sodiumbisulfite

"Was this really necessary?"

"Yes. You wanted to come with us, so yes."

"No...I wanted to come with you. And I have a feeling if it had just been you, I wouldn't look so completely..."

"Sexy?"

"No...I was thinking more along the lines of ridiculous. But I'm glad that you think so."

House rolled his eyes and stuck his hand deep into the bucket of popcorn he was nuzzling in the crook of his arm, spilling a significant amount of the concession onto the floor.

Wilson sighed and reached up, tugging uncomfortably at the bullet proof vest House had forced him to wear.

Earlier in the week,Wilson had tried to convince House that he could get away with being Commissioner Gordon in his normal day to day attire (shirt and tie), but House had rebutted with a "Gob would do it. He'd want to go all out."

Wilson, who had found himself involved in a competition with Gob that only he knew about, sucked it up and went all out. As a matter of fact, before it had fallen off into the tub of popcorn that House had since taken possession of, he had even been wearing a fake mustache.

"Stop fidgeting with it," House pushed Wilson's hand away from the velcro straps on his vest with the handle of his cane. "You're going to mess it up."

"Well I'm sorry, but this isn't that comfortable! Not that you'd know anything about it, it's not like you dressed up or anything!"

"I did so."

"Tying a hospital sheet around your neck and drawing a bat on your T-shirt in white board marker is hardly dressing up."

"I'm a cripple, cut me some slack."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I just don't see why you'd expect me to try and squeeze my agonizingly painful leg into skin tight leather. Seems sort of cruel if you ask me."

Wilson reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine...whatever." He looked around at the growing line to get into the movie. The heat of all the people crowding around them was beginning to get unbearable and he reached up, loosening the top few buttons on his shirt.

"How much longer?"

House glanced down at his pager. "An hour."

"An...hour? This is ridiculous, we should have just waited until -"

"WHY SO SERIOUS COMMMMISSIONER?"

Wilson jumped at the screaming in his ear. "Gob! What the hell?"

Gob grinned, the red makeup smeared around his mouth making him look even more maniacal than usual. "Just getting into character. "

"Well...stop it! Act like you're dying for once in your life!"

House grinned, shoving more popcorn into his mouth, enjoying the show way too much.

Gob shoved the armful of candy he was carrying at Wilson, who stumbled backwards, trying to keep it all from falling to the ground. He frowned at the amount of (his) money that had obviously just been spent.

"What, did you buy the entire concession stand? What do you need all this for?"

"A dying man needs his candy." Gob stepped towards House, backing him up against the wall. "Just like the Joker needs his Batman."

House beamed.

Gob licked his lipstick covered lips.

Wilson felt sick.

He stepped forward, piling the candy into House's half-empty popcorn bucket. "Here. I'm going to the bathroom. Save my spot in line." He pushed through them, marching his way into the nearest stall and locking the door behind him. He took in a few deep breaths, counted to ten, and walked back out feeling as calm as he possibly could.

This feeling, however, quickly dissipated as House turned around to hand the candy back to Wilson, his face smeared with red and white makeup.

"Took you long enough." House mumbled, piling the boxes of candy into Wilson's arms.

"Not that we're complaining." Gob piped in from behind him.

"I'm complaining," House slipped the lip of the popcorn bucket between Wilson's thumb and forefinger. "My arms were falling asleep."

"Your mouth clearly wasn't." Wilson turned his head slightly as the pile of candy pressed up against his chin.

House reached up and wiped his hand over his mouth, smiling somewhat embarrassed as his hand came back down covered in makeup.

 "Oh. Well, you know how it is. Have to distract the bad guy long enough to save Gotham or whatever." He waved a hand at Wilson, trying to dismiss any further inquiry.

"And distract me you did." Gob stepped in front of Wilson, grabbing some popcorn out of the bucket and feeding it to House.

"The good guys always win in the end, you know," Wilson mumbled as the line started to move forward. "You'll see. I'll show you."

