Drabbles: One Last Thing
It seems my muse had other plans about these drabbles. You get them now instead of later, enjoy!
Title: One Last Thing
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit. Just for fun. Please don’t sue
Warnings: Discussion of drug use in drabble seven and implied character death in drabble ten.
Summary: A second go at anamatics’ drabble challenge where you take a song, record the first line before you start, and then write a drabble based on that line before the song ends. Ten drabbles underneath the cut.
1) Swing in this tree (Proudest Monkey - Dave Matthews Band)
“I want a push.”
Wilson rolled his eyes at the sight of Gregory House perched on a swing, feet actually hanging a good few inches off the ground. Wilson vaguely wondered what the hell this sort of swing was doing hanging in a park but was too busy with other matters to give it more thought. “That swing isn’t going to hold you very long.”
“Got some sort of precognitive powers you aren’t telling me about?”
“Yes. A mystical power called Common Sense that you seem to lack.”
House scoffed and banged his cane on the tree’s trunk. “Come on, Jimmy,” he whined.
Wilson rolled his eyes again but found himself moving to give House what he asked for. He gave a few good pushes, darting back as fast as he could to avoid getting slammed by his immature friend since he couldn’t pump with his legs properly. House continued to shout at him to shove harder until Wilson decided he was doing well enough on his own.
As he watched House swinging, suddenly looking at least thirty years younger, Wilson’s gaze wandered to a tree a few feet ahead. That precognitive power he’d mentioned earlier told him that this was a bad idea but, two seconds later, his coat and tie were on the ground and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, Soon enough he was hanging upside down from the first sturdy branch he could find.
House took in the scene with purely academic interest, or at least all that was what he would say if asked. He let the swing stop, picked up his cane and lurched over to Wilson. The younger man’s brown hair was falling into his eyes and House was using every amount of will he possessed to not brush it aside.
“What are you doing?” House asked gruffly.
“Hanging from a tree,” Wilson replied leisurely
Exasperated sigh. “No shit Sherlock.”
“Keep digging, Watson,” was the sighed retort. “If you’re allowed to channel your inner five year old I figured I could as well.”
“More like channelling your inner idiot. If that branch snaps and you break your neck don’t expect me to save you.”
Wilson attempted a shrug and shut his eyes, swinging himself slightly and humming some tune that House knew was going to be going through his head for the rest of the day until he figured out what it was.
House walked back and settled on the swing again, watching little Jimmy Wilson hang from a tree branch. House wondered what the other monkeys would think.
2) Most of the time, I’m clear and focused all around (Most of the Time - Bob Dylan)
Doing his job had always been something that came easy to him, whenever he saw fit to do it that was. He’d always been an analytical mind, taking in what clues he was given and cross matching those with the vast storehouse of knowledge he’d amassed over the years. Once he had something to occupy himself with no force on earth could rip his attention away until he’d figured whatever was bothering him out.
Unfortunately James Wilson had always been an exception to that rule.
House had done all in his power to treat this case like any other. He’d refused to see Wilson, refused to even use his name during differential, still refrained from using his name. He needed to think, his fellows should be able to understand that. He wasn’t going to be any good to Wilson if he was sitting by his bedside doing his best impression of a weeping woman. Wilson needed his brains and his skills more than he needed his hand right now.
Wilson needed him to do his job, but House was finding that it was taking more effort than it should to say in his office and stare at the whiteboard. He also found himself wondering as to whether that usual epiphany of his would ever show up.
3) I’se the b’y that builds the boat and I’se the b’y that sails her (I’se the b’y - Great Big Sea)
House rapped the stern of the sailboat with his cane. “Nice,” he commented quietly as he carefully walked the length of the dock, taking in what appeared to be the manifestation of Wilson’s midlife crisis.
“It had better look nice,” Wilson said as hopped in the boat. “I worked damn hard on her.”
“You built this?!” House had meant to keep the shock and awe out of voice but decided that it was deserved in this case. He knew that Wilson loved boats. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Wilson decided to build one.
“It’s no Bluenose,” Wilson commented as he surveyed his work. “But I am sure she’ll get around the bay well enough.”
House really didn’t have much of a reply to that. Wilson, from the grin on his face, was basking in the fact that he’d managed to take the words out of the great Gregory House’s mouth.
“Want to take her out?” Wilson asked casually as he held out a hand.
The expected comment about the logistics of getting into the boat never left House’s lips. “Sure,” he replied quickly and passed Wilson his cane.
