(no subject)
Almost time for bed, but I felt like sharing:
That bit of a House fic I posted..last week? sometime ago, anyways. Well, I have been typing on it a little and this morning I finally broke it into chapters. Have 3 typed out so far. Also gave it a title as well. (Awww...my cat is rolling around on my bed and wanting attention *pauses for 5 minutes to pet her*)
I have also noticed a problem that I have with completing things I start. My hand written copy I am trying to get to be too perfect on it's first go-around. I have to get it through my head that I can edit it when I type it up again. So normally I wander in the middle of a crappy scene that I can't write myself out of. *le sigh*
Oh, yeah, I was going to share part 1! :) It has been edited and added on to quite a bit. Enjoy!
(Feel free to smack me if you see me straying from 'present tense')
The Calm Before the Storm
PART 1
House, trying to find a new place to hide from Cuddy and clinic duty, strolls into the cafeteria. His eyes dart around, deeming the place safe before grabbing a wrapped-up mystery sandwich, looking for a place to sit and to pretend he is eating. He spies Wilson sitting to one side, pushing around his lunch on the styrofoam plate. “Shall we “not eat” together?” he suggests, sitting down across from his friend and unwrapping his sandwich.
James Wilson smirks, but doesn’t look up from the very entertaining task of pushing his food from one side of the plate to the other. “Hiding?” he asks, already knowing the answer, but liking to hear House talk.
“Hiding?” He takes on an offended look. “Do I look like I am hiding to you?” Wilson looks up and he gestures around to all the people who can see him. “If I wanted to hide, I would visit the paternity ward.”
“Because no one would go looking for you there.”
“Exactly.” Not even he would go so far as to hide there. He shivers at the thought of wailing babies. “Who is winning the race? Peas or carrots?”
Wilson moves a piece of lettuce to the left side of the tray with a flick of his fork. “So far, the lettuce is beating the pants off of peas and carrots.”
“Lucky them,” House mutters, clearing his throat right after. “Obvious question: Not hungry?”
Wilson answers with a shake of his head. “Too much has been going on lately here. And at home,” he says as an afterthought. “Just haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
House notices for the first time the drawn look about his friend’s face. “Since when?”
He sets his fork down and rubs his eyes. “A few weeks? Not sure, really. Lost several patients. Hate this job sometimes.” He shakes his head sadly, wondering how a simple question can bring to mind things he is normally successful at blocking out.
“House!”
The yell causes House and several people sitting nearby to jump. He grimaces, not turning to look at the furious Cuddy storming towards him. He wrinkles his nose and takes a big bite from the sandwich, turning to greet the woman. He says something that could either be a ‘hello’ or some muffled form of a curse, his mouth full.
Wilson smiles a goodbye, then makes his getaway, tossing his lunch into the trash. He can hear Cuddy chewing out House and can hear him offering her a bite of sandwich, his mouth still full. The sudden thought of food mixed with the smell from the ripe garbage can turns his stomach and he hurries from the room.
Cuddy notices House’s attention shift from ignoring her to the closing door.
House had been watching Wilson walk away from the corner of his eye as he was pretending to savor his sandwich. He sees the younger man pause at the trash can, get a little tipsy, then dart from the lunch area. He frowns and mutters an “excuse me” as he stands and nudges Cuddy from his path, leaving.
Cuddy is more shocked by the ‘excuse me’ than she is by his hasty retreat. Excuse me is too polite for Gregory House. She sighs and re-wraps the leftover sandwich, discards it, and heads towards the door House had disappeared from.
The hallway is free of Wilson as far as House can see. He limps over to the bathroom and pushes open the door with his cane. The sound of retching greets him. It stops and a toilet flushes. “What was that?” he says to Wilson, causing him to jump as he exits the nearest stall.
“Breakfast,” Wilson answers, recovering quickly on his way to the sink. He can feel eyes upon him as he cups his hands under the stream of water and rinses his mouth out. The vomiting had taken a lot out of him and he runs a shaky damp hand through his hair, taking an equally shaky breath after.
“Come on. You need a check up.” House motions with a tilt of his head.
“I’m fine. I think I am just getting a touch of the flu.” Determined to show how ‘fine’ he is, Wilson stops leaning against the counter and goes to take a step towards the door. His feet don’t seem to be taking orders from him any more and his knees buckle, taking the rest of him down to the floor. “Damn it,” he growls at the blue tiles.
