A/N: I told you I had more chapters written, so I'm going to go ahead and post chapter two as well. This chapter isn't that different from the previous Chapter Two. I kept whatever I could consider canon.

House: You're the oncologist; I'm just a lowly infectious disease guy."
Wilson: Hah, yes: just a simple country doctor."

At Princeton General it's required that all Department Heads attend at least four events per year that involve specialties other than their own. Dr. House thinks this is a ridiculous practice, which is why, as a general rule, he ignores this "requirement." But when the Dean of Medicine threatens your already-shaky standing with the hospital it becomes less brave and more stupid to not obey.

Which is why he is spending his Saturday evening milling around the hospital auditorium, waiting on an oncology lecture to begin.

"I heard this Dr. Erikson is supposed to be pretty decent," says a doctor he doesn't recognize. Probably someone from another hospital.

"Well, that may be true," replies the man he's speaking to, "but it's not Erikson that's giving the lecture. They replaced him with Dr. Vicks." At this, the pair groans simultaneously, but House smirks. It's nice to know that other people will suffer with him.

He glances around quickly for a seat and his eyes zoom in on a doctor sitting in the back, holding a book over his face. The obviousness piques his interest so he approaches the doctor, taking the seat beside him. He catches the book and lowers it.

"Jimmy," he cries in delight.

Wilson, for his part, shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "House. Good to see you."

"Were you hiding from me?"

"Of course not?"

House rolls his eyes. "Because you owe me $50? That's a little petty, don't you think?"

Wilson sits up straighter. "Because you're you," he corrects. "And the deal was that you had to convince three doctors that they had life threatening diseases, and based on what I heard from that last conference, you came up short."

"Dr. Collins, plus Dr. Miller, plus Dr. Pierceson equals three."

"Ah, but Dr. Collins, plus Dr. Miller, plus Dr. Pierceson, minus Dr. Pierceson equals two."

House cocks his head to the side and considers. Dr. Pierceson was the last from that evening. He'd been running out of time and had used the first disease that had popped into his mind.

"The plague is a perfectly fatal disease."

"The plague is treatable, which makes it non-life threatening," Wilson counters. "And I don't take checks."

House glares-mostly for show- and shoves two twenties and a ten into the oncologist's waiting hand as Dr. Vicks approaches the podium.

"As you know," the doctor begins, "oncology has uncovered many breakthroughs in the last two years..."

"Hey," House whispers.

No answer.

"Hey, Wilson!"

He watches as Wilson raises his eyes to the ceiling, then flicks them to House to study him. "What?"

"Smashed any more mirrors?"

Now Wilson shifts his whole body sideways. "Contrary to all you may think is possible," Wilson mutters, "some people find it rude to interrupt when someone else is talking."

"Right, I get it, you're indignant on her behalf. Have you? Because if you have, and your luck has tanked even more since I met you, then I think I have a right to know."

"I'm ignoring you."

"Then you suck at it."

"You're bored," Wilson sighs. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not."

"Don't make me interrupt her."

At this Wilson freezes. His left hand that had been busily taking notes stills. "You wouldn't."

"Excuse me, Doctor."

House's voice cuts through the room, visibly startling the speaker.

"Oh god," Wilson moans softly.

Dr. Vicks, who clearly has never suffered an interruption before, blinks blankly at House. "Yes?"

"Dr. Vicks, do you believe in a Higher Power?" House asks cheerfully. If Wilson won't entertain him then fine. This will be just as fun.

It's unclear as to whether or not Vicks realizes that House is toying with her, but nevertheless she answers. "No."

"Why not?"

"If there were such a thing," Vicks responds, peering at him over her glasses, "I doubt He would spend all of His time observing. He would want to make Himself known."

"Why?"

Vicks squints at him in annoyance. "So that all people would worship Him."

House turns this over in his mind. "So, you're saying that the millions of Christians in the world have actually seen God? Or that because you need to see something to believe in it, you figure that everyone else does too?"

The room is silent for a solid twenty seconds before Vicks speaks again. "Dr. Wilson, please escort your friend outside."

"He's not my friend," Wilson rushes to clarify. "I don't even know this man."

"Now!"

"Oh, fine. Come on, House." And with that, the pair leaves the room.

"What the hell is the matter with you," Wilson snaps as soon as the door is closed.

"What do you mean?"

"You make Christians cry. You don't believe in God!"

"So?"

"So, you got us thrown out for no reason other than your boredom. I need that credit."

"You signed in, you'll be fine," House argues. "Now admit it, that was fun."

Wilson purses his lips. "Do 'fun' and 'humiliating' mean the same thing in that messed up brain of yours?"

"You didn't really want to sit through a lecture about stuff you already know." This isn't a question.

"You're insane," Wilson states, lowering himself to the floor. After a beat, House follows suit. He tries not to think about whether or not he's seen a patient vomit on the spot that has become his chair. He distracts himself by asking, "So, how long have you been divorced?" He knows the answer, but it will be less messy if Wilson just tells him himself.

Wilson looks up sharply, but House notices a distinct lack of surprise. "A couple of weeks," he responds. "I got the papers the day we met."

"Huh. Completely mind-blowing."

A smile dances across Wilson's lips. "Why ask a question if you already know the answer?"

"To see what you say the answer is."

"Fair enough."

House likes that he thinks this way. It's strange, the feeling that washes over him as he stares at the other doctor. He's never been good at making friends, (military families are not very conducive to that kind of thing) but he just... likes this man. There's something oddly familiar in the sarcastic smile and off-beat sense of humor. It reminds him of, well, him, actually. But there's a difference too. A touch of innocence that House is pretty sure he's never even possessed.

This is confusing.

"You like monster trucks," House eventually asks.

Wilson raises his eyebrows. "Obsessively.