TITLE: The Perfect Man
AUTHOR: Ria
PAIRING: mentions of House/Wilson and Remus/Sirius
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: None. Vague spoilers of House and HP.
SUMMARY: The guy seemed normal, except that he was British. And he thought he was a werewolf. And he was about to give House the shock of his life.
DISCLAIMER: Good grief, they're not mine. At all. And I'm making absolutely no profit from this. I'm just doing this 'cause I'm obsessed. In a nice way.
NOTES: I'm rather amused by this. I'm not sure about the overall quality, since this is the first time I'm flexing my fic-writing skills in over eight months, but it could have been a lot worse, I imagine.

The Perfect Man

Without Cameron, they probably never would have met. Not that House would ever tell her that; she didn�t need any encouragement for presenting cases to him and he wasn�t about to give her some.

He raised an eyebrow as he flicked through the file she�d silently held out to him. �All of these symptoms point to a diagnosis of general ill health,� he said. �The guy�s probably a workaholic. Threaten him with all the long-term affects of stress and bad habits, and then lecture him some more. Why did you bother showing it to me?�

Cameron raised an eyebrow as she stared at him. He hated it when she raised an eyebrow like that. �It probably is general ill health,� she agreed, in a tone of voice implying that she didn�t believe him for one second, �but��

�But?� he prompted her as the seconds ticked on by.

�For three days out of every month, his symptoms worsen and the same symptoms, though milder, linger during the following week.�

House frowned, but sighed heavily and replied, �And?�

�There�s a full moon during those three days each month. There�s no set pattern to the days, except that they fall during the full moon. I checked. It took me ages before I could find a set of medical records for him, and they�re hopelessly out of date.� Cameron frowned, her eyebrows knitting together as her lips twisted, showing her opinion of sloppy medical records.

House blinked. Then he snorted. Meeting Cameron�s gaze, he said, somewhat slowly, �Are you suggesting that he thinks he�s a werewolf?�

Cameron shrugged. �There have been cases where people think they suffer from lycanthropy.�

�Said people are usually nutcases.�

�This guy isn�t a nutcase,� Cameron replied stubbornly. �He�s� well, not.�

�They usually are,� House told her seriously, tightening his grip on his cane and rising to his feet, �some just hide it better than others. Still,� he added as he glanced down at the battered file, �I have nothing better to do.�

Cameron briefly rolled her eyes. �Wilson is actually working?�

�Yup. If I didn�t know any better, I�d reckon Wilson considers patient interaction to be a part of his job.�

Cameron didn�t even deign to consider replying, instead turning and walking away. Damn, she was no fun to rile anymore.

~*~

Remus Lupin was British. In House�s opinion, that alone made him a nutcase. Lucky Chase hadn�t been the one to present the case to him.

So. Remus Lupin: British; aged in his late thirties; looked almost fifty; and was one hell of a workaholic if his appearance was to be judged. When House lifted his eyes from the file and stared at him, he suddenly wondered if this was what he looked like to others. He took in the greying brown hair, the extreme thinness, the heavily lined face and the tiredness that seemed to radiate from the man. In fact, there was almost an aura of resigned depression hanging around the man that seemed off considering that Remus Lupin appeared to be� well, pretty normal.

Apart from the whole possible werewolf thing, of course. No, that wasn�t very normal.

�So. Remus Lupin, right?� House said in a way of greeting. When the man blinked, he continued, �I�m Dr Gregory House. Now, I have to say your symptoms seem to point to nothing other than general ill health. Been working too hard lately? Wife demanding to remortgage the home to buy the latest essential, so you got to make up for it somehow?� House hoped the man knew how much of an effort he was making � he usually only saved the wife jokes for Wilson, in a kind of backward attempt to cheer him up since things were beginning to go downhill with Julie. Wife number three hadn�t lasted very long, but she�d lasted longer than House had expected, which was an achievement in itself.

Lupin laughed, bitterness tightening his eyes. �I�m a confirmed bachelor, I�m afraid. Never quite met the right lady.�

�That�s a pity,� said House, �or maybe not. I did and she broke my heart. And my best friend is close to his third divorce in his attempt to find the right lady.� He stopped, momentarily horrified with himself. What had just caused him to blurt out his own best-kept secret, as well as Wilson�s? Swallowing, he hastily added, �Yes, I think you�re definitely better off.�

Lupin smiled thinly. �If you say so.�

Definitely time to get back to safer ground. Such as why this guy thought he was a werewolf.

Clearing his throat, House said, �I don�t think you�re suffering from anything particularly serious� � did Lupin just snort? � �but I�d prefer to keep you in for a few days, just to see if we can improve you a bit. Possibly with a few lectures on the disadvantages of stress and too much work from the lovely Dr Cameron added in for good measure.� The brief look of chagrin flickering over Lupin�s face made House feel like a boy stuck in a candy store.

