Set in Princeton, New Jersey, the best medical research is studied and performed at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. And there is one doctor in particular who brings fame to the hospital-Dr. Gregory House.
Recently graduated medical stud...
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A/N: This chapter is 1/4 of what was formerly known as "Charades at the Palace pt. 1".
That weekend, almost all of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital were gathered at the Airmail Palace in Newark, a city just slightly outside of Princeton, New Jersey.
As Cuddy had told everyone a couple months ago, this was the first time the Northeastern Medical Association Conference was being held in the state in decades, and she was determined that everyone–especially House's team–presented themselves flawlessly.
She entered the hotel in a knee-length navy dress that clung to her stunning body, with pearls hanging from her neck and ears. They swung like streamers as she strutted down the corridors and into the elevator. Cuddy liked any reason to dress-up, and any opportunity to make an impression. She, of course, was amongst the first to arrive as Princeton-Plainsbroro was asked to host the event which would be amiss without its Dean of Medicine.
It was about seven in the morning, and all Cuddy could think about was when her colleagues were going to show up and save her from all the talking she knew she'd have to engage in. Unlucky for Cuddy, though, the NMA conference was all weekend long.
About one hour later, in the reserved, clean and open ballrooms of the hotel, doctors, medical professionals, researchers, and more were shuffling in to give presentations, share research, network, and–above all else– to take pride in their enriching careers.
One of the most beloved doctors who was already in attendance was none other than James Wilson. He–of course–was charming, kind, approachable, and made other people feel good about themselves when they were around him.
In the middle of a conversation about the latest oncology research, an arm from the swarming crowds extended out, reaching for Wilson's:
"What are you doing here, House?" Wilson frowned. What the hell did he want now? Wilson thought to himself.
"This is the NMA conference, is it not?" House retorted, "Here for the same reason as you, Willy."
"Don't call me that." Wilson scrunched his nose up, avoiding eye contact.
"Oh c'mon, let's at least try and make our own fun today. Otherwise, this is going to seriously blow balls." House commented, slightly nudging Wilson's shoulder with his own.
Wilson sighed a little and replied, "Normally, I might actually agree with you about that but you really hurt me this time, House. This might just be another joke to you, but it isn't to me." Wilson's mouth remained open as if his point wasn't finalized. Instead, he took a sharp breath in and shook his head, trying to decide if House was even deserving of any communication at the moment. "I need some space." Wilson finished.
With that, Wilson took his feelings and relocated elsewhere in the room.
Even though House would never admit it out loud, Wilson's words struck a chord in him and nearly put him out. Wilson was a work best friend, yes, as well as an after work best friend. But he was also the closest thing they each had to a real brother. House could hardly remember how he got along without Wilson, even when it was clear to him that Wilson was the most pestering, overly moral, and goofy person in his life.
