybe?" House said dangling the bag before Sam's eyes.
"Close, but no cigar. I went to Stanford. And for the record, I hate chips," Sam said, pushing away the bag.
"Close enough."
"How'd you guess?"
"You're prissy. And very neat."
"Right. Like that's a big clue."
"I astound myself. Moving on: As a child, you were Fat Albert."
"What?!"
Sam was starting to suspect this was a setup courtesy of Dean Winchester. He wouldn't be surprised if House suddenly pulled out pictures from his "chubby Sammy" days.
Assuming there were any pictures left after he had burned them all.
"Okay, so maybe you didn't spend your days responding to "hey, hey, hey" but you were a fat kid."
"And what were you neurotic?"
"No, homo superior. So, I notice you didn't touch any of Wilson's lunch. You're not hungry at all? Or are you the sad picture of male bulimia?"
"You tell me, doctor."
House raised an eyebrow as he slowly ripped open the bag of chips. He took one out carefully watching Sam's stoic expression.
"Ha!" House shouted.
Sam practically jumped out the seat.
"I heard your stomach gurgle at my chip!" House exclaimed.
"It-It did not!" Sam exclaimed.
"Well, it wasn't diarrhea," House said, as his jaw chomped loudly on chips.
Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not going to eat someone else's lunch. It's called common courtesy. I guess in your quest to disconnect from the human race that got dumped along the way."
"Hey, Dean partook of this feast too. No naughty mark on him?"
"My brother eats off the floor. I've had to readjust my definition of edible when it comes to him."
"Interesting."
"What's interesting?"
"For the moment, you two idiots."
Sam tried to not appear nervous. "There's nothing interesting. We're just on a road trip, seeing the sights–"
"Driving each other crazy. I don't think you spent so much time together before this "trip." Significant other's death the jump start?"
How the hell?! Sam thought, amazed. This guy! Man, Dad would have had a field day trying to con him over.
Before Sam could come up with a response, they were interrupted by three doctors approaching their table.
"Ah, my hell spawn cometh," House said, under his breath.
The three young doctors looked at Sam with equal expressions of confusion and curiosity.
House rolled his eyes. "This is Sam. A patient. We're waiting for his older, sicker half to finish pissing somewhere. Sam, this is my brat pack: Token Black Guy, Token Hot Female with a Brain (very sad) and Token Smelly Foreign Guy."
"Those are their names?" Sam said, blinking.
"He's joking. But, don't worry. Unless you work for him, you're not obligated to laugh," Dr. Foreman said.
"You don't really need to know their names. Unless, you're planning on having sex with one of them. Wait. You don't really need a name for that either," House noted.
"I don't smell," Dr. Chase said, wrinkling his nose.
"We've got a case," Dr. Cameron said.
"A young professor of applied mathematics is suffering from–"Foreman started.
"Oh, stop. Don't need to know more. Frankly, I'm surprised you guys needed to bring this to my attention. C'mon! This is an easy one. Diagnosis: Big Nerd!" House concluded.
"His name is Charlie Epps. And he needs our help," Cameron said, squinting down at House.
"Why isn't anyone defending my body odor?" Chase said, plaintively.
"You really don't smell bad. In fact, you smell like fresh poppies or something," Sam offered.
"Really?" Chase asked.
"Yeah. What kind of cologne do you use?"
"It's an imported brand. I forget the name. Darn . . ."
"Well, I think its lupus. But Cameron's kind of got a crush on him," Foreman suggested.
"I do not have a crush on him!" Cameron exclaimed.
"Wait. Are you guys talking about Professor Epps? I think I attended a lecture of his while I was visiting CalSci. He's an exciting teacher," Sam said, turning toward them.
"Math? Exciting? I'm disturbed by that imagery," Chase said, eyes wide.
House swiped his cane out between the doctors and Sam. "Children! Quiet. Your inane chatter is lowering my IQ. First, you three go do an MRI on the professor so Cameron can get her freak on. Second, Sammy and I go . . . somewhere else."
"Uh, where are you going?" Foreman asked.
"Spelunking. Sam?"
"I'd rather go check on my brother."
"Hmm, I realize how much mischief the idiot can get up to, but need I remind that you could be dying."
"You said I wasn't."
"I could be lying."
"You're a doctor."
"What? That exempts me from lying and general subterfuge. Everybody lies."
Sam closed his mouth for a moment. Then the next words completely took House off guard.
"You're right. Everyone does lie. Like how I know what's wrong with me. I've been keeping it from Dean."
Sam leaned forward. "But I really don't think you even have a clue."
House tapped his cane thoughtfully. "Well. I didn't consider that."
Sam crossed his arms with a smirk. "Yeah, so I'm waiting to hear your theory."
Author's Note:
Yes, that was a nice little Numb3rs mention!
And why would Sam remember some math professor's lecture he attended years ago you wonder? Because Charlie is HOT. You do not forget hotness. ;-)
And for sake of simplicity, House is still with Cameron, Chase and Foreman as his crew. None of the newbies will be showing up. Even though, I love me some Kutner!
Thank you for the reviews! More to come soon.