So here it is: a brain baby. Racey and I have joint custody of it and this is a trial run because neither of us has ever attempted a crossover fic with anime, especially a crossover fic with a lot of medical mumbo-jumbo. So if you're a surgeon or in med school or just a pain in the ass who leaves pointless or unhelpful reviews because we don't know the difference between a scalpel and an MRI machine, don't read it.

THIS IS A CROSSOVER FIC: BLEACH/HOUSE so buckle up, kiddies.

Oh yeah. We don't own House or Bleach. It'd be disastrous for the homophobes of the world if we did –snort-


Chapter 1.

Yoruichi lifted her head when she heard her office's twin French doors swing open harder then necessary.

"There he is," she said, setting her pen down as the thirty-something year old genius diagnostician limped into the room with a black cane that had a solid white stripe snaking down around it like an inverted barbershop pole.

The diagnostician was limping, but damn if the slight limp didn't make him that much hotter. The man was tall at around six foot four with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and disarming lightning blue eyes that matched equally chaotic and gravity-defying blue hair. At the moment, his brows were pulled together, his face contorted into a frown, but once again Yoruichi was blown away by how stunning the diagnostician was even when he wasn't smirking or showing off that maniacal canine smile that had men and women alike dropping their pants and getting on their backs. He was wearing a faded blue band t-shirt and washed out jeans that were beginning to rip in one knee, but she knew it wouldn't be worth the fight to get him to dress up more professionally.

Besides, he looked sinfully sexy no matter what he was wearing.

She'd heard that the last hospital that had requested him to dress up in a starched shirt and tie with a medical lab coat had had to deal with the crazy bastard showing up in nothing but the lab coat.

Too bad Yoruichi hadn't been there to see it, but it had been a nightmare for the hospital's board of directors to deal with, and she didn't need any more on her plate at the moment.

So she smiled at him as he approached her desk, even though she knew the first words out of his mouth were bound to be offensive.

"What did I do to you in a past life to make you go behind my back and pick my team for me? Is this about French kissing your mom at your birthday party?"

Yoruichi kept her smile plastered on her face, "No, House, this has nothing to do with that."

"For the record, I was drunk," the blue-haired asshole smirked, plopping down in the comfy chair in front of Yoruichi's desk, "she wasn't though."

"Your first day and not even five minutes on the punch card and you're already insulting your boss," Yoruichi said, crossing her arms over her voluptuous chest, impressed when his eyes didn't linger there, "Don't be threatened by a woman in a position of power, House: I'm good at what I do and I'm not going to fold because you're mad mommy set up a play date for you."

House shrugged, "I have no problem playing in the sandbox."

"So you're saying the last intern on your team didn't check herself into a mental institution?"

"Personally I think it was the underlying daddy issues."

Yoruichi picked up a stack of papers on her desk and set it back down, showing him how hefty it was, "And this isn't all the sexual harassment lawsuits and patient complaints forwarded to me by the past three clinics that had to let you go."

"It is my right – nay, my civic DUTY – to inform an attractive fellow citizen that they have a perfect ass."

"And the patients?"

"Call me crazy but I was under the impression you didn't want to hire me because of my bleeding heart bedside manner," House retorted, one of his blue eyebrows raised in challenge.

"You're right, I didn't," Yoruichi said, letting him win this round by signing off a paper on her desk and setting it in another file, "I hired you because you're the best at what you do. You're the new head of diagnostics, House. Don't fuck it up."

"Never intended to. Now, about my team that I'll be corrupting…"

"Urahara helped me with the interviews. They're bright, House."

"Urahara? You let my best friend pick my diagnostic team for me? You're totally whipped."

"Shut up."

"You obviously love him, so what's the hold up? Aren't you guys talking about tying the knot and creating a mini-army of mutant Uraharas? Your biological baby clock is ticking. I can practically hear your eggs shrinking right now."

"How is it that you're still single?" Yoruichi said, smiling at her lover's best friend with the smile that struck fear into most men.

Too bad House wasn't most men.

Yoruichi had never understood how someone as mellow and friendly as Urahara was capable of maintaining any kind of relationship with someone as aggressive as House. Urahara was incredibly smart but also gentle, caring, and affectionate.