"There's nothing to be nervous about, okay buddy? He actually looks pretty good all things considered."

    Michael Bluth smiled somewhat reassuringly at his son, George Michael, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

    "Yeah...okay."

    Michael removed his hand and pressed the button for the elevator. When the doors opened, the two stepped inside.

    As the elevator started to make its ascent, George Michael began to fidget with the buttons on his shirt. "You know, maybe we should wait for the rest of the family to get here. I'm sure Gob would like to see everyone, you know?"

    The doors opened and Michael gave his son a light shove out into the hallway. "Don't be silly. Gob'll be happy to see you. Second door down there on the left, okay? I'm going to go get some coffee."

    "W-wait -" But the doors shut before George Michael could get anything else out.

    He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, slowly making his way down the hallway until he got to the door that had a small white board attached to it, with "Gob Bluth - Magician" written across it in Purple and Yellow marker. He took in a nervous breath and pushed open the door.

    "Hey, Uncle Gob?" George Michael stepped into the room and turned the small corner, spotting Gob sitting on the side of his bed, with his back facing his nephew.
    
    "G-Gob?"

    "George Michael!" Gob quickly tied his silk robe shut and turned his body sideways, giving his nephew a nervous smile, while kicking a rather large object onto the floor. "What...what are you doing here?"

    "Oh, well my Dad thought you might like to see me."

    "Your Dad's an idiot."

    George Michael jumped back as a man reached up from the floor and grabbed the side of Gob's hospital bed, pulling himself up. He hopped over to a nearby chair and picked up the cane that was there, narrowing his eyes at George Michael as he wiped the sleeve of his suit jacket across his mouth.

    Gob let out a nervous laugh and shrugged at George Michael. "This is Dr. House. He was just, ah...checking my vitals. Since Im dying..you know they have to do that sort of thing at least four times a day."

    House and Gob exchanged glances, but George Michael was so preoccupied by hearing his Uncle say he was dying that he failed to notice.

    House cleared his throat and picked up the chart that was hanging off the end of the bed, pretending to look it over before tossing it back a few seconds later. Gob made a face as the clipboard hit his leg.

    House pushed his way past George Michael, stopping for a second in the doorway.

    "Page me when this kid's gone. I'll come back then with your nightly injection."

    Had George Michael picked up on that innuendo he probably would have passed out, he was close enough as it was.

    "So...your dying?" George Michael looked down towards his feet.

    Gob, realizing that he probably wasn't acting like he was, let out a few forced coughs and crawled slowly under the hospital covers. "Yeah. I have cancer, probably the same kind your Mom had. Runs in the family or something."

    George Michael looked confused, since last he had heard, men did not have ovaries, thus did not get ovarian cancer.

    "But Gob, my Mom had ovaria-"

    "I know. And now so do I. Life is so incredibly unfair." He forced out a few more coughs and an incredibly exaggerated sneeze. Then, for dramatic effect, he wrapped his arms around his stomach and rocked back and forth.

    "Gob!" George Michael sprinted over to the bed and reached forward grabbing onto his Uncle's arm. "Are you okay? I mean..obviously you're not okay. But are you -"

    Gob looked up and realized that he apparently was doing a damn good job of acting (Take that, Tobias!) as George Michael reached out, wrapping his arms tightly around Gob and started to cry.

    Gob, always having had a soft spot for his nephew, suddenly began to feel bad and pushed him off.

    "Hey. George Michael."
   
    George Michael sniffed and looked up at Gob.

    "Want to know a secret? But you can't tell anyone. Especially not your Dad, he ruins everything for me."

    George Michael, who normally couldn't keep anything from his Father, agreed. His favorite Uncle, after all,  was on his death bed.

    "I don't really have cancer!" Gob spread his arms out, a huge grin on his face.

    George Michael stammered. "You..don't really have...cancer?"

    "That's right! It's part of my greatest illusion yet! A sure fire way to get back into the Alliance. When they see me rise from my death bed, there's no way they'll refuse me again!"

