"I want you to listen to me very carefully…." Cuddy started, grabbing House's face with one hand, making him look her in the eyes to get her point across from what seemed like the millionth time she had to explain this to him. "You cannot keep wearing these shirts to work. Do you understand?"

House moved from her grasp, not liking physical contact with anyone, especially on the face. He felt like his skin was crawling, mixed with tiny needles stabbing into him.

"Do you understand, Gregory?" She asked again.

"Ooh. First-name basis. I'm in real trouble now," House said playfully, scratching lightly at his face in an attempt to make the crawling feeling go away. "What's the big deal? This place is already depressing enough, so why can't I have something fun?"

Cuddy pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a slow sigh. While she understood that logic, what House didn't understand was that the patients and other nurses and doctors alike already didn't take him seriously due to his age. So, seeing him walking around looking like a college student only made it more difficult to see him as an equal. House was… well, House. He saw the world as his playground and didn't understand why people couldn't see his view on things, like with the lab coats. All the doctors had to wear one, except House didn't. In his world, they were too itchy and constraining to wear, while everybody else understood that it was part of the dress code and a sight of status. It made sense to House to avoid lab coats because the texture caused him to freak out, only for everyone else to wonder why he didn't have to wear them like the rest of the team.

"Because we work in a hospital, House." When she saw the slightly puzzled look on his face, she knew that her phrasing wouldn't help the situation. "That means we have to be professional. Which brings me to my next point…."

"No," he said immediately, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Lets compromise."

"I'm not wearing the lab coat."

Cuddy folded her arms across her chest, giving him her best stern mother look to make sure he knew how serious she was being. She knew he wouldn't do it willingly just because she was his boss and was telling him to follow the dress code.

"I'll let you wear your… stupid shirts as long as you wear the lab coat."

"Hm. Interesting. Absolutely not."

"I'll give you fifty dollars."

"No."

While Cuddy did her best to understand House's autism, there were some things that she couldn't understand. Like how she couldn't figure out how the texture of certain things was impossible for him to wear. Or how certain or loud sounds could be physically painful for him. While she didn't understand it personally, she did respect it. On more than one occasion, she and Wilson had to help him through his meltdowns because too many sounds were going off while the lights were too 'loud.'

"How about a chance to prove me wrong?" She questioned him, immediately seeing his interest shift. "If you can wear the lab coat for a week, I'll let you off clinic for three days. If you can't, you have to meet all your clinic hours."

"Interesting." Cuddy was waiting for him to follow up with a refusal, but he seemed to be thinking about it. If there was one way to get him to listen, it was through a bet. "Fine."

"Seriously?" Cuddy questioned, surprised that getting him to agree to the bet was that easy. She held her hand out to him, waiting for him to make the deal official.

"Whatever gets me out of clinic for a while," House mumbled before shaking her hand in return.

"It's almost like it's your job," she couldn't help but snark at him. "Here." She held out his lab coat that he refused to wear for the past couple of years. "Good luck." She noted the hesitation in him before he snatched the coat from her. He could immediately feel his skin crawling from the material.

"But the point of this is… what? You never cared before."

While the pause was short, House could sense the hesitation before she gave him an answer. Which either meant that she didn't have a good reason or was about to lie to him. Either way, it didn't matter. If he could get out of clinic for three days, then that was a good enough reason as any in his eyes.

"Will you be upset if I try to level with you?" She questioned.

"There's a strong possibility…." He grumbled something else under his breath as he forced himself to put the lab coat on over his shirt. The moment the material touched his arms, he immediately felt like he would have a breakdown. "Oh my god… this is gonna be the hardest bet I've ever won…."

Cuddy couldn't help but give him a small smile, seeing him finally wearing the coat. "If it makes you feel any better, the coat looks good on you." She felt proud of House, something she would compare to a mother being proud of her extremely stubborn son. "Makes you look like your title."

House didn't give any sort of response except for a slight hum as he rubbed the back of his hand, which felt like it was on fire from the material of the coat resting on it for too long. Seeing how hard he was rubbing at his skin, Cuddy's smile turned into a frown. She knew that there were some self-soothing behaviours he would use that boarded on the self-injurious side. As much as she wanted to call it off if he was going to act this way, she knew for his sake she couldn't do that. She only had to hope that he would grow used to the coat and start wearing it daily as part of his routine.

"Can you…." She reached out, gently grabbing his wrist and moving it away from his opposite hand. "Not do that?"

House snatched his hand away from her, shaking it as if he had burned it on something and wanted the pain to go away. While House was one to express himself whenever he was uncomfortable, his pride was much more important. If that meant he had to deal with burning and itchy skin due to the coat's material, than so be it. He was going to win this bet, and there was nothing that was going to stop him.

Before he could open his mouth to say something, the pager that was at his hip started to go off.

"Oh, oops," he said with a shrug and a smirk. "I forgot I called a meeting about twenty-five minutes ago."

"You…." She pinched the bridge of her nose again. "Go. Apologise to your team for being late."

"I'll consider it."

Foreman let out a frustrated sigh as he tossed his pager down on the conference table in front of them. This was the sixth time this week that House would page them to a meeting just for him to either forget and not show up or be extremely late. Cameron tried to give him the benefit of the doubt with the late part; she personally didn't believe he was doing it on purpose, but Foreman thought the opposite.

