Ruben, please. [open, wilson?]

[Dr. House]

"You don't have any Ruben's left?" House asked skeptically glancing at the empty display case where the sandwhiches usually sat. It wasn't that he didn't want to beleive that there weren't any sandwhiches left, but that he didn't trust the cafeteria chef. The guy thought he was some kind of gormet cook. There was a reason he was cooking in a hospital cafeteria and not Charlie Trotters. The old fat cafeteria woman nodded at him.

"Sorry Doctor, that guy over there got the last one." She said pointing to a man in a wheelchair sitting at a table not before wiping some snot off or her nose onto her sleeve. Now that couldn't be sanitary. House shuddered.

"Well this guy wants another one, Dr. Wilson to be exact. Really demanding doctor always makes me pay for his lunch and he says that he will never ever be my friend again if you don't get me one," House said mockingly offering up a fake pout. The woman looked skeptically around, she must have been new House figured or else she wouldn't have fallen for it.

"Well I'll see what I can do but-" she began, but before she could finish a squat old man tumbled out of the kitchen, with a plate full of rubens. This would have been wonderful except for one thing, they all had pickels on them.

"Hey you!" House called, at the man. "Could you get me one without the pickels, Jimmy's an asshole if he doesn't get what he wants."

The man turned around and House realized with a mix of annoyance and slight fear that it was Mr. Gourmet, this was not going to go well. "I make my sandwitches how I like them and everybody else could go to hell!" The chef bellowed at house.

"If you didn't eat so many maybe you're wife wouldn't have left you."

And was that french accent, fake, it had to be.

[Dr. Wilson]

Oh, good god. Wilson could hear the muffled cries of House-induced chaos before he even pushed open the double doors to enter the cafeteria. He took a moment to adjust his wristwatch before pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold, dark eyes flitting to the ceiling in an attempt to gather together some measure of patience. He didn't expect Greg to be civil, just as he didn't expect the sky to be green; Wilson had to admit, he had a knack for making things interesting. But lord, if he could've just left the poor cook alone for one day...

As the oncologist strode towards the scene, hands in the pockets of his white coat, he listened in for a clue as to what the hell was going on. Ah, there was the shot at the cook's love life, fired from House's usual station in the bell tower. Hands fell to his hips in his usual 'indignant' stance as he came to a stop by the crippled nephrologist's side. "House." He turned his gaze on the two that House'd been harassing. "I'm sorry, my friend has...discretion problems." Jimmy'd give an exasperated glance to House, his lips pressed together, belaying his annoyance. Sure, his unshaven friend was amusing at times, but there was no reason to be harassing their resident wannabe French chef.

[Dr. House]

"This Wilson, my good old buddy I was talking about earlier. Wilson, tell the man how you are desprately allergic to pickles. Pickles induce cancer or something." House waved his hand moving down the line further to the cook who was now staring angrily at Wilson.

"Is this the asshold who demanded a Ruben no pickels everytime. The one you showed me all the reciepts of," he nodded to the cafeteria lady, who gave a wide-eyed affermation. House always knew that having Jimmy pay for his lunch would come in handy more ways than one. Not only did he not have to pay for all of his Ruben's but now he was taking the blame for House's picky eating it was too good to be true.

"Yeah," House's face turned falsely apologetic, "you better give him that Ruben, sans pickles. He gets super cranky and when he gets cranky people /die/." He let the words ring omniously in the space between a womans order for pasta and a fat guy tapping impatiently.

[Dr. Wilson]

[eew, this is so very short. please forgive!]

Wilson had almost expected Greg to give it up when he got there, but the devious actor kept up with his charade, trying to get the oncologist to tell the lunchlady how pickles caused cancer. A hand rose to massage his temples. "House..." In a warning tone, this time. So, the resident brilliant asshole was using him now to not only pay for his lunches, but to take the blame for his picky, raucous behavior as well? There was a fat chance he'd let that one go far, but it was a nice try on House's part. Despite himself, Jimmy had to hold back a snort as his friend made some comment about people dieing when he was cranky. His arm dropped to his side as he made the obligatory snarky comeback. "You know what makes me more cranky than rubens? Gimp-legged twerps who hold up the line because they don't like pickles."

[Dr. House]

"Jimmy don't talk about your mother like that, it just isn't right,' House said mockingly putting his hands to his face in a twistedly hilarious version of the painting scream. Then in a more serious tone, "Come on Jimmy help me out here." It was a tone he had used often after the trial of tritter. Somehow he had come to forgive the guy, he didn't even know how. But he could still use his guilt against him whenever he needed help. Not that he would ever ask for it when he really needed it.

