HH_mirror

What else did people do on nice, sunny days? Except sunbathing, of course, House could never get behind that particular activity. Except when it involved watching other people sunbathe, that was okay. And fun.

But, at present, he'd decided it was such a nice that day that he had to drag Wilson out to a picnic table beside the lake for some good old-fashioned Squid Watching. Of course, he'd forced Wilson to carry the binoculars, the cork hat, the random junk food, and anything else House could think of. And, despite wanting to Squid Watch, House had just decided it would be a great idea to sprawl out on top of the picnic table and make Wilson keep watch for him.

Until he spied Carla setting up, of course. He'd only met her once, but he could be a jerk to people he'd only met once. He was that good.

"Wilson, throw something at the latina chick," House demanded. "I'd do it myself, but I'm a cripple."

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Wilson, of course, had griped the entire way to the table, somewhere under his breath, and something about skepticism towards giant squids existing in something so small as a lake in the outskirts of Scotland. A lot because he'd been a little forced to carry binoculars and some ridiculously hideous hat and so many bags of Doritos and gummi bears and all that jazz that he was fairly sure he'd dropped something on the way. But... that was something he was used to, by now. Being House's bitch, that was.

Okay, never using that title again, God, not even in his head.

He, of course, was picking at a one of the said bags of gummi bears and only half looking through the binoculars - squids? Really? He didn't see any, and House was a liar, dammit - when the guy spoke up and... God. Seriously. "I'm not throwing anything at her," Wilson automatically prompted, as though he were talking to the eight-year-old in the store who kept asking for a toy. "You do it if you want to so bad." Beat. "Not that I'm condoning you... throwing things at people."

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"People pleaser," House rolled his eyes, the words coming out in the same kind of tone he'd use for 'crying babies' or 'moronic patients'. "One day, Jimmy, I'll teach you the sacred and moral art of pissing people off. It's fun, once you stop starching your shirts."

Huffing an impatient sigh, House reached over Wilson and grabbed a few of the gummi bears. He had to twist his head to actually see Carla - lying down and throwing were two different activities, but House was going to combine them.

"Keep watching for the squid while I work," House reminded Wilson, as if the squid was ever going to show up. Squinting an eye, House promptly threw three gummi bears in Carla's direction, aiming for her back.

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Completely absorbed in the mysteries of Tyra Banks' hair (was it a wig? a weave? some horrific combination of both?), Carla was jerked back to reality by three successive plunks on her back. Reaching around, she found the gummi bears.

"Oh, hell, no," she muttered, sitting up and pushing her sunglasses on top of her head as she scanned the area. Some hijo de tu puta madre was throwing things at her. It didn't take Carla long to spot House and Wilson; and as they were the only ones in gummi-catapult range, she stood up and stalked over to them, the offending candies still held in her hand.

"Hi," she said, smile so bright you could cut glass. Then she dropped the bears over House's head, eyebrows raised in a clear challenge. Sort of a non-verbal 'go ahead, make my day'.

Oh, this poonta was messing with the wrong woman.

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Oh, dear sweet Lord, he hadn't meant for House to actually start to throw things at her.

He glanced to Carla, watching as the woman grabbed at the gummi bears and automatically glared in their direction. Oh, shit. Just what they needed. An irritated Latina woman. This couldn't end well. The woman was starting over, gummi bears in hand, and Wilson reverted to his standby position of pinching his nose and glancing quite firmly downward.

Squids were forgotten. It was a traumatic event.

Of course, the gummi bears dropping onto House, that was fairly amusing. Wilson peeked out from under his hand, cocking an eyebrow at the newcomer and. Ha. His eyes, of course automatically leaped to House, trying to figure out his next move.

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Scowling, House swiped the gummi bears off his face and popped them into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he rolled his eyes at Carla. "Banana Boat? Could you use less of a girly brand? Good lord."

The fact that she was wearing a rather warning smile was in no way going to stop House. He sniffed in disdain, and grabbed the binoculars from Wilson.

"Say hello to the angry lady, Jimmy," he commented, twisting his head to look out at the lake. Hey, he'd had his amusement with throwing things at people. Wilson was the one that liked to talk to them if they insisted on being present.

