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How Steve Found a Friend
by Housepiglet
Mice are Definitely Stupid
"Play nice, now, Midgie!" said Wilson, smiling fondly as he settled Midge's cage on the table beside Steve's, and sat back on the couch to observe his new pet.
"Midgie?" House snorted, derisively. "What sort of a name is that for a mouse? And anyway," he said, leaning forwards to reach for his beer and subjecting the rodent to an intimidating stare - the creature recoiled in alarm, and retreated backwards into its nest - "Isn't it supposed to be a boy mouse? Midge is a girl's name. Are you trying to give it a complex?" He paused again, smirking, "Maybe not, though. Are mice actually smart enough to have complexes? I'm not even sure they have brains! Mice are definitely stupid!" He snorted again, delighted, and took a swig of his beer. "Anyway, it looks like a girl mouse to me. I'm going to call it Chase."
Wilson sighed, and rolled his eyes, tolerantly. "I already told you, House. It's not a mouse. It's a gerbil. And there's nothing wrong with his name." He leaned forwards in his seat, watching House's rat. "It looks like Steve wants to get to know him, anyway."
-- ----- --
Down on the coffee table, Steve had descended from his wheel and was scampering up to the side of his cage, a little cautious but intrigued. A second, larger cage had appeared suddenly on the table right next to his own, and his sensitive nose had detected fascinating new smells emanating from some sort of wooden nesting box over in the corner.
"Nesting box?" wondered Steve. What sort of rat slept in a nesting box? Hmmm. Perhaps it was a female? Steve's nose twitched, inquisitively, and his eyes gleamed with excitement as he bounced up and down a few times before scrabbling up the wire in an attempt to peep over into the cage next door. He thought he saw a brief flash of large, brown eyes and long whiskers staring up at him, curiously, but just as suddenly the whiskers twitched and then the small face was gone.
The Way Things Started
Down in his shiny, new cage on the table, Midge the gerbil was feeling a little depressed. The day had started promisingly enough, with a breathless chase and tumble through the straw with his brothers and sisters, followed by a welcome snooze in the nest with his Mom and the rest of his litter. Suddenly during lunch, though, he'd heard unfamiliar voices outside the cage, and - curious - he'd left his family for a moment to investigate. Before he knew what was happening, a large hand had reached down and grabbed him by the leg, hoisting him skywards, and the voices had spoken again.
"How's this one, Harry?"
"Just perfect! He'll be great! Thanks, Bill! I owe you."
"Hey, no problem! He's really just a worthless little runt!"
Midge squealed, and wriggled frantically, but he found himself being lowered into a dark, cloth bag, from which some time later he was decanted, kicking and spinning wildly as he tried to establish his footing, into a round glass bowl on a table. He eventually slid to a halt at the bottom, and from there he gathered himself together and gazed around in alarm. He saw multitudes of people thronging about the table, and as he sat there, frozen, large faces loomed suddenly up in front of the glass, and there was laughter, and booming conversation. The little creature shrank back, afraid, and tried to hide from the frightening sights and sounds by concealing its head and ears behind its front paws.
"Hey, Wilson!" a voice called, from somewhere above him, "How about buying a ticket? Come over and try your luck! It's all for a good cause."
A few tables away, Wilson was making his way slowly through the crowds, stopping to chat from time to time with people who approached him, and to shake a hand, or to bend and hug a small patient. He paused in his meanderings, now, and glanced towards the source of the voice, where he spotted Brown and Forman running the raffle.
The annual Paediatric Oncology Department Autumn Fete was in full swing, and for once the medical and nursing staff were surrounded by a sea of smiling faces as small patients, accompanied by parents, friends and siblings, milled around excitedly, happy and relaxed for the afternoon. Wilson noted that Brown was holding a book of raffle tickets, and gesturing towards what looked like a small, furry creature sitting in a bowl. He altered course and approached the table, his curiosity piqued.
A look of mild concern crossed Wilson's face as he drew closer. He didn't approve of raffling animals, no matter how small - not even in the name of the new and undoubtedly worthy Paediatric Oncology Scanner Appeal - and he made a mental note to have a quiet word with Brown about it afterwards. For now, though, he bent down and gazed into the bowl, and his tender heart contracted when he saw the tiny creature huddled in the centre, frozen into statue-like immobility and apparently trying its best to disappear. He looked closer, and noticed it was trembling.
