[rl] House and Wilson

[vicodindose]

In the end it really wasn't House's fault. He had been doing his clinic duty, like a good boy, and it just so happened the cabinet was out of a rubber gloves. Now, he couldn't go spreading his germs around could he? Who knew where he had been. And the nurses were probably too busy filing their nails and reading Cosmo to be bothered. So he grabbed

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[idkmybffcancer]

Wilson had heard about it before he'd seen it, one of the nurses shaking the dart at him as if he'd condoned it, let alone knew about it. He just raised his hands defensively, offered to find him-- He couldn't be far, after all.

He found it more funny that at some point he'd officially become House's keeper-- or maybe comparing him to some sort of lion tamer, but that gave him far too much control over him. Jane Livingstone, maybe, observing, encouraging, but ultimately the chimp did whatever it wanted. Yes, that was accurate.

He emerged where the man had before, looking around.

[vicodindose]

House noticed Wilson just as he was about to shoot some kid's balloon. Not that it would pop but kids needed to be alert these days, what with all the terrorists and drug dealers mulling about. Community service really.

But Wilson took priority over terrorizing children, unless of course the kid was one of Wilson's bald little cancer troopers but that was really the best of both worlds. House closed one of his eyes, aiming and careful to keep out of the doctor's sight before he let one go right between Wilson's eyes.

"Bang." He commented to no one, lip curling.

[idkmybffcancer]

It hit, dead center and he reeled not from the impact, but the surprise, muttering a curse as h bent to pick up the dart. He eyed it for a moment then glanced up, managing by chance to catch a glimpse of House.

Nerf gun, really? Of all the stupid, childish things he could get, he got a nerf gun.

He made a note to stop by a toy store tonight; if House wanted war, Wilson would give him war. For now, his goal was to placate him enough to keep Cuddy off his ass. Not his, but House's. He justified it by suggesting that he didn't want to hear House bitch.

"You," Wilson mouthed with a point, you stay where you are, I'm coming-- and he beelined for the elevator.

[vicodindose]

House tried to duck out of the way but it was no use. That Wilson had eyes like a hawk, maybe selective in what he chose to accept was happening in his life but certainly hawklike. House just returned the look, his face faulting when the man began heading for the elevator. Like he would go down without a fight.

He stood stiffly, a motion that took too long with the aching in his leg and set up his shot, aiming directly at the styrofoam coffee cup sitting perilously on the reception desk. He glanced back as the elevator made a 'dinging' sound, eyes narrowed.

"Stay back, I have a hostage." He said, maybe too loudly but it wasn't like gunned men hadn't slipped into the hospital before. It was hardly new - and he was usually the one facing the gun. The others could suck it up.