WIP Meme
Count me in on menolly_au's WIP meme :)
1. Dialogue fic for the Sick!Wilson Halloween Challenge. Spoilers for "The C Word."
“What? You don’t like it?”
“It’s…you’re…”
“Yeah. Cool, huh?”
“House, you’re a dolphin.”
“I know. Took me a million years to find a costume in my size. You wouldn’t believe the - ”
“House.”
“What?”
“I hate dolphins.”
“No, you fear dolphins. Which makes this all the more amusing.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t bring that up again!”
“I didn’t. You did.”
2. WARNING: Character death. Spoilers for the cancer arc.
Life is one big stupid joke.
Which is probably why House has found himself working in a New Orleans synagogue, of all places. Surrounded by Jews in New Orleans…Jesus. (Or not).
He cleans, he cooks, he treats scrapes and sniffles in a makeshift clinic in the back and refers anything that looks serious to the hospital down the street. Wilson had known the rabbi through a friend of a wife of a cousin ten times removed (or something like that), and he’d often dragged House to the synagogue after they’d put the brakes on their road trip in New Orleans.
They hadn’t started out with that intention, but it seemed that the road had led them this way, and neither had argued for a change in course. They’d settled into a hotel, gorged themselves on seafood, and done stupid, sentimental things.
Things like revisiting The Beginning - the site of the medical conference, the bar, even the jailhouse.
Things like sitting in the synagogue, pretending to pray, and acting like everything was going to be fine.
And everything was fine, for a while. Until it wasn’t.
A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar and Wilson dies of cancer.
The universe has a hell of a sense of humor.
He’s almost done sweeping the floor when he sees the figure standing by the doorway. He should probably be surprised. He should be panicking, actually. Instead, he’s nothing but calm.
“Hi,” House says, and invites Wilson in.
3. In which House and Wilson celebrate the holidays a little early. Spoilers for the cancer arc.
“This is stupid,” Wilson grumbled.
“Stupid?” House gasped in mock offense. “You were the one complaining about your pre-Chanukah expiration date, and now you’re calling this stupid? How about, ‘Why thank you, Dr. House, you’re so full of love and kindness.’”
Wilson grunted, which turned into a stifled cough. “This isn’t Chanukah; this is classic House mockery. You’ve got a fake menorah, a midget Christmas tree, and” - he paused to re-adjust his cap - “a ceremonial reindeer hat.”
House appraised his efforts - the sagging tree, the electric glow of 9 light bulbs, an antler-adorned Wilson huddled beneath a blanket on the couch - and nodded approvingly. “It’s called diversity, Wilson. I did spend a lot of time working with that black guy.”
“I’m sure Foreman would appreciate the lack of Kwanzaa in your holiday smorgasbord,” Wilson replied dryly, taking a sip of his tea and settling further into the cushions.
House collapsed next to him, arms crossed and head lolling lazily to the side to meet his gaze. “You don’t think this is stupid. You can’t.”
“Oh, yes I can.”
“Your DNA is programmed to be completely and utterly touched by this pathetic yet strangely caring act that I have bestowed in your honor. You’re just pretending to…”
House’s voice trailed away, and he turned to avoid the heightened glint in Wilson’s eyes. “You’re right,” he muttered finally. “This is stupid.”
1. Dialogue fic for the Sick!Wilson Halloween Challenge. Spoilers for "The C Word."
“What? You don’t like it?”
“It’s…you’re…”
“Yeah. Cool, huh?”
“House, you’re a dolphin.”
“I know. Took me a million years to find a costume in my size. You wouldn’t believe the - ”
“House.”
“What?”
“I hate dolphins.”
“No, you fear dolphins. Which makes this all the more amusing.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t bring that up again!”
“I didn’t. You did.”
2. WARNING: Character death. Spoilers for the cancer arc.
Life is one big stupid joke.
Which is probably why House has found himself working in a New Orleans synagogue, of all places. Surrounded by Jews in New Orleans…Jesus. (Or not).
He cleans, he cooks, he treats scrapes and sniffles in a makeshift clinic in the back and refers anything that looks serious to the hospital down the street. Wilson had known the rabbi through a friend of a wife of a cousin ten times removed (or something like that), and he’d often dragged House to the synagogue after they’d put the brakes on their road trip in New Orleans.
They hadn’t started out with that intention, but it seemed that the road had led them this way, and neither had argued for a change in course. They’d settled into a hotel, gorged themselves on seafood, and done stupid, sentimental things.
Things like revisiting The Beginning - the site of the medical conference, the bar, even the jailhouse.
Things like sitting in the synagogue, pretending to pray, and acting like everything was going to be fine.
And everything was fine, for a while. Until it wasn’t.
A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar and Wilson dies of cancer.
The universe has a hell of a sense of humor.
He’s almost done sweeping the floor when he sees the figure standing by the doorway. He should probably be surprised. He should be panicking, actually. Instead, he’s nothing but calm.
“Hi,” House says, and invites Wilson in.
3. In which House and Wilson celebrate the holidays a little early. Spoilers for the cancer arc.
“This is stupid,” Wilson grumbled.
“Stupid?” House gasped in mock offense. “You were the one complaining about your pre-Chanukah expiration date, and now you’re calling this stupid? How about, ‘Why thank you, Dr. House, you’re so full of love and kindness.’”
Wilson grunted, which turned into a stifled cough. “This isn’t Chanukah; this is classic House mockery. You’ve got a fake menorah, a midget Christmas tree, and” - he paused to re-adjust his cap - “a ceremonial reindeer hat.”
House appraised his efforts - the sagging tree, the electric glow of 9 light bulbs, an antler-adorned Wilson huddled beneath a blanket on the couch - and nodded approvingly. “It’s called diversity, Wilson. I did spend a lot of time working with that black guy.”
“I’m sure Foreman would appreciate the lack of Kwanzaa in your holiday smorgasbord,” Wilson replied dryly, taking a sip of his tea and settling further into the cushions.
House collapsed next to him, arms crossed and head lolling lazily to the side to meet his gaze. “You don’t think this is stupid. You can’t.”
“Oh, yes I can.”
“Your DNA is programmed to be completely and utterly touched by this pathetic yet strangely caring act that I have bestowed in your honor. You’re just pretending to…”
House’s voice trailed away, and he turned to avoid the heightened glint in Wilson’s eyes. “You’re right,” he muttered finally. “This is stupid.”