It was why he made such a great oncologist here in her hospital, and Yoruichi knew House would never admit it, but she knew he had agreed to take the position here at the hospital as a way to maintain a close space with his oldest and best friend.

House didn't have many friends. He could count them on one hand, or maybe one finger.

House winked, "Who said I was single?"


"When Urahara's not busy slaving away for his boss, he's busy getting busy with said-boss, so is he really a reliable source?"

"Yes, he is, because you tell him everything."

"And he tells you everything, which means you know all about last weekend's testicle festival."

"We're not in college anymore, House. One of these days you're going to meet someone that's going to tame you, someone that's going to make you want to settle down and stop hosting orgies that would make the ancient Greeks blush."

"Monogamy is for chumps and eHarmony commercials."

"I wonder if you'll get jealous. It's adorable how jealous you get of me and Urahara's date nights."

"You're lucky you're smart, witty, and smoking hot or you never would have made it past date three with him," House replied. He sounded so serious Yoruichi couldn't even laugh it off.

So she just stared at him as he leaned back in the chair, his head cocked slightly, his posture relaxed, but the air around him charged with confidence.

Yoruichi didn't think it was fair that this infamous genius bastard was also one of the hottest men she'd ever met in her life.

He was definitely pretty to look at, but she hated how uncontrollably irritating he could be, how he did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Selfish, sarcastic, and a pain in the ass.

But he was brilliant, so most of the time he got away with the words he let flow from his mouth or the insane tests and treatments he pulled off. He'd graduated from high school at an ungodly early age before pursuing medical school with full honors. He was a prick, but he was a prick that knew how to solve medical mysteries that left doctors twice his age shaking their heads.

And now he was going to officially work for her hospital. Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was small and had limited funding, but they were one of the best, and Yoruichi was certain that having him here would ensure the hospital's continued stability in finance as well as reputation.

Or it would explode in her face.

It didn't matter that she had known House for several years now. She'd heard of him when she herself had been in medical school but hadn't believed the stories about him until meeting him when she had started dating Urahara.

Urahara, unbelievably, had known him since childhood, although Urahara was several years older. Urahara had warned her that House lived by nobody's rules but his own: no code existed outside of logic and House's pension for mischief and boredom.

Apparently it was far too easy for a genius to get bored. House's mind was too active: if he wasn't entertained, if he wasn't having fun or solving puzzles or playing games, he'd start to self-destruct, and that wouldn't be good for anyone.

And Yoruichi's perfect record as the hospital's Dean of Medicine would be torn to shreds.

"It's your first day. It's their first day. Take it easy."

"We'll see how it goes. I'm hoping I can make at least one of them cry before lunch."

House hopped off the elevator and headed down a long hallway before stopping in front of his new office:

G. House, M.D. Head of Diagnostic Medicine

He grinned, "Bitchinnnnnnnnn'."

He opened the glass door and perused his new office, already deciding that the desk was useless for anything other then a footrest, and a comfy couch needed to be put in here before he even thought about putting the nameplate on the desk. The shelves were mostly empty except for a few medical textbooks.

He shrugged. At least there was plenty of room for his porn collection and Star Wars DVDs.

The other corner he decided would be the new home for one of his many electric guitars and a giant amp for afternoon jam sessions.

When he tapped his cane on the big desk, he noticed a bright green sticky note attached to the brand new Mac computer screen. He ripped it off and immediately recognized his best friend's handwriting:

Welcome welcome! Excited to have you as a coworker~! A humble present awaits you in the top drawer. Consider it a don't-destroy-my-girlfriend's-hospital kind of gift, ne? Oh, and dinner's at seven. Don't be late~!

-All my Affections, Urahara :)

House crumpled the note and opened the top drawer of his desk with apprehension, his brows drawn together. Urahara was beyond weird and was extremely eccentric, two reasons that House had always been fascinated by him. House bored easily: of course his best friend would be a complete weirdo, someone that always kept him guessing.

And they were notorious for their pranks on each other, so this "gift" could easily bite.

The drawer slid open smoothly and inside sat a small white box with a pale blue ribbon. House rolled his eyes before picking it up and untying the ribbon with a rough tug and removing the lid before smiling like a complete psychopath.