Midge noticed movement at the glass, and peeped out from behind his paws. He and Wilson regarded each other, and for a fleeting moment something passed between them: a faint sense of some common destiny. Several more moments passed, and then Wilson stood again, and turned slowly back to Brown. "You're raffling a mouse?" he enquired, eyes widening in surprise.
"It's not a mouse; it's a gerbil. My brother breeds them. I dropped in on him this morning on the way over here, and he donated this one for the raffle." A sudden thought struck Brown, and he grinned, wickedly. "Come on, Wilson. You'll have to buy a ticket! Aren't you still camped out over at House's place? Well, hey! This little boy would make great company for House's rat!" Brown laughed, and exchanged wordless grins with Foreman, who stood with arms folded, watching the exchange silently from the other end of the table.
A wry smile spread across Wilson's face, now, and he slipped his hand inside his jacket and began to feel for his wallet. Word of House's rat had spread like wildfire through the hospital grapevine, and he was well aware of just how amusing the majority of his colleagues found what they considered to be only the latest in a long line of bizarre Houseian eccentricities. "How much are the tickets?" he asked. "Sold many yet?"
Brown smiled again. "Just 50 cents each, or 3 for a dollar to you. And no, you're the first taker. He's only just arrived."
Wilson paused for a moment, and looked back down at the gerbil. His thoughts turned to Steve, running alone on his wheel back at House's apartment, and he made up his mind. He opened his wallet, extracted three $100 bills and pressed them into Brown's open fingers. Brown's jaw slackened in amazement, but somehow, at the other end of the table, Foreman didn't seem to be experiencing quite the same degree of surprise, as he simply shook his head slowly from side to side and smiled quietly to himself.
"Well, as you said - it's all in a good cause!" and Wilson grinned, a little embarrassed. "Let's just pretend we drew the raffle early, though. I think I'll take him now."
Wilson reached down for the container, lifting it cautiously and pressing it close to his chest. He unwound the scarf from his neck and wrapped it carefully around the bowl. "Don't worry, little fella," he said quietly, managing to aim a self deprecating smile at Foreman and Brown whilst at the same time shooting a concerned glance towards the gerbil, before draping the end of the scarf carefully over the top. "We'll soon have you out of here."
He carried the small bundle quickly through the crowds, and made his way up to his office where he placed it on his desk. "Well now!" he said, leaning back against the wall and smiling again at his pet. "We're going to have to find a name for you." His eyes ranged thoughtfully around his office, and for a minute or two he was lost in thought.
-- ----- --
All that had been earlier in the afternoon, though. Wilson had left, and Midge had spent a couple of solitary but peaceful hours in the tranquillity of Wilson's office, waiting uncertainly to see what would happen next. Eventually he'd fallen asleep, and he hadn't woken again until just a little earlier, when he'd felt someone lifting him gently out of the bowl and transferring him to a large and well appointed cage - not unlike the one he'd shared at home with his family, he thought, blinking sleepily as he inspected his new quarters - and here he was now: huddled in his bedding in the corner, and feeling rather alone. Midge wrinkled up his face and rubbed his nose with his paws, snuffling softly to himself. He wanted his Mom.
The Way Things Developed
Later that evening House and Wilson were relaxing in House's living room.
"It says here that rats and gerbils are very social animals," said Wilson, lowering The Responsible Owner's Guide to the Proper Care and Feeding of the Domestic Rodent to his knees, and looking over enquiringly to House at the piano. "D'you think we should put them in a cage together and see what happens? Perhaps they'll make friends."
House lifted his head from the keys for a moment and grinned. "Yeah, right! You and Cuddy are very social animals too, but that doesn't mean I'd want to lock you in a cage together. God only knows what sort of hideous monster spawn you might produce!" He leered, horribly, and played a few bars of the theme tune to Alien with a dramatic flourish, before seguing effortlessly back into his piece.
Wilson merely sighed, and returned to his book. "Steve and Midge are different species, House, and besides, they're both male. They're no more likely to want to make babies together than you and me."
It appeared that something must have distracted House just at that particular moment, because he fluffed the next chord so badly that even Wilson noticed, and looked up in surprise. House said nothing, though, and simply continued, his gaze fixed firmly on the keyboard, and so a moment later Wilson went on.
"It seems a pity to keep them apart when they might be happier together. Anyway, I think we should give it a try," he said, finally, closing the book and leaning forwards on the couch to take another look into Midge's cage.
