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Okay, here is the complete Part 1 of the House-gets-a-kitty fic! It--the kitten as well as the story--shall have a proper name by the end of this chapter :)
Read away and enjoy!
Note: Will contain light slash in later chapters if I can help it at all!
Chapter 1
House is in the process of pouring himself a drink when a hesitant knock sounds on his door. He doesn’t feel like company. He never does. Everyone knows this, but there is only one person who ignores that not-so-polite request-James Wilson.
Wilson takes a step back when he hears someone readying to open the door. He is carrying a plain brown box and stands sideways in an effort to protect it. Once House had mistook him for a salesman in the poor light, and he didn’t want to have the wrath of the cane damage his package. The box.
“Julie kick you out again?” House says in way of greeting.
“She has never kicked me out. We have had a-disagreement, and I left to get some fresh air.” With a frustrated glare, he pushes past his friend and sets the box down on a magazine cluttered table. He gestures to the box. “I brought you something.” He puts his easy-going smile back in place as he crosses his arms.
“Wouldn’t happen to be a mail order bride in there, would it?” A scratching sound comes from within the box and he frowns at it. “And why is my new bride trying to get out? Can I shake it?”
“I don’t think it would appreciate that.” Wilson laughs at the look on House’s face. “Open it already!” he exclaims impatiently.
With a sideways glance, he sits down on the sofa and gives the box a long hard look. Only one way to find out what is in it. He snaps the little pieces of Scotch tape holding the flaps together and peers inside. A pair of blue eyes stare back at him. A staring contest begins. “What is that?” he asks, interested, amused, and disgusted, all at the same time.
Wilson walks over to the box and lifts out a fluffy gray and black…
“Kitten?” House states the obvious as the small creature is placed on his lap. It mewls at him, wanting some attention after its confinement. He makes no move to touch it as he looks down at it. “Why is there a kitten on me?” he asks as the kitten makes a leap at his shirt-sleeve and tumbles off his lap onto the couch cushions.
“I figured you could use the company,” Wilson says with a shrug, doing nothing to hide his grin.
“That’s what I have you for.”
Wilson turns to head out the door.
“Where are you going?” House asks, a touch of panic in his voice.
“To get his stuff.”
“He has stuff?”
Wilson nods, raising his eyebrows and speaking very slowly. “He needs his food, some toys, and his litter box.”
House wrinkles his nose and waits for Wilson to tell him that it is all a joke. He is still waiting when Wilson returns with several large sacks. When he leaned them up against the couch and turns again towards the door, House asks, “Now where are you going?”
“Home.”
“But-what am I supposed to do with it?”
“Set his food dish up where you aren’t going to step in it, his litter box where you aren’t going to smell it, and play with him if you value your furniture.”
House blinks.
“What are you going to name him?” Wilson asks, changing the subject.
House sighs and watches the critter leap at the coffee table, miss and fall on the floor where it squeaked and mewled in disgust. “Wilson.”
“Hmmm?”
“The kitten. Going to call it Wilson.” He smirks.
“Wilson it is,” he sighed. No point in arguing. “Isn’t that going to get confusing?”
“The cat will learn soon enough when I am addressing him.”
“I was talking about for me.”
“Wilson stop playing under the table. Wilson stop scratching the furniture. Wilson don’t play in the litter box. Wilson, if you give me fleas I will kill you.” He raises his eyebrows.
“Point taken.”
***
“I hope you are naming him after me because I am cuddly and loveable.” Wilson deadpans.
House follows his gaze to look at the newly-named-Wilson. All he can see of the kitten are his tail, back paws, and butt as he slowly slides down the side of the couch. Then he looks back at his friend, giving him a pointed stare.
The kitten now sits on the floor, looking from one human to the other: The one who stuffed him into that small box, and the other who’s smell is on everything. The two humans seem to like each other a great deal. He is surprised that they aren’t rubbing up against each other with the type of vibe the two are putting off.
The kitten mews, cutting off House mid-snipe. Wilson stands up and picks up the kitten, depositing him back on the couch. He sits down and watches the kitten dig it’s little claws into House’s shirt and scale him like a mountain climber.
Not thinking that the man would allow him to climb up his face, Wilson settles down on a shoulder and curls up.
“I think he likes you,” Wilson says, grinning.
