A Year In The Life Days 4-7 (November 25-28, 2007) H/W. 900 words total.
Title: A Year In The Life: Three AM/It's Monday And I Have Coffee/Playing The Game/Steve Is Sweet
Fandom/Characters: House/Gregory House and James Wilson
Rating/Warnings: Gen. No warnings
Timeline/Spoilers: Days 4-7: 11/25/07-11/28/07.
Prompt: 365_prompts: Key/Coffee/Work/Rat
Word Count:900 total
Previous Days: A Year In The LifeNotes: Feedback is love. Please take a moment to tell me what you think.
Day 4: Three AM (Sunday, November 24, 2007) Key/175 Words
"House, it's three am," Wilson mumbled into the phone.
"Three Thirty," House countered, argumentative and belligerent.
Also known as drunk, Wilson sighed. He sat up, hand pawing at his eyes, and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "Where are you? I'm not bailing you out till morning."
"I'm home," House answered a little too cheerfully. "I lost my keys. Need you t' come let me in."
Wilson flopped back down on his pillows and flung his arm up over his face. "Not till the sun comes up."
"Fine. I'll come over there."
The threat was anything but idle. Wilson sighed again, sat up again. "Give me half an hour." He could see the smirk on House's face as he hung up his phone. "Bastard," he sneered at the receiver, back in its cradle by his bed.
looked longingly at his pillows, sighed for good measure, and lumbered to his feet and into the bathroom. He splashed cold water in his face and grabbed a granola bar on his way out the door.
Day 5: It's Monday And I Have Coffee (Monday, November 25, 2007) Coffee/250 Words
"Good morning, Dr Wilson." The office door opened, first a cane, then the rest of House hobbled in.
Wilson scrubbed a hand over his face. "Good morning, Dr House." He made a thoughtful face. "Why aren't you wallowing in your misery?"
"Because it's Monday."
"Right," Wilson responded. "You do know that doesn't make sense." He set his pen down, unable to work on his charting while House was in the room.
"And," House said demonstratively. "And, I have coffee."
Wilson looked to House's left hand. He carried a brown paper bag with twine handles. He set it on the end of Wilson's desk, and all but dared Wilson to try to get a peek before he reached inside. Wilson resisted, and only looked at House, waiting.
Starbucks. Sinful and fattening. Whipped cream and caramel sauce. Wilson's mouth watered as House drew the straw to his lips. House was a bastard, but he wasn't so cruel that he would indulge in front of Wilson, practically mocking him…would he?
He sat down in the chair opposite Wilson, and raised his cane to bat Wilson's hand away from the bag. "Say please."
"What?"
"Say please." The cane slipped under the arch of the handle, ready to snatch the bag away.
Wilson gave him a hard stare, and after a moment, lost the battle. "Please."
House withdrew the cane. "You're no fun."
"Thank you." Wilson carefully moved the bag to his side of the desk and inhaled deeply, absorbing the rich aroma of decadent coffee.
Day 6: Playing The Game (Tuesday, November 26, 2007) Work/250 Words
He just started an email when the office door opened. "Who do you think I should fire?" House asked, his step slightly heavier on the cane side.
Wilson minimized the email window and leaned back in his chair. Only House would ask who to fire, rather than who to hire. He'd whittled some thirty fellowship applicants down to four, with only two spots on his team.
"I was wondering when you'd ask me."
House shrugged. He ambled to the far side of the office, looking out and into the courtyard. The tree out there, planted in honor of the hospital's founding father, swayed in the breeze. Wilson shivered.
"Well?" House rubbed his forehead with his thumb.
"You tell me, House." He'd be playing a dangerous game, giving House advice on his team. The decision had to be his, and his alone. Offering his input would open himself up to ridicule, and provide House a distraction.
House flipped the light switch off and on, off and on. Wilson brought his email back up and resumed typing. House continued to flip the switch. "Cut Throat Bitch has to go."
"Because she's good?"
"House turned around, walked to the door. "Because she doesn't know when to quit playing the game." Steel blue eyes met brown for a fraction of a second, and then he was out the door, the thump- step -thump of his uneven gait echoing on the tile floor. Wilson frowned at the door, and refocused his attention to his email.
Day 7: Steve Is Sweet (Wednesday, November 26, 2007) Rat/225 Words
"I can't believe you still have this thing," Wilson nudged the rat cage with his foot to make room for his feet on the table.
"Steve is not a thing," House tsked. Sitting on the couch beside Wilson, he opened the cage door. He propped his feet on the table, crossed at the ankles, creating a bridge for Steve to cross.
Steve nipped at House's jeans along the way, but climbed onto House's thigh. Weight on his back legs, he used both front paws to clean his face. "See? He's sweet."
"Yes, House, a rat is sweet."
"He is," House insisted. "When they clean their face like that it means they're comfortable and happy." Steve sneezed and continued his climb, tiny paws gripping House's shirt until he reached House's shoulder.
Wilson rolled his eyes and picked up the remote to turn on the TV. House plucked Steve off his shoulders and held him out in front of Wilson. "He wants you to hold him."
"No, he doesn't. He wants you to put him back in his cage so he can eat his seeds."