"He's doing it again," he finally said.

"Huh?" Chase mumbled, looking up from the fidget magnet rings he borrowed from House's office. He seemed to be the only one who wasn't as bothered or put as much thought into this as the other two. Unlike them, he could keep himself preoccupied until their boss showed up. "That's just House… He'll be here soon."

"It's been thirty minutes," Cameron pointed out. "I'm sure-"

The conference room door swung open, following House, wearing a lab coat, entering the room. The new attire caused his team to throw him a confused look, as he was never the one to follow the dress code by any means. At least once a day, they had to hear House and Cuddy go back and forth about how he dressed like a college kid coming into work when he should be dressing like Wilson, someone who was prepared to run a department.

"Wow, look at you," Chase said with a smirk. "What're you all dolled up for?"

"This! Is a sign of my strength!" House shouted, dropping the files on the conference room table. "And also my ticket to getting out of clinic for three days."

"Bet?" Foreman couldn't help but question, raising an eyebrow.

"Bet," House confirmed.

House was about to say something before he noticed that Cameron turned to look away from him. House being House, he was going to make a joke to bring attention to it, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his fingernail rubbed against the sleeve of the lab coat, causing him to yelp out in pain. The trio looked at him, wondering if he had gotten hurt somehow.

"Dammit! Stupid…." He trailed off, shaking his hand.

"What's wrong?"

"It scraped me… it made that… sound." He shuttered in disgust. If that happened again, he would definitely lose the bet. There was no way he could deal with this for a week, and he had a strong feeling that Cuddy knew that, too. "Just…." He snatched the file from the table. They had just gotten a case transferred to them from the ER. "What're we working with?"

"Patient suffering with headaches with no explanation," Chase explained, almost sounding as bored with the case as House looked. "They ran a handful of tests and gave her medication. Nothing's helping."

"Hm…." House hummed. He only thought about it briefly before turning towards the white board. The team was a bit surprised seeing that he grabbed a marker and began writing something; they figured that this seemed to be too simple of a case for him.

Their hopes that they didn't have to fight their boss to help them with a case this time instantly got crushed when he wrote: MIGRAINE.

"Anymore questions?" House asked them with a slight smirk as if he was proud of himself. "Send 'em to Wilson. Maybe she's got a tumour or something, I dunno."

Foreman rolled his eyes.

"What do you mean you don't know? Isn't that your job to figure it out?" He asked him, frustrated with his answer.

"Our job!" He corrected with a huge smile, tapping the open marker against the whiteboard. "Although, I'm gonna make it your guys' job. Ten bucks says it's a migraine."

"Fifty bucks says it's not," Cameron spoke up, a challenging look in her eyes. One that House had never seen before, but whatever caused this, he liked it.

"You're willing to bet fifty dollars on something that's clearly just a migraine?" Chase questioned, sitting back in his chair. "Might as well burn your money."

Foreman scoffed, rolling his eyes, unable to believe what he was hearing. "If it was just migraine, then the ER wouldn't transfer us the case, right?" He picked up the folder that House didn't look too closely at before flipping through it. "They gave her… Nausea and pain meds," he read, "if it was just a migraine, that should've helped a bit."

"Not necessarily," Chase countered, "some pain meds don't work with certain people. They ran tests, and nothing came up."

"Unless they missed something."

House tsked as he sat at the head of the conference table, shaking his head. He enjoyed a good medical debate, especially on his team. It meant that they were thinking. They were trying to look outside the box from the normal; even if he disagreed that it was more than a simple migraine, he wanted to see where their brains were at.

"Two-against-one isn't fair," he smirked, watching his team gang up on Chase. "It's gonna take two of you to push poor Chase around!"

"Then make it two-against-two," Cameron suggested, that look in her eye again that saw she wanted to challenge and win against House. She tried not to react when House returned the challenging look; he was determined to win. "Bet Foreman and I are right."

"Seventy bucks that Chase and I are." Cameron tilted her head at House's offer, causing him to roll his eyes.

"A hundred."

"Hundred?!" Foreman exclaimed, looking between the two. He was always up for a good bet like the rest of the team, but a hundred bucks on a diagnosis? He didn't want to know what was going on between them for the stakes to go up that high.

"I'm in," Chase said as he took his wallet out of his back pocket, throwing out a couple of twenties on the centre of the table.

Foreman couldn't help when he rolled his eyes at House and Cameron throwing their money in the pile on the table. Were they seriously about to bet on a patient? That seemed morbid and dark. Then again, Foreman had been with this team for a couple of months, and this was certainly something that he would have expected from them, especially House. But because this is how the team was, that meant that Foreman felt the need that he had to join in.

"C'mon, Foreman!" House said loudly, drumming his hands against the table.

"Alright, alright…." Foreman sighed, throwing his own money with the rest. "Happy?"

"I'll be happy when we win." House stood up quickly. "Chase, go run an MRI to make sure they didn't miss anything. You two… I don't care what you do," he said with a smirk, waving them away.

Cameron watched and waited for the others to exit the conference room to do what House had instructed. The entire time they were talking, she saw how House was fighting with the sleeves on his lab coat, doing everything he could to avoid it scraping against his fingernail again.