Speaking of candy stores� He reached into his pocket and withdrew the pills, popping a Vicodin. In answer to Lupin�s unspoken question, he tapped his cane against his useless leg, saying, �Painkillers. A constant dosage.�

�If it helps,� Lupin remarked thoughtfully, �I think the cane is quite dashing.�

Dashing. Right. Just like walking with a limp was quite charming.

�But back to the matter at hand," Lupin said after a few moments, �I�m afraid staying is quite impossible.� He spoke quietly and politely, but there was no mistaking the resolute expression in his eyes. �I�ll miss my flight.�

�Reschedule,� House said.

�I�m afraid I can�t,� Lupin replied.

�Cancel,� House said.

�I can�t afford another one.�

�What are you doing in America anyway?� House asked suddenly.

Lupin visibly hesitated. ��business,� he finally replied.

�I see,� House drawled, then glanced down at the little calendar Cameron had stuck in the file, the dates of the full moon circled. His gaze went to this month�s little box and he wasn�t surprised to see that it was the full moon in two days time.

Ah, hell. He never was good at being subtle, anyway.

�I suppose your reluctance to stay hasn�t anything to do with the fact that it�s going to be the full moon in two days time, does it??� he asked in his most casual voice.

Lupin blatantly stiffened. �None at all,� he lied.

Patients always lied.

House snorted. �Now you�re just assuming I�m stupid. Getting through medical school means I�m not very stupid, unfortunately. Ever hear of lycanthropy?�

Lupin�s eyes sparked extreme hostility. House imagined that the phrase �walking on thin ice� had never been more apt.

Wilson would probably remind him that he really needed to work on his social skills. But canes were pretty useless for walking on ice, anyway.

House abandoned all pretences. �You�re not a werewolf.�

Lupin smiled sadly. �How can you be sure?�

�One: no extra body hair. Two: no joined eyebrow. Three: you don�t go after everything in a skirt and heels. Four: I don�t sense any tendency for you to howl at the moon, funny enough.�

Lupin�s smiled turned almost pitying. �Trust me,� he said. �You never want to be around me on a full moon.�

House sighed. He was racking his brains, trying to think of a suitable insult to convince Lupin to stay (he had a feeling direct orders wouldn�t work and reverse psychology was a wonderful thing), when Wilson passed by the door. He glanced over and smiled when he saw House, but continued on his way. House nodded back. When he looked back at Lupin, the possible-but-really-not werewolf was watching him with a soft, wistful smile.

�If it helps,� Lupin said, �people often find themselves telling me things they normally wouldn't, in case you�re wondering why you told me about you and your friend�s� relationships.�

�Right,� House said, inwardly wonderful why the hell Lupin had just decided to tell him that.

�I had a friend� who died.� Lupin�s smile trembled and he looked on the verge of telling House more, but then he continued, �You remind me of him, slightly.�

�Uh huh.� House stared hard at the guy. �Your friend had a dead leg, a medication addiction, and a generally bastard attitude, too?�

Lupin laughed. �No, definitely not,� he replied, grinning, �but you remind me of him, nonetheless.�

�I think your powers of observation are generally screwed. Another symptom of your ill health, I�d guess.�

�In that case,� Lupin answered, �I�m not the only one.� He looked straight at House, who glared at him.

They lapsed into silence again, before Lupin said, �You and I are very similar, too, really.�

�Oh?� House replied, raising an eyebrow. He, himself, couldn�t really see the resemblance � for one thing, he wasn�t British; for another, he most definitely wasn�t a werewolf, no matter how grouchy the Vicodin made him.

�Mmm.� Lupin smiled sadly again. �We�re both used to dealing with constant pain. And we�re both in denial. Or, well, I was.�

�So I�m in denial?�

Lupin nodded.

�I see,� House drawled, absently tapping his cane off the floor. �Of what, then?�

�Your friend � the one who just walked by. I recognised the expression on your face when you saw him.� Lupin�s smile widened.

�Expression of what? My undying love for him?� House scoffed, then went still when Lupin�s smile broadened even further. �Oh, for �"

�And I could smell it off you,� Lupin added pleasantly, and this time House didn�t even bother hiding that he was staring at Lupin like he was nuts.

The laughter abruptly disappearing from his face, Lupin said, �Please don�t make the same mistake I did.�

�Which was?� House asked, unable to hide the acid taint to his voice. Obviously, thinking he was a werewolf wasn�t the least of this guy�s problems.

�Denying what I felt,� Lupin said quietly, �in denying what I was,� before standing up and heading towards the door.

House blinked. His grip on the cane shook.

Lupin paused by the door, then glanced back at him. �There never was any perfect lady,� he remarked casually. �But there was a perfect man. Perhaps you and your friend are suffering from the same turn of events.� He turned back towards the door when House spoke.

�You�re a werewolf,� he said.

Lupin glanced back at him again, his soft, wistful smile curling across his lips. He suddenly looked older and more exhausted as House gazed at him. �Maybe I am,� Lupin said, sliding out the door.

His words, quiet and controlled, drifted back to House. �And maybe I�m not.�

Finis