(short one shot one chapter thing because every time House falls I expect a reaction like you would get from everyone who already has an injured leg and falls.. eg. Not jumping up again straight away and pretend nothing happened).
Alternate scene for 6x13
House and Wilson were making their way to their regular table in the hospital cafeteria, and House was ranting on about the prankster.
"Well, then it should stop now that Marcus left." Wilson tried to calm him down.
"That's the whole point!" So much for calming down.
But before House could take another breath and speak his next sentence, he went down.
The lunch tray he was balancing in his left hand flew through the air and he crashed, hard.
Wilson was about to put his own tray on the table, but now turned around in surprise. He looked down at House, then up at Lucas who was sitting at a table next to where House was laying sprawled on the floor.
"Oh, I'm sorry, was my leg sticking out?" Lucas taunted House. "I'm so distracted lately trying to think of something funnier than fire-sprinklers going off in the middle of the night. Any ideas?"
"So, it was.. you? Why?" Wilson asked.
"Oh, don't pretend you don't know. I know. I know about the apartment.
You know, the one my girlfriend and I were trying to buy, but that you and him", Lucas gestured at House who was still laying there, "are now living in!"
"I..." Wilson stammered.
"Actually, you're both living there", Lucas continued as House carefully rolled over and tried to sit upright – pulling himself up on the nearby table with one hand while supporting his left leg with the other. "So I think you both deserve to suffer."
"But.." Wilson looked at House and said out of the corner of his mouth "say something!"
House looked at Lucas. "You know this means war, right?"
"Oh, no, it doesn't. Because if you even think of planning any retaliation I will tell Cuddy. And she still thinks you two actually are her friends."
Wilson looked at House and shrugged. And then he looked again. House was sitting on the floor, grimacing in pain with his hands around his knee. His left knee.
"House, are you OK?"
"I think I hurt my leg."
"Oh, come on", Lucas said, "I know you have a bad leg, but you didn't fall that hard. Here."
Lucas took a step forward and held out a hand for House to take.
House glared at him.
He pointed at his right thigh "This is my bad leg".
He pointed at his left knee " This is the leg a guy with a bad leg will go out of his way to try and fall on, in order not to experience excruciating pain."
He turned to Wilson. "Which in this case wouldn't have made much of a difference. I think I may have dislocated my kneecap."
Wilson winced and kneeled down next to House who let Wilson carefully touch his knee.
"Looks a little like it. Want me to put it back?"
House grumbled something affirmative, the faster the kneecap got back where it was supposed to be, the less the rest of his leg would seize up, and the faster the pain would go away.
"I really wish I was back on Vicodin right nOWWW!"
Several heads turned – towards the scream, or away from the loud pop with which Wilson fixed things. House took a few seconds, then tried to bend his leg.
"Thanks, much better."
He looked around and picked up his cane.
Lucas was still holding out his hand, but House ignored him and started to pull himself up with the support of his cane and the table. With both legs half giving out Wilson had to quickly grab his elbow and yank him upright, but once he was standing he seemed to be somewhat stable.
"Think you can walk?"
House took 1 step and sat down on the chair, shrugging. " Let's eat first, I'm hungry."
Wilson shot him a glance and then shrugged and started to clean up the food and tray House had dropped. "I'll get you a sandwich and a soda, but who am I kidding, I'm paying for your food anyway.."
Wilson walked away and Lucas looked at House a little unsure.
House gave him a curt nod.
Wilson came back with a tray and sat down. House was subconsciously rubbing both his right thigh and then his left knee and he looked a little worried. Wilson understood – for someone with one bad leg the only thing scarier than more damage to the bad leg, was damage to the good leg. The 50% bigger chance compared to 'normal' people to never walk again. He decided to let House think things over on his own first before he started probing.
They ate in silence in between a little smalltalk.
When they were done Wilson got rid of the trays and the trash and walked back.
"Hmm, I'm OK."
"Good, need a hand?"
House stood up, holding on to the back of the chair for support, and then took a few hesitating steps.
"No", he decided. Wilson sighed with relief, House seemed sure and instantly more confident.
His gait was slower and much more uneven than normal, but he eventually made it to the elevator and into his office where he sank onto the ottoman in the corner. House put his legs up and Wilson got an icepack for his knee.
Chase walked in with the pathology results. "There's no cancer, we've looked everywhere inside this guy."
House thought for a few seconds and then had one of his 'eureka' moments.
"What if it's not inside?"