"House?" She started, standing up from her chair. She didn't wait for him to answer as she continued. "I can help you with that," she pointed out.

"What?"

Cameron nodded towards the sleeves.

"How? Explain." He sounded desperate for any help so the coat would stop touching his hands. He knew it was stupid and irrational to get upset about, but that's just how he was; no matter what he did, he couldn't help it.

Knowing that House didn't like to be touched, Cameron slowly moved her hands toward his arms, waiting for any reaction that would suspect that he didn't want any contact with her. When he didn't say anything or protest, she gently rolled the sleeves up to his upper forearm so it was out of the way of his hands. She let out a quiet sigh, feeling his muscles tense under her fingers.

"There… is that-" House snatched his arm away from Cameron's grasp as she moved up too high with the sleeve. "…better?"

"Better. Thanks."

She couldn't help but notice that House wrapped his arms around each other tightly with his hands covering the opposite upper arm. From where she was standing, she couldn't see anything that he could possibly be hiding, so she chalked it up to him feeling more exposed than he would have liked.

"You can go now," he snapped at her, almost sounding angry, but she didn't understand why. He had agreed to her help, and now he was upset.

"But-"

"Go away."

She frowned, picking up her notes before leaving the conference room, feeling upset that she had even bothered to help him at all. He had never sounded so angry before, especially over something so small, like helping him roll up his sleeves. Something else was clearly bothering him, and she would figure out what it was.

"Does this hurt?" House questioned the patient, Elliot, as he kept flickering the small flashlight to and from her eyes. He noticed the discomfort on her face, but looked like any other discomfort whenever looking into a bright light. "Yes? No?" He pushed, trying to get her to talk.

"Yeah… a little bit…." Elliot let out a small whine, closing her eyes and tilting her head away, lightly pushing his gloved hand away. "Can we try something else?"

"Why? Is it annoying you?" He questioned with a slight smirk on his face. He dropped his hand, but the moment she opened her eyes and looked at him again, he shined the light in her eyes, quickly turning the light on and off, almost like he wanted to provoke a seizure. "How's that feel?"

"That doesn't feel… great…." She covered her hands over her eyes, becoming slightly sick of her doctor.

House let out a small hum, putting away the flashlight for real this time as he tried to study her face. From what he could tell, everything that she listed were symptoms of migraines, but she was also reporting that everything that they tried to do to help wasn't working. Either the medication they were providing didn't work, or he had to admit that something else was going on. Whatever it was, he was slightly interested in the case now.

"What meds did they give you?" He asked her, standing up from next to her and grabbing her chart to review again.

"Uh… Rit… Rat…." She struggled to remember what it was called.

"Close enough," House said with a smirk. "It's called Rizatriptan. It stops pain signals in the brain, yet you said you still feel pain. Slightly concerning, but again, not every medicine works the same on everybody."

There was a small knock on the doorway frame; Chase was standing there with a couple of vials and IV bags. He silently entered the room, giving House a look before Cuddy followed in behind him, and she didn't look happy.

"Uh oh…." House mumbled as he draped his stethoscope around his neck, looking at his boss. "Dr. Cuddy, what can I do for you?" He asked innocently, having a strong feeling of what she was giving him that look for. "I don't think I need a consult, but-" She cut him off silently by motioning him to follow her.

House let out a sigh, looking over his shoulder at Chase, who was setting up the IV.

"Alright," he told Elliot, "Dr. Chase is gonna take care of you. Get some blood samples and IVs started. Should be feeling better soon."

Elliot gave him a small nervous smile before nodding and looking down at her hands as she was mentally preparing herself to get her blood drawn.

As soon as House and Cuddy walked towards her office, House couldn't take how silent she was being. Typically, if he was in trouble or something, she would already start biting his head off immediately.

"What?" He questioned, not able to stand the silence anymore. He waited a few moments before trying again. "What?! What'd I do?!"

It was highly unusual for Cuddy to ignore him; usually, she had enough of his whining after the second round of him asking anything. The only theory that House could come up with was that she was trying to make him anxious on purpose, but surely Cuddy wouldn't be that cruel to him.

"What-"

"Stop," she told him firmly, opening the door to her office and waiting for him to go inside. She rolled her eyes when he didn't move, putting a light hand on his back and guiding him inside before entering and closing the door behind her.

"What'd I do-"

"House. Stop talking," she said again, resting on the edge of her desk as he let out a frustrated huff.

"I'm wearing the lab coat-"

"Stop," she said again. It was as though she was testing him to see if he would actually listen to her. House couldn't read anything that would tip off that she was upset or mad with him, so he didn't understand what her problem had to have been. "Thank you for wearing the coat," she started, sounding serious now. "I know how much you hate it."

Cuddy stopped and waited to see if he was going to say anything in response, but he seemed to get the message after the third time and kept his mouth shut. Yet he watched her closely as if he didn't trust her 100% on whatever was happening.

"I need you to keep doing… this, okay?" She said, waving her hands towards him.

"Doing what?" He questioned, tilting his head slightly to the side like a confused puppy.

