Written July 2006
Rated PG-13
Synopsis: Only one condition can sum up all of those symptoms…

Disclaimer: The characters within are property of Heel & Toe, Shore Z. Productions, Bad Hat Harry Productions, and other corporations. No infringement is intended.

“You called for a consult?” She looked around the exam room and saw only House, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging his good leg. “Where’s the patient?”

“You’re looking at him,” he replied.

Her smile disappeared in an effort to discourage him. “I’m late for a meeting.”

“And I’m really sick. Come in, close the door — or do you want everyone to know we’re having a steamy affair?” he shouted. Then he waggled his eyebrows, and she was forced to relent.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He reached for her and, when she was within range, pulled her between his legs at the end of the table. “Right here,” he said, pointing to his sternum. “Shortness of breath, heart palpitations and a swelling sensation, all of which appeared the moment you walked in the room. Not to mention the significant amount of blood flowing directly to my groin which–”

“You called me down here to tell me you want to get it on in the clinic?”

He gaped at her in his usual overdramatic manner. “I’m telling you about my health problems and you’re alluding to sex?”

“Fine,” she said, lips curling up in a smile. “What are your other symptoms?”

“Well, let’s see. When you’re not here, I’m overcome by a sense of longing, and I can’t focus.”

“Maybe you should call Foreman; it sounds like some kind of neurological problem.”

He leaned close to her. “Are my pupils dilated? And I think I have a fever, or maybe you do because you are really hot.”

“Okay, okay, play time’s over,” she said, giving him a quick kiss before heading to the door. “If I don’t get to this meeting–”

“Wait a minute!” He climbed down from the bed and limped over to her. “Do that again.”


“Testing a theory.” She hesitated with a look of disbelief, and he sighed. “I’m terribly sick! You don’t want me to die, do you?”

“You’re such a sneaky bastard,” she muttered against his lips before drawing him into a lazy kiss. His fingers trailed down her back then up again, where they tangled in her curls.

When he pulled away, he was grinning, and his good mood infected her as well. “See? All better — for now. But I think I might need some long-term therapy, something like fifty sessions a day for … I don’t know … ever?”

She laughed at that. “How can you be so certain of the cure when you haven’t even identified the illness?”

“Oh, it’s been identified. There is but one condition that sums up all of those symptoms.”

“Insanity,” she said seriously.

He frowned. “I insanity you. Yeah, I guess that works too. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue though.” He pulled his hand free from her hair. “Hey, aren’t you late for a meeting or something?”

“And you have a patient. A real one. With a real illness.” She opened the door and turned back. “And, Greg? I insanity you, too.”

The End


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