Fandom: House, M.D.
Characters: House and Wilson (Gen, Crack)
Summary: Exactly what the title says...
Author's Notes: For thelana's birthday! Whoo! I hope you like it. :D
Written during a 60_minute_fics session on "Haunted House."
"Good god, why are all the lights on in here? I didn't know we had this many lights in the lab. Turn them off—I'll confess."
"Watch it—they might be listening." House motioned Wilson over to join him in the corner. He was armed with a sandwich and his cane.
"God, that smells foul. What is it?"
"Who cares—it has garlic." He raised his voice. "You hear that? Garlic! So don't get any ideas!"
"So, how many Vicodin have you had today?" Wilson asked conversationally.
"I'm not drugged, you idiot—I'm being followed by ghosts."
"Of course you are." Wilson surveyed the lab, but all of House's baby doctors appeared to be absent. "Where're the kids? You give the sitter the night off?"
"Who, Cuddy? For all I know she's one of them—the Administrative Undead."
"Right," Wilson sighed. "Wait—are you trying out an LSD experiment again?"
"No! You're not listening—I'm being haunted."
"By invisible, silent things, sure. Won't be the first time." Wilson checked his watch. "Well, I've got clinic duty. Have fun."
"You can't leave me here! One of them tried to trip me in my office!"
"Probably just a lump in that blood-stained chunk of carpet you had Cuddy put back. It's your own fault."
"What about the voices in the hallways?"
"Patients? Staff? This is a hospital—it's full of people. Some of them might actually want to talk to you, though god knows why they'd bother." Wilson headed for the door.
"I see dead people…"
"So stop hanging out at the morgue."
"Where's your sense of compassion?"
"I think you ran it over with your motorcycle last winter."
"Don't tell me the arm coming down out of the ceiling doesn't bother you!"
"Fine, I'll keep it to myself then."
House stopped for a moment, his eyes narrowing at Wilson. "You brought me my coffee this morning…"
"And you cost me a date with that redhead from radiology."
House's words were muffled by the closing door, but clear enough to understand: "You're not as nice as people think you are!"
"You're right," Wilson shouted back, smothering a grin.
C'est la vie, House. You never learn…
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