Disclaimer: I don't own anything, which makes me depressed.

Dr. Gregory House loved to be right.

He knew he was almost always right, and even throwing the word 'almost' in there was pushing it. He was one of the greatest doctors known to the medical world; and having this knowledge not only made him think that he could do whatever the hell he wanted, but it made his ego grow three sizes that day.

House was twirling his cane, his eyes open but not focusing on anything. He was in his office, and he had sent his team to run a few pointless tests that they didn't find necessary to give himself some thinking space. His feet were propped up on his cluttered desk, and he was leaning back in his chair like he owned the free world. His mind was reeling--it was always reeling--but it had been focused on one subject for quite a while.

Spider-Man.

He was a little confused, but only a little. He didn't trust Spider-Man, he didn't like him. Yet, nearly a month ago, he had helped to save the wall-crawler's life and had helped him escape a slap on the wrist by a set of handcuffs. But why? House shrugged that off; his midn wasn't worried about that. It was worried on something else involving the hero in red and blue spandex. The face under the mask.

Who was Spider-Man?

God, he had been so close. So close! Spider-Man had been in his hospital, in his care. He could have ripped his mask off, he could have done something. He had discovered two possible identies; Peter something, and Flash Thompson. House had Googled Flash Thompson, as he had promised Wilson earlier, and found out a little about the boy. High school football star had a lot of mentions in local papers. But then there was the mysterious, first-name Peter that haunted him as well. House wasn't sure which name he'd found was correct, if any of them were. And he did not like feeling unsure about anything.

He looked down at the latest copy of the Daily Bugle that was on his desk. "SPIDER-MAN SUSPECTED IN DIAMOND HEIST" was the headline, and the photo showed the wall-crawler swinging on a webline away from the scene. He had read the article over three times. Even though the paper was biast, obviously against Spider-Man and his claims of being a hero, House still chose the Bugle over any other paper. He liked the editor, Jameson, and how he told it like it was. Friendly Neighborhood my ass.

Dr. Lisa Cuddy, the Dean of medicine and hospital administraion of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, entered House's office without so much as a knock. He always gave her the same respect. Her curly brown hair was back in a bun today, her gray skirt a little too long for House's taste, though he did like how he could see her bra through her white blouse. Cuddy stood before him. "House, you've been locked in here all day. Your patient could be dying, and--"

"My patient is dying. Emphysema. Maybe the three cartons of empty cigarettes did it." He rolled his eyes. He stood from his desk, reaching for a pair of scissors. He took the front page of the paper from the fold and cut down the middle, seperating it from the back page. He limped over to his wall and hung the front page, adding it to his collection. He had a collage of Daily Bugle front pages featuring Spider-Man.

Cuddy sighed. "House, you are a doctor. Not a superhero."

"And he's a freak. Not a superhero," he retorted, his eyes looking at his covered wall, up and down. He leaned on his cane, focusing on one picture. Underneath it, in very small print, almost not wanting to give any credit at all, read the little blurb: 'Photo by Peter Parker.' That caught House's attention. Peter. He grinned evilly. It had been there, up on his wall, the entire time. His lead. Maybe it was a coincidence. Peter was a popular name. And he still had that Flash kid to catch up on.

"Cuddy, I think I need to take a little field trip," he said, turning around to look at her. His eyes trailed to her breasts for a moment, but then back up to her face, which was showing her annoyance. She blinked. "Field trip?" she asked him. "You've got to be joking."

"Oh, I never joke. I may mock everything you do and add in a bit of sarcasm, but I never joke." He grabbed his leather jacket, throwing it on over his shirt. He then reached for his motorcycle helmet. He limped towards her, stopping within a few inches. "Foreman's around. Tell my team to listen to his. But don't let him touch my white board."

House exited his office, leaving Cuddy standing there with a dumbfounded look on her face. She didn't chase after him; he was House. She couldn't do anything to change his mind. She walked over to his wall of Spider-Man, looking at each front page individually. House had a problem with obsessions. Hopefully his little field trip would leave him satisfied.

A/N: Yes, I did it. Sequel time. I just started getting back into FanFiction, I'm sorry that I was away for so long. But I'm back now; let's get writing.