Chapter Text
Standing outside the doors to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, you steel yourself. A deep breath. Then, step by step, you walk inside. A young blonde woman sits behind a receptionists desk, and you try to smile without making your nerves too apparent.
"Hi, new intern for Oncology?" You ask.
The receptionist greets you with a wide smile. "Of course! I just need a valid ID and then I can get your badge to you." You hand over your driver's license and watch as she pulls your medical credentials onto her computer. "Okay... yup! Looks good. You'll need to meet with the Dean of Medicine upstairs. See you around!"
You clip your shiny new PPTH badge onto your coat and make it for the elevator. Smoothing your hair and coat and hair again, you hit the button and wait for a ding. Footsteps, uneven, clunking footsteps, get louder behind you. Assuming it to be any other limping patient or walk-in looking for the clinic, you don't move. It's rude to stare, of course. What's ruder, though, is the gruff voice in your ear.
"Fresh meat?"
Taken aback, you look up at the man now standing next to you. Despite leaning on his cane, he seems to loom over you. An unkempt and indignant expression sits on his face. Uneven stubble covers his cheeks and chin, and if it weren't for his mesmerizing blue eyes, you would have dropped your things and bolted. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry?"
"You're the intern, aren't you." It isn't a question. He studies you for a moment, still watching you as the elevator doors open and you both step inside. You stay silent. So does he. You can feel his gaze finally drop off of you as the elevator starts ascending.
After a beat, you say, "Yes. I am the intern. Who are you?" You physically have to strain not to look at him. Even through his huskiness, there's a sort of allure there that you're trying your hardest to ignore.
He ignores the question. "He's going to love you."
"Mhm." You don't entertain him. The elevator comes to a stop, and you take a step toward the door before realizing the receptionist never actually said which room to go to. Biting your cheek, you politely ask, "Where is the Dean's office?"
"First door down. Can't miss her. Front or back." He winks, throws up an 'ok' symbol, and clicks his tongue.
You wipe a grimace off your face as you step out of the freshly opened doors. What a pig.
***
"Come in?" a voice calls from the Deans office, and you step inside. The office is warmly lit and carpeted, much cozier and quieter than the hustle and bustle of the lobby. Bookshelves line the walls, and papers are semi-organized on her desk.
"Hi, I'm the Oncology intern? I was told to meet with you before going to my department."
"Of course! Hello, Dr. Cuddy," the woman in front of you says as she outstretches her hand for you to shake. Unfortunately, the creep in the elevator had a point. She's beautiful. And you would definitely be able to recognize her, front or back, from this meeting on.
You introduce yourself and thank her for the opportunity. Dr. Cuddy points you back toward the elevator to go back down a floor to meet with the Head of Oncology. Dr. Wilson, as she informs you. Apparently, he's nice.
On your way out of the office, you smooth your hair again. Then your coat again. You knew you would have to meet new people today, but you hoped there would be less stress than usual. It never was your favorite part of your career choice. You take a deep breath as you ride the elevator back down.
As the doors open, you find yourself terrified to take a step outside. Nurses and orderlies rush by with practiced urgency. Harsh, fluorescent lighting stings your eyes, and you flatten yourself against the wall. The sharp, distinct scent of latex and disinfectant stabs at your nose, pinning you inside of the metal box.
After what feels like an hour, you peel yourself off of the elevator wall and slowly begin to walk down the hall. Signs point to departments you have no part in, and you ignore them, deciding to just scan the nameplates of the different glass offices in the hallway. Finally, you come up on Dr. James Wilson, MD - Oncology. The office is dimly lit, and a man is bent over the desk inside. There's a large stack of papers- no, three messy stacks of papers strewn across his desk. A coffee cup sits on top of one of them, undoubtedly ruining whatever paperwork it is.
A deep breath.
You knock, and he looks up, startled, before breathing and motioning for you to enter. You do, closing the door behind you.
"Dr. Wilson?" You ask, unsteady on your feet.
"You must be the new intern," he says and stands up as you take him in. His tie is slightly askew, tie clip nudged out of place. His fluffy brown hair is slightly messy, as if he had done it this morning but ruined it somewhere along the day. He furrows his brow at you a little, observing you with deep brown eyes.
You realize you're staring. "Yes, um, yes. I am."
"Nervous?" His voice is warm, like honeyed tea.
