misanthrope_md | Sunday Evening Clinic Hours

Sunday Evening Clinic Hours

House had almost forgotten that he'd told Logan he could come to his clinic hours on Sunday. So when he arrived, it was with a book in hand as usual, entirely prepared to be bored out of his skull. If he was lucky he might get a runny nose or - excitement of excitements! - stitches.

He slid into a chair by one of the exam tables and kicked his feet up, twirling his cane in one hand.

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Logan wasn't usually one to come prepared, but he had brought one of the preparing for parenthood books he'd been struggling with for the last few weeks, and he set it on an empty chair before heading over to House.

The box wasn't coughing up scrubs today- and if it had, Logan probably wouldn't have worn them anyway. He had made an effort though, and rather than his usual old logo heavy t-shirts and ripped jeans, he was wearing a newer looking plain gray shirt and a pair of jeans that didn't look like they'd seen the beach yet.

Logan usually wore his clothing loose, but today everything was fitted. The shirt was almost tight even. He looked surprisingly, well, tidy.

"Hey doc," he greeted simply.

House looked up. "Oh, right," he said. "Make yourself comfortable. Welcome to the fabulous, exciting life of an M.D."

"Is it always this empty?" Logan asked, leaning against one of the counters and looking around. "Last time I was in here, there was someone else here too. Except I can't really remember who."

"Not always," said House. "And I think there's someone in one of the private rooms, but unless they start screaming in pain or something I'm not concerned."

"Whatever. so, uh, shouldn't we do something? Like, I dunno, clean up or whatever," Logan suggested, though as he looked around he could see there wasn't anything to clean really.

"Clean up?" House lifted an eyebrow. "Sure, feel free. There are probably... I don't know, things you can count. Just don't read any of the files."

Logan rolled his eyes, but he was determined not to spend his time here doing nothing. If there was nothing to do but count, he'd count.

Pulling open a drawer, he started to do inventory.

"How many doctors are there now? A bunch, right? It must get kind of competitive when an actual case comes in," he said, glancing back at House as he spoke.

"More than we need given the demand," House said. "And maybe, I don't know, it's pretty rare that anything comes in that interests me."

"What sort of cases did you get back home then? I mean, what qualifies as interesting to you, doc?" Logan asked, sounding genuinely interested, rather than simply making casual conversation.

Edited 2011-10-16 03:42 (UTC)

"I get the ones that no one else can solve," said House, not even noticing that he hadn't used the past tense. "It's only interesting if I don't know the answer right away. And if I don't know the answer right away then you can bet no one else could solve it."

He was thoughtful for a second, then ticked some off. "Well, there was that nun with who was allergic to the cooper in her IUD. The woman with African sleeping sickness. The professor with lead paint poisoning who didn't even know he was sick, oh and..." A smile twitched at his lips. "When Jack and I were back in Princeton during a coma holiday, I discovered that a woman was poisoning her husband with gold."

Logan was sure he was supposed to be jealous, but he wasn't.

"Cool," he replied simply. "You probably don't get much of that here though. No wonder you're so bitchy all the time."

"Oh yeah," said House, "that's why."

Though to be fair, it was one reason at least. Back home he was still in pain, and he was still not getting laid, but at least he'd been distracted by his work.

Logan simply rolled his eyes and kept talking.

"If it's so boring here, why do you keep working at the clinic?" he asked.

"Because I'm a doctor," said House. As if that explained it all. Which maybe it did.

"That's it? Bullshit," Logan snorted. "You know why I think you do it? I think you don't want anyone here to forget you. You don't have to this, there's no shortage of doctors here, there's no moral obligation to help. And even if there was, I don't think you'd give a shit."

He smirked a bit and shrugged one shoulder. "There's no shame in having an ego, doc, but don't sit there and pretend that being here isn't all about feeding it."

Dodge slouched his way into the clinic, eyes darting left and right. He saw House and a look of relief came over him. Crossing the room was kind of awkward, his steps careful and slow.

"Hey, House," he said, eyes darting to the other guy nervously. "Can I, uh, you know...I need a doctor, I think. You got a minute?"

Oh, of course. Dodge would choose tonight to come for a visit.

House decided that the best course of action was to go into doctor mode. Not 'I fucked this guy and he's younger than you and also a hooker' mode.

He nodded, and then jerked a thumb at Logan. "Do you mind if he observes? Nurse in training."

Logan raised a brow at the whole 'nurse in training thing', since no one was actually teaching him yet, but he decided not to push it by saying anything.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna do much, I'll probably just sit in the corner and bask in his glory," he promised the stranger dryly, looking him over and then glancing back at House.

Dodge scrubbed the back of his neck and looked distinctly uncomfortable but the mere word 'nurse' made him not argue.

"Yeah, uh, whatever," he muttered. "I've got a sore. The heat, man, I can't take it. I get shit all over my back but this is, um, you know..."

He leaned in and lowered his voice.

"...In my pants."

If the words hadn't been accompanied by the discomfort, and if Logan hadn't been there, House might have thought that 'heat in my pants' was pretty funny.

"All right," he said, and gestured to the exam table. "Hop up and I'll have a look."

Logan really wasn't sure he wanted to see what would make someone burn there, and he nearly looked away. Except if he was really going to do this, he'd have to get used to naked people who weren't at their best, right?

Yeah. Probably.

Sighing, he leaned against the counter to watch.

He undid his pants and pulled them down, then hopped up on the table. Dodge had been in the clinic more than once for prickly heat. He didn't do well with the heat and the humidity.

But this was different. It wasn't on his junk exactly, more like the seam of his thigh. It hurt and he couldn't exactly see what was going on so he didn't have any idea how bad the sore was. He just figured it was the heat again, he had no idea it could be something worse.

"Is it bad?" he asked, sounding young and afraid. Bad wasn't the word for it. It wasn't big but that was about the best that could be said about the nasty sore.

House bent over a little for a better look. Ignored Dodge's cock completely - the fact that he'd seen it before was entirely irrelevant.

The sore was almost the size of a quarter, wet and purple and bruised. Yeah, it was kind of gross.

He didn't answer the question. "When did it show up?" he asked.

Logan had a million things to say about the sore, most of them mean, and he just barely managed to bite his tongue as he watched House work.

He was just glad he wasn't the one examining it up close.

Dodge looked at Logan nervously and then returned his attention to House.

"I don't know, man. A couple days. I thought it was like a zit or whatever but today it really started to hurt so I thought I better come in. I've been clean...you know. Careful. I swear."

"Well," said House, "it's a good thing you came in." He paused. "I mean, there is a chance that your junk is going to rot and fall off."

Nah. He did at least have a pretty good idea what it was.

Logan was still pulling a face, and he tilted his head to the side.

"What did you do, man? You stick it in a mermaid with fin-rot or something?" he asked, realizing belatedly that probably wasn't something a nurse would say.

"Uh- I mean, I'm sure House can fix it."

Dodge shot Logan a shitty look. "I'm careful, okay? I don't stick my dick in..."

In anything, he was going to say. He didn't do that shit. It wasn't him.

"Can you fix it, House?"

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Sunday Evening Clinic Hours

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