    "But...you aren't on your death be-"

    "So smile, kid! I'm perfectly fine!"

    After a few seconds of disbelief, George Michael did smile, once he realized that he had been let in a huge secret.

    "Now run off and tell your Dad to take you to dinner or something. On me, here." Gob pulled open the drawer in the side table next to his hospital bed and pulled out his wallet. He tossed a Bluth Company credit card at his nephew.

    "Wow, thanks Gob. I'll come back later and -"

    "Don't bother. Those injections...they put me right to sleep. You know, because of the cancer."  Gob winked and formed quotes with his fingers as he spoke.

    George Michael nodded and walked out of the room, leaving Gob without his only source of money, and wishing he hadn't just outed himself to his nephew.

    He was going to have to get him back up here soon and shove a forget-me-now down his throat.

    But for now, he would settle on shoving something else down someone else's throat.

    He reached for his phone and paged House.

Wilson sat in House's recliner shoveling Lo Mein into his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed.

House, who had been somewhat amused by Wilson's unpleasant behavior, set his carton of rice down and flung a chopstick at him.

It hit Wilson on the nose, and fell onto his lap, staining his khaki's with some soy sauce.

"Why are you being such an idiot?" House picked the food carton back up, this time using his fingers to shovel rice into his mouth.

"Because I thought we," Wilson moved his hand erratically between them, "were going to have dinner."

"We are. Duh."

"I thought we were going to have dinner without that idiot Gob!" Wilson tossed the chopstick back at House.

"Hey, Hello. Idiot Gob is sitting right here." Gob didn't even bother to look at Wilson, just reached onto the coffee table for the chopstick he had flung, handing it back to House.

Wilson set his food down loudly and crossed his arms. "I guess I just don't really care to acknowledge you're existence."

Gob kept eating.

House rolled his eyes. "You're acting childish, you realize."

"I don't really care! This is...ridiculous!"

"A guy's gotta eat, Dr. Wilson. Come on!" Gob shook his head, and picked up the bottle of wine Wilson had brought over, taking a gulp straight from the bottle.

House followed suit.

Wilson was getting furious. He loosened his tie. "A guy's gotta eat, huh? Well I've got news for you Gob. A man with 'terminal cancer' : a - probably wouldn't have that much of an appetite, and b - would be in the hospital eating shitty hospital rations, not sitting in my best friend's house eating Chinese takeout that I paid for, and drinking wine straight from the bottle when there are clearly wine glasses in front of him!"

Gob and House both stared at Wilson.

After a minute of silence, Gob picked up the wine and took another sip. "Calm down buddy, don't give yourself a nasal abrasion."

"You aren't clever," Wilson narrowed his eyes. "And that doesn't even make sense!"

Gob shrugged.

House turned away from Wilson. "This dinner needs more magic! It's too fucking serious and annoying right now."

"I can fix that, House. I'll be right back." Gob got up from the couch, but not before resting a hand on House's thigh for a moment that was just long enough for Wilson to take note of.

"So he's calling you House now?" Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"Last I checked, that was my name."

"I just didn't realize that you were that buddy buddy I guess."

House made a disgusted face at Wilson. "Jealousy is an awful look for you."

Wilson opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when Gob emerged from the kitchen with an apple and what appeared to be a knife sharpener, with a dangerous looking sharp end.

Wilson rubbed his face with his hand. "This can't possibly end well..." House swatted at him to shut up.

"This is a real apple!" Gob went to hand it to Wilson, who turned in his chair, shunning both Gob and the apple.

House grabbed the apple instead, bouncing it off of Wilson's leg.

"Ow! House, what the hell?"

"Yep, that's a real apple." House grinned at Gob.

"And this," Gob continued once the apple was back in his hand, "is a real sharp metal object!" He took the apple and speared it onto the edge.

House nodded, anxious to see what came next, Wilson felt around in his pocket for his cell phone, since he was pretty sure he'd have to call 911.

Gob, remembering how unsuccessfully he had performed this trick before, took a deep breath before continuing.