How Urahara managed to get his hands on a copy of his favorite mangaka's latest work a month before it's public release was beyond him. Urahara always had the best presents, and House didn't usually question his mysterious methods of attaining pretty much anything.

The cover was extremely explicit, a hardcore yaoi erotica still in it's "raw" Japanese form. He preferred to read them in Japanese, as the English translations were alright but never quite good enough. House had grown up with a love for manga and Japanese culture in general, so he'd taught himself a writing system besides his native German. Honestly, after growing up with a mother who juggled Japanese and English and an asshole father who had only ever barked at him in German and French, language had never been a problem for him.

Spanish, Russian, and Mandarin Chinese had followed in his doctorate studies due to boredom (and a few exchange students, boys and girls alike, that had hailed from such languages who he'd gotten into his bed enough times to teach him a thing or two about linguistics).

If there was anything House liked to spice up his sex life, it was the insane screaming and dirty talk in different languages. It always got him hot.

Accents got him hot and bothered. Extremely hot and bothered.

He skimmed the first few pages and realized that Urahara had even managed to have the mangaka sign the work with a personal message inside written in neat kanji: "To Grimmjow House. You're an inspiration!"

Urahara was such a kiss ass.

"Must be nervous," House chuckled, setting the explicit foreign material down on the glass desk before limping through another glass door into the adjoining room, the differential room. It was convenient having it connected to his office with a glass wall, which meant the people sitting in it had been watching him wander about his new office like an exotic animal in a zoo cage.

House perused them, noting how attractive all of the men were. At least Urahara and Yoruichi had gotten something right.

His eyes settled on a head of incredible orange hair. Jesus, was that real or a dye job? Not like House was one to talk with his own natural crazy blue hair (a patient had commented on it once and, to prove it natural, he'd offered to pull down his pants, but the girl had just started choking on her spit or something and rushed out of the room. Pity. She'd been cute, too).

But that orange hair. Huh. Now that House thought about it, he'd never fucked a redhead.

And technically, this attractive young man's hair was not red. It was definitely orange.

Nobody said anything as House popped the cap off of his handy-dandy bottle of Vicodin and swallowed two dry before addressing the room.

"Hey, I'm Grimmjow House. I'm your new boss and I won't be surprised if I sleep with at least one of you by the end of the week," House said, stepping confidently up to the desk and picking up a case file and opening it, ignoring the incredulous looks from his new team members sitting at the glass differential desk, "Now, who's dying?"

~snort~ No pressure, huh, Kill? Jeez...


Ichigo stared at the blue-haired team leader and gaped. Literally. His mouth was open and everything. Had the man just said...? Ichigo glanced around the room to see what the other team members thought of their shameless leader and wasn't really surprised to see his expression mirrored on a few of their faces.

When he'd first arrived in the lobby of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, he'd been eager to get started. It'd been incredibly unbelievable to be picked out of hundreds of other diagnostic hopefuls. Of course, the interview had been thorough and intense, the violet-haired, cat-eyed Dean of Medicine asking him everything but his shoe size. The other interviewer, Urahara, had been much more amiable, which had relaxed Ichigo into being himself.

Although the hospital was relatively small, he'd heard it was one of the best, which was exactly what he'd been looking for while still in Australia. His crazy old man had insisted on accompanying him, along with his twin sisters, but he'd refused. There was no way in hell he was bringing Isshin Kurosaki to America, just so the man could terrorize whatever neighbors they happened to have. No way. His sisters weren't so bad – although Yuzu had been displaying alarming tendencies of the old man's – but still, he was sure he wouldn't have the time to look after them properly once he found a job.

Med school had been a breeze for him. He loved the field – particularly diagnostics – and it was made even easier since it ran in his family. His father owned a small clinic in their hometown of Banksia Beach. The town was a cozy suburb where retirees came to settle, so the location had been peaceful and ideal. He was born in Japan, but his father had become restless after the death of Ichigo's mother, making the completely random decision to move to Australia. It had been tough to get used to, but once they'd settled down and his father had transformed part of their home into his workspace, things had become comfortably routine. Ichigo had made a lot of friends and had even had a few boyfriends, which he'd had to be a bit more discreet about. The concept of homosexuality in a small town like Banksia Beach had still been considered as taboo, but he'd managed to have good time anyway. There was always a way around things like that.

