Lost/House MD crossover fic: Poker night - prologue
Title: Poker night
Fandom: Lost/House MD crossover
Characters: Jack, Sawyer, Wilson, House
Rating: PG-13 for language and implications.
Spoilers: Lost S3 finale, House 4x09 "Games".
Summary: In the end, tomorrow was too early. But they did have their poker night.
Author's notes: ca. 9000 words, posted in three parts. Sequel to my previous Lost/House crossover, Chances and connections.
I lifted the numbering of the chapters from the Bad Company 'verse by black_cigarette (they say imitation is the highest form of adulation, so I hope the authors don't mind). The first number represents the number of days; day 1 is when the event in Chances and Connections took place (spoiler:Jack's emergency trip to the E.R.); the second number signifies when the fic occurs during that day.
Many thanks to siluria for betaing this. As usual, any remaining mistakes are mine. Comments and concrit welcome.
Parts: Prologue | Poker night | Epilogue
Prologue
24.1 - Setting the scene
"Why couldn't you just go and waste your time in some other way? You could screw a nurse, or, if that has gotten old, you could shut yourself in your room and 'improve your Spanish' by yourself". House didn't use finger quotes, but Wilson was able to hear them all the same. "Did you really need to care for some stray waif that you found in a park?" House asked from the couch, annoyed, while balancing a bowl of chips on his legs and at the same time taking a swig from his beer.
"It wasn't a park, he was just outside the grocery store," Wilson clarified, as if he hadn't told the same story at least twice. "And put that away," he said, gesturing with his hand while he walked towards the kitchen.
"Whatever. He was probably begging for money. And I'm not putting away my beer. I'm of age, you know. I can show you my card."
Wilson came back with a green tablecloth and two sealed decks of cards in his hands. He put everything on the table, sighing. "Look. I'm sorry if I somewhat hurt your misanthropic feelings, but it's done now. They'll be here any minute. And I told you Jack had some problems recently, so you won't be drinking in front of him. A little less alcohol won't kill you." Actually it can only do you some good, Wilson added by himself. "Now, please, give me the bottle." He outstretched his hand.
Wilson had debated whether to ask House not to take his pills in front of Jack, either, but in the end he felt it would have been unfair to make House stand up and go outside the room for that. It was a medical necessity, after all. Scratch that. Looking at the ugly truth, he would never get House to agree. And if for some perverse reason of his House would, it would only make him seem pathetically incontinent or suspiciously eccentric. Wilson smirked at the idea… maybe the next time. A time that didn't involve seriously messed up guys, possibly.
Instead, Wilson had transferred the few pills House would be needing for the evening to a small unmarked bottle - hopefully, one or two, but Wilson put three there, just in case - and pasted over it a Super Goof sticker he had found in his office drawer with a few other old toys, probably relics of gifts from nostalgic parents, that their kid had promptly abandoned. His desk seemed to attract such things like a magnet. Amazingly, House hadn't seemed to mind Goofy's presence at all, only muttering an amused "Super Goobers, Gilbert?" under his breath when Wilson gave it to him.
"Just don't answer the door, then. I'm sure they will go away, eventually. Besides, they may not be coming at all. They already stood us up once, must be completely uncivilized after all that time playing Cast Away with your namesake volleyball." House waved his left hand in dismissal, the beer firmly in the other.
So House had listened to him. Interesting. He probably had even checked on the past of his future guests. Maybe winning House's consent wouldn't be so hard, after all. New guys, new puzzles to solve, right?
"House. I told you, it was just a misunderstanding. Someone erased my messages. And I know just the person who would do that kind of thing." At this, House peered at Wilson, promptly looking away with the smallest trace of a smirk on his lips when he met Wilson's poignant gaze. Wilson decided to ignore this flagrant sign of guilt, putting it aside for later use - not like he needed proof, after all - and kept on, "besides, it's only a poker game, and you know we need more players anyway."
Putting his hands on his hips, Wilson focused his perfected I-know-I-can-make-you-feel-guilty stare on House. Who was still blatantly not looking at him.
"Which I already had. I can't see what was wrong with my usual fellows," House scowled, clutching the beer to his chest. Wilson felt a corner of his mouth twitch in a smug grin. This was his opportunity.
"Oh well… let's see…" he started enumerating, "your good friend the bus stop guy had been untraceable, probably he changed his route. Accountant guy refused to come since you had him do your taxes for free after your last win and the dry-cleaner… I think he moved somewhere in Michigan a few months ago. Now gimme," Wilson stretched his arm again, confidently.
House opened his mouth to reply, a baffled does-Wilson-really-keep-tracks-of-his-fellow-players? imprinted over his face, then fixed Wilson with an exasperated look and sighed. "Fine. Poker without beer is a waste of time, but have it your way. Let's hope at least your friends know how to play a proper Texas," he said scornfully, handing out the bottle.
Wilson promptly took it and turned towards the kitchen, biting back a smile. He put the half-full beer on the kitchen counter and walked back towards the table to finish settling it.