"What? No Final Countdown?" Wilson smirked.

House swatted at him again.

Gob ignored Wilson's comment and tossed the apple into the air, while simultaneously jabbing the metal object into the side of his neck. It took only a second, and the apple soon fell on the top of his head, and Gob fell to the ground, a steady stream of blood flowing from his neck.

Wilson flipped open his phone, dialing 911. "So...if I say it was a suicide attempt, he'll get locked up for a while, yes?"

House grabbed a handful of napkins and pressed them against the wound. "Wilson, he's a magician. He'll get out. No one can confine a magician in jail, it's impossible. You just need to accept that Gob is awesome, and I like hanging out with him."

"I can be awesome too," Wilson mumbled as he pressed send on his phone.  

    The morning after House had gone to dinner with Gob, Wilson was walking towards the elevator when the all too familiar sound of a Segway was heard coming up from behind him. 

      Fast.

      He sighed and raised his voice, not bothering to turn around. "Mr. Bluth, I really don't think you should be riding that thing in the hospital." 

      But it wasn't Gob. A fact that Wilson realized as House zipped by him seconds later and crashed into the wall next to the elevator. 

      Wilson sprinted over to help him, bending down and extending a hand. 

      "You okay?" He furrowed his brows and gave House the once over to make sure he wasn't bleeding.

      House swatted Wilson's hands away. "I'm fine!" He attempted to get up on his own, but the pain in his leg proved this to be a more difficult task than anticipated, and he eventually held his hand out for Wilson's help.

      "Thanks," he muttered as he got off the floor and straightened out his clothes. "Damn thing is harder to control than I thought." 

      "I can't believe you bought one of those." Wilson bent down to pick the Segway up as House struggled to open his bottle of pills. 

      "I didn't." He raised his cane and tapped at the black pouch attached to the front of the Segway. "I'm borrowing it."

      Wilson pressed his lips together as he realized the pouch said "GOB". 

      "So I take it dinner went well?" He brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck, not entirely sure he cared to hear the answer.

      House grinned. "Why? Jealous?" He reached forward for the Segway and got back on, hooking his cane over the handle. 

      Wilson frowned. "No. I was just...genuinely curious."

      House kept grinning and leaned forward, pressing the button for the elevator. "Don't worry Wilson. Gob may be a great magician, but he won't make your best friend disappear."

      House was mocking him.

      Wilson felt his ears turn red. 

      House segwayed into the elevator. "Coming?"

      Wilson stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to their floor. "That thing is ridiculous."

      "This thing helps me get around. It's like I've got two good legs again. I can finally outrun my team and my patients. I'm going to see if I can keep it."

      "I'm sure Gob will want it back."

      "Maybe. But he won't need it back anytime soon. I admitted him."

      "You...admitted him? For what?"

      "His cancer, duh."

      "He doesn't have cancer!"

      "Well I know that. But the rest of the world doesn't. The Alliance doesn't."

      "What the hell is the Alliance!?"

      "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you keep your mouth shut."

      "No. House...I refuse to be any part of this."

      "But you owe me."

      "For what!?"

      "For the consult." House maneuvered the Segway and headed for his office, just barely missing the plate glass wall. 

      Wilson cringed and turned, heading for his own office.

      Once there, Wilson walked into a familiar scene; someone he didn't know, talking on his office phone.

      The man turned around when he heard the door open and cupped his hand around the phone. "I'll let you know what I find out, alright buddy? Alright, goodbye." He placed the phone back on  the receiver and held out a hand.

      "Dr. Wilson?"

      Dressed in a suit jacket and tie, Wilson could only assume that this was probably someone from the alluded "Alliance", here to question and then arrest him for admitting someone with faux-cancer.

      He held out his hand and nodded, trying his best to swallow back the nerves that were so fervently creeping up on him. 

      "Yes, I'm Dr. Wilson."

      "Great. Michael Bluth. I'm here about my brother, Gob."