He'd worked in his father's clinic for a while, along with holding an internship at the local hospital. It had been a lot of pressure, but he'd always enjoyed a good challenge and fell right into place. Then, he'd been struck with the same restless gene as his old man, deciding a change of scenery would be ideal. With that in mind, he'd saved a bunch of money and researched hospitals in America when he was close to graduating from med school. That's how he'd run across Princeton Plainsboro. Their reputation for and record of success went way above their competitors and seemed like the perfect place to make his home. He'd gone on to email his resume, detailing his experience and the many honors awards he'd received in high school as well as University. After some time had passed, he'd totally forgotten about his application, so busy with the clinic and school, until he received an email asking him to come in for an interview. Overjoyed, he'd ironed out the details with the Dean and informed her of his impending move and graduation. Not even a week later, she had replied with congratulations and her office number, telling him to call her when he touched down.

Isshin had been reluctant to let him go alone, but in the end had supported him one hundred percent, even going as far as adding to his savings and helping him find a decent apartment in the States. Life neatly on track, he'd graduated in the top five percent of his class and headed to America, albeit a little wet behind the ears and unaware of all the American customs. When he'd arrived in the airport there, he'd been completely shocked and enthralled at the sheer differences he'd encountered. Excited, he'd taken a taxi to his new apartment and made sure to call the Dean of Princeton Plainsboro the minute he settled in. The rest was history. He'd gone in for his interview and thanks to the friendly demeanor of the Dean's companion, he'd been confident in himself. A week after the interview, he'd received a letter welcoming him to the diagnostics team and that he should be there in two days' time, dressed professionally and ready to meet his team and its leader.

So, there he was, fresh and eager to get started. Urahara had met him in the lobby and led him to the team's office, where they would wait for the team leader to introduce himself. Now, Ichigo had heard rumors of the infamous Dr. G. House. The man was a medical genius, but had a tendency to ignore the rules. Ichigo was fine with that; he hated a tight-ass with no sense of compassion or humor. He would have been dreadfully disappointed had that been the case.

But this guy...

First, once he'd made it to the office, he'd noticed a group of people seated in the spacious room, reclining in cushioned office chairs surrounding a glass desk. After settling into an empty chair, he let his eyes take in the other occupants of the room. Each and every one of them – himself included – wore dress shirts and slacks, accompanied with starched, white lab coats. The guys were pretty good-looking, if he'd say so himself and the two women there were no slouches. They wore dresses under their lab coats and managed to give off an air of superiority that kind of rankled Ichigo's nerves. He didn't think women were inferior when it came to the medical field, but there was no reason for them to have their noses stuck in the air, either.

Before he could continue assessing the group, the sound of a door opening and closing in the next room caught his attention. He turned in his seat, curious and wondering if they were finally going to meet the famous G. House. After a few seconds, a tall, blue-haired man limped into the room, a sick-looking black and white cane at his side. His face was angular and jaw sharp, Egyptian-blue eyes calculating and holding a distinct mischievous light. He roamed the room before going to the desk and lifting a small note from the screen of the computer monitor perched on it. After letting his eyes take in its message, a tight frown creased his impossibly handsome features as he crumpled the tiny slip of paper and reached for the top drawer of the desk. A book was pulled free and after studying it carefully and flipping through its pages casually, he set it down and gave a sardonic smirk.

The man was freaking gorgeous. His eyes were a frightening shade of sea-blue and it made Ichigo shift uneasily in his seat, already expecting the way they would sear and probably reach right through him.

The man finally deigned to limp his way to the door leading into their meeting room. Ichigo watched with bated breath. Even though the man carried a wicked-looking cane, his entire aura screamed confidence and sex, two things Ichigo was fiercely attracted to. The man entered the room, scanned its occupants, those piercing blue orbs settling on him and burning the skin right from his flesh. The man smirked, reached into his pocket and pulled free a prescription bottle filled with pills. He shook two into his palm and tossed them back...and then he opened his mouth.

