Fic : A Nice Peaceful Summer
Title: A Nice Peaceful Summer
Characters: House, Wilson
Rating: PG
Spoilers: If you haven't seen the finale (is there anyone who hasn't?)
Words: Approx. 900
Summary: Wilson is looking forward to a better summer this year. A crack-ish meta-ish fic.
A/N - With thanks to damigella_314 for reading and encouragement :)
House carefully cleaned some gravel out of a long graze on Wilson's cheek while Wilson squirmed under his touch.
"Ouch! "
"Stop complaining. I need to get this clean." House dabbed at the expanse of flesh happily, nothing improved his mood like tendering to an injured Wilson.
"I can't believe this, on our first day on the run... " Wilson scowled at the totally inadequate helmet, sitting in the corner where Wilson had hurled it when they'd finally found a cabin to stay for the night.
" We're not on the run, I'm on the run, " House pointed out, "you're just some dying guy going through his bucket list." House finished cleaning the cut and ran his eyes over Wilson, looking for any other wounds he could help heal. "If you hadn't wiped out on the first corner you wouldn't have gotten hurt. I thought you knew how to ride."
"Why would you think that? Have I been turning up to the hospital in a Harley ever day for the last twenty years? Or have I been driving a volvo, which is a safe car, not like those... " Wilson gestured wildly at the window, in the approximate direction of the bikes, "... like those death traps out there."
"Hey, don't say that, she'll hear you." House looked out at the bikes, one now dented and much the worse for wear.
"Tomorrow I am going down to the rental office and getting us a car. A corvette was good enough for our last road trip, it can be good enough for this one. And I'm getting a razor too." He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "I may be dying but there's no reason I have to look like a bum."
House thought he might point out that Wilson hadn't fared much better in the corvette either, driving the thing off the road, through a fence and into the middle of some poor farmer's field. It was lucky for them that there'd been no police around. But ever since he'd found out he was dying Wilson had been surprisingly feisty, as well as being all 'me,me.me' so House thought it was safer not to mention it. There was a bottle of beer on the table and the cabin did have a rather large window.
First aid finished with House realised he no longer had an excuse to be holding onto Wilson and reluctantly let go. Wilson stomped over to the bed and flung himself down on it.
"This sort of sucks you know, House," he said, dramatically placing a hand over his forehead.
"I don't know what you're complaining about," House said, he was getting annoyed by Wilson's continual bitching, "I'm the one whose whole life is ruined, I can never go back home, I'll never work as a doctor again, and I had to listen to Cameron, not to mention your dead girlfriend, yapping at me while I was sitting on my ass in a burning building, my lungs filling with smoke, and then I had half the damn building fall on me. You don't hear me whining."
"Yes, your life is so hard isn't it, House? I have it easy compared to you," Wilson sat up on the bed and pulled an exaggerated, 'oh, I just had an epiphany' face. "Oh, wait, no, I remember now, I'm dying."
"Yeah, yeah, pull out the cancer card again, it's not getting old or anything." House sat down on the edge of the bed and started to pull his boots off.
"What are you doing?" Wilson asked, eyeing him nervously.
"Coming to bed."
Wilson looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time "There's only one bed in here!"
"Of course, cabins in the middle of nowhere only ever have one bed. And there's never any air conditioning so it will probably get cold in the middle of the night and we'll have to share body heat." I hope House added silently.
"Well," Wilson sighed, "at least there's one good thing about my having the world's most deadly thymoma, those dreadful people should leave me alone this year. I should be safe from unfortunate camping accidents, getting attacked by swarms of killer bees, prowling coyotes or stray bears. No fevers, no drowning incidents, no car accidents, no shootings, no large heavy objects falling on me, nothing but a great road trip."
House quickly kicked his laptop underneath the bed and shoved his 'Camp Counsellor' badge into the bedside drawer.
"Yeah, that will be good," he said unconvincingly, his fingers crossed behind his back.
Wilson continued on, looking happy for the first time in weeks, "I'm looking forward to a nice peaceful summer for once, three months of doing absolutely nothing." He rolled over on the bed and turned off the lights, leaving them both in darkness. "Yes, I'm sure there'll be no Camp Sick!Wilson this year."
