Fandom: House MD/Mythbusters crossover. (Crack!fic, in case you weren't sure.)
Pairings: House/Wilson, Jamie/Wilson, others implied.
Notes: Written for betteronvicodin
Crossover prompt #93: House/Mythbusters-Dr. Cuddy is always looking for donations, so when the Mythbusters offer a big sum to the hospital if Adam and Jamie are allowed to test some theories at PPTH, she can't say no, can she?
Only being posted like TWO MONTHS LATE!!!
One of the hardest things I've ever done and I'm not sure I ever really "cracked" it. Thanks to EVERYBODY who listened to the whinging and whining while I tried and especially to savemoony for massive amounts of hand-holding and first Beta and to hannahorlove for pinch hitting a second go-round of Beta notes.
Sometimes I wonder, what I’m a gonna do, but there ain’t no cure for the summertime blues.
Not even turning “Live at Leeds” up to eleven and thrashing himself silly playing Keith Moon air-drum solos could make him smile when pretty much everything sucked this badly.
House could practically feel Stacy down in ICU, hovering over the husband he’d been kind enough to save because she asked to him to do it. Whatever he felt for her; love, hatred, or some poisonous mixture of both, she still affected him. There was unfinished business and revenge to be had, but right now the emotions were too raw. It was easier to hide out on his balcony in the afternoon swelter with his music until something more interesting than clinic duty came along.
Cuddy did them both a favor by avoiding him as well, no doubt still seething from the sight of Vogler, and his millions, walk out of the boardroom doors. He knew there was punishment in store. She had to be biding her time, attempting to lull him into a false sense of security until she could pull something really devastating. He respected her for that.
The voice of the Wilson attempted to intrude into his well-earned mope. Wilson had been around quite a bit lately, all of his “Julie’s going to kill me” concerns seemingly forgotten in his need to camp out on House’s couch scarfing as many different take-out cuisines as could be found in the greater Princeton area while watching ever trashier movies. It had been fun, like old times; until House realized that the “old times” in question were the days just after Stacy had left. He didn’t appreciate the feeling that he was being baby-sat, even when things moved into the bedroom.
House grunted in irritation, pulling the buds out of his ears and same yelling at the volume the music had been at before realizing just how loud that was and modulating down to a dull roar.
“WHAT! Don’t you have sick people to annoy? I’m sure Debbie needs you to provide some receipts from your last ’cuddle a co-worker’ lunch outing.”
“House. Get up and look. Something’s happening in the parking lot.”
He stubbornly refused to budge from his deck chair.
“Unless it involves a massacre by machine-gun toting zombies, I’m not all that interested.”
“Fine. I’ll watch them blow stuff up without you.”
Damn Wilson for knowing how to get his attention. Moving from the deck chair to the edge of the balcony was ungainly and painful, but turned out to be worth the effort. Not as good as zombies with weapons, mind you. There was a large bus with the Discovery Channel logo parked directly in front of the hospital’s main entrance and a large contingent that appeared to have recently disembarked from the vehicle, some of whom had video cameras in hand, taking shots of good old Princeton Plainsboro. The media-madam had done her baby proud.
“It’s a little early for Shark Week,” he commented trying to sound disinterested..
“And we’re inland,” Wilson pointed out, ”Look, I think that’s Jamie…and there’s Kari and that must be Tori…”
“Wait a minute, are you telling me…Wow, that IS Jamie ”
House could barely remember that Cameron had scheduled a whole afternoon of moping for him, with some brooding after lunch thrown in for good measure.
“See, I thought that would get your attention. They’ll be here all week for a shoot about medical myths.”
“Cuddy sent me here to…”
“Yeah, to tell me what was going on so I can be a consultant. I get it. I was being a jerk. It’s what I do. Now let’s get down there”
He was already moving back into the office before Wilson called over from his side of the balcony.
“No. She told me to keep you as far away from them as possible.”
Perfect revenge. Have something interesting happen at the hospital. Have one of his favorite shows actually filming there, and ban him from any involvement at all. She was good.
“Come on. What are you just standing there for? You crippled or something?”
“House, I’m serious. I think they’ve got security and stuff.”
Cuddy should know better. Wilson probably did, but was obliged to cater to Cuddy. Too bad for both of them if they thought anything could keep him away from the Mythbusters.
Great, Jamie thought, trying to keep his composure against all odds, when the temperature and tempers were rising. His head was starting to sweat under the beret.
This is what they get for taking “suggestions” from the Discovery honchos. It always ended up like this and often there were injuries and law-suits involved. At least this time, they were already in a hospital and its general counsel was near-at-hand.
