FIC: An Afternoon at the Clinic
Mar. 27th, 2008 04:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nowadventuringTitle: An Afternoon at the Clinic
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serotonin_storm
Fandom: House
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: House/Wilson
Word Count: 1500 words
Summary: In which House pesters Wilson with talk of male hookers.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Forlostwiginity. Edited 12/9/08.
Nice tie. I think a cancer-ridden elf may have thrown up all over it, though. What a shame."
"Nice to see you, too," Wilson said as he leafed through a file at the nurses' station. "Cuddy's been looking for you."
House leaned against the counter and snagged a mint. He propped the cane up beside himself. "You may have deduced from my presence in the clinic that I am aware of this fact," he said, unwrapping the mint loudly. "You also may have deduced from that deduction that I don't return Cuddy's desire for a pleasant afternoon conversation. You'd be a clever, clever boy."
"You know she'll find you eventually. You're just prolonging the inevitable."
"And here I thought that was the whole point."
Wilson finally looked up, closing his file sharply. Catching House's gaze when it wandered away from the candy wrapper, he asked, "Are you actually going to take a patient? Or are you just planning to follow me around until lunch?"
House screwed his eyes shut in false consideration. "Well, patients are so often sick..." he mused, "so... I think, yeah, I'll stick to following you around. Wouldn't want to get all germy or anything."
The file rustled as Wilson tucked it under his arm. "Cuddy'll find you faster that way," he pointed out.
Wilson turned and headed in the direction of an exam room. House grabbed his cane and hurried to follow. "You're just trying to get rid of me so you can work," he said with a dramatic amount of repulsion.
"Oh, is that what I'm trying to do? How silly of me." Wilson's fingers played absently at his waistband as his hands slipped onto his hips. "I'm going in now. If you're coming, you'd better be a good boy and behave yourself."
"Yes, Mistress Jimineena," intoned House, averting his eyes and giving a small, sarcastic bow.
Wilson rolled his eyes, opened the door, and stepped into the exam room.
The woman sitting on the exam table looked to be around forty. She was thin and had bags under her eyes, and her blond hair hung stringy and limp around her shoulders. She coughed into her fist as Wilson smiled at her. House scowled and collapsed into a chair in the corner.
"Miss Hart," said Wilson in greeting. "I'm Doctor Wilson. What seems to be the problem?"
Hart sniffled. "I've been miserable for days. My face hurts, I can't sleep. I have this awful cough." She gave a few hollow hacking coughs then, as if in demonstration. "God, I'm all stuffed up. I can't live like this. I have kids. What is wrong with me?"
Wilson scribbled in the file. "Well, Miss Hart," he said, "I think you may..."
"Do I have the flu?" Hart interrupted. "People keep saying you usually have a fever, but I figure it isn't always there."
"Miss Hart, you..." Wilson began again.
"A sinus infection? My husband gets those all the time. He - "
"You have a cold," House huffed in exasperation. "You should consider it a crowning achievement that you've gotten to your age without learning what a cold feels like. I'm certainly amazed. You want a trophy? I'm sure Doctor Wilson has an old fifth place spelling bee one around here somewhere."
The woman blinked, surprised, and rubbed her nose against her sleeve. "I just..." She coughed. "This isn't what a cold usually feels like to me."
"The intensity of a cold can vary, Miss Hart," Wilson replied, shooting House a glare before he could spit out a retort to what Hart had said. "I'm going to prescribe some over-the-counter decongestants." He ripped off the prescription he had written and handed her the slip of paper. "You need to get plenty of rest and keep yourself hydrated."
"Thank you, Doctor Wilson," she said, slowly hopping off the counter. "And - " she shot House a glare and finished condescendingly, "...your friend, as well." Wilson smiled and nodded. House simply smirked at her retreating back.
"Do anything exciting this weekend? Besides sit on your couch and fill out crosswords?" he asked once the door had fallen shut, pushing his cane back and forth between his hands.
Wilson took a seat, discarding the file onto a counter haphazardly. He shook his head. "You're only asking so you can tell me what you did. I don't feel like talking about my weekend. Go ahead."
"Are you enabling narcissism now?" House asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"Only for my own benefit."
"A narcissistic enabling of narcissism. How poetic," House said.