Granted his voice was ridiculously hot: deep, gravely and extremely man, but the words that flowed from those enticing-looking lips made Ichigo produce a blank face. What the...fuck? Once the shock wore off, however, he chuckled, capturing the attention of those laser-like eyes again. Embarrassed, he covered the laughter with the back of his hand and averted his gaze, not really looking forward to being in the spotlight just yet, and especially not for laughing. But what did the guy expect? His words had been utterly crude and entertaining to say the least. Well, it apparently seemed like humor wasn't one of the things Dr. House lacked.


Grimmjow cocked his head at the sound of a smothered chuckle. He locked his blue hawk eyes on the orange head, hoping his face was unreadable.

He wouldn't let it show that he was excited: he was the Alpha wolf of this new diagnostics pack, after all.

But he wasn't going to deny that he liked that the orange head was willing to have a laugh, even if it was his first day. Everybody else in the room had their game faces on, even as the orange head tried to regain a blank face.

"Yo, orange head. Something funny about somebody DYING?" Grimmjow said, unable to help the snap in his voice.

Grimmjow watched the orange head's eyes widen significantly before he lowered the hand from his mouth, his cheeks and ears going pink, making his cinnamon freckles stand out against his tanned skin. FUCKING DELICIOUS.

"N-no, sir, I just-"

Grimmjow refused to take his eyes off of him now, a predatory grin taking over his face as the adorable kid stuttered.

Shit. This kid didn't look old enough to be out of med school but he was already devising how to get the orange head in his supreme king size bed.

"What's 'yer name?" Grimmjow asked.

The kid recovered quickly, that was for damn sure. Good to know. The kid's eyes looked rebellious, as if he was trying to recover for his earlier stumble, "Ichigo Kurosaki."

Grimmjow raised a brow, thoroughly intrigued, "Japanese, huh. And from the accent, I'm thinking yer mom screwed Crocodile Dundee."

Instead of infuriating the kid, like he had hoped, Grimmjow was surprised when Kurosaki looked calm, one of his hands playing with a pen as he sighed, "Sorry, sir, but I was under the impression I was hired to help people, not indulge your tendency to pry into innocent employee's private lives."

The room was silent as Grimmjow grinned, tapping his cane repeatedly against the ground before setting his chin on the end of it, "How old are you? You even been potty trained yet?"

Grimmjow couldn't help but provoke the fire in the orange head's eyes. It was breathtaking to watch, "I'm 26, 24 years of peeing practice under my belt. How old are you?"

"Old enough to turn you over my knee and spank you, cutie."

Grimmjow was delighted when the kid almost choked on his coffee and a few of the other team members finally cracked smiles or horrified looks. Entertaining, indeed.

The kid recovered, looking pretty furious by this point, and then he spit out, "Better be on the good knee, boss. I don't think the other one could handle me."

The room was so silent Grimmjow heard the air conditioner unit kick on.

Yeah, the kid had definitely been marked for death.

Grimmjow made his face blank, hoping everyone in the room was sweating bullets, "You're fired."

Now the game would get interesting.

Grimmjow managed to break eye contact with the orange head and look down at the file, skimming through the boring symptoms.

"Forty year old female with dry coughing, trouble breathing, pain in the-"


Grimmjow looked up at the confused Kurosaki, "You're fired, strawberry. Thanks for playing."


"Why not? Last time I checked, I was your boss. I can do whatever the hell I want. So get out. Scurry back to the Land Down Under, kid."

"I didn't work my ass off and fly 9,900 miles for a pretentious jack ass to fire me on my first day!"

Again, sweet silence. The kid was standing up now, totally furious. It was amazing.

"Maybe you're still delusional about how the real world works. When I say you're fired, that doesn't mean you pitch a fit like a five year old until I give it back to you. Besides, I can barely understand anything you're saying. That accent isn't doing you any favors in the sweet U-S of A."

"I'm not leaving," he said heatedly, crossing his arms over his chest, "You have no right-"

"What part of YOU'RE FIRED don't you understand, kid?"


Grimmjow perked an eyebrow, "I'm assuming that's not your stripper name."

"Sarcoidosis. It explains everything. Shortness of breath, dry cough, swollen lymph nodes, pain in the liver. If I'm wrong, then fire me."

"But why would I fire you TWICE? That'd just be redundant," Grimmjow said, scanning the rest of the contents of the file.

He already knew the kid was right. It was so obvious there might as well have been a glaring neon sign.