The line seemed to push him foreward and House allowed it to, taking a ruben with him removing the pickels and leaving them on his plate. The cook looked about ready to chop somebody's head off and he had a knife to do it with. Greg might be an asshole but he was a smart asshole. "He'll cover it all," Greg said nodding, moving to an empty table on the oppisite side of the cafeteria.

Chef guy was out for blood, and if House had anything to do with it, it wouldn't be his.

[Dr. Wilson]

He couldn't help but chuckle at the older man's version of Edward Munch's famous painting, despite the crack at his mother that Wilson knew House hardly meant. It was too bad, however, that the guilt over betraying Greg hadn't yet faded from his conscience, because James just shook his head resignedly as House peeled the pickles from his sandwich. He'd follow the one-legged wonder to the cash register, picking up a salad as they went, and paid for the lunches without much thought. It had become habit by now, anyway.

Wilson could still remember the first time he'd actually paid for House's lunch; it had been years ago, just after Greg's infarction. It was one of his first days back at work, and he was still a bit awkward with his cane. In any case, James, being the caring individual that he was, had had enough foresight to know that carrying his tray would be hard for the newly-crippled doctor and had carried it for him without a word. House, however, had taken this to mean that Wilson was going to pay for it too, and had limped off before Jimmy could get a word in.

Not that it had been a big deal, it was just lunch, but it had stuck, and here was Wilson, still buying House's reuben after all these years.

One of these days, he'd find a way to get Greg to pay him back, but until he thought something up he didn't worry about it too much. After forking over the few dollars, he'd follow House over to whatever table he'd chosen, noting the cook's fast-reddening face and the knife he held in one white-knuckled hammy fist. As the doctor slid into whatever vacant chair was closest, he'd grab his salad and slide the sandwich and the tray to House. "God, your people skills suck. I think that chef guy was about to take off your head."

[Dr. House]

"It's not my people skills, it's people." House looked at the Chef who was bellowing something in french. So he really was french, it wasn't just all an act. House's eyes widened marginally as the guy began making chopping motions. Uncomfertably he slid to the next tabel down which was more conviently hidden behind some kind of shrubbery. No one would every accuse House of being brave. Quitely, he began to much on his ruben when a thought struck him.

"Did you hear that they're sticking me with interns. It's rediculous!" Dr. House was also never one for manners either, evident by the fact that his words were slit inbetween huge bites of the ruben, little bits of tomato landing on the black styrofoam tray.

[Dr. Wilson]

Wilson eyed the tomato bits with mixed wariness and mild disgust. Ever since House had squirted cherry tomato juice on his white coat, he'd learned to stay his distance when the diagnostician was eating. But as for the interns, he had to admit that he'd heard of the plan already. That was the benefit of being good friends with the hospital administrator; he had a good idea of what was going on amongst the higher-ups. Not, of course, that he wasn't something of a 'higher-up' himself. Head of Oncology was certainly not a position to be overlooked in any hospital.

He gave a chuckle as he stabbed a piece of lettuce and a cucumber slice. "I know. Poor interns..." Jimmy smirked and chomped down on his lunch, finding his choice of raspberry vinaigrette a good one.

[Dr. House]

"Poor interns?" House looked up in indignation (say that five times fast) at his friend. Then sighed going back to his Ruben focusing on the joyless ecstasy of a great sandwhich, though he thought he could still taste the lingering of pickel. "Doesn't Cuddy realize that I have to cure people and stuff, can't auctually teach. That's as crazy as a man already having divorced three times and being under fifty." House looked up at wilson with a smirk, falsely catching himself. "Has the Guiness Co. called you yet. They're overdue. I heard you beat out the shiek in Arabia, see he had them all at the same time."

Finally he began to wipe off the lingering crumbs staring up at his friend. "Do you get any or is Cuddiford sparing you because those dimples are just too cute to deny," he mocked sarcastically. Secretly House thought the administrator had a thing for Wilson but he didn't like to make accusations without proof, and Cuddy seemed to be doing everything in her power to deny that this was true.

[Dr. Wilson]

Wilson scowled at this most recent jab at his apparent penchant for divorce. House knew it bothered him; he had to, or he wouldn't have said it, surely. He snorted and stabbed at his salad once more, but as usual when he was in a decent mood, kept his keen sense of humor. "Keep that up and you'll have to start buying your own lunch." A smirk was given, then shifted into a pointed look, with one thick brow raised in slight bemusement. "As for Cuddy...I'm afraid not everyone is as obsessed with sex as you are, House." He took another bite of his lunch, eyes flittering to a crying child at a table on the other side of the cafeteria that was making a rather annoying noise.

