rp for dr_greghouse_md

[semper_fi_house]

John had just come in from mowing the lawn in the backyard. Seemed spring had finally started -- it felt like summer out there. He poured himself a beer and sat down in the living room arm chair, reaching for the newspaper off the end table next to it. There was a note lying on top of the newspaper, from Blythe, explaining that she'd gone out for

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[dr_greghouse_md]

On the TV, Triple H was dripping with sweat and was sporting an ugly, dramatic expression of rage on his face as he stared at The Undertaker. WWE Smackdown always proved to be endless Saturday afternoon entertainment when House had little else to do - no cases, couldn't be bothered doing the laundry he had piled up in the laundry basket, dishes overflowing in the sink which he kept putting off. His cleaner wasn't due in until Monday and House wasn't really about to do a job his cleaner was paid money to do - which was clean

[semper_fi_house]

John blinked at Greg's greeting.

"Excuse me?" he asked, affronted.

He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward in agitation. Talking to Greg was always impossible. They had barely said a word to each other, and already John was losing patience. But this was important - it was for Blythe. "Is that how you generally answer the phone?"

John held in a belch, knowing that Greg would take that little distraction and run with it.

"I'm wating."

He heard Greg sigh on the other end, "How long have you had indigestion?"

John raised his eyes to the heavens and tried not to grip the phone, "Does that really matter? I asked you a question, Gregory."

"I answer in a way the befits whomever I know is on the other line. Key word: know. How long have you had indigestion, sir"I just drank some beer is all. Let it go

[semper_fi_house]

Greg grumbled something and Blythe's expression firmed slightly, "That is not true, Gregory, and don't ever think that again. His reputation and getting his way do not mean more than you do, you two are just too much alike. It's not a crazy notion."

"...Okay. Back to my consignment, then?"

"It's only three weeks," Blythe soothed, "You've been grounded longer -- and no one's taken your things from you this time. Here's an idea, learn how to cook. It'd probably save you a mint."

"You're the only one I want to cook with," Greg pouted and Blythe outright laughed. "I love you, too, sweetie. If you're good, maybe I'll send you a care package. Good-bye"Bye, Mom," Greg managed to pout even further. "Happy birthday to you