tea and sympathy

[phinnia]

title: tea and sympathy
author: phinnia
rating: g. slash is in the eye of the beholder, as nightdog_barks says. complete fluff.
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel I, a thing of shreds and patches. I own nothing.
author's note: in which turnabout is always fair play.

When his intelligence operative - well, Kutner - informed him that Wilson was in the pediatrics lounge wearing a straw hat with a pink bow on it and drinking water in a pink plastic teacup, House smiled in the way that made everyone nervous and left happily for the ninth floor with a paper bag.

There were three female children, two male children, Wilson, and several rabbits and baby dolls in various states of undress and physical fitness (one of them was nothing more than a head wrapped up carefully in gauze and a recieving blanket). House couldn't believe his luck. He caught the gazes of the children and hushed them with exaggerated movements, then got as close to Wilson as he possibly could and shouted "Hey, Jimmy!" at the top of his lungs.

The effect was even more pleasing than he'd imagined: Wilson jumped very nearly out of his skin and spilled water down the front of his perfectly pressed shirt. When he turned around, the straw hat (which also had purple flowers and a fake bird sticking out at an unnatural angle) was tilted askew over Wilson's lazy eye, creating a picture that was surprisingly balanced.

"What is it, House?"

"Does it have to be anything? You're so suspicious, Jimmy. It breaks my heart." House put on his best pathetic-puppy expression and held out the paper bag. "You forgot your lunch. I just wanted to bring it up to you, so you wouldn't have to go get it."

Wilson's expression changed to a mix of incredulity, amusement and suspicion; he took the bag gingerly, holding it as though it might have been an unexploded bomb or a dirty diaper, and peered inside. "I packed pasta salad. This isn't-"

"I thought you didn't want it, so I replaced it with something better."

"Ah, of course you figured I didn't want it. My mistake. Next time I'll do better than wrapping it in leftover "police line do not cross" tape."

"Obviously." House was fighting to keep the grin from his face. This was even better than he expected.

Wilson pulled out a sandwich and poked it with a pink plastic teaspoon. "This is ..."

"Marshmallow fluff, peanut butter, candy sprinkles and chocolate chips. On whole wheat."

"A cavity sandwich! How sweet." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "How ... incredibly ... sickeningly sweet."

"Aren't you going to eat it? I made it just for you ..."

One of the children spoke up. "You should be nice, Doctor James. At least try ... some bites. My mommy always makes me take as many bites as my years old."

"That's a lot of bites." House shrugged off Wilson's murderous look with another innocent smile. "It's up to us to set a good example."

Wilson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're right, Jenny, I should. And I will." He bit off a piece, chewing carefully. "My teeth feel like they're stuck together with epoxy."

House snapped a half-dozen pictures with his cell phone camera and smirked at the expression on Wilson's face. "Well, now that I've brought that up here for you I should probably go - you know, lots of important doctor stuff to do..."

"Stay with us!" three of the children chorused.

"Oh, gee, that's nice of you to ask, but I can't." House inclined his head toward his cane and ruined thigh. "My leg hurts too much to sit on the floor. Maybe next time-"

"You can sit in that wheelychair!" one of the kids hopped up and dragged over a hospital-issue wheelchair, shoving it behind House and hitting him in the knees. He fell back into it with a graceless thump.

"Yes, you should." Wilson smirked around a mouthful of sandwich. "It's up to us to set a good example, after all."

"You need a hat." the smallest girl proclaimed, tying a pink and green scarf around House's head.

"Well, isn't this nice."

House froze at the all-too-familiar Australian accent and the sound of a cellphone camera.