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Exhaling a short laugh, Carla's eyebrows shot up. "Is he for real?" she asked Wilson. There was a warning in her tone that implied that House better not be. Carla was one formidable woman when she wanted to be - hell, even Cox was wary of her on her bad days. And this jackass had just interrupted her alone time.

...Hey, wait. She knew this jackass. "You're the idiot with the camera." Oh, this was rich. Reaching out, she jerked away the binoculars. "Jimmy, are you aware that your friend here is a peeping tom? He likes to lurk around the hospital wing and film patients, get in the way of doctors, generally be a pain in my ass."

She grinned. It was not a nice smile. "You have about ten seconds, dickless wonder, to tell me why I shouldn't use these," she gestured at him with the binoculars, "to give you an impromptu colonoscopy."

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Wilson only raised his eyebrows to Carla, a wry, extremely grim smile tugging up his mouth into a flat line. "Oh, yeah. Very real." With the kind of tone that griped a bit about just how real House could get, at most times.

She hadn't just called him Jimmy, right? Please say she didn't call him Jimmy. Wilson couldn't help the slight wince as he let his hand fall from his face, resisting the urge to frown at the Latina woman - she didn't know what she was doing, God, even House didn't know the weight of that nickname - but... stopped himself. "It... Wilson. Only he gets to call me Jimmy," he replied shortly, and scratched at his head. "That's the general consensus, yes, I was well aware, though."

And, oh dear, those weren't going to be very happy going up that orifice. Wilson's eyes widened considerably at the binoculars in Carla's hand.

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House was only half-listening to Wilson and Carla, even though he scowled heavily when his binoculars were snatched away. The threat of the impromptu colonoscopy did make him snicker, even though he just continued looking at the lake and trying to ignore them.

Wilson's protest at the name 'Jimmy', though, finally made him turn his head and look like he was paying attention. "He is so possessive," he complained mockingly to Carla, hushing his voice as if it were a secret and she was his conspirator.

Still, he should probably do something about that whole colonoscopy threat. House didn't really want some woman trying to shove things inside him. So he blew out a sigh, and pushed himself up until he was sitting on the table. He then gestured at his cane, lying on the grass, and looked expectantly at Carla. "Hey, get me my cane, will you? I'm trying to walk away from this mind-numbing conversation, but I won't get very far without it."

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Okay, her lips definitely twitched at that. It was hard to stay mad when this guy was so...something. "You should work on that, Jimmy," she informed Wilson, one eyebrow tipped upwards. Yeah, right. Like she was going to stop calling him that.

Turning back to House, she sighed and then said, "I'm Carla. Carla Espinosa. I lurk around hospitals because I'm a nurse and that's my job." She paused expectantly. "And you are...? Someone who gets turned on by bedpans?"

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And she just... Oh, God, really trying to stop himself from quite literally facepalming.

Resisting the urge to correct her again - James? Wilson. Anything - Wilson just rubbed at the back of his head. "Decade or so in the making and... no progress," he commented lightly, and glanced back to House and, no, he was not possessive, House, shut up, Wilson was so going to ~~smack a bitch~~kill him.

This was just... so amusing. Snarkfest of 2007? Wilson let his eyes jump easily from Carla to House and back, eyebrows lifted like he was trying to plot out House's next move. ...Scratch that, a million years of friendship and he still couldn't figure out what the hell House was going to do next. It was like trying to pinpoint what next caper Courtney Love was going to get up to.

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He was still trying to ignore the conversation, but House had to admit that Carla calling Wilson 'Jimmy' was hilarious. And Wilson's reaction equally so. Later, he'd have to find out exactly why Wilson was getting so strange about being called Jimmy by anybody else.

Simply arching an eyebrow at Carla's introduction, House put on a bored expression and looked over to where Carla had previously been. He couldn't be bothered with useless introductions - besides, if she knew his name and that he was a doctor, she might try and make him do work.