4) It’s just your jive talkin’, you’re telling me lies (Jive Talkin’ - The Bee Gees)
Wilson understood the idea that everybody lied better than most, as could be argued for anyone who spent enough time in the company of Greg House. Sure people like Cameron could continue to fight against that fact but it was a basic human truth. Just like House said.
House would know. He lied as well, if not better, and as often, if not more so, than anyone else. He was just more careful about covering his tracks. His lies, however, could eventually be uncovered by one who was willing to call him on them. This task had often been Wilson’s.
What no one seemed to remember was that Wilson was guilty of lying just as much as House was, and again no one would call his lies for fear of either offending him or shattering their image of the idea that was James Wilson, M.D.
He was thankful to have House around to call him on his bullshit. That way he knew least someone would.
5) I’m not waiting for the answer on a Sunday afternoon (Everyone’s a Junkie - Our Lady Peace)
“Did you ever go to church?”
The mattress creaked as the person being posed the question rolled to face the inquisitor. “Why, Jimmy,” House asked in fake shock “are you looking to convert? It is Sunday after all.”
“I would think most church services would be over by now.”
“Good because I won’t go with you.”
Wilson shifted so he was facing House. “I wouldn’t ask you to even if I wanted to. I’m just curious if you ever went.”
“Did you?”
“Actually, yes,” Wilson answered to his own surprise. “I went once for a teacher’s wedding when I was in elementary school. Catholic ceremony, I think. Long and boring and all I wanted was some cake.”
House snorted. “Sounds like you. Always thinking about food.”
Wilson rolled his eyes. “What about you?”
“Never.”
“Not surprised.”
“Why’d you ask then?”
“No idea. Maybe God told me to.”
“Okay, I’ve filled my quota of religious nut jobs for the next millennia. Don’t make me persecute you right out of this bed.”
“Well we can’t have that can we?”
6) So here we go having the same old fight again (Denial, Revisited - The Offspring)
“Need a refill.”
Wilson didn’t even look up from his desk. “I gave you one last week.”
“Lost the bottle.”
“Yeah, sure. The day you lose a bottle of Vicodin is the day I jump off a balcony.”
“Got a parachute handy? I’m not cleaning that mess up.”
“You wouldn’t clean it up even if I did do it,” Wilson replied easily. “And you’re not getting a script. That one should last you two weeks.”
“I told you I lost the bottle.”
Wilson finally looked up from his desk. “So if I were to search your pockets and your office right now I wouldn’t find the empty bottle for last week’s scrip?”
House met his gaze, challenge written in the depths. “Go right ahead, once you get yourself a search warrant that is.”
Wilson sighed irritably and pulled out his prescription pad. “You lose this one you’re just going to have to deal.”
House took the scrip without a word and Wilson wondered why he didn’t just keep pre written ones on hand. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with the fights that weren't fights.
7) Nicotine, valium, vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol (Feel Good Hit Of The Summer - Queens of the Stone Age)
House stormed into the apartment. Wilson was waiting for him on the couch, eyes staring ahead at the blank television screen. “I see you helped yourself to my file,” he observed without turning his head.
House ignored the twinge of guilt. He gripped Wilson’s psychiatrist’s files tighter and moved to stand in front of the television, reading off the names of the six drugs as he made his way. “You tried each of these all over the past few months?”
Wilson didn’t answer.
“Where?”
“Here, there and everywhere,” Wilson replied mildly. “They’re surprisingly easy to get a hold of.”
“Where?” House insisted.
“The answer should be obvious for at least four of those and the rest don’t matter. There’s really only one you’re worried about.”
House took in the sight of his defeated friend, how had he failed to notice exactly how undone and exhausted Wilson looked? He limped over to the couch and sat down by him saying nothing for a moment before finally asking, “How many times?”
Wilson shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Four,” he finally admitted.
“From me?”
The younger man looked at him with haunted eyes. “Do I really need to answer that?”
8) In the evening when the day is done (In the evening - Led Zeppelin)
Evenings used to be a dull routine. He’d leave the hospital around five or six if there wasn’t a case, watch whatever was on TV that night or whatever TiVo dictated. There would be some form of food, defiantly alcohol, probably some piano playing later and that would be that. Empty evening followed up by an empty bed.
Then his bed started having another occupant on some nights. Sometimes there would still be two of them there in the morning, sometimes not. When Wilson finally checked out of that damned hotel and moved in officially, name added to the lease and everything, House was surprised at how little his evenings changed.