“I have a way with Wilsons.”
This story will now be called Wilson, House, and Wilson :P
Read away and enjoy!
Note: Will contain light slash in later chapters if I can help it at all!
Chapter 1
House is in the process of pouring himself a drink when a hesitant knock sounds on his door. He doesn’t feel like company. He never does. Everyone knows this, but there is only one person who ignores that not-so-polite request-James Wilson.
Wilson takes a step back when he hears someone readying to open the door. He is carrying a plain brown box and stands sideways in an effort to protect it. Once House had mistook him for a salesman in the poor light, and he didn’t want to have the wrath of the cane damage his package. The box.
“Julie kick you out again?” House says in way of greeting.
“She has never kicked me out. We have had a-disagreement, and I left to get some fresh air.” With a frustrated glare, he pushes past his friend and sets the box down on a magazine cluttered table. He gestures to the box. “I brought you something.” He puts his easy-going smile back in place as he crosses his arms.
“Wouldn’t happen to be a mail order bride in there, would it?” A scratching sound comes from within the box and he frowns at it. “And why is my new bride trying to get out? Can I shake it?”
“I don’t think it would appreciate that.” Wilson laughs at the look on House’s face. “Open it already!” he exclaims impatiently.
With a sideways glance, he sits down on the sofa and gives the box a long hard look. Only one way to find out what is in it. He snaps the little pieces of Scotch tape holding the flaps together and peers inside. A pair of blue eyes stare back at him. A staring contest begins. “What is that?” he asks, interested, amused, and disgusted, all at the same time.
Wilson walks over to the box and lifts out a fluffy gray and black…
“Kitten?” House states the obvious as the small creature is placed on his lap. It mewls at him, wanting some attention after its confinement. He makes no move to touch it as he looks down at it. “Why is there a kitten on me?” he asks as the kitten makes a leap at his shirt-sleeve and tumbles off his lap onto the couch cushions.
“I figured you could use the company,” Wilson says with a shrug, doing nothing to hide his grin.
“That’s what I have you for.”
Wilson turns to head out the door.
“Where are you going?” House asks, a touch of panic in his voice.
“To get his stuff.”
“He has stuff?”
Wilson nods, raising his eyebrows and speaking very slowly. “He needs his food, some toys, and his litter box.”
House wrinkles his nose and waits for Wilson to tell him that it is all a joke. He is still waiting when Wilson returns with several large sacks. When he leaned them up against the couch and turns again towards the door, House asks, “Now where are you going?”
“Home.”
“But-what am I supposed to do with it?”
“Set his food dish up where you aren’t going to step in it, his litter box where you aren’t going to smell it, and play with him if you value your furniture.”
House blinks.
“What are you going to name him?” Wilson asks, changing the subject.
House sighs and watches the critter leap at the coffee table, miss and fall on the floor where it squeaked and mewled in disgust. “Wilson.”
“Hmmm?”
“The kitten. Going to call it Wilson.” He smirks.
“Wilson it is,” he sighed. No point in arguing. “Isn’t that going to get confusing?”
“The cat will learn soon enough when I am addressing him.”
“I was talking about for me.”
“Wilson stop playing under the table. Wilson stop scratching the furniture. Wilson don’t play in the litter box. Wilson, if you give me fleas I will kill you.” He raises his eyebrows.
“Point taken.”
***
“I hope you are naming him after me because I am cuddly and loveable.” Wilson deadpans.
House follows his gaze to look at the newly-named-Wilson. All he can see of the kitten are his tail, back paws, and butt as he slowly slides down the side of the couch. Then he looks back at his friend, giving him a pointed stare.
The kitten now sits on the floor, looking from one human to the other: The one who stuffed him into that small box, and the other who’s smell is on everything. The two humans seem to like each other a great deal. He is surprised that they aren’t rubbing up against each other with the type of vibe the two are putting off.
The kitten mews, cutting off House mid-snipe. Wilson stands up and picks up the kitten, depositing him back on the couch. He sits down and watches the kitten dig it’s little claws into House’s shirt and scale him like a mountain climber.
Not thinking that the man would allow him to climb up his face, Wilson settles down on a shoulder and curls up.
“I think he likes you,” Wilson says, grinning.
“I have a way with Wilsons.”
This story will now be called Wilson, House, and Wilson :P