Paging! Need a hand with some fic...COMPLETE, thanks.
EDIT: Thanks, guys. I've now finished it. http://community.livejournal.com/housefic/880291.html#cutid1 is where you can see it if you're interested. Turned out a lot darker than I planned.
House leaned against the doorframe and watched Wilson teaching a knot of sickly kids how to play dreidel in the playroom. Eight children, ages going from six up to about thirteen, clustered on beanbags and padded stools around a bright red plastic table. It had been made for kids, so Wilson was hunched over it, his knees sticking out from either side. Looking, House thought, like he'd stepped into 'It's A Small World After All' at Disneyland. Wilson's head was bent, his hair hanging in front of his forehead. A pile of gold foil-wrapped coins was heaped in the centre of the tabletop.
"Now, this side," Wilson explained, pointing to the spinning top's facing panel, "means that you take half the pile..."
He didn't raise his head enough to see House approach. House didn't alert anyone to his presence until he arrived at the other end of the table, just behind the kids. He frowned at the scene.
"Didn't think you people were into proselytizing."
"House," Wilson said, with an automatic weariness. House grimaced at the kids.
"Doctor Jimmy trying to foist you off with spinning tops? Goddammit, Wilson; break into the Oncology funds and get them a Playstation."
"House, I..."
"Sorry, kids. This is the part where he has to tell you he spent the money on a trip to Jamaica. It's alright, Wilson, no-one blames you. I know you..."
"House!" Wilson tried to keep both annoyance and amusement out of his voice and failed with both, "I'm busy here. Whatever you want can wait, right?"
"Your intonation says that that wasn't a question. But I'll take the liberty of answering anyway: yes, it can wait. But so can I."
And House lowered himself onto a tiny vacant plastic chair which reached less than halfway up his back. Wilson almost burst out laughing at the sight of House's knees so nearly touching his ears, then straightened his face.
"Go away."
No reaction. Wilson took a deep breath.
"I am just going to ignore you." And he continued with the lesson.
It was kind of hard to explain the game when House kept leaning forward and poking him with his cane.
House leaned against the doorframe and watched Wilson teaching a knot of sickly kids how to play dreidel in the playroom. Eight children, ages going from six up to about thirteen, clustered on beanbags and padded stools around a bright red plastic table. It had been made for kids, so Wilson was hunched over it, his knees sticking out from either side. Looking, House thought, like he'd stepped into 'It's A Small World After All' at Disneyland. Wilson's head was bent, his hair hanging in front of his forehead. A pile of gold foil-wrapped coins was heaped in the centre of the tabletop.
"Now, this side," Wilson explained, pointing to the spinning top's facing panel, "means that you take half the pile..."
He didn't raise his head enough to see House approach. House didn't alert anyone to his presence until he arrived at the other end of the table, just behind the kids. He frowned at the scene.
"Didn't think you people were into proselytizing."
"House," Wilson said, with an automatic weariness. House grimaced at the kids.
"Doctor Jimmy trying to foist you off with spinning tops? Goddammit, Wilson; break into the Oncology funds and get them a Playstation."
"House, I..."
"Sorry, kids. This is the part where he has to tell you he spent the money on a trip to Jamaica. It's alright, Wilson, no-one blames you. I know you..."
"House!" Wilson tried to keep both annoyance and amusement out of his voice and failed with both, "I'm busy here. Whatever you want can wait, right?"
"Your intonation says that that wasn't a question. But I'll take the liberty of answering anyway: yes, it can wait. But so can I."
And House lowered himself onto a tiny vacant plastic chair which reached less than halfway up his back. Wilson almost burst out laughing at the sight of House's knees so nearly touching his ears, then straightened his face.
"Go away."
No reaction. Wilson took a deep breath.
"I am just going to ignore you." And he continued with the lesson.
It was kind of hard to explain the game when House kept leaning forward and poking him with his cane.