They’d gone to New York for a Discovery Channel dog and pony show, although he wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be the dog or the pony. It wasn’t enough to shake hands and chat up the advertisers. The cheap bastards thought it would be a good idea to shoot an episode testing medical myths and mysteries. Why they couldn’t do this back in San Francisco, he didn’t understand, except apparently they’d found a hospital where the administrator was so hard up for donations, she’d let them get away with anything.
So there they were, somewhere close to Princeton University. Kari had been sequestered in ICU to test whether or not a healthy person was likely to get sick just from being in the hospital. Tory and Grant were roaming the halls with clipboards and lab-coats doing “research” as to whether hospital personnel would really do the sort of things normally seen on shows like Grey’s Anatomy and of course, General Hospital. Cameras were hidden in various likely janitor’s closets and exam rooms.
Meanwhile, he and Jamie were pushing the boundaries of standards, practices and good taste by taking on a popular theory that rectal temperatures can be accurately estimated by adding one degree Celsius to the mouth temperature, which did allow him to see Adam’s butt spread wide, although that wasn’t much of a novelty any more. He didn’t see how any of this would make usable footage, much less lead to an explosion – except the one he was about to have if Dr. House didn’t get the hell out of his face. Immediately.
House had shown up in Dr. Cuddy’s office while buxom, but possibly deranged hospital administrator was welcoming the cast and crew and promising full co-operation for whatever experiments they wanted to perform while they were there. Jamie didn’t know quite how big a donation Discovery had put in her hands to accomplish this, but it must have been a doozy.
The door opened and he knew something was wrong by the tension that turned Dr. Cuddy’s original pleasant grin into a parody of a smile, as a man in wearing jeans and a t-shirt under a tweed jacket along with at least three days of untidy beard growth came in. He used a cane but still moved too fast for anyone to stop him.
Jamie had heard that tone of voice before. Fans were great, but not when he was working.
“House!” Dr. Cuddy yelled, a sound that would become the constant refrain of the shoot.
Kari had been game about going into the Intensive Care Unit, which meant appearing in a hospital gown for a “pre-admission” exam to establish that she was in perfect health before the experiment started. It was supposed to be a “closed set” but House had shown up with his own entourage in tow.
“Are you running a blood gas? PPD skin test? Western Blot?”
The physician doing the exam was clearly starting to bristle.
“Standard intake procedures, House. And what are you doing here?”
“Keeping you from humiliating yourself on national television.”
“Thanks for your concern.”
Dr. Owens apologized profusely to Kari and the production team. Asking House to leave produced only an insolent slouch against the wall and even more suggestions of tests to run.
“House!” It was Cuddy, whose voice was starting to grate on Jamie’s nerves as much as House himself.
“I’m trying to help.”
“Don’t make me call security.”
“Don’t make me embarrass them and you.”
The line producer stepped in and negotiated a truce whereby, House would leave, but his neurologist would stay behind as a “silent” observer.
They were at least two days behind schedule. It wasn’t all House’s fault. He probably hadn’t caused the flu epidemic that kept them out of the hospital for two days while Kari was stuck on the inside, or the fact that Grant and Tory were taking their lothario roles so seriously that they were out till all hours drinking with hospital employees and needed extra time in the make-up trailer to even look presentable.
One morning, Jamie was having the ends of his mustache trimmed when Grant staggered in with puffy lips and suspiciously bite-like marks on his neck. Adam had broken out in giggles.
“Dude. You’re a mess. Where the hell have you been? Are we even going to be able to show this stuff? Usually we have to warn for poo, not porn.”
Grant had only nodded and crawled into a make-up chair. Unfortunately no footage had shown up in any of the cameras to indicate where the action was happening and with whom.
At least Wilson was there, the only calming influence in this whole madhouse.
Dr. Wilson had shown up in Dr. Cuddy’s office a few seconds after Dr. House announced himself. He actually looked like a doctor with his lab-coat, soap-opera caliber good looks, and serious demeanor. Cuddy clearly counted on him to exert some control on his colleague who appeared to have been recently pulled from a gutter.
It didn’t take long for Jamie to make some educated guesses about House and Wilson being a bit more than co-workers. Jamie honestly couldn’t see the appeal, but as long as Wilson tried to keep House in line and away from the film-crew, especially when he was popping whatever drugs might explain his infuriating behavior, Jamie would remain grateful and keep his cool.
Gratitude and cool both evaporated in the New Jersey sun, when what should have been a simple establishing shot and introduction took all afternoon, simply because Dr. House wouldn’t stay away or shut up. House was taller and wielded the cane, but Jamie had training in several martial arts and no compunctions about hitting a so-called “cripple,” especially one who was being such a bastard to the man, who supposed to be his friend.
“House, I’m sure they don’t need us here right now.”
“They sure as heck don’t need you. Why don’t you back to bucket-holding duty?”