Grimmjow smirked. The kid was good. Maybe too good.

He looked up and stared at the two broads sitting to his left. They were attractive in their own ways.

He pointed a finger at one of them, and begun, "Eeny meany miney mo, catch a tiger by the toe, if he hollers let 'im go, eenie meanie miney mo."

His finger was pointing directly at the red head with the big tits as he said, "What's 'yer name, E-Cup?"

"I-it's I-Inoue, sir, um-"

"You're fired."

Her eyes glassed over almost immediately, "But s-sir, I -"

"If 'ya need a reason, I don't need another lawsuit. Seriously woman, I could go hiking in your cleavage. Also, there's only room for one soulless ginger on my team," he said, nodding his head in the direction of Kurosaki.

"B-but sir, I've been wait-listed for three years for th-this hospital..."

"Look, Super Tits, I'm not running a day care. At least this ginger over here is fighting for his spot by giving me a diagnosis. You have anything to put on the table?"


"Yeah, it's settled. You were supposed to be my ankle bracelet."

"Ankle bracelet?" she parroted.

"You know, my house arrest present. Something to fuck to keep me occupied and out of trouble, but sorry, sweet cheeks, I don't bang bitches that don't know their ABC's of diagnostics. The point of a team is to brainstorm, gimme multiple options, and to do that, you have to have an actual BRAIN. So, if you're smart enough to push the door instead of pull, you're welcome to leave."

The useless, busty girl burst into tears and practically ran from the room. The silence was palpable once again.

Grimmjow looked at Kurosaki and tossed the medical file into his hands, "This is MY world, Wombat, and we play by my rules. Don't fuck with me unless you don't want to walk for a week."

Kurosaki was staring at him like he was Jesus. It was kind of nice for a second until he scowled, which made the kid even MORE fuckable in Grimmjow's eyes.

"So you're not firing me?"

Grimmjow ran his eyes over him teasingly, knowing he was making the kid uncomfortable, his voice deep as he forgot about the audience in the room, "Never fucked an Aussie before. I think I'll keep 'ya around, Wombat."


:'D This guy...there's so much to like about him. All you can do is laugh, shake your head and marvel at his superb knack for being an asshole. I cracked up at the knee thing. Holy shit, Ichigo's comeback made me go "OOOOO!" Not to mention the hiking in cleavage line. Oh and House calling Ichigo a wombat? Excellent, excellent, excellent! I LOVED it! Now what?


The patient had indeed been suffering from Sarcoidosis, and had been aptly treated. Ichigo was once again in the team meeting room, grabbing another cup of coffee and mentally patting himself on the back. Yes, he would admit that when Dr. House had fired him, he'd been dangerously close to pissing himself in fear. The man's reputation hadn't implied anything of that drastic nature. He took a sip of the hot liquid and rubbed the tension from the back of his neck. However scared he'd been, it hadn't kept his temper from rising at the arrogant asshole's audacity. Like he'd told him, he hadn't flown almost ten thousand miles just to be fired on his first day, all because Dr. House had difficulty receiving the shit he dished out. Unfortunately, Ichigo had a snarky attitude as well, so his response to his new boss's remark about turning him over his knee had been more of a knee-jerk reaction. He'd thoroughly enjoyed the way House's blue eyes widened for the briefest of seconds, clearly shocked. Then, the bastard had gone and fired him.

Ichigo shook his head and took another sip from his coffee. He really didn't mind working with the guy, it was just the man's mouth and impulsive tendencies that knew no boundaries that worried him. When the blue-haired genius had fired that huge-breasted chick by the childish method of "eeny meany miney mo", Ichigo had been stunned. Entertained, for sure, but no less stunned. For a short space of time, he'd actually felt bad for the girl. Then she went and opened her mouth and ruined any chance of sympathy from him. His work-out sneakers had more sense than she did and it was a wonder how she'd even gotten past the interview stage.

But...House was a riot. There was no denying it. Through the majority of his "conversation" with the man - if one could even call it that - and the quick stunt with the booby broad, he'd been holding back uproarious laughter. He hadn't had that much fun proving himself and working out his adrenaline in a long time. Since med school actually, when one of his professors had insisted that if he couldn't stay quiet during his lectures, then there was no way he would pass because "Mr. Kurosaki" couldn't lead a lecture on medicine so early in his career. Ichigo had scoffed and boldly accepted the challenge, and in the process made the professor look like a fool when he had the students more engaged in his impromptu lesson than the professor had with all of his lessons and lectures combined.