"Behaving," Cuddy said a little too harshly that it caused him to flinch in response. "I'm going to need you to keep this up, okay?" She said this as if she were talking to a small child, and it caused House to roll his eyes. Even though she was one of the few people who defended him because of his age, there were times when she would unconsciously treat him the same way.

Something was wrong. There was something Cuddy wasn't telling him, and it was bothering him to no end. Typically, if there was a major visit of some kind, she would basically hide him until they left, making the excuse that he was extremely caught up in his work but, in reality, would have him camping out in the old storage room. A lot of higher-ups came to see what exactly House did that made him so great, especially hearing about how young he was to be able to do this job. However, Cuddy didn't want them to see that he was practically still a teenager running around the hospital like it was his playground; they'd see it as a joke. No. This time, Cuddy was warning him to behave and to wear his lab coat. Something else was going on.

"Another thing…." She started, mimicking his head tilt until he stopped. "Did you seriously place a bet on what your patient's diagnosis is?"

House looked at her for a moment before narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Would that be considered not behaving?" He questioned, knowing the answer.

"It would be considered extremely unprofessional."

"Who told you about that?"

"Doesn't matter. Is it true?"

He was silent for a moment before smirking.

"Why? You want in?"

"Obviously. Your team is using up resources on the tests that the ER already ran, so I'm going to assume it's nothing more than a migraine." Cuddy pulled a one-hundred dollar bill from her purse on her desk before handing it to him. "Either have them find something before we leave tonight or treat the patient as a migraine."

House fidgeted with the bill for a moment as Cuddy moved from the edge of her desk to sit behind it once again. He knew something was wrong with her, but he didn't want to outright call her out on it in case it was something more serious than he initially thought. As always, he never listened to that little voice in his head and looked up towards her again.

"What's going on?" He finally asked as Cuddy logged into her computer and began typing an email.

"What'd you mean?" She asked, trying to play it off by not taking her eyes off the monitor. She was the Dean of this hospital, and she wasn't supposed to have her subordinates worried about any problem that she may have; this included House and Wilson. "Nothing's wrong, House, okay?" She said, sounding slightly frustrated in her tone, but finally looked at him again. "All I want is for you to behave, okay? That doesn't mean-"

"It's your eyes," House stated, studying her face. "Something's bothering you, and it's not me. For once," he added quickly as a small joke to lighten the mood.

"House, I promise… everything's okay."

"You're lying to me."

Cuddy let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in her chair before looking back up at him. "Why would I lie to you, Gregory?"

"Everybody lies," he stated seriously.

"So, you lie?"

"Sometimes within reason. You don't have a reason, though."

"A reason, House… Is that I'm the Dean of this hospital, okay? There are some things that I can't just disclose to you."

He hummed, tapping his fingers against her desk.

"Well, it's Friday. You'll drink enough wine tonight, then call me, and you'll tell me all about it."

She scoffed as she rolled her eyes, knowing that was something she did often.

"Just… go do clinic work. You still owe me twenty hours."

"Ooh… yeah…" House checked the watch that sat on the inside of his wrist. "It's noon. Lunchtime. Will do as soon as I get back."

"No, you won't."

"No, I won't."

"What'd you figure out with your patient?" Wilson asked House as they sat in their typical spot in the cafeteria. Of course, he was eating something healthy he cooked at home while House was eating the most cafeteria-looking food imaginable. "Y'know… it wouldn't kill you to try something healthy once in a while," he pointed out, looking at the chips and pizza combo.

"I don't gain weight. It's fine," House said quickly, dismissing Wilson's concern once again, which only caused Wilson to roll his eyes.

"You have an extremely fast metabolism. There's a difference, Greg. Which surprises me since you only eat and play video games during your downtime."

"At least I have fun on my downtime. What do you and Julie do again on yours?"

Wilson chuckled, looking down at his food.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"You certainly don't play games with me anymore."

Wilson let out a sigh. Of course he felt guilty lately for not spending as much time as he used to with his best friend, but that's what happened when getting married. When he became closer to House, his wife Julie was upset that he seemed to be spending all his free time with House than with her. House was a needy friend; Wilson could admit to that, but he didn't mind that at all. It wasn't his fault that he'd rather spend time with House than with Julie, especially since all she wanted to do was complain about… well, everything. Julie always made it a point to bring up a stupid question in Wilson's opinion; did he really want to spend time with House, or did he feel bad for House?

"I know, I'm sorry. Julie's been in a… cleaning and rearranging phase lately."

House hummed, studying his face as he leaned back in the booth. Well, from what he could tell, Wilson wasn't lying, but it was still an awful excuse as to why they couldn't hang out or do anything outside of work like they used to.

"Is that what you do when you're old? Clean and rearrange your home?" He asked with a smirk, knowing that playing the old card always got his attention.

"I'm only thirty-two!" He said with a frown, lightly throwing a pea at him.

"Only?"

"You kids think that being in your thirties is a death sentence," Wilson continued, wanting to play along with him. "What's gonna happen when you're in your thirties?"

"I would've lived long enough."

"No… you would probably not have any excuse as to why you haven't grown up." Wilson noted how quiet House had gone, so he decided it was time to change the subject. "So… the patient?" He tried again after clearing his throat.