He had an audience for his piano playing, sometimes accompaniment when Wilson could be persuaded to go within three feet of a guitar. Television and bad movies had always been a favourite pastime of theirs, now it was almost an everyday thing. When they drank they drank together, sometimes getting totally plastered to shake off the memory of a deplorable day at the office and sometimes just for the hell of it. Food choices, and quality, were improved. They went out from time to time but House actually preferred to stay at home and eat whatever Wilson decided, or could be persuaded to, make.
The biggest and most noticeable change to his evenings was the company in bed, and it was his favourite one.
9) I was at a funeral the day I realized I wanted to spend my life with you (P.S. You Rock My World - Eels)
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You fell in love with me at your brother’s funeral? That’s just…weird…”
“I knew you’d like it.”
“You know me too well.” House arched an eyebrow. “Seriously, though? You get turned on at funerals?”
Wilson groaned and let his head roll back against the couch. “I don’t know why I bother with you sometimes.”
“Well apparently I can distract you from death,” House reasoned. “And since you are an oncologist and are on first name basis with the Grim Reaper it’s probably a good thing to have me along.”
“Yeah,” Wilson muttered. “By the way, Joe says he’ll get you someday.”
“Tell Joe I’m ready when he is,” House said dismissively. “Oh, and tell him to keep any remotely attractive people from coming to my funeral. The last thing I need to imagine is you getting it on with Cuddy or, God forbid, Chase two seconds after I’m fed to the worms.”
10) One last thing before I shuffle off the planet (Infa-Red - Placebo)
“No more sex for you now. You know that right?”
A twisted smile crossed Wilson as he fought down the sob that desperately wanted to escape. “Don’t worry. After you I have no desire to do it with anyone else.”
“Good,” House whispered. His expression abruptly changed and he grasped Wilson’s hand in his. “Don’t be a baby about this; you knew it was going to happen eventually.”
“Not only does everybody lie but everybody also dies,” Wilson quipped half-heartedly.
“Rub it in why don’t you,” House teased. “Seriously though, no playing Juliet to my Romeo after this.”
“You flatter yourself.”
“I mean it, Jimmy,” House said forcefully. His lips moved in an effort to say some other warning but his voice had left him again.
Wilson grasped his lover’s hand tightly and then nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”
House regarded him for several moments before squeezing Wilson’s hand and finally letting go.
Title: One Last Thing
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit. Just for fun. Please don’t sue
Warnings: Discussion of drug use in drabble seven and implied character death in drabble ten.
Summary: A second go at anamatics’ drabble challenge where you take a song, record the first line before you start, and then write a drabble based on that line before the song ends. Ten drabbles underneath the cut.
1) Swing in this tree (Proudest Monkey - Dave Matthews Band)
“I want a push.”
Wilson rolled his eyes at the sight of Gregory House perched on a swing, feet actually hanging a good few inches off the ground. Wilson vaguely wondered what the hell this sort of swing was doing hanging in a park but was too busy with other matters to give it more thought. “That swing isn’t going to hold you very long.”
“Got some sort of precognitive powers you aren’t telling me about?”
“Yes. A mystical power called Common Sense that you seem to lack.”
House scoffed and banged his cane on the tree’s trunk. “Come on, Jimmy,” he whined.
Wilson rolled his eyes again but found himself moving to give House what he asked for. He gave a few good pushes, darting back as fast as he could to avoid getting slammed by his immature friend since he couldn’t pump with his legs properly. House continued to shout at him to shove harder until Wilson decided he was doing well enough on his own.
As he watched House swinging, suddenly looking at least thirty years younger, Wilson’s gaze wandered to a tree a few feet ahead. That precognitive power he’d mentioned earlier told him that this was a bad idea but, two seconds later, his coat and tie were on the ground and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, Soon enough he was hanging upside down from the first sturdy branch he could find.
House took in the scene with purely academic interest, or at least all that was what he would say if asked. He let the swing stop, picked up his cane and lurched over to Wilson. The younger man’s brown hair was falling into his eyes and House was using every amount of will he possessed to not brush it aside.
“What are you doing?” House asked gruffly.
“Hanging from a tree,” Wilson replied leisurely
Exasperated sigh. “No shit Sherlock.”
“Keep digging, Watson,” was the sighed retort. “If you’re allowed to channel your inner five year old I figured I could as well.”
“More like channelling your inner idiot. If that branch snaps and you break your neck don’t expect me to save you.”
Wilson attempted a shrug and shut his eyes, swinging himself slightly and humming some tune that House knew was going to be going through his head for the rest of the day until he figured out what it was.