   

    ~*dum dum dummmm*~

                                             written for crossovers50 "Fire"


    Wilson leaned back against the wall in the large playroom of the Children's ward and took a lingering sip of coffee out of the red mug he had borrowed from House's office.

    "So...I fail to see how you can possibly think this is a good idea."

    House rolled his eyes. "Stop being such a baby, Wilson. It's fine."

    "It's not fine. I've heard things. Terrible things."

    "So a smiling child is a terrible thing now? Wilson, I'm surprised at you!" House smirked and grabbed the cup of coffee out of Wilson's hands, spilling some of the beverage on Wilson's khakis in the process.

    Wilson reached into his lab coat and pulled out a wad of tissues, using it to dab up the excess moisture.

    "No...I just don't think the children will be smiling when they're engulfed in flames."

    "It'll take their minds off their terminal illness for awhile. That's always a good thing, right?"

    Wilson reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "So inappropriate."

    House took a sip of the coffee and shrugged. "Still true though."

    Wilson went to grab the coffee mug back when all of a sudden the lights to the play room shut off. Wilson sighed as a few of the children started crying.

    "See? This is bad news already." He felt around for the coffee cup, managing to grab it without spilling anything.

    House poked him in the side. "Shhhh. The lights will come back on any second. You're ruining this for me."

    The lights did indeed turn back on. But only after a loud display of hospital inappropriate pyro-technics and Europe's "The Final Countdown" began blaring out of what Wilson could only hope was a radio, and not the hospital's PA system.

    It took Wilson's eyes a few seconds to adjust after being temporarily blinded by the display, but eventually he was able to make out Gob wearing what appeared to be hospital issue scrubs and fuzzy bunny slippers.
   
    "From his brother, Buster." House had informed him later, after Wilson had taken it upon himself to make fun of House's new friend. "He's a little slow or something."

    Wilson took took the time to look around the room. The children all appeared to be having a fun time watching the display of what Wilson could only hope would turn into a magic show eventually.

    At the moment, however, Gob wasn't putting on much of a magic show, at all, as most of his time up on stage at this point seemed to consist of dancing around (quite lewdly in Wilson's opinion) and tossing cards off to the side of the stage.

    Eventually though, Gob stopped gyrating his hips and announced that he was going to make someone from the audience disappear.

    Even though almost every single one of the terminally ill children raised their hands to volunteer, Gob hopped off stage and bee-lined straight for House.

    Wilson felt bad for the sick kids, but was interrupted from this thought when Gob grabbed House by the hand, smiled at him, and led him back to the stage.

    This caused Wilson to raise an eyebrow, two when he saw House give Gob's hand a squeeze. (Or at least Wilson -thought- that's what he saw.)

    Gob had House sit down in a chair, and he stepped in front of him to acknowledge the audience.

    "And now for my final illusion..."

    (There were others?)

    "...I will make this bastard of a doctor disappear!"

    This announcement made the medical staff that was watching cheer, and Wilson cringed as House gave them the finger.

    This caused the children to laugh, and Gob to shout "Silence!"

    Surprisingly, they listened.

    Wilson stifled a laugh as the music started up again and Gob started to wave his hands around. Finally, after a few over-dramatic moves, the pyro-technics went off again, and House did indeed, disappear.

    Just in time too, because one of the stage curtains caught on fire that time, causing the children to scream in a panic and run towards the doors.

    Unfortunately (or fortunately) for Wilson, he happened to be near the exit doors and managed to get bumped into by every single one of the children in there, causing the coffee, once again, to spill all over his khakis.
   
    "This mug is cursed." He sighed, and exited the room, heading for House's office. He figured that's where House had "disappeared" to.

    House was indeed in his office, sitting in his desk chair watching his soaps. He turned to grin at Wilson when he pushed through the glass doors.

    "Well. Your new friend Gob is an amazing magician. Wow." Wilson rolled his eyes and walked over towards House, placing the red mug on his desk. "The whole children's ward almost burnt to the ground.

