requested ficlet: armedwithacane!House for eric_weiss
Three Legs Are Better Than Two [393 words]
He's sitting at a table in the cafeteria, chewing down a dry Reuben sandwich, when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he looks up.
"You're actually taking your lunch in an area with people," Wilson says, taking a seat across from House. "Do I have reason to be concerned?"
House doesn't bother chewing first before he replies. "Bored." He mutters around the bite of sandwich.
"Ah," Comes the reply. "Normally your activities when bored are along the lines of plotting world domination or practicing your sniper shots off the rooftop."
"I like to mix it up," He says. "What the hell do you care, anyways?"
"Well," Wilson says. "If you're going to start shooting people, I think I should stay home from work."
House snorts. "I wouldn't shoot you, moron," He rolls his eyes. "You'd be up there handing me the ammo."
"Right. Because I condone shooting people."
House smirks and arches an eyebrow. "Well you never know," He says, opening his sandwich and then digging in his pocket for the bottle of Vicodin on him at all times. "Boy wonder oncologist--"
"I am not the boy wonder--"
"Oh, shut up." He says. "You are the boy wonder and you know it. Cameron's all gaga eyed over you already and what, you've been nailing her for two weeks? Have you talked to your lawyer at all yet?"
When all that's heard is silence, House looks up from folding two Vicodin in a napkin at his best friend, who is about four different shades of pink. "What," He says. "You embarassed because I know you're nailing Cameron or are you embarassed because you don't want to admit that your marriage is toast?"
Wilson looks down.
House shrugs and raises his cane, thwacking it sharply against the table top.
The entire room jumps.
Wilson nearly clears his seat, then eyes his best friend. "What the hell was that for?"
"The silence." House says.
"The silence." Wilson says as well, almost incredulous.
House nods and unfolds the napkin with the now crushed up Vicodin inside and then sprinkles the bits onto the sandwich, while his friend looks on in disbelief.
"Rapid delivery system?"
"No," House says. "I just wanted to look cooler."
Wilson facepalms.
House takes the opportunity to sneak his cane up and hook it around Wilson's soda, dragging it closer to take a sip and act as if it was his all along.
Maybe having a cane around wasn't such a bad thing afterall.
He's sitting at a table in the cafeteria, chewing down a dry Reuben sandwich, when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he looks up.
"You're actually taking your lunch in an area with people," Wilson says, taking a seat across from House. "Do I have reason to be concerned?"
House doesn't bother chewing first before he replies. "Bored." He mutters around the bite of sandwich.
"Ah," Comes the reply. "Normally your activities when bored are along the lines of plotting world domination or practicing your sniper shots off the rooftop."
"I like to mix it up," He says. "What the hell do you care, anyways?"
"Well," Wilson says. "If you're going to start shooting people, I think I should stay home from work."
House snorts. "I wouldn't shoot you, moron," He rolls his eyes. "You'd be up there handing me the ammo."
"Right. Because I condone shooting people."
House smirks and arches an eyebrow. "Well you never know," He says, opening his sandwich and then digging in his pocket for the bottle of Vicodin on him at all times. "Boy wonder oncologist--"
"I am not the boy wonder--"
"Oh, shut up." He says. "You are the boy wonder and you know it. Cameron's all gaga eyed over you already and what, you've been nailing her for two weeks? Have you talked to your lawyer at all yet?"
When all that's heard is silence, House looks up from folding two Vicodin in a napkin at his best friend, who is about four different shades of pink. "What," He says. "You embarassed because I know you're nailing Cameron or are you embarassed because you don't want to admit that your marriage is toast?"
Wilson looks down.
House shrugs and raises his cane, thwacking it sharply against the table top.
The entire room jumps.
Wilson nearly clears his seat, then eyes his best friend. "What the hell was that for?"
"The silence." House says.
"The silence." Wilson says as well, almost incredulous.
House nods and unfolds the napkin with the now crushed up Vicodin inside and then sprinkles the bits onto the sandwich, while his friend looks on in disbelief.
"Rapid delivery system?"
"No," House says. "I just wanted to look cooler."
Wilson facepalms.
House takes the opportunity to sneak his cane up and hook it around Wilson's soda, dragging it closer to take a sip and act as if it was his all along.
Maybe having a cane around wasn't such a bad thing afterall.