Notes
For a good and funny H/W story that deals with House's old fellow players, see Why Dr. House cancelled poker night by deelaundry
Next part: Poker night
Fandom: Lost/House MD crossover
Characters: Jack, Sawyer, Wilson, House
Rating: PG-13 for language and implications.
Spoilers: Lost S3 finale, House 4x09 "Games".
Summary: In the end, tomorrow was too early. But they did have their poker night.
Author's notes: ca. 9000 words, posted in three parts. Sequel to my previous Lost/House crossover, Chances and connections.
I lifted the numbering of the chapters from the Bad Company 'verse by black_cigarette (they say imitation is the highest form of adulation, so I hope the authors don't mind). The first number represents the number of days; day 1 is when the event in Chances and Connections took place (spoiler:Jack's emergency trip to the E.R.); the second number signifies when the fic occurs during that day.
Many thanks to siluria for betaing this. As usual, any remaining mistakes are mine. Comments and concrit welcome.
Parts: Prologue | Poker night | Epilogue
Prologue
24.1 - Setting the scene
"Why couldn't you just go and waste your time in some other way? You could screw a nurse, or, if that has gotten old, you could shut yourself in your room and 'improve your Spanish' by yourself". House didn't use finger quotes, but Wilson was able to hear them all the same. "Did you really need to care for some stray waif that you found in a park?" House asked from the couch, annoyed, while balancing a bowl of chips on his legs and at the same time taking a swig from his beer.
"It wasn't a park, he was just outside the grocery store," Wilson clarified, as if he hadn't told the same story at least twice. "And put that away," he said, gesturing with his hand while he walked towards the kitchen.
"Whatever. He was probably begging for money. And I'm not putting away my beer. I'm of age, you know. I can show you my card."
Wilson came back with a green tablecloth and two sealed decks of cards in his hands. He put everything on the table, sighing. "Look. I'm sorry if I somewhat hurt your misanthropic feelings, but it's done now. They'll be here any minute. And I told you Jack had some problems recently, so you won't be drinking in front of him. A little less alcohol won't kill you." Actually it can only do you some good, Wilson added by himself. "Now, please, give me the bottle." He outstretched his hand.
Wilson had debated whether to ask House not to take his pills in front of Jack, either, but in the end he felt it would have been unfair to make House stand up and go outside the room for that. It was a medical necessity, after all. Scratch that. Looking at the ugly truth, he would never get House to agree. And if for some perverse reason of his House would, it would only make him seem pathetically incontinent or suspiciously eccentric. Wilson smirked at the idea… maybe the next time. A time that didn't involve seriously messed up guys, possibly.
Instead, Wilson had transferred the few pills House would be needing for the evening to a small unmarked bottle - hopefully, one or two, but Wilson put three there, just in case - and pasted over it a Super Goof sticker he had found in his office drawer with a few other old toys, probably relics of gifts from nostalgic parents, that their kid had promptly abandoned. His desk seemed to attract such things like a magnet. Amazingly, House hadn't seemed to mind Goofy's presence at all, only muttering an amused "Super Goobers, Gilbert?" under his breath when Wilson gave it to him.
"Just don't answer the door, then. I'm sure they will go away, eventually. Besides, they may not be coming at all. They already stood us up once, must be completely uncivilized after all that time playing Cast Away with your namesake volleyball." House waved his left hand in dismissal, the beer firmly in the other.
So House had listened to him. Interesting. He probably had even checked on the past of his future guests. Maybe winning House's consent wouldn't be so hard, after all. New guys, new puzzles to solve, right?
"House. I told you, it was just a misunderstanding. Someone erased my messages. And I know just the person who would do that kind of thing." At this, House peered at Wilson, promptly looking away with the smallest trace of a smirk on his lips when he met Wilson's poignant gaze. Wilson decided to ignore this flagrant sign of guilt, putting it aside for later use - not like he needed proof, after all - and kept on, "besides, it's only a poker game, and you know we need more players anyway."
Putting his hands on his hips, Wilson focused his perfected I-know-I-can-make-you-feel-guilty stare on House. Who was still blatantly not looking at him.
"Which I already had. I can't see what was wrong with my usual fellows," House scowled, clutching the beer to his chest. Wilson felt a corner of his mouth twitch in a smug grin. This was his opportunity.
"Oh well… let's see…" he started enumerating, "your good friend the bus stop guy had been untraceable, probably he changed his route. Accountant guy refused to come since you had him do your taxes for free after your last win and the dry-cleaner… I think he moved somewhere in Michigan a few months ago. Now gimme," Wilson stretched his arm again, confidently.
House opened his mouth to reply, a baffled does-Wilson-really-keep-tracks-of-his-fellow-players? imprinted over his face, then fixed Wilson with an exasperated look and sighed. "Fine. Poker without beer is a waste of time, but have it your way. Let's hope at least your friends know how to play a proper Texas," he said scornfully, handing out the bottle.
Wilson promptly took it and turned towards the kitchen, biting back a smile. He put the half-full beer on the kitchen counter and walked back towards the table to finish settling it.
Notes
For a good and funny H/W story that deals with House's old fellow players, see Why Dr. House cancelled poker night by deelaundry
Next part: Poker night