House mocks the word fine and hurries to the door. “I need help in here,” he says to the first moving object he sees; Cuddy’s back as she makes another pass of the hallway trying to see where her misbehaving doctor has vanished to. “It’s Wilson,” House disappears back inside the restroom.
Cuddy’s face turns to a frown and she hurries to the men’s room, hoping that this isn’t some sort of ill-timed practical joke. When she turns the small corner, Wilson is still on his knees, breath coming in small gasps. His arm is thrown over House’s shoulder, the older man struggling to lift the dead weight. Springing to action, Cuddy drops by Wilson’s other side and helps House get him to his feet.
Wilson reaches out for the counter to lean against, face flushed pink from the exertion and a touch of embarrassment. He is so tired and has to resist the urge to drop back to the floor to take a little nap, further adding to his embarrassment.
Sure that everything is fine for the time being, Cuddy hurries from the restroom to a wheelchair. She is surprised when she gets no protest.
After she leaves, Wilson lets out a breath and looks up at himself in the sink mirror, frowning at his reflection. His frown fades as he sees House’s reflection looking back at him. He turns from the mirror to look at the real thing. “Go on. Say it,” he pants, annoyed for not being able to keep his rapid breathing under control. He fears another trip to the porcelain throne may be near, his stomach flip flopping like a beached fish. He swallows thickly.
“Say what?” The picture of innocence.
“How I am anything but fine. You insist I get examined. I’m an idiot.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Except to add stubborn idiot. How long?”
“A couple weeks, I guess. Only started getting sick this last week.”
“Maybe I got you pregnant,” House says with a smirk.
“Someone needs to retake their Sex Ed course if you think that.”
Wilson’s breathing is all that can be heard in the tense silence that follows. House looks at his watch and grumbles about what is keeping Cuddy, then he starts pacing the small restroom wall to wall.
“Stop it. You’re making me nervous.” Wilson tries to figure out the odds of him convincing House that he is well enough to leave the cramped room under his own steam. “Stubborn idiot,” he mumbles to himself.
If House had heard, he made no sign of it. A young intern enters, takes one look at House who intently and crossly stares back, then turns right around and goes on a hunt for a different restroom.
Next Part
That bit of a House fic I posted..last week? sometime ago, anyways. Well, I have been typing on it a little and this morning I finally broke it into chapters. Have 3 typed out so far. Also gave it a title as well. (Awww...my cat is rolling around on my bed and wanting attention *pauses for 5 minutes to pet her*)
I have also noticed a problem that I have with completing things I start. My hand written copy I am trying to get to be too perfect on it's first go-around. I have to get it through my head that I can edit it when I type it up again. So normally I wander in the middle of a crappy scene that I can't write myself out of. *le sigh*
Oh, yeah, I was going to share part 1! :) It has been edited and added on to quite a bit. Enjoy!
(Feel free to smack me if you see me straying from 'present tense')
The Calm Before the Storm
PART 1
House, trying to find a new place to hide from Cuddy and clinic duty, strolls into the cafeteria. His eyes dart around, deeming the place safe before grabbing a wrapped-up mystery sandwich, looking for a place to sit and to pretend he is eating. He spies Wilson sitting to one side, pushing around his lunch on the styrofoam plate. “Shall we “not eat” together?” he suggests, sitting down across from his friend and unwrapping his sandwich.
James Wilson smirks, but doesn’t look up from the very entertaining task of pushing his food from one side of the plate to the other. “Hiding?” he asks, already knowing the answer, but liking to hear House talk.
“Hiding?” He takes on an offended look. “Do I look like I am hiding to you?” Wilson looks up and he gestures around to all the people who can see him. “If I wanted to hide, I would visit the paternity ward.”
“Because no one would go looking for you there.”
“Exactly.” Not even he would go so far as to hide there. He shivers at the thought of wailing babies. “Who is winning the race? Peas or carrots?”
Wilson moves a piece of lettuce to the left side of the tray with a flick of his fork. “So far, the lettuce is beating the pants off of peas and carrots.”
“Lucky them,” House mutters, clearing his throat right after. “Obvious question: Not hungry?”
Wilson answers with a shake of his head. “Too much has been going on lately here. And at home,” he says as an afterthought. “Just haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
House notices for the first time the drawn look about his friend’s face. “Since when?”
