A/N: Dedicated to Fuzz, who is the one who came up with this idea! I love you, sissy! Now, this is my very first House story, and I don't know if it'll be good but everyone likes a good humor fic so hopefully I'll get a few reviews! Don't kill me, though; I have the idea that I might mess up trying to write House in character. Dunno; tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own House: MD. David Shore does, people. And I must say he's pretty frickin' awesome.
It was a chronically slow day at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. There were no cases and all the patients that the team had been instructed to look after were either recovering or undergoing treatment which seemed to be working. No one's beeper had went off in more than an hour so something, for once, was working. It was the middle of summer, and to top it all off the air conditioning in Doctor Lisa Cuddy's office was on the fritz.
These were the events that led up to Doctors Cuddy, Chase. Cameron, Foreman, Wilson, and House all gathering into House's mercifully cool office, slung onto various pieces of furniture (or, in the case of Doctor Chase, the floor) alternatively staring at each other and twiddling their thumbs.
"Don't you people have anything to do?" House inquired, giving the current occupants of his office his signature sardonic glare. "You know, patients to treat…diagnoses to give…crying mothers and four-year-old girls to pity until your heads explode…" the last remark was directed at Cameron, who simply rolled her eyes subtly at her boss and redirected her gaze to a patch of carpet a little to the left of Chase's body.
"The McNamara girl is actually improving," Foreman interjected. "She's reacting well to the prednisone."
"What did she have again?" House asked.
"Lupus," Chase sighed. "Remember how we went through nearly every disease from A-Z and eliminated them all? Or rather, Cameron and I did while you sat in your office and Foreman tried to make sure she didn't dye from liver failure?"
"Mm…can't remember that," House replied, "must have slipped my mind."
"Turn on the television?" Cuddy asked suddenly after glancing at the clock. House turned and stared, blinking lazily at her as if he didn't understand her request. "Uh…House? The Olympics come on in a few minutes. I want to see the diving."
"Ah, men in Speedos have always made horny women happy, haven't they?" House asked, grabbing the remote and holding it teasingly in front of Cuddy's face. She rolled her eyes and reached for it, House pulling it away right before she got it in her hands. This happened several times over until Wilson, from the armchair closest to House's desk, leaned over and yanked the flicker out of House's hand. He presented it to Cuddy with a formal air and gave House an exasperated stare. House simply hung his tongue out of his mouth like the petulant five-year-old he was on the inside.
Cuddy sighed and turned on the television, quickly flicking it to NBC in time to see the first dive of the program.
They sat in relative silence until the males of the group, as all men do when in close proximity to televised sports, began being sucked into it. They ooh'd and cheered and boo'd at all the right points, House, Foreman, and Wilson cheering on the American divers (House: "You call that a dive, you moron?!" Wilson: "I've seen pancreatic cancer patients who can do a better summersault than you!") While Chase frantically showed support in his home country with rather spastic flailing of his arms and yelling profanity at the Australian divers.
"Are they under the impression they can hear them?" Cameron inquired of her fellow female doctor, watching their behavior with all the embarrassment of a mother watching her young children misbehave in front of company.
"All the way in Beijing," Cuddy confirmed, nodding along with her as House let out a loud BOO as the American diver badly fumbled his dive, only completing it halfway before he apparently lost his center of balance and flopped the rest of the way into the water. Cuddy winced, both at the horrible dive and the thoughts of the amount of raw pain that impact must have brought the diver.
Somehow, though, the American diver was selected to move up, and it was the Australian, Chinese, American, Swedish, British, and Canadian divers that went onto the last round. The Chinese diver was leading, ("Of course, the cheating bastards fixed it," House was quick to remark.) with Australia a very close second (A fraction of a point behind) followed by Great Brittan, Canada, Sweden, and America pulling up the rear.
America had no hope and everyone admitted it – the commentators for the news network even seemed to be hinting at their own country's imminent demise – and Australia pulled up the front when China fumbled a bit on their final dive. Great Brittan failed to meet the standard set by the Aussie diver, and Canada and Sweden hadn't really had a chance at first in the first place.
Chase was insufferable; hopping around and shaking what he had in Foreman's face. The African-American kicked him and sent him back to the ground, where he continued to mock the American males in sing-song. He then broke into a loud, resounding chorus of Waltzing Matilda while attempting to get the other men (Who had no clue of how to sing the song) to join.
"You forget, Wombat," House said gravely. "That isn't the national anthem, as much as you people would like it to be."
"And you forget, House," Chase reminded, raising a brow at his boss. "We consider it the unofficial national anthem. It got very close in the voting in 1977. Besides…it's just a better victory song. Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me…!"
"Plan B," House announced. He stood up, limped over to Chase, and stabbed his cane down on the Aussie's hand. The strains of song were interrupted by a cry of pain and Cuddy stared at House incredulously while Cameron knelt down beside her boyfriend and examined his hand. She announced it was broken and quickly led him into the adjoining glass-enclosed meeting room to pull an ice pack out of the mini fridge.
"What is wrong with you?" Cuddy demanded, shaking her head at House with a mixture of disgust and awe.
"Haven't we had this conversation before, Lisa?" House inquired, already shuffling towards the door. "And what was my answer to you? Besides, someone had to shut him up. I tried doing it nicely."
"Just go, House," directed Cuddy. "I'm sure you'll be able to find a few babies to make cry."
"Gladly," House retaliated, before limping out the door.
"And don't call me Lisa…!"
A/N: Haha. Chase was horribly OOC, but I could honestly care less. I thought it was rather funny. Like I said, this is my first House: MD fic so I'd appreciate the practice of social niceties in your reviews. Though, I will say flames will be accepted if they are forced upon me and will be promptly danced in before being doused. :D
Thanks so much for reading! And reviews are my crack; I'm a whore for them. I need a hit. Review?