The only thing that saved Dr. House from a quick blow to the gut was the appearance of Dr. Cameron waving a file as she ran in front of the camera, completely ruining yet another take. If Jamie read the signals correctly, Dr. Cameron was yet another victim of House’s dubious charms and getting even less for her trouble than Dr. Wilson.
Dr. Cameron, or at least her file, did what Wilson, Cuddy, and hospital security couldn’t. House limped toward the hospital, leaving Adam and Jamie to film the introduction, followed by an annoying, but necessary “don’t try this at home” warning. There were too many stupid people and too many lawyers in the world.
Mike Stallings called “cut” and announced they were done for the day. Jamie felt himself bristling under his mustache. They could still get plenty of work done, maybe even find a reasonable doctor to interview about the iatrogenic effect, but he also had to agree that everybody needed a break.
The film crew broke into two camps, one following the lead of Adam who announced that he was heading for a swim in the hotel pool, the other in search of cool liquid for imbibing rather than immersion. Jamie didn’t feel drawn toward either proposition. Frankly, he would have been just as happy to be back on a plane to California.
“Are you ok?”
Wilson hadn’t left in the face of House’s rudeness. He was still there, giving Jamie a look of concern. It wasn’t that different from the one he usually aimed at House. Oh, no. Bad idea! Not that he hadn’t thought about it. Wilson was a very attractive man. But… Adam… Well, there was no harm in some sympathetic conversation.
“Why do you put up with him?” Jamie asked, taking a step closer. He could sense Wilson’s reaction to a dominant personality moving into his personal space. Wilson’s body seemed to shrink, but he didn’t retreat.
“It’s a long story.”
Jamie nodded. The best thing to do was walk away. His relationship with Aadm provided as much drama as he could handle. Stepping into a big, stinking pile of emotional poo three thousand miles from home was asking for trouble.
Wilson sighed deeply, clearly in need of a friendly ear. Jamie looked toward the retreating forms of the film crew and then back at Wilson. He did have appealing eyes, warm and brown.
“I can buy you a cold drink…in the cafeteria, I mean.” Wilson stumbled over the words, transparent and adorable.
Don’t try this at home.
House sat in his office avoiding the summer downpour that that had started the night before. He hadn’t noticed it at the time because the case had him thoroughly distracted, along with wondering why it had taken nearly twenty minutes for Foreman to answer his page, or why Chase had puffy lips and a certain faraway look in his eyes.
Just after midnight, the symptoms on the whiteboard had started talking to him and by one in the morning; the patient was receiving treatment for Dubin Johnson Syndrome.
He’d sent the team home and told them not to come back until their usual time. A quick look at the conference indicated that only Cameron had bothered complying. That was his girl, even if she’d never be his girl.
The rain that kept him off the balcony had made his drive to the office precarious. He was already two pills ahead of his quota for the day and it was only ten o’clock. If Wilson had been around, he would have asked for a ride to work, but Wilson hadn’t made an appearance last night. Julie must have changed the lock on his cell.
He briefly considered an attempt to round up his lost sheep, but couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for the task. Even the initial thrill of having the Mythbusters around had faded into cranky disillusionment. Nothing was scheduled to blow up. Jamie had turned out to be stand-offish prima donna and a little bit of Adam’s puppyish enthusiasm went a long way. Worst of all, none of the crew would listen to his suggestions.
Maybe he should make a crank call to Stacy’s office. Mrs. Warner, I’m representing the archdiocese of Trenton. Sister Augustine is seeking punitive damages against Dr. House for loss of faith. He’d decided on a Boston accent and was about to pick up the phone when Adam came running into the office, looking both serious and seriously upset.
“House,” he yelled, “you’ve got to do something.”
"About what? None of your producers seem to want my help.”
“Jamie and Dr. Wilson.”
It took a second to process that statement and tell himself he didn’t care.
“You know what I mean. Jamie was out all night.”
“I didn’t realize Discovery Channel gave you guys a curfew. That’s pretty rough. Do you have hall monitors too?”
“House, this is serious. Jamie is…”
“Just what everybody already thinks?”
“Do they?” Adam’s whining had given way to genuine bewilderment. “They think that about us?”
“Dude, have I got some internet sites for you.”
Before he could turn to his attention to the computer and burst Adam’s illusions that he and Jamie were flying under the national gaydar, the culprits arrived, practically advertising their new relationship with a pair of matching smiles. House knew that look of relaxation on Wilson’s face all too well. Jamie must have given him a serious working over of some kind, without wrinkling his own shirt. Adam appeared absolutely stricken and House started looking forward to a good bitch fight. Cameron had looked up from whatever she was writing in a notebook long enough to notice the crowd that was forming in the office.
No reason she shouldn’t enjoy the show as well. He motioned for her to come in, but instead he found himself face to face with a truly frantic Foreman. The same Foreman who usually did his best to come across as cool, even to the point of trying to emulate House’s own nonchalance.
