Discardia - House
"Sloppy Drunk Threesome" is the best name ever. This one was started after "Babies and Bathwater" or whatever variation thereof the episode was actually titled. Two things get to me - Daddy dying of cancer and mommy/baby stuff. What? Write what you know.
NOt that, you know, I know anything about sloppy drunk threesomes. Ahem.
Sloppy Drunk Threesome
“To the living.”
House shook his head and raised his glass. “The living suck. To the dead.”
Cuddy poured a glass for herself and sat at the table, sniffing her drink before taking a long swallow. “Screw them both.”
“Such harsh language.” House drained his glass and leaned forward to fill it again, cutting ghis eyes toward Cuddy as he did. “What’s got your panties in a ruffle?”
“Pick something that sounds administrative and then add a couple of assholes into it.” She drained her glass and set it on the table. “And pour me another.”
Wilson took the bottle from House’s hand and did as she said. House smirked in his direction, but he ignored it and filled his own glass as well. “We were just about to head out.”
“Just my luck.” She finished her drink in two swallows and sighed. “I’m even late to the pity party.”
“It’s not over.” House nodded toward the white board which was clean of writing, a sign that the case was done with, the cure was found. The patient was dead. “We’re changing the venue. It’s no fun to get sloppy drunk at a hospital. They always want to pump your stomach.” He got to his feet, his hand a little tighter around the head of his cane than usual. “Now we get to decide if we go to James’s house to annoy the little woman…”
“That would be the little woman who wanted to stab you with a steak knife the last time you were over.”
“She and I would get along,” Cuddy informed them as she poured the last of the liquor into her glass.
“Or my place…”
“Where House will play maudlin piano until we’re all crying in our booze.”
“But it’s really good booze.” She emptied her glass again and stood up, swaying slightly. “We could go to my place.”
“Husband?”
“Nope.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Ha!”
House raised his eyebrow and looked at Wilson who was shaking his head. “Girlfriend?”
“Only in your more depraved fantasies, House.” She headed for the door. “I don’t have a piano.”
“Cuddy’s house it is,” Wilson nodded. “But we’re stopping at House’s place for the booze.”
**
Cuddy set the glasses in the center of the coffee table then sank down onto the sofa next to House. Wilson opened the bottle, breaking the seal with a clean crackle of paper. He poured all three glasses almost full then passed them around, settling on Cuddy’s other side.
House raised his glass. “To Death. Because the bastard has to win sometimes.”
“We’re doctors, House,” Cuddy began.
“Is that what that paper on my wall is all about?” He shook his head. “We all fight death, Cuddy. Thwart the odds. That’s what they pay us for.” He drained half his drink in one long swallow. “Except Wilson. He gets paid to look pretty for the ones marking time.”
“Some of my patients are men, House.”
“I’m sorry. Your point?”
Cuddy snorted a soft laugh as she took a drink from her own glass.
“You’ve got no room to talk, Cuddy.” House turned his penetrating gaze on her. “You sit at a desk. The closest you get anymore is boring Death to,” he smirked and emptied his glass, “death with paperwork.”
“You let me know when you get bored with getting paid, House.” She sipped from her glass. “I’ll be glad to stop your billings.”
Wilson shook his head. “You’re both pussies when it comes to death. How many do you save, House? How many do you lose? Your cases actually gain a measure of hope when they get to you. They get to me and it’s as good as a death sentence.”
“It’s a death sentence the minute the hear cancer,” House replied. “Sometimes it’s just a sentence in a Steinbeck novel.”
“Jesus, you two are depressing.” Cuddy leaned forward and grabbed the bottle, refilling all their glasses. “House wants to drink to death. I’ll drink to life. In my life, in my hair, in my men.”
“I’ve seen the men you date, Cuddy.” House slid his arm along the back of the couch, brushing the hair gathered at Cuddy’s neck. “Not doing so well in the life department.”