"If you're not going to get me my cane, can you at least bring me that magazine?" House asked, not trying to be obnoxious but sounding it anyway. "I'll leave you two to get all Chatty Kathy, gossip about the hot nurses."

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Ah. A knowing smile crossed Carla's lips. Budging House over with her hip, she took a seat, grabbing the bag of Doritos and popping one into her mouth. "So," she said with a smirk. "What kind of doctors are you?"

Work long enough in a hospital, and you can smell them from a mile away.

"Oh, and 'Chatty Kathy'?" She gave House a disappointed look, shaking her head. "My grandmother called - she'd like her slang back." Ha! Damn it, she was funny!

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Maybe it was that same sort of knowing, from years of working in hospitals, especially in Princeton-Plainsboro. Or... maybe it was the fact that he had... admittedly, flirted with half of the ones at said hospitals. But the ease that Carla automatically switched into knowing they were doctors... Oh, she had to be a nurse.

"Oncologist," he offered back helpfully, eying the Doritos bag with a big of a vengeance. Those were his Doritos, dammit, how dare she steal them, oh his freaking word.

Anyway.

He smirked a bit at her return comment, cheesy as it might have been, quirking a bit of a knowing eyebrow to House and leaning forward onto his knees. "Yeah, Chatty Kathy, it's a bit... turn of the century for you - you're slipping."

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Grunting in displeasure as Carla shoved him over to make room, House pursed his lips in annoyance. He was pretending to ignore her, and she was still here and asking questions? Maybe he just had to try harder, clearly his 'I'm a bastard, go away' wasn't working well enough.

And now they were complaining about his lingo? Idiots. They knew nothing about fine-tuned insults that had lasted decades.

Glaring at Wilson for daring to be so helpful and actually answering Carla's question, House frowned and grabbed a handful of Doritos. Instead of eating them, he simply ground them up and casually dropped the dust into Wilson's hair. "Told you before, I'm not a doctor, I'm a janitor," he smirked. "Do you never listen to things other people say? And you," he rounded on Wilson, "Stop being you and attracting people. I don't want hordes of woman screaming for your not-so-manly charms."

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Yeah. Right. She worked with ~~and kind of had a thing for~~ Perry Cox. Bastard of the year. House was a cuddly kitten next to that. Laughing as Wilson teased House, Carla rolled her eyes at the mess House made. Instinctively helping Wilson brush out the crumbs - honestly, it was like being with JD and Turk all over again - she offered him the bag of chips. "Nice to meet you, Jimmy the Oncologist. Haven't seen you in the Ward, though. You guys have your own Hospital, or are you just enjoying the vacation?"

Then she turned to House, lips quirking up in a sultry smile. "Oh, come on big boy, let's not play. You know why I came over here. I'm attracted to you, you big stud." She ran one finger playfully up House's arm. "The combination of jackass and arrogance is like an aphrodisiac."

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...Oh, no he din't.

The second the Doritos hit his head, Wilson was automatically waving his hands around at his hair, trying to get the cheese remnants off. Oh, God, he had a weird sort of obsession with his hair, and keeping it... straightened? He didn't even know. He just wanted the Dorito dust out of his hair, dammit. And Carla was not helping, freaking God, but he didn't say anything about it.

Except for the Jimmy the Oncologist thing. Because it sounded like something House would definitely say. Or... At any rate, Wilson's eye twitched briefly, and he threw a gummi bear at House, slightly grumpily, and yet with a slight feeling of satisfaction when it bounced off his nose. Only one, though, because, hey, gummi bears, man.

He opened his mouth to answer Carla's question, dirty glare shot in House's direction, still, over the Doritos, when House, of course, spoke again and oh, freaking Christ. As if Wilson couldn't help himself, and he was going to jump Carla and do her, right there on the lawn of Hogwarts. He threw House another Look, rolling his eyes back to his gummi bears.

Except. Bwah? Was she... Wilson opened his mouth again, and promptly shut it, eyes riveting to Carla's finger running up House's arm. Um. His. Lady, back off. ...What? Shut up, Wilson. He just crammed a good amount of gummi-ness into his mouth, to keep from talking.