The gerbil appeared to be settling into his new environment, and Wilson couldn't repress a smile as he watched it darting busily from one new place to another, nose and whiskers twitching excitedly as it examined the appointments of its new home. Earlier that afternoon Wilson had made a visit to the Princeton-Plainsboro Pet Stores, where he'd spent a happy hour browsing the shelves before acquiring the cage and a wide range of gerbil appropriate paraphernalia. Midge now seemed happily engaged in exploring his options.
Wilson glanced over at Steve's cage, and in contrast it presented a smaller and much more Spartan environment. Steve seemed happy enough, though, and when he noticed Wilson smiling across at him he jumped down from his wheel and darted over to greet him, scrambling up the bars and extending a small paw in earnest entreaty as he arrived, and squeaking enthusiastically.
At the sound of Steve's squeaking Wilson heard an answering squeak from Midge's cage, and leaning quickly over to his right he saw a small head peering curiously out from under the water dispenser.
"Okay, that's it, House. I'm putting them in together for a while," he said, and leaned forwards to open the cage. "Come on, Stevie. Time to make friends."
"Well just don't blame me if Chase ends up pregnant," said House, absently, most of his attention still directed towards the piece that he was playing. A thought struck him suddenly, though, and he looked up and smirked across at Wilson. "At least he'll have you to turn to for advice when it comes to the divorce!"
-- ----- --
By the time Wilson was preparing to introduce an excited Steve to Midge's cage, Midge had begun to relax and make the best of his new situation. He'd inspected the food bowl first, and then he'd made a couple of test runs through some cardboard tubing that Wilson had thoughtfully provided, and taken a scramble up the back of the cage. The fleecy hammock was cosy and fun, and Midge found that he could jump from the side wires into the hammock, bounce straight out onto the tubing and slide all the way down to the floor, swinging on the water dispenser along the way.
The dispenser turned out to be loose, though, and as Midge slid to the ground beneath it on his third circuit round the cage the plastic tube gave way, and released a torrent of water onto the gerbil's head. Midge was busily wiping water out of his eyes when he heard a noise behind him, and he turned to see Wilson depositing Steve inside the door of the cage.
The two small creatures now regarded each other, curiously.
Steve stared over at the gerbil from his position near the door and blinked, twitching his whiskers and rubbing his paws rapidly against the side of his nose in surprise. The small, brown creature on the other side of the cage was not exactly what he'd been expecting.
Midge was smaller than him, and looked younger as well. There were signs of what looked to Steve like baby fat under Midge's chin, and he seemed a little chunky round the middle. Still, though - Steve darted closer, and then stopped to observe the gerbil's reaction, appraisingly - the creature was gazing back at him steadily through liquid, dark brown eyes, and it didn't appear to be displaying any sign of alarm. Steve was unused to that reaction, and he was both pleased and intrigued. A moment later, though, he sat back on his haunches, and gazed at the gerbil in amazement. Why was it wet, and what the hell was it doing to its fur?
Midge stared back at Steve, small eyes twinkling and alive with interest. He was familiar with rats - he'd seen them running at night along the rafters at the gerbil farm, and he'd heard fearsome stories from the older gerbils about just how badly an angry rat could behave - but Midge was a gerbil with an unprejudiced heart, and he sat back now calmly, and regarded his visitor with a friendly and welcoming expression.
The rat had delicate pink paws, he noticed, and rather piercing black eyes. It wasn't exactly smiling, but its beady black eyes and inquisitive features suggested keen intelligence and a sense of fun. Midge decided he liked the look of the rat, and he twitched his whiskers shyly and prepared to move closer for a better look. Just as he was about to set off, though, he remembered his soaking, and paused. First impressions counted, he decided, and he raised his front paws to the top of his head, and began to rub his fur dry.
The Way Things Are
From his position on the edge of the couch, Wilson observed proceedings with a sense of considerable satisfaction. He watched as the two creatures approached and greeted each other carefully, front paws and noses touching, and little lips nibbling, and he smiled as they set off slowly together to explore the new cage. Steve took the lead and Midge, with his shorter legs, trotted along companionably at his side.
After a while House left the piano and dropped into a seat beside Wilson, leaning forwards to take a closer look. He was just in time to see the creatures disappear together into the nesting box, Steve grasping the opportunity to sniff surreptitiously at Midge's bum as the gerbil led the way.
"Aw, Wilson!" House leered. "That's so sweet!" He turned, and pushed his face into Wilson's, winking suggestively. "Do you think they're moving in together? I told you Chase was a girl!"
Wilson just grinned and stretched, getting up now and moving towards the kitchen. "I'm sure that Midge is exactly as God made him, House." He reached the fridge, and called back to House, over his shoulder, "Want a beer?"
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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