"Or I could sit here while you make sarcastic comments. What a productive use of my time."
"Yeah, yeah," said House with a sneer. "You're all gungho about your patients, I get it."
"Oh, do you? What a relief. I was beginning to think you were the reason I was sitting in a clinic room without one."
"I have discovered a new addiction," House proclaimed, ignoring him. "Possibly better than Vicodin, definitely better than sitting around while Foreman contemplates my demise and attempts to wear enough striped button downs to rival your sweater vest collection."
"House, tell me you're not into gambling now," sighed Wilson, rubbing a thumb back and forth over his forehead. "I don't think my bank account could handle it."
"Close." He grinned cheekily. "There's definitely some big money involved, and risk taking. Sweet, sweet risks," he said fondly.
Wilson groaned, pressing his palms against his eyelids and leaning his head back. "If the answer is "hookers", I'd prefer to go on thinking that was a joke."
"And I'd prefer to tell you it was a joke, but that would be lying, and lying is wrong," House said with wide eyes and an overly serious tone. "Plus, think of how put out Jeremy would feel if I didn't give him credit for all the hard, hard work he did."
Tightly, Wilson asked, "Jeremy?"
"I prefer Tom, but he was already... occupied."
Wilson let out a cough that quickly turned into a splutter. "Why are you telling me this?" he demanded, flustered.
House shrugged and stopped his cane's path of movement with his left hand, gripping it tightly. "There's a two for one deal. Cheap sex. What kind of self-respecting American would I be if I didn't take advantage of that?"
Wilson took an enormous breath and let it out slowly. "So you're asking me... to participate in a gay threesome involving the two of us?"
"Now, would I do that?" House asked. Wilson squinted, confused, until the other man clarified, "I'm asking you to pay for a gay threesome involving the two of us."
For a moment, there was complete silence save for a slow drip of water from the faucet beside House. Then Wilson's mouth stretched into a smile, and his chest began to heave with laughter. Shaking his head good-naturedly, he stood, threw the door open and walked out of the room.
Baffled, House scrambled to follow. "Where you are going?" he asked when he finally caught up.
"My clinic duty was over at twelve," Wilson said, still grinning widely. "I'm going to lunch."
"I don't know if you're familiar with this concept, but generally when someone asks you a question you're supposed to answer it," said House. "Crazy, I know, but what can you do?"
"Am I supposed to take your request for a gay threesome seriously?" Wilson asked quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in. "House, I'm a forty-year-old oncologist. I'm boring. You've said it yourself."
"I figured it was possible for you to temporarily forget how vanilla you are," House told him.
"To pay for your sex?" Wilson laughed. "Not this week." He turned to start toward the cafeteria, adding, "I'll get you a Reuben."
"Wilson!" House barked. He reached out a hand to grab his friend's shoulder, then, as if thinking better of it, held his cane out in front of Wilson's path.
"What, House?" Wilson snapped.
Gritting his teeth, House glared darkly at the floor. "Theoretically, would it make a difference if I said I wanted you there and would pay for it?"
"Is that what you're saying?" asked Wilson.
"Theoretically."
Wilson nodded. "Then theoretically, it might."
"Then I want you there and I'll pay for it," House huffed. "Does that make you happy, you big cancer-fighting pansy?"
Wilson bit his cheek against a smile and held up a finger. "One more thing." Leaning toward the nurses' station, he grabbed a file. "You have to do your Clinic duty."
"You don't have the breasts or the balls to be Cuddy," growled House in a dangerous tone.
"You seemed pretty interested in my balls before," Wilson reminded him. Turning on his heel, he strode down the hall, calling, "See you at six, House" as he went.
House sighed, regarded the file with disgust, gave a passing nurse a sneer and limped toward exam room two to treat his first patient - a brunette hospital administrator with a smug smile and a large pile of his backed up files in her arms.
Author:
serotonin_stormFandom: House
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: House/Wilson
Word Count: 1500 words
Summary: In which House pesters Wilson with talk of male hookers.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: For
lostwiginity. Edited 12/9/08.Nice tie. I think a cancer-ridden elf may have thrown up all over it, though. What a shame."
"Nice to see you, too," Wilson said as he leafed through a file at the nurses' station. "Cuddy's been looking for you."