"Dunno… the tests the ER and the Ducklings ran didn't show anything abnormal. Migraine medication isn't helping…." He closed an eye as he rubbed his fingers against his temple. He was getting frustrated from what Wilson could tell, but that only made him more determined to figure this case out.

"Speaking of your Ducklings…," he started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. "They told me about the little bet you all started," he handed him a couple of twenties. "I don't think it's a migraine," he stated.

House let out a dramatic gasp as he took the money.

"Wilson! I cannot believe you! Betting on a patient's condition; sick and unprofessional behaviour!"

"I'll keep you in mind next time I need a moral lesson."

Cameron and Foreman were getting nowhere fast; the tests that they ran came up with nothing, and having Wilson step in and take a look to make sure there weren't any tumours that could possibly be causing this pain, he found nothing. From what they gathered from Chase, the medicine they tried wasn't doing anything for her either. Everyone was stumped at this point. Even House was getting frustrated from being unable to figure it out. Even though the team has only been with House for a short period of time, they could sense when he was running into a dead end. The only difference between him and other doctors was that he wouldn't give up; he would find the answer without passing it off like the ER did with Elliot. If they had to guess, House would willingly give up sleep until he could figure this out.

The two were sitting at the nursing station to borrow the computer as they wanted to have another look at the patient's charts from the ER. From across the way, they could see into the patient's room through the transparent glass walls. They both decided to start over and create their own report. That way, they could comb through everything in case they missed something.

"So… how long has she been having this headache?" Foreman questioned as he was digging through the report the ER wrote up. Of course, they didn't put much helpful information in the file, seeing as it was 'just a migraine.'

"Two days." Cameron looked over her shoulder towards the patient's room; the woman was clearly in pain as tears ran down her face but there wasn't anything they could do to relieve the pain yet. "She had migraines in the past but nothing like this, apparently."

Foreman hummed, clicking through a couple of more charts.

"Anything different in the way she describes it?"

"Like… it pulsates. She says it just comes and goes with no warning…."

"Any light sensitivity or nausea?"

"Yeah, actually," she said, nodding slowly as she recalled the conversation she attempted to have with the patient before the pain kicked in again and she was unable to speak. "She's been having some nausea."

"Okay… well, did the pain or the nausea come first?

Cameron silently looked through the reports and paperwork that had been filled out previously to match with the report she did on her own. She held the two papers together, tilting her head a bit.

"Actually… the ER wrote that she came in for nausea and dizziness… the migraines came later on in the evening."

"Okay…," Foreman sighed, rubbing his forehead as he sighed deeply. He was almost about to call it quits and ask House for help, but seeing as their boss was just as stuck as they were, there was no way he would do that. "Well… headaches can come from vestibular problems or even inner ear infections… Maybe BPPV?"

Just as Cameron was about to say something, she was quickly interrupted by the same startling voice that got her every morning.

"What's up, nerds?" House asked playfully as he approached the nurse's station. He leaned across the counter to see what they were working on, only to see it was a blank report form.

Cameron looked back at House in surprise, closing the paperwork that she had been working on. She was still upset with him; not over this stupid bet, but the way he freaked out on her this morning about the lab coat thing. She was only trying to help and he got so snippy with her for no reason.

"What do you want?" She accidentally snapped back. She didn't feel like dealing with him or his jokes right now; she was trying to focus on this case.

He was taken back by her sudden tone; Cameron was always so sweet and helpful, so hearing her snap at him like that certainly caught him off guard.

"Damn. Okay… nice to see you too," House said, not knowing what else to say.

"Are you going to be helpful?" Foreman asked House.

"Probably not. Just checking in on my Ducklings. Did you figure anything out? Cuddy says we have until the end of the day, so… what have we thought up?"

"We think that she might have BPPV," she explained, sounding a little less annoyed with their boss now that they're on track talking about work. "That would explain the dizziness and nausea but doesn't explain the severity of the pain."

"Could possibly be a problem with her inner ear…." Foreman added, staring off as he tried to think of other possibilities.

While the two went back and forth, bouncing ideas off of each other, House looked at the patient across the hall, noticing that while she looked like she had been in pain moments ago, she seemed fine now. As if nothing was wrong in the first place. He studied her momentarily; she appeared to be doing just fine. There was no look of pain on her face, no distress; she even pulled out her cell phone and began tapping on the screen. He watched for a few more moments when someone slowly opened the door to her room, and as soon as the young man stepped in, the look of pain was immediately on her face again.

"Who's that?" House questioned suddenly, startling the team once again. For once he had been so silent and still that they had forgotten that he was standing there. "The guy who just entered Elliot's room."

"Oh, that's her boyfriend I think," Foreman explained, "he was in there with her earlier. Why?"

"Interesting." House pushed himself off from the counter, watching them for a few more moments before walking away without another word. He was good at doing that; it took the team a while to get used to the fact that if House was in the middle of thinking, he'd just walk away sometimes.

"Hey, where're you going?" Chase questioned as House was about to pass him in the hallway.

"I think we're about to lose a bet. Keep a close eye on her once the boyfriend leaves," was all he said before returning to his office.

