By the Book

House, M.D.

by MK

Gen

A month and a few days into what could be called the beginning of a hideous friendship or possibly just two guys who happened to eat together every once in awhile, Wilson started in on his girlfriend. "Sometimes she just-"

House held one hand out, palm vertical an inch from Wilson's nose. Maybe it was to stop him talking (which it did) or maybe just so that his other hand could steal his pickle (which it did). In actuality, it was both.

"Don't talk about your relationship problems. They bore me, they're your own fault and I don't care." He paused to take a sharp bite of the pilfered pickle. "I don't bore you, you don't bore me."

"What is that, the first rule of having lunch with Dr. House?"

"No, that would be come prepared. You might win the battle, but not- well, no, you probably won't win the battle, either."

Just for that, Wilson stole half his fries.

Maybe they were closer to that hideous friendship later, because Wilson really had stopped talking about things that would bore House. Not because House had told him to, but because when he went back to the nurses' station, the blonde with three kids (he would never ever tell House that he had forgotten her name already) had talked his ear off about something or other that had irritated her. Wilson had tuned out after about thirty seconds and started to think about when he'd have to get his oil changed.

So it made sense. Wilson stopped talking to people about his small problems. He only brought one up if he thought the person he was talking to could actually help with, and only after he had already done everything he could.

It was about this time that Wilson's popularity started to rise.

"Together or separate?"

"Together," House cut in, wrapping one arm around Wilson's waist. "At least, that's what you told me last night in the back of your Dad's chevy. You did mean it, didn't you?"

The only thing stranger than the fact that the lunch lady took him seriously was the expression House made that was supposed to equate puppy-dog eyes.

"Don't do that. Your face might stick that way." Regardless, he was rifling through his wallet for the cash.

"And then what? None of the clinic patients would take me seriously? They might have to remove me from the schedule permanently!"

"Not likely. I was more worried about the effects your face might have on patients who are actually ill. Exacerbating the symptoms. Could be deadly."

"All the better," House said, winking at the cashier as they lifted their trays and walked away. "Even less time spent wasted on listening to dying people lie to me."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "They can't all be liars."

"Wanna bet?"

Wilson lost five hundred dollars and some small measure of pride. "All right, so all of your patients lie. Did you ever consider that you might be the cause?"

"Me?" He gasped, eyes wide and one hand delicately pressed to his heart. "What ever for?"

The second rule of being friends with House was unspoken. (If they really were friends. Wilson had suspicions that he might be a pet project.) Lie to me, House practically screamed. He wanted lies so he could puzzle out the truth.

The third rule of House came out slightly before the end of his first (and miraculously short) marriage.

"Don't lie to yourself," House spat, slamming his glass down on the bar and rooting through his pockets for cash. "Lie to her, lie to your wife, hell, lie to your patients. But don't lie to yourself. You had an affair. It happens. I could care less, unless you had it with the chick from Baywatch." He finally found a crumpled mass of dollar bills and shoved them next to his empty glass. "Lying to yourself just makes you stupid."

The only thing Wilson could think to say in reply was, "Which girl from Baywatch?"

Six months into what could only be called a disaster waiting to happen, Wilson talked House into t.p'ing the office of one Doctor Frank Dasher. Talked being code for "mentioned briefly that Dasher had pissed him off" and "into t.p'ing the office of" being code for "accidentally mentioned that fact in the hearing of Dr. Gregory House".

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Don't you think the janitors will notice that half their toilet paper supply is missing?"

"No, I think they'll be more interested in how in wound up strung around Dasher's Obusforme chair." Wilson struggled momentarily with the paper wrapping.

"Why do they wrap this stuff, anyway? Somewhere, an Environmental Studies major is crying." Finally managing to get it open, he threw a clean, solid arc of white across the room, managing to knock the shade off the floor lamp.

"Six points," and House's shot actually managed to bounce off the far wall and curve around the chair and into the seat of it. "I hear there's something called sanitation," he replied. "Keeping the rolls in the highest possible state of purity until the chosen time. Like virgin sacrifices."

"At which point the janitors, who have been touching everything in the hospital including bodily fluids, unwrap it with their bare hands and place it in the grossest part of the hospital for public use, where hundreds of people will touch it."

The smooth arcs their twin rolls of toilet paper made crossing the room were somehow beautiful.

"Really? You think the bathrooms are the grossest part of the hospital? You obviously haven't been eating in the cafeteria enough."

The step-tap-step behind him told Wilson to slow down; House was only a moment behind. "Pst!" Wilson glanced sideways at the person who was quite possibly his best friend. "I need you to ask Cameron to ask Cuddy if Foreman likes me! I totally saw him checking me out in Math class."

"Lies, I heard from Radiology that they heard from Obstetrics that Chase and Foreman have been going steady for three months." Rule four was both 'Play along' and 'Gossip often'. But only during commercial breaks for General Hospital. Commercials during The O.C and Veronica Mars were dedicated to character and plot analysis. Obviously.

"That bastard! Well somebody has to tell Genetics to tell Home Care to tell Cardiopulmonary to tell Chase that Foreman is totally a player and might cheat on him."

"All so that you can have Foreman all to yourself, of course."

"Well, duh."

"Quick, grab a package of gloves and come with me!" Wilson looked up from his paperwork, sighed a little and opened a drawer. "What are you doing?"

"Getting my safety goggles, too."

"You keep safety goggles in your desk drawer?" It was a rare day when someone managed to put that look on House's face. Wilson smiled.

"First rule of being friends with House: Come prepared."