House leaned against the counter and snagged a mint. He propped the cane up beside himself. "You may have deduced from my presence in the clinic that I am aware of this fact," he said, unwrapping the mint loudly. "You also may have deduced from that deduction that I don't return Cuddy's desire for a pleasant afternoon conversation. You'd be a clever, clever boy."
"You know she'll find you eventually. You're just prolonging the inevitable."
"And here I thought that was the whole point."
Wilson finally looked up, closing his file sharply. Catching House's gaze when it wandered away from the candy wrapper, he asked, "Are you actually going to take a patient? Or are you just planning to follow me around until lunch?"
House screwed his eyes shut in false consideration. "Well, patients are so often sick..." he mused, "so... I think, yeah, I'll stick to following you around. Wouldn't want to get all germy or anything."
The file rustled as Wilson tucked it under his arm. "Cuddy'll find you faster that way," he pointed out.
Wilson turned and headed in the direction of an exam room. House grabbed his cane and hurried to follow. "You're just trying to get rid of me so you can work," he said with a dramatic amount of repulsion.
"Oh, is that what I'm trying to do? How silly of me." Wilson's fingers played absently at his waistband as his hands slipped onto his hips. "I'm going in now. If you're coming, you'd better be a good boy and behave yourself."
"Yes, Mistress Jimineena," intoned House, averting his eyes and giving a small, sarcastic bow.
Wilson rolled his eyes, opened the door, and stepped into the exam room.
The woman sitting on the exam table looked to be around forty. She was thin and had bags under her eyes, and her blond hair hung stringy and limp around her shoulders. She coughed into her fist as Wilson smiled at her. House scowled and collapsed into a chair in the corner.
"Miss Hart," said Wilson in greeting. "I'm Doctor Wilson. What seems to be the problem?"
Hart sniffled. "I've been miserable for days. My face hurts, I can't sleep. I have this awful cough." She gave a few hollow hacking coughs then, as if in demonstration. "God, I'm all stuffed up. I can't live like this. I have kids. What is wrong with me?"
Wilson scribbled in the file. "Well, Miss Hart," he said, "I think you may..."
"Do I have the flu?" Hart interrupted. "People keep saying you usually have a fever, but I figure it isn't always there."
"Miss Hart, you..." Wilson began again.
"A sinus infection? My husband gets those all the time. He - "
"You have a cold," House huffed in exasperation. "You should consider it a crowning achievement that you've gotten to your age without learning what a cold feels like. I'm certainly amazed. You want a trophy? I'm sure Doctor Wilson has an old fifth place spelling bee one around here somewhere."
The woman blinked, surprised, and rubbed her nose against her sleeve. "I just..." She coughed. "This isn't what a cold usually feels like to me."
"The intensity of a cold can vary, Miss Hart," Wilson replied, shooting House a glare before he could spit out a retort to what Hart had said. "I'm going to prescribe some over-the-counter decongestants." He ripped off the prescription he had written and handed her the slip of paper. "You need to get plenty of rest and keep yourself hydrated."
"Thank you, Doctor Wilson," she said, slowly hopping off the counter. "And - " she shot House a glare and finished condescendingly, "...your friend, as well." Wilson smiled and nodded. House simply smirked at her retreating back.
"Do anything exciting this weekend? Besides sit on your couch and fill out crosswords?" he asked once the door had fallen shut, pushing his cane back and forth between his hands.
Wilson took a seat, discarding the file onto a counter haphazardly. He shook his head. "You're only asking so you can tell me what you did. I don't feel like talking about my weekend. Go ahead."
"Are you enabling narcissism now?" House asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"Only for my own benefit."
"A narcissistic enabling of narcissism. How poetic," House said.
"Or I could sit here while you make sarcastic comments. What a productive use of my time."
"Yeah, yeah," said House with a sneer. "You're all gungho about your patients, I get it."
"Oh, do you? What a relief. I was beginning to think you were the reason I was sitting in a clinic room without one."
"I have discovered a new addiction," House proclaimed, ignoring him. "Possibly better than Vicodin, definitely better than sitting around while Foreman contemplates my demise and attempts to wear enough striped button downs to rival your sweater vest collection."