House walked back and settled on the swing again, watching little Jimmy Wilson hang from a tree branch. House wondered what the other monkeys would think.
2) Most of the time, I’m clear and focused all around (Most of the Time - Bob Dylan)
Doing his job had always been something that came easy to him, whenever he saw fit to do it that was. He’d always been an analytical mind, taking in what clues he was given and cross matching those with the vast storehouse of knowledge he’d amassed over the years. Once he had something to occupy himself with no force on earth could rip his attention away until he’d figured whatever was bothering him out.
Unfortunately James Wilson had always been an exception to that rule.
House had done all in his power to treat this case like any other. He’d refused to see Wilson, refused to even use his name during differential, still refrained from using his name. He needed to think, his fellows should be able to understand that. He wasn’t going to be any good to Wilson if he was sitting by his bedside doing his best impression of a weeping woman. Wilson needed his brains and his skills more than he needed his hand right now.
Wilson needed him to do his job, but House was finding that it was taking more effort than it should to say in his office and stare at the whiteboard. He also found himself wondering as to whether that usual epiphany of his would ever show up.
3) I’se the b’y that builds the boat and I’se the b’y that sails her (I’se the b’y - Great Big Sea)
House rapped the stern of the sailboat with his cane. “Nice,” he commented quietly as he carefully walked the length of the dock, taking in what appeared to be the manifestation of Wilson’s midlife crisis.
“It had better look nice,” Wilson said as hopped in the boat. “I worked damn hard on her.”
“You built this?!” House had meant to keep the shock and awe out of voice but decided that it was deserved in this case. He knew that Wilson loved boats. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Wilson decided to build one.
“It’s no Bluenose,” Wilson commented as he surveyed his work. “But I am sure she’ll get around the bay well enough.”
House really didn’t have much of a reply to that. Wilson, from the grin on his face, was basking in the fact that he’d managed to take the words out of the great Gregory House’s mouth.
“Want to take her out?” Wilson asked casually as he held out a hand.
The expected comment about the logistics of getting into the boat never left House’s lips. “Sure,” he replied quickly and passed Wilson his cane.
4) It’s just your jive talkin’, you’re telling me lies (Jive Talkin’ - The Bee Gees)
Wilson understood the idea that everybody lied better than most, as could be argued for anyone who spent enough time in the company of Greg House. Sure people like Cameron could continue to fight against that fact but it was a basic human truth. Just like House said.
House would know. He lied as well, if not better, and as often, if not more so, than anyone else. He was just more careful about covering his tracks. His lies, however, could eventually be uncovered by one who was willing to call him on them. This task had often been Wilson’s.
What no one seemed to remember was that Wilson was guilty of lying just as much as House was, and again no one would call his lies for fear of either offending him or shattering their image of the idea that was James Wilson, M.D.
He was thankful to have House around to call him on his bullshit. That way he knew least someone would.
5) I’m not waiting for the answer on a Sunday afternoon (Everyone’s a Junkie - Our Lady Peace)
“Did you ever go to church?”
The mattress creaked as the person being posed the question rolled to face the inquisitor. “Why, Jimmy,” House asked in fake shock “are you looking to convert? It is Sunday after all.”
“I would think most church services would be over by now.”
“Good because I won’t go with you.”
Wilson shifted so he was facing House. “I wouldn’t ask you to even if I wanted to. I’m just curious if you ever went.”
“Did you?”
“Actually, yes,” Wilson answered to his own surprise. “I went once for a teacher’s wedding when I was in elementary school. Catholic ceremony, I think. Long and boring and all I wanted was some cake.”
House snorted. “Sounds like you. Always thinking about food.”
Wilson rolled his eyes. “What about you?”
“Never.”
“Not surprised.”
“Why’d you ask then?”
“No idea. Maybe God told me to.”
“Okay, I’ve filled my quota of religious nut jobs for the next millennia. Don’t make me persecute you right out of this bed.”
“Well we can’t have that can we?”
6) So here we go having the same old fight again (Denial, Revisited - The Offspring)
“Need a refill.”
Wilson didn’t even look up from his desk. “I gave you one last week.”
“Lost the bottle.”
“Yeah, sure. The day you lose a bottle of Vicodin is the day I jump off a balcony.”
“Got a parachute handy? I’m not cleaning that mess up.”
“You wouldn’t clean it up even if I did do it,” Wilson replied easily. “And you’re not getting a script. That one should last you two weeks.”