Characters: House, Wilson
Rating: PG
Spoilers: If you haven't seen the finale (is there anyone who hasn't?)
Words: Approx. 900
Summary: Wilson is looking forward to a better summer this year. A crack-ish meta-ish fic.
A/N - With thanks to damigella_314 for reading and encouragement :)
House carefully cleaned some gravel out of a long graze on Wilson's cheek while Wilson squirmed under his touch.
"Ouch! "
"Stop complaining. I need to get this clean." House dabbed at the expanse of flesh happily, nothing improved his mood like tendering to an injured Wilson.
"I can't believe this, on our first day on the run... " Wilson scowled at the totally inadequate helmet, sitting in the corner where Wilson had hurled it when they'd finally found a cabin to stay for the night.
" We're not on the run, I'm on the run, " House pointed out, "you're just some dying guy going through his bucket list." House finished cleaning the cut and ran his eyes over Wilson, looking for any other wounds he could help heal. "If you hadn't wiped out on the first corner you wouldn't have gotten hurt. I thought you knew how to ride."
"Why would you think that? Have I been turning up to the hospital in a Harley ever day for the last twenty years? Or have I been driving a volvo, which is a safe car, not like those... " Wilson gestured wildly at the window, in the approximate direction of the bikes, "... like those death traps out there."
"Hey, don't say that, she'll hear you." House looked out at the bikes, one now dented and much the worse for wear.
"Tomorrow I am going down to the rental office and getting us a car. A corvette was good enough for our last road trip, it can be good enough for this one. And I'm getting a razor too." He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "I may be dying but there's no reason I have to look like a bum."
House thought he might point out that Wilson hadn't fared much better in the corvette either, driving the thing off the road, through a fence and into the middle of some poor farmer's field. It was lucky for them that there'd been no police around. But ever since he'd found out he was dying Wilson had been surprisingly feisty, as well as being all 'me,me.me' so House thought it was safer not to mention it. There was a bottle of beer on the table and the cabin did have a rather large window.
First aid finished with House realised he no longer had an excuse to be holding onto Wilson and reluctantly let go. Wilson stomped over to the bed and flung himself down on it.
"This sort of sucks you know, House," he said, dramatically placing a hand over his forehead.
"I don't know what you're complaining about," House said, he was getting annoyed by Wilson's continual bitching, "I'm the one whose whole life is ruined, I can never go back home, I'll never work as a doctor again, and I had to listen to Cameron, not to mention your dead girlfriend, yapping at me while I was sitting on my ass in a burning building, my lungs filling with smoke, and then I had half the damn building fall on me. You don't hear me whining."
"Yes, your life is so hard isn't it, House? I have it easy compared to you," Wilson sat up on the bed and pulled an exaggerated, 'oh, I just had an epiphany' face. "Oh, wait, no, I remember now, I'm dying."
"Yeah, yeah, pull out the cancer card again, it's not getting old or anything." House sat down on the edge of the bed and started to pull his boots off.
"What are you doing?" Wilson asked, eyeing him nervously.
"Coming to bed."
Wilson looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time "There's only one bed in here!"
"Of course, cabins in the middle of nowhere only ever have one bed. And there's never any air conditioning so it will probably get cold in the middle of the night and we'll have to share body heat." I hope House added silently.
"Well," Wilson sighed, "at least there's one good thing about my having the world's most deadly thymoma, those dreadful people should leave me alone this year. I should be safe from unfortunate camping accidents, getting attacked by swarms of killer bees, prowling coyotes or stray bears. No fevers, no drowning incidents, no car accidents, no shootings, no large heavy objects falling on me, nothing but a great road trip."
House quickly kicked his laptop underneath the bed and shoved his 'Camp Counsellor' badge into the bedside drawer.
"Yeah, that will be good," he said unconvincingly, his fingers crossed behind his back.
Wilson continued on, looking happy for the first time in weeks, "I'm looking forward to a nice peaceful summer for once, three months of doing absolutely nothing." He rolled over on the bed and turned off the lights, leaving them both in darkness. "Yes, I'm sure there'll be no Camp Sick!Wilson this year."