House made his eyes big. "Did he tell you that?" Wilson narrowed his eyes in answer. House smoothed a finger over the top of Steve's head and set him back on his lap so Steve could climb up to his shoulder again.
Fandom/Characters: House/Gregory House and James Wilson
Rating/Warnings: Gen. No warnings
Timeline/Spoilers: Days 4-7: 11/25/07-11/28/07.
Prompt: 365_prompts: Key/Coffee/Work/Rat
Word Count:900 total
Previous Days: A Year In The LifeNotes: Feedback is love. Please take a moment to tell me what you think.
Day 4: Three AM (Sunday, November 24, 2007) Key/175 Words
"House, it's three am," Wilson mumbled into the phone.
"Three Thirty," House countered, argumentative and belligerent.
Also known as drunk, Wilson sighed. He sat up, hand pawing at his eyes, and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "Where are you? I'm not bailing you out till morning."
"I'm home," House answered a little too cheerfully. "I lost my keys. Need you t' come let me in."
Wilson flopped back down on his pillows and flung his arm up over his face. "Not till the sun comes up."
"Fine. I'll come over there."
The threat was anything but idle. Wilson sighed again, sat up again. "Give me half an hour." He could see the smirk on House's face as he hung up his phone. "Bastard," he sneered at the receiver, back in its cradle by his bed.
looked longingly at his pillows, sighed for good measure, and lumbered to his feet and into the bathroom. He splashed cold water in his face and grabbed a granola bar on his way out the door.
Day 5: It's Monday And I Have Coffee (Monday, November 25, 2007) Coffee/250 Words
"Good morning, Dr Wilson." The office door opened, first a cane, then the rest of House hobbled in.
Wilson scrubbed a hand over his face. "Good morning, Dr House." He made a thoughtful face. "Why aren't you wallowing in your misery?"
"Because it's Monday."
"Right," Wilson responded. "You do know that doesn't make sense." He set his pen down, unable to work on his charting while House was in the room.
"And," House said demonstratively. "And, I have coffee."
Wilson looked to House's left hand. He carried a brown paper bag with twine handles. He set it on the end of Wilson's desk, and all but dared Wilson to try to get a peek before he reached inside. Wilson resisted, and only looked at House, waiting.
Starbucks. Sinful and fattening. Whipped cream and caramel sauce. Wilson's mouth watered as House drew the straw to his lips. House was a bastard, but he wasn't so cruel that he would indulge in front of Wilson, practically mocking him…would he?
He sat down in the chair opposite Wilson, and raised his cane to bat Wilson's hand away from the bag. "Say please."
"What?"
"Say please." The cane slipped under the arch of the handle, ready to snatch the bag away.
Wilson gave him a hard stare, and after a moment, lost the battle. "Please."
House withdrew the cane. "You're no fun."
"Thank you." Wilson carefully moved the bag to his side of the desk and inhaled deeply, absorbing the rich aroma of decadent coffee.
Day 6: Playing The Game (Tuesday, November 26, 2007) Work/250 Words
He just started an email when the office door opened. "Who do you think I should fire?" House asked, his step slightly heavier on the cane side.
Wilson minimized the email window and leaned back in his chair. Only House would ask who to fire, rather than who to hire. He'd whittled some thirty fellowship applicants down to four, with only two spots on his team.
"I was wondering when you'd ask me."
House shrugged. He ambled to the far side of the office, looking out and into the courtyard. The tree out there, planted in honor of the hospital's founding father, swayed in the breeze. Wilson shivered.
"Well?" House rubbed his forehead with his thumb.
"You tell me, House." He'd be playing a dangerous game, giving House advice on his team. The decision had to be his, and his alone. Offering his input would open himself up to ridicule, and provide House a distraction.
House flipped the light switch off and on, off and on. Wilson brought his email back up and resumed typing. House continued to flip the switch. "Cut Throat Bitch has to go."
"Because she's good?"
"House turned around, walked to the door. "Because she doesn't know when to quit playing the game." Steel blue eyes met brown for a fraction of a second, and then he was out the door, the thump- step -thump of his uneven gait echoing on the tile floor. Wilson frowned at the door, and refocused his attention to his email.
Day 7: Steve Is Sweet (Wednesday, November 26, 2007) Rat/225 Words
"I can't believe you still have this thing," Wilson nudged the rat cage with his foot to make room for his feet on the table.
"Steve is not a thing," House tsked. Sitting on the couch beside Wilson, he opened the cage door. He propped his feet on the table, crossed at the ankles, creating a bridge for Steve to cross.
Steve nipped at House's jeans along the way, but climbed onto House's thigh. Weight on his back legs, he used both front paws to clean his face. "See? He's sweet."
"Yes, House, a rat is sweet."
"He is," House insisted. "When they clean their face like that it means they're comfortable and happy." Steve sneezed and continued his climb, tiny paws gripping House's shirt until he reached House's shoulder.
Wilson rolled his eyes and picked up the remote to turn on the TV. House plucked Steve off his shoulders and held him out in front of Wilson. "He wants you to hold him."
"No, he doesn't. He wants you to put him back in his cage so he can eat his seeds."
House made his eyes big. "Did he tell you that?" Wilson narrowed his eyes in answer. House smoothed a finger over the top of Steve's head and set him back on his lap so Steve could climb up to his shoulder again.