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Good lord, why did people constantly feel the need to throw things at him? Did he wear a sign that said 'Brighten my day, hit me with junk food!'? Rubbing at his nose, House frowned at Wilson, contemplating squishing a gummi bear into his hair.

Until Carla started mock flirting with him; House smirked slightly. It was rather entertaining that Wilson seemed to be getting jealous. Come on, she wasn't even being serious about that. How did Wilson ever get anything done in relationships if he couldn't tell the difference? At least Carla was shaping up to be fairly interesting - anybody that could deal with him and not get offended was worth studying.

"I knew it," House sighed, martyr-like, looking up at the sky. "I knew, some day, the ratio of my hatred for human kind and my jackass-ery would become uneven and attract strange nurses into my company."

Amused, he smirked at Wilson. "Down, boy," he admonished. "Stop getting jealous. Just because my cane brings all the ladies to the yard, doesn't mean I'll take off with any of them. Paranoid, much?"

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House was being vaguely amusing, which made him all right in Carla's book. Stealing a gummi bear and chewing on it gleefully, Carla repeated, "Yeah, Jimmy. Don't worry. I'm very open minded. Threesomes are a healthy part of a loving relationship!"

Another gummi bear was sacrificed to the alter of Carla's sugar fix. "You know," she told House, musing, "you remind me of Dr. Cox. And, despite what his ego - whom we affectionately call 'Steve' and are thinking about getting his own room, it's so big - may think, that's not really a compliment." She tossed a Dorito into the lake; a huge tentacle reached up to delicately grab it. "So, you're definitely not an oncologist. And, though you're cocky as hell, I'm not getting that surgeon-vibe off of you. So I'm going to go with...diagnostician?" She grinned. "Come on? How good am I?"

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Carla spoke and Wilson only buried his face in his hands, mildly horrified with the situation. "Dear... God, there's two of you," he mumbled vaguely, in a voice that was broaching onto hysteria. He just... really could not have two people doing this to him right now. And if Carla called him Jimmy one more time, he was not going to be able to be held responsible for his actions anymore.

There was a moment, even, where he peeked through his fingers and... Dear God, there actually was a squid in the lake.

Wait. Beat.

"Dr. Cox?" Wilson repeated a bit stupidly, and picked up his head, hands gone from his face. Horror forgotten. "Cox. You mean... House's ex-husband Cox, right?" He glanced to House, bit of a smirk rigging up the corner of his mouth. "Because... Actually, there's a very interesting story there." And House should tell it because Wilson wouldn't be able to without dying of laughter.

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House looked like he wanted to vomit as soon as Cox was brought into the conversation. He grimaced heavily - of course being likened to that asshole wouldn't be a compliment - and simply smirked at Carla's guess. "The vowels are going to cost you the willful surrender of my bag of Doritos."

He glanced over at Wilson, who seemed to be having some severe facial twitching at the mention of the Cox. Oh, Wilson would know. He'd been the one that House had actually told. Good lord, he hoped Wilson and Cox were never in the same room.

"Ex-wife, as I like to think," House reminded Wilson, not embarrassed about the whole topic in the slightest. Some things were just easy to get over, and now it was just a constant source of amusement. As was the none-too-subtle flirting between Cox and Carla that House had picked up on through various mediums. "And I'll thank you not to remind me of that dark spot in my life. Even Cindy the hooker kissed better than that ranting, rubber-faced, gay-haired, angry ass. And she refused to kiss me."

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Wait.

Go back.

Reverse.

Jaw dropped and eyes fairly dancing in the amusement of a lifetime, Carla wordlessly surrendered the bag of chips. "You." Only single words seemed able to be spoken a the moment. "Dr. Cox." Yeah, the laughter was making it hard to breathe, too. "You and Dr. Cox?"

Head tipping forward to rest on her knees, Carla's shoulders shook with a hysterical bout of the giggles. Before the implications hit her. Suddenly she sat back up, eyes narrowing. "Wait. You and Dr. Cox got married?"

Oh, he'd changed, all right.

"That hijo de tu puta madre, yo mataria el!"

She was such an idiot.

