Summary: House doesn't want anything for his birthday, but does Wilson listen? Nope, so he gets him an unbearable gift he knows is going to piss House off. Rated 'T' for language. Sorry for the bad and weird title…
A/N: Yup, this is my first chapter fic, and i hope you'll like it! Weird thing is, i always come up with great stuff for House to say once i turn off my computer... Oh, well! if you want me to continue this(or it just made you curious and stuff) tell me in reviews! Happy reading:)
Disclaimer: I do not own House MD. This is purely fictional and there's no need to sue, as I am not making a profit out of this.
The week before…
"The only reason I'd want something for my birthday, was if Cuddy was a hooker and available that night, and besides," House pressed the oncologist against the wall with his cane, and hissed into his ear. "If you throw me a giant surprise party, I'll kill you."
Wilson chuckled, releasing himself from the diagnostician's cane and continued to walk beside him down the hall. "Even if someone did throw you a surprise party, the only thing that would yell surprise when you walked in would be sound card. Not even I would come to your birthday party..." It was House's birthday next week, and he had made it clear that he wanted nothing, absolutely nothing as a gift. But Wilson had a plan. It was not going to make his friend happy, but considering the laugh he would have of this (and the fact that it in fact was all to House's benefit) made it all worth it.
As soon as they reached the parking lot of the hospital, Wilson couldn't hold it in any longer. He had to tell him. "House," He said, to get his attention. "I'm not going to lie to you; I've already got you a present…"
He saw House's anger as soon as he finished the sentence. "You idiot! Why did you…?! I specifically told you not to, and then you did. Ah, well, should've expected it from you… You've got ears the size of Grand Canyon, Jimmy, but listening to what I say seems a bit difficult for you... SHOULD I SHOUT IT TOO YOU, PERHAPS!?"
"Keep your voice down! You might like this present… as I am no longer living with you…" Wilson followed House to his bike.
"Hah, so this is just a…" He put his jacket on, as he searched for the word. "Replacement sort of thing? Like a big plant with the name-tag 'Jimmy Wilson' on it and a built in voice moderator that says 'House, stop popping those Vicodins like they were candy!'? Or, my personal favorite; 'If you just tried functioning without them… You're an addict, Greg House!'"
The oncologist sighed. "No, it's something different. And stop guessing, you'll never find out what it is."
"Is it something small?"
He chuckled. "Definitely, it's smaller than you, I promise."
"Fine. As long as it isn't an animal, a table, books or anything else whiny and useless." He grabbed his bad leg, swung it over the bike and drove off, without saying goodbye to his friend.
"Bye, House…" Wilson muttered and went to his car in the other end of the parking lot.