House tossed the icepack aside and clumsily got up.
"Are you OK?" Chase asked.
"Dislocated my knee, Wilson put it back, it's all better now."
"And you're walking on it?!"
"Well, the other leg isn't much good either, is it?"
House slowly struggled to the door, and Chase worriedly walked by his side until House grumbled that he was not going to fall over, and that Chase should do something more useful.
So Chase left, went into the nearest supply closet, and caught up with House as he was making his way from the elevator to footballplayer's room.
House stopped, slightly out of breath and trying not to grimace, and looked at him angrily.
Chase held out the crutches, and shrugged "You said 'something useful', I thought this might work better..You should get a brace on that knee too."
House still looked a little mad, but he accepted the crutches and handed his cane to Chase.
He took a few steps with the crutches and had to admit it make walking easier and faster.
And opening doors harder.
He entered the POTWs room in a foul mood and quickly diagnose skin cancer in between the guy's toes. Paraneoplastic syndrome after all.
He crutched back to the elevator, and with a sigh decided not to go back to his office, but to go home, put ice on his knee, soak his leg in water as hot as he could stand it, and watch the nature channel.
As he was making his way through the clinic, Cuddy spotted him and rushed out of her office.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
Cuddy looked at her watch, "Why?"
Cuddy eyed him suspiciously, then looked at his leg and squinted her eyes at him.
"I'm not falling for it House, the crutches are a nice touch, but you're putting most of your weight on your leg, not off it."
"Look, I solved the case." House said tiredly and annoyed. "I'm going home."
He tried to get away from her, but she grabbed his arm and almost made him loose his balance as she roughly spun him around.
House winced and let out a hiss at his efforts to remain standing, and Cuddy immediately let go and eyed him quizzically.
House gave in. Half giving up his pride, half knowing what he might gain by doing so.
"Your boyfriend dislocated my left knee, if I stay and work I'll be up all night for sure. I can't have Vicodin or opiates, so the only option is rest. At home."
"Lucas..?" But Cuddy quickly regained her composure.
"I'll drive you home."
House pretended to protest, but Cuddy should have known he gave in to her offer just a little too eagerly.
In the car Cuddy interrogated House about what happened, and House made sure to mention Lucas intentionally tripped him.
When Cuddy asked for a reason, House shrugged. "He doesn't like me."
At the apartment House opted to take a hot bath first, and through the door he could hear Cuddy yelling to Lucas on the phone. Something about tripping an already crippled man, about risking one of her employees - one of her best doctors - to be severely injured. Something about it happening inside the hospital, her hospital, and about responsibilities. He smiled as he got out of the bath and considered coming out with only a towel. But in the end he opted for long Bermuda shorts (to cover the scar but show the knee which had swelled up quite remarkably, but thankfully didn't feel as bad as it looked – he'd be OK) and an army green T-shirt.
He left the crutches in the bedroom and used a spare cane and the wall, and anything else he could hold on to, to hobble to the couch.
Cuddy watched him flop down and briefly rub his thigh, then move on to carefully probe his knee.
"Yeah, in the fridge".
She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two icepacks wrapped in dishcloths.
She knelt down in front of him and gently positioned the ice around the swelling, careful not to press too hard. House's knee was a radiating warm red and bruising was beginning to show.
"House, about Lucas. I'm sorry."
"You're not the one who should apologize." House adjusted the icepacks a little and then leaned back into the couch, the cold felt good.
"Yeah, well," Cuddy got up and started to walk around agitatedly, "he's not going to."
"I'd never expected he'd do something like this, maybe he's not the guy I thought he was."
"Did you speak to him?" House asked innocently.
"On the phone, he didn't apologize to me either, we had a fight.."
They talked for a while, drank a glass of wine (House said it helped him sleep, and joked that without the Vicodin his liver could handle all the booze he threw at it) and an hour later House said he'd go to bed.
He removed the icepacks and got up. The ice had helped with the swelling and the pain, but his knee was stiff which made walking uncomfortable. Something he'd known when he left the crutches behind. He didn't need to exaggerate things when he took a few steps towards the hallway that lead to his bedroom, and with a sigh and a worried look Cuddy stopped by his side and put his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm stronger than I look."
Together they made it to the door, and when House let go they stood opposite each other for a long moment. His chin almost touching her forehead. The soft glow of the hallway lights perfectly fitting the mood.
He finally broke the silence and gestured an invite.
"Wanna come in?"