How Wilson Got to the Mayo Clinic
Flash ficlet based on my prompt from the White Elephant Exchange at sick_wilson.
No warnings, no adult content, just a single moment in post-finale time.
_________
"Can't win if you don't roll the dice," House said, and he draped his latest prize over the rear-view of their "new" aging Buick. House had picked the thing up in Atlantic City. Probably won it on a bet. Wilson hadn't asked. He'd been conserving his energy for things that actually mattered.
The plushie dice bounced against each other and came to rest with an odd sort of dignity, like a talisman of the deity of kitsch. Wilson turned one of them so it no longer showed him snake eyes.
"House, are you sure? I ... could do this alone. If you get caught --"
"Not gonna happen. We're on a mission from God." House reached into his jacket, pulled something out, and held it in front of Wilson's chest. In the dark, Wilson couldn't properly see what it was until he had the thing -- things -- in his hands.
A crumpled pack of Marlboros and a new pair of cheap wayfarers. Wilson checked the Buick's dashboard lights.
"Full tank of gas," he said.
"Half a pack of cigarettes," House answered. He cranked the engine. "It's night, and you're wearing sunglasses. Not me, because I have to drive, and I'm not a complete moron."
Wilson peeled the MADE IN CHINA sticker from the lenses, and put the glasses on.
"Hit it."
No warnings, no adult content, just a single moment in post-finale time.
_________
"Can't win if you don't roll the dice," House said, and he draped his latest prize over the rear-view of their "new" aging Buick. House had picked the thing up in Atlantic City. Probably won it on a bet. Wilson hadn't asked. He'd been conserving his energy for things that actually mattered.
The plushie dice bounced against each other and came to rest with an odd sort of dignity, like a talisman of the deity of kitsch. Wilson turned one of them so it no longer showed him snake eyes.
"House, are you sure? I ... could do this alone. If you get caught --"
"Not gonna happen. We're on a mission from God." House reached into his jacket, pulled something out, and held it in front of Wilson's chest. In the dark, Wilson couldn't properly see what it was until he had the thing -- things -- in his hands.
A crumpled pack of Marlboros and a new pair of cheap wayfarers. Wilson checked the Buick's dashboard lights.
"Full tank of gas," he said.
"Half a pack of cigarettes," House answered. He cranked the engine. "It's night, and you're wearing sunglasses. Not me, because I have to drive, and I'm not a complete moron."
Wilson peeled the MADE IN CHINA sticker from the lenses, and put the glasses on.
"Hit it."