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Damn, House wasn't perturbed by this anymore? That was another piece of blackmail material off the list. Wilson couldn't help sparing a bit of a frown in light of that new development.

"Him? The wife?" Wilson repeated nonetheless, grinning a bit in light of the accusation and shaking his head. "Oh, no. You... definitely wore the skirt in that relationship." Which was probably a dangerous topic to get into, because either House would get all pissed off and offended about the dig towards his masculinity, or... he'd make some kind of rude pun about who wore the skirt in this relationship - the leather miniskirt, even - and... No, scratch that, he'd definitely bring up the second part. Damn.

This woman was... kind of strange. Jumping from one emotion to the next and, damn, she was almost as bad as Julie. Except nobody could be that bad and... Not thinking about Julie right now, at all. He glanced to House again, almost questioningly, as if he would know why the hell she'd just gotten so mad about that out of nowhere.

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"You'd know all about the husband-wife dynamic, wouldn't you, Henry VIII?" House grumbled at the teasing, and casually flicked Wilson's ear, just hard enough to sting. That smug bastard, just because he didn't get stoned and drunk and accidentally married to one of the biggest assholes in the castle.

He glanced over at Carla, raising an eyebrow at her sudden transition to laughing to cursing. The only explanation for wanting to kill Cox would be that she had some kind of feelings for him - which was just masochistic, and extremely stupid, in House's opinion.

"Is it really that surprising?" House wondered out loud, feigning sadness and offense. "I have charms, and... likable qualities." He couldn't help smirking a bit at that. Even he couldn't bullshit that much. "That cabeza de mierda decided it would be great to get drunk and hitched. The hitching idea came after the drinking, of course. Yes, I'm sorry," House turned to Carla, mockingly sympathetic, "Coxy-boy really is just a asqueroso chapero. You'll get over it."

He could totally pull out the Spanish as well.

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Snorting, Carla reached out to take back the bag of chips. Junk food was needed. "So," she said, munching on a Dorito and very happy to change the subject. "How long have you two been together?"

Yeah, it was just that obvious. Though why the cute and slightly dorky Jimmy would want to be with an angry, snarky diagnostician...

Oh, wait.

Poor Jimmy. Maybe they could start a club. Not that Carla wanted Cox. They were just friends. But still. The Survivors of Egotistical Doctors Club. Had a nice ring to it.

Although... "Hey, if you were married to Cox, do you know his ex-girlfriend? Red-hair, looks like she's twelve, wants to save the world one 'cuppa' at a time?" Carla's grin was one known the world over as the 'let's talk smack and gossip' smile. It wasn't that she disliked Lily. It was more of a vague amusement. Working with Lily should have been like working with an intern; except this broad decided that she didn't need a nurse. It was kind of infuriating. And weird to think that she had not only been with Cox, but they were still friends after. Carla wanted dirt.

Just for curiosity's sake. Of course.

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Wilson would have slapped his palm to his face again, and probably would have gone into a defensive sort of frenzy about how, no, he hadn't invented his own church just so he could divorce wives, and he definitely didn't have any of them axed and... God, just wrong on so many levels. Would have, at least, if House's words hadn't been promptly followed by the flick to his ear and... ow? His head jumped up at the sharp twinge of pain in his ear, automatically rubbing the thing and managing to look opposed and scandalized all at the same time.

"You have charms?" Wilson asked in a slightly outrageous voice, eyebrows jumping nearly to his hairline. "Really, now? Because you must keep those in your other pants. I've yet to see them."

Five months, in a week, he could have prompted back automatically, if House wasn't right there, and if Wilson definitely hadn't a paranoid sort of feeling that House was just going to back out the second he realized just how long they had actually been together. It wasn't exactly out of character for House to back out of a commitment. And five months was... well, not as long as he'd been with Stacy, or Wilson with any of his lives, but... quite a bit.

Besides, how the hell did she know?

Not really wanting to be confronted with the question, Wilson glanced over to House, almost as if he was looking for clarification, a strange sort of strangled sound making its way up his throat. "I, er." He scratched at his chin, looking back to Carla. "A while?"

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