”House, we have got a serious problem.” Foreman intoned.
“Is the cafeteria out of watermelon again?”
Kari’s sick. I think she’s dying.”
So much for nonchalance.
“Well, of course she’s sick. You stuck her in a room full of sick people. What did you expect?”
“But nobody else in the unit has these symptoms,” Foreman shot back, rattling off a list that included vomiting, low blood pressure, jaundice, and hair falling out. The last one was really pissing off the producers who had just arrived with two camera men. The office was getting crowded and House was getting interested, at least in the messenger if not the message
“Why are you telling me this?”
He got up and used his cane to take a long stride in Foreman’s direction. Foreman stood his ground and met House’s gaze.
“Because it’s a high profile case that might actually keep you busy for a few days.”
House pretended to take that seriously, before shaking his head.
“I don’t think so. I’ve barely seen your shiny head since this crew checked in, but you know all about Kari’s symptoms and who in the ICU doesn’t have them….” he felt a grin breaking out on his face. “Foreman, you dog.”
“She’s a nice girl. She’s interesting to talk to. Do you know she went back-packing in the Himalayas?”
“Is that medically relevant?”
The pandemonium increased with the arrival of Chase. He had Kari’s file in his hand and Grant at his heels. Or maybe at his feet, House thought. They would certainly make a cute couple, he noted, in passing. Apparently another myth proven, although finding out that Chase would give it up for a pretty face of either gender wasn’t exactly newsworthy.
On the other hand Tory showed up only a few seconds before Cuddy. If that had any significance and there was footage, House would double any asking price.
By now the office was starting to resemble the stateroom scene from “A Night at the Opera.”. Adam was glaring at Wilson and Jamie. Foreman. The producers were yammering about Kari and Cuddy was giving him her particularly vicious version of the evil eye, even though absolutely none of this was his fault. He was tempted to walk away and hang out with his friends up in the psych ward, but then he realized this was his chance to show the Mythbusters, especially Mr. Mustache, exactly how wrong they’d been to ignore his assistance. He even knew how to get Wilson’s attention back where it belonged.
“HEY!” he called out. It wasn’t enough to shut up the mob so he used his thumb and forefinger under his tongue to produce a piercing whistle that did the job nicely.
Everybody stared at him, with expressions between shock and annoyance, but at least they were quiet. He noticed Cameron watching him from the conference room with her arms folded and something awfully close to a smirk on her face.
“Are those things on?” he asked the camera guys, who nodded.
“Follow me,” he pushed through the crowd, using his cane to part the waters. “Foreman, Chase, Cameron,” he called as he got to the whiteboard in the conference room. He picked up a pen and brandished it in the direction of the camera guys, making sure Adam, Jamie and especially Wilson were paying attention as well.
“OK, guys, Pay attention. This is how we save a life. I’m ready for my close-up. Mr. Demille. Differential diagnosis, people…”
As he wrote symptoms, and elicited ideas from the team, he could sense Wilson drifting away from Jamie and Adam sliding into his place. He wondered how it would look on television. Probably not as exciting as catching crabs in Alaska, but that didn’t mater. He was only playing to one viewer.
“Tell me more about this hiking the Himalayas?”
“She’s an artist and she wanted to see…” Foreman replied. Either he’d spent a lot of time talking to this girl or he’d been googling.
“Wait a minute…an artist? What kind of art?”
“What materials?” he shot back, ideas popping into his brain.
“How should I know? Metals, some kind of acrylics…I saw some pictures, but I’m not an art critic.”
“I thought you were her new bestest buddy.”
“Well it’s not she brought anything in with her. She told me she’s been going crazy not being able to do anything. I gave her a notebook so she could do some sketches.”
“Yeah, with pencils.”
“And does she bite her pencils?”
“It can’t be poisoning,” Chase insisted. “There’s no lead in pencils anymore.”
“Thanks for your contribution. I’ll call you next time I need a yakitori recommendation.”
Who knew that Chase could glower and blush at the same time?
“Eraser dust?” Cameron suggested.
“So far, yet…so far,” he shook his head in mock disappointment.
He gave them the list of tests to perform and let the cameras follow the team out of the office to prove that Kari Byron had contracted a blood borne infection from a metal shard. The pencils were just a red herring.
He looked around his office, now delightfully quiet and empty, except for Wilson, hands dug deeply into the pockets of his lab coat
“Got that out of your system?” he asked pointedly.
Wilson pulled out his best sheepish expression, and House was nearly tempted to let it slide this time, while keeping the whole thing in his hip pocket for future ammunition.
He already knew that Wilson could never resist him when he was being brilliant and would never be able to stay away for long, no matter what.
That was definitely confirmed.