Good times.

Dr. House was proving to be a great source of entertainment as well as a beast source to learn from. Ichigo was excited, even though there was an underlying hint of trepidation at the way the blue-haired team leader managed to get under his skin. He hadn't been angry at the knee statement. Actually, the reason he'd even reacted in such a manner was because just imagining such a scenario had sent his mind spinning into dirty territory. Was it terrible that he could picture himself bent over said man's knee (the good one, of course; he'd meant what he said about the bad one not being able to handle him)? He sighed and sipped his coffee again. House was entirely unpredictable, but it was good thing because so was Ichigo.

However...he wasn't about to tolerate that wombat shit. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with his fucking accent. No one else had complained about not being able to understand him, so he got that it was just House being antagonistic. He got that.

"Asshole," he grumbled quietly.

"Yours, I hope?" that now familiar deep voice asked cheerfully from behind.

Ichigo jumped so hard, he almost dropped his coffee. As it was, he spilled it all over his white lab coat. Balling up his lips, he stared down at the stain, refusing to make eye contact with the blue-haired doctor.

"Uh-oh," House continued. "You might be potty trained, but you're lacking table etiquette."

"Noo, I wasn't expecting to be crept up on. Common mistake when someone's caught off guard," he griped in return as he snatched a few tissues from the middle of the differential table.

He couldn't believe he'd allowed House to sneak up on him, and worse, make him look like a clumsy tool. He gritted his teeth as he dabbed angrily at his lab coat, senses every bit aware of the tall man standing behind him. What the hell did the man want now?

"So, here's the thing, Wombat-"

"Ichigo, actually," he interrupted, nerves taut and brow creased.

House cocked his head to the side and gave him a curious and amused stare. His lips tilted into a crooked smile before he leaned on his cane and held his other hand to his chest. "My world, remember?"

Suck it up, Ichigo. He's just trying to get a rise out of you.

It was working.

"You know how offensive that is, which is why you're doing it. Maybe I should moan when you say it from now on. Might make you change your mind about using it so often," he growled.

House blinked. Then he grinned. Hugely. It was so big, it showed all of his teeth and if Ichigo didn't know any better, he would have thought the man was part animal or vampire. The grin gave him goosebumps and made the hair all over his body rise in ominous anticipation. What would he do if his statement backfired?

The man edged closer, cane thumping against the floor as he stood over Ichigo. The grin sharpened and turned feral as he put his face two inches away from Ichigo's nose.

"I really hope that's not your way of discouraging me, Aussie. In fact, with that voice of yours, that plan positively delights me. So, now what? Will you moan for me, Wombat?" he rumbled, voice going low and throaty.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes and stared the devil down, heart trying to punch through his ribs like a staple gun. He tried to keep a blank face so House wouldn't know just how turned on he was. God, he hoped it was working.

"House," a stern female voice called from the doorway.

Neither man hurried to be the first to break eye contact, but when the voice called the blue-haired doctor's name again, the man finally turned with a supreme roll of his annoyed blue eyes. Ichigo slowly let out a breath and followed the man's line of vision. The Dean of Medicine stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and exasperated scowl on her face.

"Yes, mother?" House snapped, slowly taking a step away and leaning on his cane.

Ichigo fought the urge to put a hand over his pounding heart, as well as stifled the excited smile trying to transform his impassive features. He was really looking forward to working with Dr. G. House.

Soo, what'd ya think, beesh?

Oh shit! you had me squealing the whole time! How the fuck do you do that? That was so naughty and they haven't even touched each other yet! "MY world, remember?" and the ass hole line! Fucking classic House! I died laughing. Simply fucking died. "Yours, I hope?" HAHAHAHA you sick woman! xD

Um, so...this is a good place to end, yeah? I think if I add something now this dangerous dance will never end! And we can brainstorm for the next chapter. Hopefully we can introduce some of the other characters and get the ball rolling with this heavy sexual tension. ;-P

Heh! Agreed!

So, what'd YOU guys think, eh?