Watching him walk away from them without explaining what was going on only grew the annoyance within Cameron. While she was calm for a moment, remembering what happened earlier today only frustrated her even more. She had no idea why House was able to get under her skin so easily; it wasn't reasonable, yet he did anyway. She couldn't even tell if he was doing it intentionally. Little did she know she wasn't ready to accept and open up her feelings to herself about what was happening here. There was a reason why she was so upset that he had pushed her away earlier; she wanted to be close to him, and the feeling of rejection was too much for her to handle at the moment.

She couldn't help when she stood up from the counter, telling Foreman and Chase that she'd be right back, only for them to exchange confused glances with each other but didn't say anything to her in response. She seemed determined and didn't want to get in her way, especially since they could feel the heavy tension in the air when House showed up.

Cameron walked with determination through the halls until she reached House's office. She opened the door without knocking, approaching House who was sitting behind his desk.

"Are you going to tell me why you freaked out when I tried helping you?!" Cameron demanded, looking down at House, who was sitting in his office chair, tapping the pen he was holding against his desk as he tried to think of something. "House!"

"What?" He asked in a tone that made Cameron realise that he didn't hear a word she had just said to him. He was… off. More than usual; sure, he was always a bit eccentric, but this was something else. He was distracted. "Sorry…." He mumbled, looking up at her.

Any annoyance that Cameron had held against House at the moment faded upon hearing how different he sounded. It wasn't exactly as if he were sad or frustrated, but maybe a bit of distance or discomfort. She couldn't understand why she couldn't stay mad at him for long; anybody else she would hold a grudge. That was her toxic trait, and she knew it, but it didn't ever seem to stick with House.

"It's… okay," she said quietly, not knowing what else to say about his sudden behavioural change. "But you have to understand, I was only trying to help you…."

"I know, I appreciate it. Thanks."

"Does the coat seriously bother you that much?"

House let out a small chuckle, rubbing his eye with his finger.

"Yeah… it's stupid."

"It's not stupid. Maybe once you wash it and dry it it'll feel better. But… since when is Cuddy forcing you to wear it? She usually lets it slide."

"She's certainly holding her cards close to her chest," he mumbled, grabbing the tennis ball from his desk before fidgeting with it as he was lost in thought once again. "What do you think it is?" He asked suddenly before looking up at her again, still tossing the ball between his hands.

"What do you mean?"

"With the patient. Do you seriously think it's an inner ear infection?"

"Well…." She paused for a moment before stepping a bit closer. "Do you seriously think it's a migraine?"

House looked into her eyes for a moment as if trying to study her. Cameron could feel how intensely he was looking at her, feeling her face heat up slightly, hoping that her cheeks didn't turn as red as they were feeling. There was some sort of emotion there that House wasn't able to connect with anything else; while he was good at reading people, there were some emotions that stumped him no matter what. Emotions certainly weren't his strong suit, especially since he had difficulty pinpointing and identifying his own emotions. Hell, he could barely self-regulate his emotions; it was no wonder he had so many meltdowns and tantrums whenever he couldn't deal with them. Looking down at the desk, House was surprised to see how close Cameron's hand was to his. Since he didn't know how to deal with that, he pretended that he didn't notice.

"I dunno… I have a theory though."

"Which is?"

He smirked before pushing himself up from the chair.

"No copying." He moved past her.

"Wait, House-" She lightly grabbed his arm, only to let go immediately after hearing him let out a loud hiss of pain. Her eyes were wide in concern; he acted as if her touch was fire the way he moved away and rubbed at his upper arm. "Are… are you okay? What-"

His only response was a small, tight smile, trying to play it off like he didn't just wince in pain at her light touch. He dropped his arm from his own, but it was too late; she had already seen his reaction, which only concerned her more. House never talked about himself personally outside of work; he only told stories of his past and his college experiences, but never about what he did over the weekend or any relationships with anyone, including his parents. Foreman and Chase were quick to shrug it off, suggesting that's just how guys were; they didn't like to talk about their feelings. Cameron didn't believe that was true for a second. House loved to talk, especially whenever it stroked his own ego; surely, if he had anything going on outside of work, he'd be letting everybody know. Right?

"Are… you hurt?" She questioned softly as if not to startle him for any reason. Just assuming the fact that House was hurt for any reason caused a bolt of anxiety to run through her; she just couldn't imagine someone like him being hurt in any way.

"No… No, I'm-" He started to say as he shook his head, only to stop when she tried reaching for his arm again. House moved back a bit from her touch.

"Is your arm okay?"

"I'm okay… the… lab coat is just…" He started to trail off, not knowing where he was going with his lines of excuses. Everybody knew that he had sensory issues. Today made it obviously clear with how he was reacting to the lab coat, but that didn't explain the hiss of pain. "I fell off my motorcycle the other day, still feelin' that."

Cameron could only stare at him; she knew he wasn't telling her the truth. If he had fallen off his bike to get that hurt, there would be marks and cuts on him; more importantly, he would have been making a huge deal about it and bringing it up nonstop. Why wouldn't he tell her anything? She couldn't understand the point of hiding things from the team, especially if he was injured in anyway. She wanted to help him, even though he could be loud and obnoxious. She seemed to like that for some reason.

"Do you want me to look at your arm?" She offered.

"Nope. Wilson looked at it for me. Said it was just a pull."