    (A slight exaggeration, but House hadn't been there, so what did he know.)

    "Hey, he is. I disappeared didn't I? There just wasn't enough room for him to do his real magic."

    "Are you two sleeping together?"

    The words escaped Wilson's lips before he had a chance to stop them.

    "What?"

    "I saw how you looked at him. You don't even smile at me that much!"

    "I beg to differ. That huge stain on your pants is causing me to smile a great deal." House grinned as big as he could and pointed a finger towards his mouth. "See?"

    "House...stop."

    House just kept grinning.

    "So...are you?"

    House reached for his cane and got out of his chair, walking around his desk so he was standing right in front of Wilson. He reached forward and Wilson felt his heart stop, only to start up again when House pulled a quarter from 'out of his ear.'

    "Go get your pants dry cleaned Wilson." And he placed the quarter in the palm of Wilson's hand. "You look ridiculous."

    Wilson figured he had gotten his answer.

    It was a slow afternoon in the Diagnostics Department of the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. There had been no bizarre cases to walk through the front door in days, and in an attempt to get some quality time with his Soap Operas, House had sent his team off to help other departments.

    His time alone, however, was about to be cut short.

    It always was.

    House swung around in his chair as he heard his office doors swing open.

    Wilson stepped inside, the doors catching the bottom of his lab coat as they closed behind him.

    This made House snort.

    "House...shut up." Wilson sighed and turned his body so that he could pull the door open just enough to pull the fabric out.

    House smirked and glanced towards the clock radio on his desk. "A bit early to take me to dinner don't you think? Not that I'm complaining, I've been hungry since I finished my lunch." House reached for his cane, but stopped short as Wilson plopped himself down in the chair across from him.

    "You mean since you finished my lunch...and no, I'm not here to take you to dinner. I need a consult."

    House sighed and kicked his feet up on his desk, knocking some papers onto the floor. Wilson, anal as he was, bent over to pick them up. He piled them all neatly together, and set them on his lap.

    "I was thinking steak..." House's voice trailed off, as he picked up his cane and began twirling it around, knocking this time, a mug filled with pens onto the floor.

    Wilson sighed. "I was thinking about getting a consult, personally." He looked at House, exasperated.

    House raised an eyebrow and patted his stomach with his free hand.

    Wilson sighed once more. "...then dinner."

    "That's more like it." House hooked the handle of his cane onto the edge of his desk and looked over at Wilson. "Judging by the fact that it’s you here in my office, I'm going to say.....," House pressed his lips together and rubbed his chin, feigning deep thought. "Aha! I've got it! The patient has cancer." He slapped his hand down against the top of his desk, proud with himself.

    Wilson crossed his arms, and sat back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "Wrong. The patient doesn't have cancer...the patient wants cancer."
    
    House laughed through his nose. "Nobody wants cancer."

    Wilson smirked, "That's why I'm here."

    As the two made their way down the hall towards Wilson's office, something caught House's attention out of the corner of his eye.

    "No way!" He pressed his cane against Wilson's chest and limped his way quickly over to the Segway which had been set carefully against the wall beside the office door.
   
    Wilson sighed. "House, don't touch that. It's not yours. And it looks...dangerous."

    House rolled his eyes, but stopped himself short of hopping on. "You're such a baby. But fine, I'll just buy my own."

    Wilson shook his head and tossed the cane back towards House. "What do you even need that for?" He reached forward and opened his office door, only to be met by a room full of smoke, and a man hopping all over his office, screaming into the phone.
   
    “For your information Michael, I’m in the hospital.”

    House leaned against the door frame, curious, as the tall man attempted to talk on Wilson’s desk phone, while at the same time trying to get better leverage to fan the smoke out the office window, by climbing up on Wilson’s couch.

    “That’s crushed velvet,” Wilson lamented, bringing his hand up and pinching the bridge of his nose.

    “Shut up!” House snapped, poking Wilson’s foot with the tip of his cane. “You’re ruining the show.”

