can you guess?
just playing in the House universe, borrowed Xander for the ride, but I do not own House M.D. or Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Cameron noticed the young man leaning against the glass wall before anyone else in House’s conference room. All she could see was his back, wide shoulders, thin hips, shaggy black hair. For some reason though, the pose was familiar. He was leaning, hip shot out, arms crossed in front of him, just waiting for the world to acknowledge him.
“Differential diagnosis people!” House declared after using his favorite cinnamon scented dry-erase marker to write down symptoms. He looked up at Cameron who, having his voice break her study of the man in the hallway, was flushing slightly. Chase and Foreman looked up from their notes at the sudden silence, almost as if they were scenting blood in the water. “And what has our attention now?” House widened his eyes as if suddenly struck with curiosity. His gaze went to the glass wall and perceptively narrowed as he took in the strong shoulders, and the hideous Hawaiian shirt that encased them.
“Who’s that?” Chase asked as House limped over to the door and flung it open.
“What do you want?” House asked, obviously pissed, which was just as obvious as the fact that he knew the stranger.
“Just in town,” was the answer. “Want some lunch? That place downtown still do Reuben’s or have you walked on the wild side and changed your favorite?”
“I’m working,” House replied.
“Right,” he turned slightly and graced the room with the heavy bandaging over his left eye. Cameron gasped at that, and the heavy bruising and half-healed scars that presented on the mans left cheek. “Working. Come on, I’m hungry.”
“What the hell happened to your face?”
“Sunnydale collapsed,” he started.
“What does that have to do with your face?”
“We were the last survivors out.” He shrugged, “Shrapnel.”
“Shrapnel in the form of claws? That’s not a normal impact, get your ass in my office! Cameron!”
“Grab gauze and saline,” House limped into the room, barking out orders, dragging the young man behind him.
“You don’t,” he protested, “You really don’t want to see it! It’s gross!”
“I am a doctor young man!” House sneered.
“You didn’t want to bandage my knee when I was twelve!”
“You never sat still long enough!”
“You made Wilson remove my cast when I was five!”
“He doesn’t get enough practice with that kind of thing. The bone saw was pretty cool though.”
“I thought he was going to chop off my pinkie.”
“You were so trusting at five…” House cheered at the reminder of past cruelty.
“And you wonder why it took so long for me to believe you, of all people, could be my-”
“Ah! Don’t say it,” House glared at his fellowship. “I want to see if they can guess.”
“Got it!” Allison Cameron burst through the doors with a thick first aid kit. “What did I miss?”
“House was just about to introduce us to his kid,” Foreman gestured.
“Damn,” House stated evenly as his son started laughing and Cameron dropped the kit. “You guessed.”