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For: Sophinisba; House MD, House/Wilson
Jun. 2nd, 2009 05:34 pmTitle: Shed A Little Light
Author: Sherlockian
"Get out of my chair, House." Wilson hoped he didn't sound as resigned as he felt. Unfortunately, House was a bloodhound for weakness, and just settled more comfortably into Wilson's already extremely comfortable office chair, clearly secure in the knowledge that Wilson probably wouldn't take any particularly bloody retribution. Probably-- Wilson was sure that one day he would snap and take House down with him. Maybe the rest of the hospital too, although Wilson was sure he'd feel guilty blowing up the little kids in the pediatric ward.
"Are you imagining lighting me on fire?" House didn't sound upset about the prospect, and Wilson shook himself out of his daze.
"You're still in my chair." It wasn't an admission of guilt, although it was a nicely ambiguous comeback, if Wilson said so himself. "Some of us actually have patients to deal with." He leaned on the desk. Looming over House should be easier than this; the man was tall, but skinny, and he was sitting down. Somehow, though, House always seemed a foot taller than he actually was. Wilson gave up the attempt as a loss, and sat on the edge of his desk instead. House gave a shit-eating grin and nudged a pile of patient files towards Wilson's hand. "I'm not going to do my paperwork while you're sitting in my chair." He was lying to himself again.
House shrugged and toyed with a cactus that one of Wilson's patients gave him to make his office seem "cheerier". The planter was painted a garish sparkly pink with cheery yellow suns. "Guess you're not getting any work done today. Hm. This has too much personality to be in here." He leaned over to toss it in the waste bin, but Wilson rescued the defenseless plant before House could drop it in. "Of course you like it. It makes you think that not everything about watching people die slowly is soul-sucking."
Wilson set the cactus back down in a patch of sun. "There's cheerleaders too," he said after a moment's consideration. House snorted.
Someone knocked on Wilson's door and, without waiting for an answer, opened it. "Wilson, have you seen Hou-- Oh," Cuddy's gaze locked onto House. "You had clinic duty a half an hour ago!" House pulled himself out of Wilson's chair, presumably to have a better angle from which to launch into the familiar argument. Cuddy didn't bother to close the door when they left, but Wilson decided, as he settled himself behind his desk, that didn't really matter much. He'd still have at least another half an hour before House came back.
Author: Sherlockian
"Get out of my chair, House." Wilson hoped he didn't sound as resigned as he felt. Unfortunately, House was a bloodhound for weakness, and just settled more comfortably into Wilson's already extremely comfortable office chair, clearly secure in the knowledge that Wilson probably wouldn't take any particularly bloody retribution. Probably-- Wilson was sure that one day he would snap and take House down with him. Maybe the rest of the hospital too, although Wilson was sure he'd feel guilty blowing up the little kids in the pediatric ward.
"Are you imagining lighting me on fire?" House didn't sound upset about the prospect, and Wilson shook himself out of his daze.
"You're still in my chair." It wasn't an admission of guilt, although it was a nicely ambiguous comeback, if Wilson said so himself. "Some of us actually have patients to deal with." He leaned on the desk. Looming over House should be easier than this; the man was tall, but skinny, and he was sitting down. Somehow, though, House always seemed a foot taller than he actually was. Wilson gave up the attempt as a loss, and sat on the edge of his desk instead. House gave a shit-eating grin and nudged a pile of patient files towards Wilson's hand. "I'm not going to do my paperwork while you're sitting in my chair." He was lying to himself again.
House shrugged and toyed with a cactus that one of Wilson's patients gave him to make his office seem "cheerier". The planter was painted a garish sparkly pink with cheery yellow suns. "Guess you're not getting any work done today. Hm. This has too much personality to be in here." He leaned over to toss it in the waste bin, but Wilson rescued the defenseless plant before House could drop it in. "Of course you like it. It makes you think that not everything about watching people die slowly is soul-sucking."
Wilson set the cactus back down in a patch of sun. "There's cheerleaders too," he said after a moment's consideration. House snorted.
Someone knocked on Wilson's door and, without waiting for an answer, opened it. "Wilson, have you seen Hou-- Oh," Cuddy's gaze locked onto House. "You had clinic duty a half an hour ago!" House pulled himself out of Wilson's chair, presumably to have a better angle from which to launch into the familiar argument. Cuddy didn't bother to close the door when they left, but Wilson decided, as he settled himself behind his desk, that didn't really matter much. He'd still have at least another half an hour before House came back.