Wilson’s fingers grazed House’s then sank into Cuddy’s thick hair, settling above House’s at Cuddy’s nape. “Your hair looks good.”
NOt that, you know, I know anything about sloppy drunk threesomes. Ahem.
Sloppy Drunk Threesome
“To the living.”
House shook his head and raised his glass. “The living suck. To the dead.”
Cuddy poured a glass for herself and sat at the table, sniffing her drink before taking a long swallow. “Screw them both.”
“Such harsh language.” House drained his glass and leaned forward to fill it again, cutting ghis eyes toward Cuddy as he did. “What’s got your panties in a ruffle?”
“Pick something that sounds administrative and then add a couple of assholes into it.” She drained her glass and set it on the table. “And pour me another.”
Wilson took the bottle from House’s hand and did as she said. House smirked in his direction, but he ignored it and filled his own glass as well. “We were just about to head out.”
“Just my luck.” She finished her drink in two swallows and sighed. “I’m even late to the pity party.”
“It’s not over.” House nodded toward the white board which was clean of writing, a sign that the case was done with, the cure was found. The patient was dead. “We’re changing the venue. It’s no fun to get sloppy drunk at a hospital. They always want to pump your stomach.” He got to his feet, his hand a little tighter around the head of his cane than usual. “Now we get to decide if we go to James’s house to annoy the little woman…”
“That would be the little woman who wanted to stab you with a steak knife the last time you were over.”
“She and I would get along,” Cuddy informed them as she poured the last of the liquor into her glass.
“Or my place…”
“Where House will play maudlin piano until we’re all crying in our booze.”
“But it’s really good booze.” She emptied her glass again and stood up, swaying slightly. “We could go to my place.”
“Husband?”
“Nope.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Ha!”
House raised his eyebrow and looked at Wilson who was shaking his head. “Girlfriend?”
“Only in your more depraved fantasies, House.” She headed for the door. “I don’t have a piano.”
“Cuddy’s house it is,” Wilson nodded. “But we’re stopping at House’s place for the booze.”
**
Cuddy set the glasses in the center of the coffee table then sank down onto the sofa next to House. Wilson opened the bottle, breaking the seal with a clean crackle of paper. He poured all three glasses almost full then passed them around, settling on Cuddy’s other side.
House raised his glass. “To Death. Because the bastard has to win sometimes.”
“We’re doctors, House,” Cuddy began.
“Is that what that paper on my wall is all about?” He shook his head. “We all fight death, Cuddy. Thwart the odds. That’s what they pay us for.” He drained half his drink in one long swallow. “Except Wilson. He gets paid to look pretty for the ones marking time.”
“Some of my patients are men, House.”
“I’m sorry. Your point?”
Cuddy snorted a soft laugh as she took a drink from her own glass.
“You’ve got no room to talk, Cuddy.” House turned his penetrating gaze on her. “You sit at a desk. The closest you get anymore is boring Death to,” he smirked and emptied his glass, “death with paperwork.”
“You let me know when you get bored with getting paid, House.” She sipped from her glass. “I’ll be glad to stop your billings.”
Wilson shook his head. “You’re both pussies when it comes to death. How many do you save, House? How many do you lose? Your cases actually gain a measure of hope when they get to you. They get to me and it’s as good as a death sentence.”
“It’s a death sentence the minute the hear cancer,” House replied. “Sometimes it’s just a sentence in a Steinbeck novel.”
“Jesus, you two are depressing.” Cuddy leaned forward and grabbed the bottle, refilling all their glasses. “House wants to drink to death. I’ll drink to life. In my life, in my hair, in my men.”
“I’ve seen the men you date, Cuddy.” House slid his arm along the back of the couch, brushing the hair gathered at Cuddy’s neck. “Not doing so well in the life department.”
Wilson’s fingers grazed House’s then sank into Cuddy’s thick hair, settling above House’s at Cuddy’s nape. “Your hair looks good.”