Road Trip, ch 6

It was, by far, the loudest, most foul-smelling belch that had erupted from his mouth, filling the inside of the car with a glorious, nauseating stench the likes of which the other two participants had never seen or smelt. Thirteen wasn't sure what Kutner had given him, but House's brand was foul beyond all other comprehension.  

Thirteen waved her hand in front of her face, reaching for the windows. "Good God, Eric, turn off the window locks!" she wailed, punching the small button under her fingers repeatedly, trying to get the glass to move. "Please, House is gassing us to death!"  

Kutner hit the other button just as furiously, sputtering as he did so.  

It was foul… and then he belched again.  

Foreman was smirking in the rearview mirror. "I don't know what you three are talking about," he said lightly, as Taub buried his nose into Kutner's side, the man still trying to hit the button along with Thirteen.

"Please, Foreman! For God's sake, have pity!"  

"Ah, Jew, no calling upon your god for mercy," House sing-songed, turning back to the front, smirking towards Foreman quickly before switching back to the front of the car.  "Cause he's not listening and neither is Foreman."  

A snicker made its way to the back from the driver's seat.  

"This is so messed up!" Thirteen practically cried, wrapping her nose in her shirt as she continued to scrape at the window in a futile manner. "You two are sadists, made for one another!"  

But neither House nor Foreman relented, taking revenge on the others in a way, and House just added to the madness he'd created by taking off his shoes, starting the wailing anew.

After a few agonizing minutes in which there was all too much coughing and no fresh air to speak of, the smell eventually dissipated.

"Is the gas chamber over? Are we dead?" Taub joked darkly, still taking cover beside Kutner though the immediate danger had passed.

Thirteen was less amused. Poking her head over the shoulder of the driver's seat, she admonished, "Don't think you're getting anything from me tonight."

Kutner looked less sure than the others, and in fact worryingly pale for his tone. He swallowed hard and put the rest of his junk food at his feet slowly, moves exaggerated and awkward.

Looking up, Taub frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you don't look so good," Thirteen agreed in earnest.  "Do you want us to pull over or something?"  

Kutner's face just continued to drain of all color.  

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea…" Taub concluded, turning towards Foreman and House as Kutner gave a small lurch. Taub's eyes widened as he practically screamed for the two still smirking in the front seat. "Guys, you need to pull over, like, now!"  

"Huh? What was that, Shorty?" House said, turning around to face Taub as he practically leapt into Thirteen's lap. "Again? Didn't we just pull over for you? I heard the carsick plan before, so I won't fall for it—"  

"Shut up, House! He really is sick!" Taub snapped.

"And I should believe you because…?"

"Pull over!" the two shouted in unison.  

"Unless you wanted stunning gastro-mechanics," Thirteen started, face red from yelling at her idiot boss, "then I suggest you follow our suggestions and pull over!"  

Foreman didn't hesitate at the prompting.  

Suck-up.

As soon as they were stopped, Kutner scrambled with the door before practically launching himself out of it when it was opened. House, who was curious to see what had gotten into Kutner now, also opened the door at the same time, right as Kutner was trying to make it a safe distance from the car.  

The pair met in a flurry of junk food and half-digested stomach contents.  

House just stood there and blinked.