"House, tell me you're not into gambling now," sighed Wilson, rubbing a thumb back and forth over his forehead. "I don't think my bank account could handle it."
"Close." He grinned cheekily. "There's definitely some big money involved, and risk taking. Sweet, sweet risks," he said fondly.
Wilson groaned, pressing his palms against his eyelids and leaning his head back. "If the answer is "hookers", I'd prefer to go on thinking that was a joke."
"And I'd prefer to tell you it was a joke, but that would be lying, and lying is wrong," House said with wide eyes and an overly serious tone. "Plus, think of how put out Jeremy would feel if I didn't give him credit for all the hard, hard work he did."
Tightly, Wilson asked, "Jeremy?"
"I prefer Tom, but he was already... occupied."
Wilson let out a cough that quickly turned into a splutter. "Why are you telling me this?" he demanded, flustered.
House shrugged and stopped his cane's path of movement with his left hand, gripping it tightly. "There's a two for one deal. Cheap sex. What kind of self-respecting American would I be if I didn't take advantage of that?"
Wilson took an enormous breath and let it out slowly. "So you're asking me... to participate in a gay threesome involving the two of us?"
"Now, would I do that?" House asked. Wilson squinted, confused, until the other man clarified, "I'm asking you to pay for a gay threesome involving the two of us."
For a moment, there was complete silence save for a slow drip of water from the faucet beside House. Then Wilson's mouth stretched into a smile, and his chest began to heave with laughter. Shaking his head good-naturedly, he stood, threw the door open and walked out of the room.
Baffled, House scrambled to follow. "Where you are going?" he asked when he finally caught up.
"My clinic duty was over at twelve," Wilson said, still grinning widely. "I'm going to lunch."
"I don't know if you're familiar with this concept, but generally when someone asks you a question you're supposed to answer it," said House. "Crazy, I know, but what can you do?"
"Am I supposed to take your request for a gay threesome seriously?" Wilson asked quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in. "House, I'm a forty-year-old oncologist. I'm boring. You've said it yourself."
"I figured it was possible for you to temporarily forget how vanilla you are," House told him.
"To pay for your sex?" Wilson laughed. "Not this week." He turned to start toward the cafeteria, adding, "I'll get you a Reuben."
"Wilson!" House barked. He reached out a hand to grab his friend's shoulder, then, as if thinking better of it, held his cane out in front of Wilson's path.
"What, House?" Wilson snapped.
Gritting his teeth, House glared darkly at the floor. "Theoretically, would it make a difference if I said I wanted you there and would pay for it?"
"Is that what you're saying?" asked Wilson.
"Theoretically."
Wilson nodded. "Then theoretically, it might."
"Then I want you there and I'll pay for it," House huffed. "Does that make you happy, you big cancer-fighting pansy?"
Wilson bit his cheek against a smile and held up a finger. "One more thing." Leaning toward the nurses' station, he grabbed a file. "You have to do your Clinic duty."
"You don't have the breasts or the balls to be Cuddy," growled House in a dangerous tone.
"You seemed pretty interested in my balls before," Wilson reminded him. Turning on his heel, he strode down the hall, calling, "See you at six, House" as he went.
House sighed, regarded the file with disgust, gave a passing nurse a sneer and limped toward exam room two to treat his first patient - a brunette hospital administrator with a smug smile and a large pile of his backed up files in her arms.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 12:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 12:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 01:29 pm (UTC)"Is that what you're saying?" asked Wilson.
"Theoretically."
Wilson nodded. "Then theoretically, it might."
"Then I want you there and I'll pay for it," House huffed.
Haha, right, that´s so them. Any topic they´re arguing about is discussed in this fucked up way...
no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 05:49 pm (UTC)"Does that make you happy, you big cancer-fighting pansy?"
seriously, I think I cracked a rib laughing! this was very good!
no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-27 11:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 12:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 02:01 pm (UTC)I love the part with the patient and her cold. I work in a hospital and we get patients like that all the time. We cant get a word in edgewise!
Good job!! <3
no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-01 04:05 am (UTC)"To pay for your sex?" Wilson laughed. "Not this week." He turned to start toward the cafeteria, adding, "I'll get you a Reuben."
That line struck me as just so gloriously Wilson that I had to mention it. Great stuff.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-09 12:14 am (UTC)