She was about to question his logic on how falling off a motorcycle warranted just a pulled muscle, but she dropped it. She was getting frustrated enough with him that she didn't feel like talking about it anymore; Cameron knew she'd get the answer eventually; House couldn't resist talking about himself.

"Okay…" she mumbled, knowing that he was also done talking about it.

"Just some scrapes."

"House-"

"Gotta go."

Cuddy looked at her watch as she stood up from her desk; she couldn't believe it's been almost three hours since House had bothered her about anything. Typically, he was in and out of her office a couple of times an hour, so being this quiet meant something was wrong. Or he was overly focused on his work for once, but that was something that Cuddy couldn't believe.

Just as she picked up her phone to text him, the door to her office opened. When she looked up, she had expected it to be House coming in to bother her once again but was surprised to see that it was Wilson, holding a bag from the gas station down the road.

"Hey… where's House been? He's being…."

"Quiet?" Wilson finished for her. "Yeah… he's… on lookout."

"For what?"

Wilson had figured it would be easier to show her what he was talking about rather than trying to explain whatever nonsense House thought would work. House quickly took over the same nurse's station that Cameron and Foreman had been working at earlier. He was sitting there, not taking his eyes off the patient he could see from across the way. From what House could tell, one moment, she was suffering and in pain; the next, she seemed completely fine. Was he neglecting his clinic hours to do this? Of course, he was. He'd find any excuse not to do clinic, but he had a 'reason this time.'

House was sure that he had figured out a pattern, or at least a strong theory, but he had to keep watching to make sure. He couldn't be distracted.

"House!" Cuddy called to him, causing him to close his eyes and let out a sigh. "You're supposed to be in the clinic. What are you doing?" She demanded, starting to get frustrated with his antics. "You do anything to get out of doing your job lately and…" She trailed off, letting out a frustrated huff before rubbing her forehead, trying to calm herself down before she started making a scene in the hallway in front of patients and other staff. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Where are my snacks?" He questioned, ignoring her question. Once he saw Wilson, he held his hand out for the bag he was holding. "Gimmie." With the bag in hand, he began to shuffle through it. "What was your question?"

Cuddy sighed again.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Cuddy said, purposely slower this time.

"I'm investigating," House said simply as he opened a bag of chips. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her question. What did it look like he was doing? "Probably not the best time to tell you right now, Cuddy… but I think we're about to lose a bet."

"What was that?" Wilson questioned with a smirk, folding his arms across his chest. "What? Don't think it's a migraine anymore?"

"Hey! Private conversation!"

"I'll take you off the clinic schedule if you give me my money back," Cuddy told him quietly.

"Dr. Cuddy, are you bribing me?!" He said loudly, only to lower his voice. "Make it a week."

Wilson rolled his eyes, turning and going back to his office. House was undoubtedly his best friend, but sometimes he wanted to shake him. He couldn't understand how clinic was so difficult for him? Sure, it wasn't as exciting as dealing with his patients, but it couldn't be that bad.

As Wilson flipped the file in his hand open, he heard his name being called from behind him. When he turned around, he saw Dr. Cameron walking up to him.

"Dr. Wilson?" She said again, looking almost tired with a hint of frustration. That's what working for House did to people. "I was wondering… how's House doing?"

Wilson was a bit confused, closing the file in his hand. She was the one who worked for House, so she saw him more than he did during the day; plus, House was somebody who never opened up to people, including Wilson.

"Um… He's… fine? I think. Why?"

"He said he fell off his motorcycle."

"Right… when was this?" Wilson questioned, still not understanding what Cameron was talking about. He knew how much House adored that stupid motorcycle; if there was ever a scratch on it, he'd complain nonstop, let alone if he had gotten hurt, he'd make such a fuss over it.

"Never mind…." Cameron mumbled, turning around and walking the other way, leaving Wilson confused.

There was no reason that House had to lie about getting hurt on his motorcycle, right? Wilson was curious, especially since he told him about everything.

"Okay, okay!" House said, sounding frustrated as Wilson practically shoved him into his office, closing the door behind him. "What?! I was busy!"

Wilson let out an equally frustrated sigh, rubbing his forehead, not ready to hear his best friend start whining and complaining about doing his job when he was still only sitting and watching, waiting for something to happen to the patient. Before House could start talking again about how he was the 'reason he couldn't get his job done properly,' Wilson began tugging at the sleeve of his lab coat.

"Take off your coat," Wilson said sternly, not wanting to play these games with him anymore. Clearly, from Cameron's comments and how secretive House had been lately, there was something he was hiding.

"Damn, did my year of flirting finally get to you?" House joked, taking off the lab coat without another thought.

"Shut up," Wilson stated, snatching the coat from him and tossing it over the chair in front of his desk. "You told Cameron you fell off your motorcycle?"

"That's not what I- Hey!" He groaned as Wilson started rolling up his sleeve.

"We talked about this…." He said quietly.

"Chase? What're you doing?" Foreman questioned, seeing that his coworker was sitting at the same nurses station that House had been at for the past hour.

"The joys of this…." Chase mumbled, his elbows propped up on the counter, his head resting on the palms of his hands as he watched the patient's room, looking like he was about to fall asleep at any moment. "Do you think this is what other doctors do?"