“I told you I lost the bottle.”
Wilson finally looked up from his desk. “So if I were to search your pockets and your office right now I wouldn’t find the empty bottle for last week’s scrip?”
House met his gaze, challenge written in the depths. “Go right ahead, once you get yourself a search warrant that is.”
Wilson sighed irritably and pulled out his prescription pad. “You lose this one you’re just going to have to deal.”
House took the scrip without a word and Wilson wondered why he didn’t just keep pre written ones on hand. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with the fights that weren't fights.
7) Nicotine, valium, vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol (Feel Good Hit Of The Summer - Queens of the Stone Age)
House stormed into the apartment. Wilson was waiting for him on the couch, eyes staring ahead at the blank television screen. “I see you helped yourself to my file,” he observed without turning his head.
House ignored the twinge of guilt. He gripped Wilson’s psychiatrist’s files tighter and moved to stand in front of the television, reading off the names of the six drugs as he made his way. “You tried each of these all over the past few months?”
Wilson didn’t answer.
“Where?”
“Here, there and everywhere,” Wilson replied mildly. “They’re surprisingly easy to get a hold of.”
“Where?” House insisted.
“The answer should be obvious for at least four of those and the rest don’t matter. There’s really only one you’re worried about.”
House took in the sight of his defeated friend, how had he failed to notice exactly how undone and exhausted Wilson looked? He limped over to the couch and sat down by him saying nothing for a moment before finally asking, “How many times?”
Wilson shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Four,” he finally admitted.
“From me?”
The younger man looked at him with haunted eyes. “Do I really need to answer that?”
8) In the evening when the day is done (In the evening - Led Zeppelin)
Evenings used to be a dull routine. He’d leave the hospital around five or six if there wasn’t a case, watch whatever was on TV that night or whatever TiVo dictated. There would be some form of food, defiantly alcohol, probably some piano playing later and that would be that. Empty evening followed up by an empty bed.
Then his bed started having another occupant on some nights. Sometimes there would still be two of them there in the morning, sometimes not. When Wilson finally checked out of that damned hotel and moved in officially, name added to the lease and everything, House was surprised at how little his evenings changed.
He had an audience for his piano playing, sometimes accompaniment when Wilson could be persuaded to go within three feet of a guitar. Television and bad movies had always been a favourite pastime of theirs, now it was almost an everyday thing. When they drank they drank together, sometimes getting totally plastered to shake off the memory of a deplorable day at the office and sometimes just for the hell of it. Food choices, and quality, were improved. They went out from time to time but House actually preferred to stay at home and eat whatever Wilson decided, or could be persuaded to, make.
The biggest and most noticeable change to his evenings was the company in bed, and it was his favourite one.
9) I was at a funeral the day I realized I wanted to spend my life with you (P.S. You Rock My World - Eels)
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You fell in love with me at your brother’s funeral? That’s just…weird…”
“I knew you’d like it.”
“You know me too well.” House arched an eyebrow. “Seriously, though? You get turned on at funerals?”
Wilson groaned and let his head roll back against the couch. “I don’t know why I bother with you sometimes.”
“Well apparently I can distract you from death,” House reasoned. “And since you are an oncologist and are on first name basis with the Grim Reaper it’s probably a good thing to have me along.”
“Yeah,” Wilson muttered. “By the way, Joe says he’ll get you someday.”
“Tell Joe I’m ready when he is,” House said dismissively. “Oh, and tell him to keep any remotely attractive people from coming to my funeral. The last thing I need to imagine is you getting it on with Cuddy or, God forbid, Chase two seconds after I’m fed to the worms.”
10) One last thing before I shuffle off the planet (Infa-Red - Placebo)
“No more sex for you now. You know that right?”
A twisted smile crossed Wilson as he fought down the sob that desperately wanted to escape. “Don’t worry. After you I have no desire to do it with anyone else.”
“Good,” House whispered. His expression abruptly changed and he grasped Wilson’s hand in his. “Don’t be a baby about this; you knew it was going to happen eventually.”
“Not only does everybody lie but everybody also dies,” Wilson quipped half-heartedly.
“Rub it in why don’t you,” House teased. “Seriously though, no playing Juliet to my Romeo after this.”
“You flatter yourself.”
“I mean it, Jimmy,” House said forcefully. His lips moved in an effort to say some other warning but his voice had left him again.
Wilson grasped his lover’s hand tightly and then nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”
House regarded him for several moments before squeezing Wilson’s hand and finally letting go.