Notes: This is my first House fic, so feedback would be awesome.

"Hate the sin, love the sinner."-Gandhi


House is not a stupid man. He can easily tell it was not his name on the box of cookies he'd found. In fact it is Wilson's name, written clearly above a note saying 'Do not touch' in black marker. He honestly doesn't care. Serves Wilson right for leaving House unsupervised in his office when he ran out during one of their rare, at work make-out sessions.

He munches loudly; making sure crumbs fall onto the carpet. He hadn't been hungry when he found the cookies, but he is ravenous now. Maybe it's because all Girl Scouts secretly put drugs in their cookies so people will buy. House has a feeling it has more about the treats being Wilson's and the fact he wants to piss him off, just for the fun of it. (And the for the way his face goes all funny when he's mad at House.)

In a matter of minutes, House has finished the box and begins a search for the others he is sure Wilson has hidden, his stomach growling loudly.


House tries to act inconspicuous as he spies on Wilson in the cafeteria. The oncologist is chatting with a new, overly perky female nurse. The nurse, a blonde blue-eyed tart, laughs shrilly at something Wilson says, and then leans closer to him. Wilson either doesn't notice, or ignores it.

The mental image of bashing the nurse's skull with his cane becomes more appealing to House with each second that passes. He knows it's stupid to get jealous over some nurse who was trying to get a date Wilson. However, a corner of House's mind still wants to shield the other man and growl, 'Back off, bitch.'

When the two leave, House stands and grimly goes to find out the nurse's name, fully prepared to introduce her to Hell, Greg House style.


House lies in the bed until noon, though he is due at work by eleven. He is too comfortable to move, even after Wilson leaves for the hospital at nine and wakes him. 'If I'm really needed,' House reasons to himself, 'they would call'.

By twelve-thirty, the blue-eyed man reluctantly leaves the bed and showers. House takes longer than he normally would, enjoying the pinpricks of hot water on his back. Breakfast is also a slow affair, even though the meal is simple: pop tarts and coffee. Eventually, House makes it to the hospital, twirling his cane as he slips into his office.

There are no new cases and he doesn't want to bother with clinic duty, so House locks the door and settles himself into his chair. As soft music comes from his iPod, the diagnostician is fully prepared for a nap.


It doesn't matter that he some sort of yet to be defined relationship going on with Wilson, Cuddy's breasts fascinate House. He has his face to hers, but his mind is not on the lecture she is giving him on ethics. Like some immature twelve year old, House wants to point and giggle, 'Boobies!'

Slowly, the thoughts become more adult. Despite the fact they're in part of the children's ward, House can't keep his mind from thinking things about his boss that are borderline pornographic.

"House!" Cuddy snaps, "Are you even paying attention to me?"

When House responds with a lewd comment about a woman and what she'd be willing to do to sooth a crippled man's suffering, Cuddy throws her hands up in the air and leaves. House follows her, his gait stiffer than usual.


House glares the tray of cookies, candy, and punch, as if the treats have mortally offended him. He knows that he can't have any and that only makes it work. Nurses and a few doctors set up the tray for blood donors and the sick.

Normally, House would have taken some anyway. However, it's Halloween and bunch of kids are in the clinic after doing God knows what to impress their friends and then injuring themselves. They all watch as he hobbles around, picking up different files and collecting patients.

A doctor stealing the candy from the sick is usually frowned upon, so House bribes a fourteen year old to get him a Kit-Kat bar, in exchange for removing a naked Barbie doll from where it is crazy glued into his scalp.

Later, when the room thins out, House stuffs two more handfuls of candy into his pockets and shoves a cookie into his mouth.


When House founds out the name of the new nurse, (Kelsey Jones) he is positively ecstatic. Both Wilson and Cuddy are suspicious, but don't ask because they know they won't get answers. So, House puts his plans for world domination aside and focuses only on Kelsey. (Or as he now calls her, Blonde Bimbo Who Needs To Suffer, or B.B. for short.)

At first, it's harmless things. Stealing her pens and setting her up for subscriptions to naughty websites and magazines, for the most part. The nurse seems unfazed and that bugs House. Next, he steps it up a notch. He goes out of his way to hit her shin with hid cane whenever he sees her, but somehow she always smiles and apologizes like she felt nothing.

Finally, desperate to see her truly upset, House leaves a note to B.B. on her windshield.

'Dearest Darlingest Kelsey, You're so beautiful when you sleep. Go ahead and lock your windows, it adds some fun for me. By the way, you're out of milk. Love, Your Very Secret Admirer'

When B.B. turns in her two week's notice the next day, House can't keep the evil grin off his face.


House has always been a proud man, his infarction only made this more so. He wanted no one's pity and as little help as possible. He is always right, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a complete moron.

So when Wilson offers to help him get up the icy stairs, House refuses. Wilson rolls his eyes, "House, ice plus cane usually equals bad. Stop being so stubborn!"

"I'm not being stubborn," House replies, "You're being stupid! Just 'cause I use a cane doesn't mean I need you to help me with everything."

The oncologist rubs the bridge of his nose; "I'm not trying to help you with everything. The stairs are covered in ice. You could slip and break your collarbone. Just let me help you for once."

"If both my legs worked perfectly fine, you wouldn't offer help!" House responds in a tersely, "You'd assume I could handle it, which I can! I don't need your help, so go get your Boy Scout good deed of the day down by getting an old lady across the street or something."

"Fine," Wilson says, "Do it yourself. I'm going in, the door will be unlocked."

"Fine," House says, turning away from the other man.

Wilson goes in, making sure House notices he used the handrail. As soon as the door shuts, House gets out of the car, where he had been sitting. Haughtily, he flounces along the sidewalk and up the stairs. Handrails, he decides, are for losers.

Later, House calls the apartment and a frantic Wilson answers, "Where are you?"

"Emergency room," House's voice is static-y, "These morons say I need to have you pick me up. Apparently, people with stitches can't go in taxis. Weird, huh?"

Wilson drives to the hospital, with a long lecture and hot coffee waiting for House in the car. House takes the drink, but zones out as Wilson rants about his display of arrogance and stubbornness.

The speech winds down dramatically, ('you're an idiot! And if you think I'm letting you anywhere near those stairs again by yourself until they've been salted, I'm taking you back to the hospital to check for brain damage and next time call sooner, you moron!') by the time they return to the apartment.

'I'm not wrong. I'm just humoring him.' House tells himself as a hand on the small of his back guides him up the stairs.