Jimmy looked back to his friend, the bemused look now a more focused, curious one. "Have you met these new interns yet? She's probably not letting you pick, is she?" He doubted that. House was picky enough with his food, let alone the people he allowed to follow him around. That he had three young fellows was a surprise in itself. Cuddy wouldn't be giving him any choice in this matter, James knew.

[Dr. House]

"Yeah and you and Cuddy really are having a sordid love affair." House snorted pushing his empty tray to Wilson, assuming of course that Wilson was going to throw it out for him. He began to pull something out of his pocket. A yo-yo, it was red and had a picture of a lady-bug on it. After the cancer-kids got a new playroom they had also gotten toys. Greg had saw one of them playing with a lovely red yo-yo and when they put it back in the box nicked it. His excuse was that it was too dangerous for people who might be seriously depressed, you could hang yourself or something.

"Met one of them," the yo-yo bounced down almost to the floor and then flew back up, "girl with spikey hair. She stalked me through the halls and made me scare a whale of a pregnate woman into labor. I'm telling you Ji-" The yo-yo was out of control and flew out of House's hands and straight into Wilson's salad. House smirked.

"You should tell them to pick out the bugs before they give you salad."

[Dr. Wilson]

Wilson rolled his eyes at the Cuddy comment. It was more likely that House was projecting himself onto Jimmy; after all, he and Cuddy argued like a married couple, and she was one of the few women in the world who could take his snarky comments and hold her own in an argument with him. James'd eye the tray, but say nothing as House pulled out some yo-yo that looked strangely familiar. His brown eyes watched the spinning disc as Greg spoke, chuckling at his description of the pregnant woman. He'd been about to say something about how House would get used to the interns soon enough, just as he'd gotten used to the fellows, but then the ladybug came whirring in his direction.

Luckily for the both of them, there hadn't been much left of his salad. There was, however, plenty of that tasty dressing left, and a bit of it flew from the bowl to his white coat, much to Jimmy's distress. A dark scowl was his first response to House's snide little comment as he leapt for a napkin, rubbing annoyedly at the lapel of his coat. A sigh came moments later. "House!" Thoughts of investing in one of those bleach pens sounded better and better as he dabbed at the faint pink blotch, his brows creased. He said no more of it to the culprit, however, his good mood demolished for the time being by blemishing his otherwise flawless, professional appearance.

[Dr. House]

He was suprised that Wilson hadn't yet noticed that the offending object in his salad was in fact a stolen artifact from his pride and joy the Cancer Kid's playroom. Surpised but certainly slightly greatfull one more straw and Wilson might auctually start making him pary for his own lunches. Now that would be a disaster. "Vanity is a sin." House remarked, unusually preachy distracted by somehow finding a way to retrieve his Lady-Bug yo-yo from the salad.

Sometimes House hated the way his leg confined him to being unable move easily, for example grabbing back his yo-yo. So he had to settle for asking for something instead, "give it hear Jimmy." He motioned for the Oncology Boy Wonder to give him the yo-yo.

[Dr. Wilson]

Wilson had been about to remark that sloth, too, was a sin, until he realized why House was asking for the offensive toy back instead of just snatching it. Grabbing things from across the table required that he rise, and rising wasn't nearly as easy for Gregory House as it was for the rest of the world. He gave the curmudgeonly doctor a perplexed look. "Why would I give it back to you? It's covered in dressing and salad anyway, and--"

Jimmy had glanced down, and the familiarity of the yo-yo suddenly clicked in his mind. Where House had reached a new moral low point, the volume of James's voice had reached a new high, and several people turned in their seats as he shouted indignantly; "House!" There was righteous anger in his eyes as he held the toy up by the string in an effort to keep any more dressing off of his clothes. "I know you're a bastard, but stealing toys from dying cancer kids?!" It was a classic 'oh my god' look, his mouth oh-so-slightly agape and everything.

[Dr. House]

"It's not stealing if I'm going to give it back." House winced at the increasing volume in his friends voice. You would think these kiddes were his pride and joy or something. People were beginning to stare and in fact the cook had now noticed the commotion and seemed to remember something particularily infruiating. This was perhaps the only reason he offered up the lame-ass excuse of giving it back, because god knows when house took something he kept it. He was like a fucking sea-gull the way he collected things unconciously.

"Anyway I may be a bastard but you'll be murderer if you don't shut up." House nodded his head to the cook who was now making flamboyant motions with a cheese grinder.