He sets his fork down and rubs his eyes. “A few weeks? Not sure, really. Lost several patients. Hate this job sometimes.” He shakes his head sadly, wondering how a simple question can bring to mind things he is normally successful at blocking out.
“House!”
The yell causes House and several people sitting nearby to jump. He grimaces, not turning to look at the furious Cuddy storming towards him. He wrinkles his nose and takes a big bite from the sandwich, turning to greet the woman. He says something that could either be a ‘hello’ or some muffled form of a curse, his mouth full.
Wilson smiles a goodbye, then makes his getaway, tossing his lunch into the trash. He can hear Cuddy chewing out House and can hear him offering her a bite of sandwich, his mouth still full. The sudden thought of food mixed with the smell from the ripe garbage can turns his stomach and he hurries from the room.
Cuddy notices House’s attention shift from ignoring her to the closing door.
House had been watching Wilson walk away from the corner of his eye as he was pretending to savor his sandwich. He sees the younger man pause at the trash can, get a little tipsy, then dart from the lunch area. He frowns and mutters an “excuse me” as he stands and nudges Cuddy from his path, leaving.
Cuddy is more shocked by the ‘excuse me’ than she is by his hasty retreat. Excuse me is too polite for Gregory House. She sighs and re-wraps the leftover sandwich, discards it, and heads towards the door House had disappeared from.
The hallway is free of Wilson as far as House can see. He limps over to the bathroom and pushes open the door with his cane. The sound of retching greets him. It stops and a toilet flushes. “What was that?” he says to Wilson, causing him to jump as he exits the nearest stall.
“Breakfast,” Wilson answers, recovering quickly on his way to the sink. He can feel eyes upon him as he cups his hands under the stream of water and rinses his mouth out. The vomiting had taken a lot out of him and he runs a shaky damp hand through his hair, taking an equally shaky breath after.
“Come on. You need a check up.” House motions with a tilt of his head.
“I’m fine. I think I am just getting a touch of the flu.” Determined to show how ‘fine’ he is, Wilson stops leaning against the counter and goes to take a step towards the door. His feet don’t seem to be taking orders from him any more and his knees buckle, taking the rest of him down to the floor. “Damn it,” he growls at the blue tiles.
House mocks the word fine and hurries to the door. “I need help in here,” he says to the first moving object he sees; Cuddy’s back as she makes another pass of the hallway trying to see where her misbehaving doctor has vanished to. “It’s Wilson,” House disappears back inside the restroom.
Cuddy’s face turns to a frown and she hurries to the men’s room, hoping that this isn’t some sort of ill-timed practical joke. When she turns the small corner, Wilson is still on his knees, breath coming in small gasps. His arm is thrown over House’s shoulder, the older man struggling to lift the dead weight. Springing to action, Cuddy drops by Wilson’s other side and helps House get him to his feet.
Wilson reaches out for the counter to lean against, face flushed pink from the exertion and a touch of embarrassment. He is so tired and has to resist the urge to drop back to the floor to take a little nap, further adding to his embarrassment.
Sure that everything is fine for the time being, Cuddy hurries from the restroom to a wheelchair. She is surprised when she gets no protest.
After she leaves, Wilson lets out a breath and looks up at himself in the sink mirror, frowning at his reflection. His frown fades as he sees House’s reflection looking back at him. He turns from the mirror to look at the real thing. “Go on. Say it,” he pants, annoyed for not being able to keep his rapid breathing under control. He fears another trip to the porcelain throne may be near, his stomach flip flopping like a beached fish. He swallows thickly.
“Say what?” The picture of innocence.
“How I am anything but fine. You insist I get examined. I’m an idiot.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Except to add stubborn idiot. How long?”
“A couple weeks, I guess. Only started getting sick this last week.”
“Maybe I got you pregnant,” House says with a smirk.
“Someone needs to retake their Sex Ed course if you think that.”
Wilson’s breathing is all that can be heard in the tense silence that follows. House looks at his watch and grumbles about what is keeping Cuddy, then he starts pacing the small restroom wall to wall.
“Stop it. You’re making me nervous.” Wilson tries to figure out the odds of him convincing House that he is well enough to leave the cramped room under his own steam. “Stubborn idiot,” he mumbles to himself.
If House had heard, he made no sign of it. A young intern enters, takes one look at House who intently and crossly stares back, then turns right around and goes on a hunt for a different restroom.
Next Part