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Someone's Gone Crazy
Summary: Post ep for Risky Business, hence spoilers for it.
Rating: gen.
Warning: Written very fast.
Word count: ~600.
Wilson banged the door open, ignoring the wide-eyed stare of the cleaning lady, apparently the only other person in the corridor at six thirty am.
"I looked up my credit card balance. Why, House? Why didn't you just ask me?"
He didn't try to control his tone, or his hands' gestures, which found rest on his hips.
"Good morning to you, too! Manners before morals, Wilson. Take a seat, and you're welcome to a bite of my candy bar or a sip of my coffee".
"I don't even know why I bother with you, or" Wilson stopped abruptly and wiped his eyes, incredulously.
"Have you slept here? Is that... thing even long enough for you?"
House barely threw a glance to the camp bed and sleeping sack in the corner.
"I sleep here most of the time. Luckily Park and Adams found the right size at the army surplus store. Why would I go home? There's no food since I can't go shopping and the main decoration is a large piano-shaped empty space."
"I... I'm sorry about that. But this doesn't give you the right to steal from me."
House finished the candy bar and threw away the paper.
"No. Did you check what time the transaction was?"
"Sometime in the night. Does it make a difference?"
House sighed. "It was three am. That's how long it took me to find the best deal. And you needed sleep. Remember?"
Wilson was silent now, pinching the bridge of his nose. Remembering how he'd said goodbye to House, expressing his pleasure at the perspective of the first unbroken night of sleep in a week. Sleep that he had enjoyed in his own comfortable bed, after a quick but tasty dinner.
His voice was lower when he spoke again. "So.. you're living in your office, eating only cafeteria food?"
House nodded. "I go home to wash my clothes once a week, and I also eat what my team brings me." He pointed to a shelf. "Healthy stuff Adams buys at Whole Foods, and home cooked soups from Park's mother."
Wilson felt himself blush.
"Yet you gave me back my money immediately even though my account won't be charged until next month, like a friend would. An old friend who had tested years ago that five thousands was within my trust limit."
"Luckily also within the limit of your Amex card. Don't tell Adams, she believes I stole the money from you, which I technically did. She likes criminals, you know."
Wilson drew a deep breath, and gasped. He had been so taken by his own thoughts on House's duplicity that he hadn't noticed the destruction in the nearby office.
"House! What happened?"
There was no merriment in his voice, even though he was smiling.
"When she heard she was hired, Morticia brought a baseball bat from her car and smashed everything. Said none of us could work with that horrible noise, and she was rich enough to pay. I couldn't stop her, but I've told Foreman I made her do it and paid the damage myself."
Wilson could feel his own eyes widen in horror. "Why, House? You could go back to prison. Lose it all again."
House looked down to his feet. To the anklet. "I've got nothing to lose. She does."
Wilson's pager beeped. He looked at it, then stood up. "Need to go. Lunch at one?"
"Sure, but it'll have to be quick. I now have to do twelve hours of clinic each week."
"No problem. See you later."
Two hours later, as he held a fragile, rapidly cooling hand, Wilson could think of nothing else than House's clinic hours. NO ONE did as much - Andrews' total punishment had been two extra hours a week for three months. Clinic involved a lot of standing still, pure torture for House's thigh.
"Sorry, Martha," he whispered, his face near to the wrinkled eyes he had recently closed, "someone's gone crazy here and I need to go fix it."
Rating: gen.
Warning: Written very fast.
Word count: ~600.
Wilson banged the door open, ignoring the wide-eyed stare of the cleaning lady, apparently the only other person in the corridor at six thirty am.
"I looked up my credit card balance. Why, House? Why didn't you just ask me?"
He didn't try to control his tone, or his hands' gestures, which found rest on his hips.
"Good morning to you, too! Manners before morals, Wilson. Take a seat, and you're welcome to a bite of my candy bar or a sip of my coffee".
"I don't even know why I bother with you, or" Wilson stopped abruptly and wiped his eyes, incredulously.
"Have you slept here? Is that... thing even long enough for you?"
House barely threw a glance to the camp bed and sleeping sack in the corner.
"I sleep here most of the time. Luckily Park and Adams found the right size at the army surplus store. Why would I go home? There's no food since I can't go shopping and the main decoration is a large piano-shaped empty space."
"I... I'm sorry about that. But this doesn't give you the right to steal from me."
House finished the candy bar and threw away the paper.
"No. Did you check what time the transaction was?"
"Sometime in the night. Does it make a difference?"
House sighed. "It was three am. That's how long it took me to find the best deal. And you needed sleep. Remember?"
Wilson was silent now, pinching the bridge of his nose. Remembering how he'd said goodbye to House, expressing his pleasure at the perspective of the first unbroken night of sleep in a week. Sleep that he had enjoyed in his own comfortable bed, after a quick but tasty dinner.
His voice was lower when he spoke again. "So.. you're living in your office, eating only cafeteria food?"
House nodded. "I go home to wash my clothes once a week, and I also eat what my team brings me." He pointed to a shelf. "Healthy stuff Adams buys at Whole Foods, and home cooked soups from Park's mother."
Wilson felt himself blush.
"Yet you gave me back my money immediately even though my account won't be charged until next month, like a friend would. An old friend who had tested years ago that five thousands was within my trust limit."
"Luckily also within the limit of your Amex card. Don't tell Adams, she believes I stole the money from you, which I technically did. She likes criminals, you know."
Wilson drew a deep breath, and gasped. He had been so taken by his own thoughts on House's duplicity that he hadn't noticed the destruction in the nearby office.
"House! What happened?"
There was no merriment in his voice, even though he was smiling.
"When she heard she was hired, Morticia brought a baseball bat from her car and smashed everything. Said none of us could work with that horrible noise, and she was rich enough to pay. I couldn't stop her, but I've told Foreman I made her do it and paid the damage myself."
Wilson could feel his own eyes widen in horror. "Why, House? You could go back to prison. Lose it all again."
House looked down to his feet. To the anklet. "I've got nothing to lose. She does."
Wilson's pager beeped. He looked at it, then stood up. "Need to go. Lunch at one?"
"Sure, but it'll have to be quick. I now have to do twelve hours of clinic each week."
"No problem. See you later."
Two hours later, as he held a fragile, rapidly cooling hand, Wilson could think of nothing else than House's clinic hours. NO ONE did as much - Andrews' total punishment had been two extra hours a week for three months. Clinic involved a lot of standing still, pure torture for House's thigh.
"Sorry, Martha," he whispered, his face near to the wrinkled eyes he had recently closed, "someone's gone crazy here and I need to go fix it."