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House jumped as he was awoken by something being dropped onto his desk. He looked up at the offender who dared to disturb his sleep and found himself staring at a smirking James Wilson.
“Can I help you?” House asked and Wilson just pointed to the open book he’d dropped in front of the man. House looked down before quickly snapping his head up to look at the smug oncologist, “where did you get this?” He asked, looking back down at his old yearbook.
”I told your mom that I needed dirt on you,” Wilson told him, “she sent me this.”
”Why’d you do that?” House questioned.
”Oh I don’t know,” Wilson replied, “maybe because you found out I used to do ballet and sent a video of me to every member of staff in this hospital.”
”He chicks dig a man who’s in touch with his feminine side,” House shot back.
”That’s true,” Wilson agreed, “but do you know what they don’t dig,” he picked up the book and pointed to a young Gregory House, “guys with bright red Mohawks, black lipstick and eyeliner,” House glared at him as the younger man laughed at House’s old yearbook photo.
”I’ll have you know punk was very popular back then,” House grumbled.
”Oh of course, I can see the many other people in this book that look like they had sold their souls for a pack of cigarettes and a Ramones CD,” Wilson commented, flicking through the pages.
”Give that here,” House moaned, leaning forward and snatching the book out of his friend’s hands.
”That’s fine, I don’t need it anymore,” Wilson replied, walking out of the room with a cocky smile on his face and House stared daggers into his back.
————
It took less than half an hour before House found the first photo. One of the framed pictures that lined one of the many corridors in the hospital had been replaced with a large version of his yearbook photo. He huffed as he walked past it, plotting his revenge.
————
The next photo showed up in the lab, Foreman had asked him to check something in the microscope and he found a tiny picture of a young punk Greg House being magnified.
”Very funny,” he grumbled.
”Wilson was going to pay me to mess with you but honestly I was happy to do it for free,” Foreman replied. House didn’t bother replying, he just turned around and walked out.
————
Wilson was standing for the elevator at the end of the day when House approached him.
”Got any more pranks today or are you done?” He asked.
”That depends on how many you’ve found,” Wilson replied.
”Well there was the photo in the hall, the microscope, the refrigerator in the staff room, the wallpaper on my computer, the small photos replacing all the ones on my team’s ID cards, oh and the one on the door to Cuddy’s office,” House listed, “which, by the way, she told me was to scare off unwanted visitors.”
”That’s almost all of them,” Wilson told him.
”Almost?” House questioned and that was the moment that the elevator doors opened up. House looked on in horror and Wilson in glee as the came face to face with a metal box full of pictures of a young Greg House, “I hate you,” House told him.
”No you don’t,” Wilson replied as the two men stepped into the elevator.