"A little."
He suddenly seems aware of the state of both himself and his office, and runs his fingers through his hair. You realize that must be how he messed it up in the first place. Trying to adjust his tie with one hand, he starts rearranging the mess on his desk with the other. "Sorry... It's been a long morning. I promise I'm usually more put together."
You laugh. "Me too." You smooth your hair again, and he relaxes.
"Where are my manners! Dr. James Wilson." He reaches his hand out to you, and you take it. He's warm. "Welcome to Princeton-Plainsboro."
You smile. "Thank you."
"I see you survived Cuddy?"
"I didn't realize that was a feat. She seemed nice?"
Dr. Wilson raises his brows. "You must have made a good impression, then." A smile washes over your face, and you give him a proud shrug. He laughs. You think you're about to engage in real, friendly conversation with your handsome new boss when a sudden loud bang erupts from behind you.
Whipping your head around, you realize it's the creep from the elevator. He lets himself inside, and Dr. Wilson sighs. "House..."
"I'm just here for my coat. Please, keep making goo-goo eyes at each other. Pretend I'm not here." He hobbles in, noticeably using his cane on the wrong side, before suddenly taking the blazer off of Dr. Wilson's back and tossing him his own.
"House-!" Dr. Wilson starts, but is quickly cut off.
"Look at the tags. You took mine this morning. Now enjoy the pretty new intern." With that, he slips out the door, leaving you feeling odd and Dr. Wilson visibly disarmed.
"I'm sorry, that's Dr. House. He's... You'll get used to him." He shakes his head. "No, that's a lie. You absolutely won't."
"That guy's a doctor?" You ask with disdain before nearly slapping your hand over your mouth.
"Oh god, you met already, didn't you?"
You swallow. "In the elevator. He's..."
"Creepy? Rude? Dickish?" Dr. Wilson grimaces.
"All of the above." You match his expression, then ask, "Why did you swap coats?"
"I'm... we... I'm crashing. At his place. For the time being." You suddenly feel very uncomfortable. Maybe you shouldn't have been so rude. Dr. Wilson sees this, and quickly goes on the defensive. "He's not a people person, but I promise he gets easier to be around. You two shouldn't have to interact much, anyway."
An involuntary sigh of relief leaves you. Dr. Wilson chuckles, then claps his hands together. "Okay! Let's get started."
***
Your chest heaves. You're not sure exactly how many hours have passed. The hum of the lights has melted into your peripheral, and your muscles finally relax as you settle into the spare chair in Wilson's office. Somewhere during the day, you stopped keeping track of the time. Maybe it was your second skipped lunch. Slouching down further, your stomach grumbles, getting Wilson's atrention and breaking him out of his stupor. He checks his watch, and runs his fingers through his hair.
He glances at you. "You haven't eaten, have you?"
You shake your head, not taking your eyes off of the chart. "Uh... no..." you mumble, barely processing the question.
He sighs, and you slowly turn to him, finally tearing your eyes away from the folder. His sleeves are rolled up, and he's leaning over his desk toward you. His hair has only gotten messier since this morning, and his tie even looser. You swallow. He raises a brow at you. "Are you hungry?"
You shake your head, then check your own watch. "We go home pretty soon, no? I've got time for dinner."
He smiles a little. "You definitely do, but I'm probably going to hang out here for a while. Lot of loose threads," he says, gesturing to his desk.
The papers on his desk are now in tidier piles, and his coffee cup has been moved onto a coaster. What seems like hundreds of tabs are open on his desktop, and a post-it note is stuck to the front of his coat.
"If you're staying, shouldn't I stay? The last thing I want to do is stick you with a bunch of work."
"No. It's your first day. You should already be on your way home." He shakes his head a little, clearly annoyed with himself for not sending you home sooner. "You did great today."
"Really? I-"
He cuts you off, holding out his hand to help you get out of the chair. "You did. I threw you into the deep end right away, and you swam just fine." He avoids eye contact and helps you get your papers together. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Doctor," you say as he gets back into his seat behind his desk.
"Wilson," he says without looking at you. "Wilson... is fine."
You falter at the door, taking him in again. "Goodnight, Wilson."
He doesn't acknowledge you, and instead says, "No more skipping lunch. I'm setting alarms for your breaks."
You chuckle. "Okay, Wilson."