"Don't think so. What's House's plan here?"

"He won't tell me."

They both watched the patient, who was still lying on her side, but it was obvious that she was playing on her phone. There were times when she seemed to be in extreme amounts of pain, but the rest of the time, she seemed bored and playing on her phone.

"Do you think it's because you're about to lose a bet?"

"I don't-" Chase stopped when he saw House entering the patient's room. "What the hell is he doing?" He mumbled, knowing that House rarely saw the patients on his own accord.

When House entered the patient's room, he closed it behind him, closing the curtains around the transparent hallway walls. He tilted his head to the side, staring at the patient, who started whining a bit in pain, trying to hide her phone underneath one of her blankets. House didn't say anything; he just dimmed the lights a bit, acting as though he didn't notice her doing that.

"Pain on a scale from one to ten?" He questioned, grabbing the clipboard from the end of the bed and repeatedly clicking the pen he was holding. He had a plan here.

"Eleven," she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow.

He hummed, sitting up on the counter, still clicking the pen. House couldn't see her face, but he was still trying to get a read on her. If he was correct about what he thought the diagnosis was, he would get his answer soon enough.

"That wasn't on the pain scale, but I'll allow it." He was silent for a moment. "But I'll ask again, though; what's your pain level?"

"Ten-"

"Can we be honest though? Your pain is not at a ten."

"What? But-"

"Lights were on. You've been on your phone almost all day…." House shrugged as if it wasn't that serious. "I've noticed something though…." He stood up, clicking the pen and continuously flicking the lights on and off. "Is the medicine helping then?" He checked the IV bag to see it was halfway empty.

"Yeah."

"That's crazy… that's just saline. It doesn't really do anything besides hydrate you. Hm… maybe you were dehydrated this whole time. Or… I have another suggestion?"

Elliot frowned, not liking where House was going with this.

"You have good insurance, right?" House questioned, looking through the paperwork again. "You're on your parents? Alright, so who's gonna tell them you've been faking it this entire time?" He asked, looking at her as he tilted his head to the side. "I can, but I don't think I'll be overly nice about it."

"I wasn't faking!"

"Right… I've heard that before… I've noticed you were in more pain whenever your boyfriend or parents were around. Are you lacking attention at home? Boyfriend cheating?" When she went silent, he let out a frustrated groan. "Alright, he cheated. That sucks, but what do you expect to happen long term? Or did you plan on laying here forever?"

"I'm sorry…." She mumbled, wiping her face. "I just… I dunno…."

House huffed as he paced silently back and forth for a few seconds, drumming his fingers against the clipboard he was still holding onto. Sure, he was annoyed that she wasted their time and her parents' money, but he thought of an idea.

"Alright, I'll tell you what'll benefit us both," House started, writing something down on the clipboard.

"So… she had migraines?" Foreman questioned, looking through the discharge paperwork. Elliot had gone home a couple of hours ago after House had given her the clear.

"Yeah… sucks to suck, huh?" House said with a smirk as Chase handed him his share of the bet money.

"If it was just a migraine, why couldn't the ER treat her?" Cameron questioned, not believing her boss for a second, but seeing it on the discharge paperwork made it real.

"Couldn't tell ya. Probably had more serious things to attend to."

Foreman rolled his eyes as he stood up, unable to believe that he and Cameron were wrong and lost a bet. Oh well… Just goes to show that they should've known better than to challenge someone who specialized in this field, especially if that someone was House.

As his team was about to leave for the night, the small conscience in House felt bad about what he did.

"Cameron?" He called before she left the conference room.

Cameron practically glared at him for a moment, before rolling her eyes as he closed the door.

"What?" She said, sounding frustrated. "Are you going to explain why you lied to me?" She demanded, lightly grabbing his arm for a moment, causing him to flinch. "Wilson didn't know what the hell you were talking about."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He counted the winning money before giving it to her. "Here."

"What the hell is that for? Lying to me?"

"Yeah, but it's for me lying to win the bet."

"You…." She looked at him with a confused look. "Wait, what? How did you lie to win?"

"Don't ask questions. Here."

Cameron sighed, taking the money from him. That still didn't explain why he lied to her about a motorcycle accident, but she knew that she wouldn't get anything out of him.

"Y'know, House… it wouldn't kill you to trust us a bit more."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, but you need to trust us."

Cameron sighed, looking at his arm; she was surprised to see that he had been wearing the lab coat the entire day. They had figured he would've thrown it away by now. With her other hand, Cameron gently grabbed his wrist before trying to pull up the sleeve of his lab coat; she could feel his muscles tensing up, and she had thought she was getting somewhere. That was, until he yanked his arm away from her again, forcing his sleeve back down. It was progress, Cameron supposed, but he still needed to learn to trust them.

"Y'know that it worries me, right?" She stated, folding her arms over her chest.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

Cameron gently caressed his face, watching him flinch in response, but continued to allow her to touch his face.

"Why did you flinch?" She asked quietly, feeling bad about the reaction.

"Did I?"

Cameron moved away from House, studying his face. She let out a small sigh and looked at the money in her hand.

"Have a good night, House…." Cameron said quietly, turning and leaving the conference room.