    “No! They think I might be dying.” The man stopped his flailing for a moment to apparently listen to the person on the other end of the phone. “…They’re illusions, Michael. Illusions.”  He reached forward to further open the window, taking a cautious step upwards onto the back of the couch.

    It was then that Wilson noticed that the man had left a footprint on his furniture. “That’s it!” He shouted, and slammed the door shut behind him.

    House and the man both turned their attention to Wilson.

    “Gotta go, Michael. They’re here to tell me how much time I have left.”  The man tossed the phone back towards Wilson’s desk. Since the cord had been stretched beyond capacity, the phone flung back harder than anticipated, and knocked a picture of Wilson and his ex-wife onto the floor, causing little pieces of glass to scatter about.

    Wilson stared, wide eyed, at the mess before him.

    "You didn't like her anyways," House whispered.

    “Sorry about that.” The man casually stepped off the couch and around the glass, lowering himself into one of Wilson’s patient chairs.

    House liked him.
   
    Wilson did not.

    "Mr. Bluth, if I may -"
    
    "Gob."
          
     Wilson hesitated, and then made his way over to his desk, sitting across from Gob.
         
      "...Gob. If I may state the obvious, you do not have cancer. I've run all the tests. Twice, per your request, and came up with nothing. I think it’s safe to say you are one hundred percent healthy....as far as cancer is concerned." Wilson shot a knowing glance in House's direction.
          
     Gob adjusted himself in his seat, sending an overbearing waft of cologne in Wilson's direction, causing him to sneeze. "Can't you just pretend I have cancer? Write it on a prescription pad or something." Gob pulled a pen out of the front pocket of his gaudy button down shirt and tossed it onto Wilson's desk.
 
      Wilson just stared at it.
           
    House cleared his throat and made his way over to the seat beside Gob. He sat down and kicked his feet up onto Wilson's desk, sending a few charts onto the floor. "Dr. House," he introduced himself and held out his hand.

    Wilson raised an eyebrow.
         
      Gob took his hand a shook it weakly. “I want cancer.”
  
     “Nobody wants cancer.”
   
    “Well then I need cancer.”
  
     “What could you possibly need cancer for?!” Wilson interrupted, throwing his hands up into the air.
  
     Gob leaned forward, motioning for House to do the same. “For my career.” He practically whispered this, which, Wilson thought, was completely unnecessary considering they were the only three people in the room.
   
    “Your…career?” Wilson let out a laugh of disbelief. “Mr Bluth-”
   
    “Gob.”
  
     “…Gob. What kind of a career could you possibly need cancer for?”
 
    “I’m a magician.”
  
     House perked up.
  
     “A…magician? Who needs cancer?” Wilson was trying very hard to remain calm.
   
    Gob stood up and placed a hand on his hip, flailing the other one around animatedly as he spoke. “No. Well, sort of. A magician who cures his own cancer and rises from his death bed! Never before performed by any magician in the Alliance!”
   
    Wilson raised an eyebrow. “The Alliance?”
   
    House lifted his cane and hooked the handle around Gob’s shoulder, pulling him back down to his seat.
  
     “That would be more of a miracle then a magic trick don’t you think?”
   
    Gob narrowed his eyes. “They’re illusions.”
   
    House released his cane from Gob. “Same difference.”
  
     Gob looked at Wilson and clasped his hands together. “So how ‘bout it? Feeling generous enough to give me cancer?” Gob flashed his award winning smile at Wilson, who shook his head and held up his hands.
 
   “This is wrong on just so many levels. I…really can’t do this for you.”
   
    Gob leaned forward, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “How much?”
   
    Wilson shook his head, “No amount of money will make me do that for you. Cancer isn’t funny. It’s completely and utterly serious.”
   
    “I’ll do it.”
  
     “House!”
   
    Gob turned towards House, opening his wallet, flashing another one of his smiles. “How much?”
   
    “Dinner.”
   
    Gob smiled and slid out his Bluth Company credit card with his thumb. “Dinner it is.”