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Long Winter Evenings, Or The Line
by Adrienne S.
Author's Note - The first line comes from a Dr Who fanfic called
Precious Little Space Dumplings of Love by shaggydogtail, which I
am using without permission.
The original story is a hoot and I highly recommend that everyone
go read it. My story comes from Elizabeth Helena (who writes in
Starky and Hutch fandom) giving me the line as a challenge.
Long Winter Evenings, Or The Line
"Having the memory of you all desperate and sweating, begging me
for more, is the only thing that might make the long winter
evenings even remotely bearable."
James Wilson stopped halfway across the lobby as House's voice
rang out, clearly audible to everyone in the lobby, the clinic
and, probably, on the second floor and in the parking garage. It
was a tribute to the professionalism, or to long experience with
such pronouncements, of the staff that nobody actually employed
by the hospital raised an eyebrow.
Wilson frowned. Who was House saying such things to this time?
As he moved forward, he noted that Cuddy was standing in front of
him, mostly hidden by House's back. As she came into his view,
he also noted that her arms were crossed and her foot was tapping
out a rapid beat on the floor.
"I don't care what you do on long winter evenings. It's the
short winter days that concern me, particularly whether you
actually work during them," Cuddy responded. "You are a doctor.
These are patients. You pride yourself on your vast intellectual
gifts. Do the math. Then do your job."
Wilson didn't bother to hide the smile as Cuddy held her ground
and House eventually gave in, taking the file that Brenda held
out.
"Ah, Brenda. Would you like to go have coffee with me?" House
asked her, in a wheedling tone. "By which I mean wild monkey sex
in exam room two, not the caffeinated beverage. It would mean so
much to me. After all, having the memory of you..."
"Heard the speech. Wasn't impressed the first time, not
impressed now." Brenda cut him off.
House dawdled at the desk, pretending to read the file, and
Wilson sidled up next to him.
"Wow. Two rejections in less than two minutes. You might have
to work on your technique."
"Nope. They're just playing hard to get. Secretly, they want
me."
"To do what?" Wilson asked innocently.
"My job, apparently," House said gloomily, closing the file and
beginning to limp towards exam two. "What are you doing down
here?"
"Consult." Wilson waved vaguely towards exam room one. "Foreman
paged me for testicular lumps."
"You have testicular lumps? And you're just giving them away?"
"My testicles are fine and if I sold access to them, you'd call
me nastier names than you do now."
House put on a face of exaggerated shock.
"There's something nastier than calling you a sl...?" House
murmured the rest of the word into Wilson's hand, which was over
his mouth.
"We both have patients," Wilson said firmly. "You can call me
names after lunch."
"Okay, snookieshims," House said sweetly. "See you later,
Snicklebottom Lardypants."
"Oh, that's going to get you snugglebunnyburgers in no time."
Wilson rolled his eyes and went into exam one.
-----------------
"Having the memory of you all desperate and sweating, begging me
for more..." House was saying to Cameron as Wilson walked into
diagnostics later that day and Wilson rolled his eyes. From the
expression on Foreman and Chase's faces, they were well ahead in
the eyerolling competition.
"You don't have any memories of me like that," Cameron huffed.
"No, but all I have to do is take a look at the love sick koala
over there to know what I'm supposed to do." House put on a face
that Wilson supposed was meant to be longing, but just made him
look constipated.
"House, can we leave the sexual harassment until later?" Foreman
asked. "Our patient..."
"Is undergoing tests. There's nothing to do until Wilson gets
his lazy butt in here..." House jumped theatrically, turning to
Wilson as if he'd just seen him. Which Wilson knew was untrue.
"I and my lazy butt have the results." Wilson flipped the file
to Foreman, who opened it.
"And it's not cancer."
"No, it is. It's non-Hodgkins lymphoma, stage one," Wilson said.
"It's confined to the tonsils and some associated lymph nodes on
the left side. A tonsillectomy and some chemo will take care of
it."
"Boring." House put in.
"The cancer is," Wilson replied. "The pulmonary edema isn't."
"Pulmonary edema?" Chase echoed and got up to read over
Foreman's shoulder.
"So what else is wrong with him?"
"Not my area of expertise." Wilson shrugged.
"Not you, dumbass," House snapped. "My three highly trained
diagnostics fellows."
"On that note, I'm taking my lazy, dumb ass to my office," Wilson
remarked. "I've put Paretsky on the case."
"You're not doing it yourself?"
"It is, as you so succinctly put it, boring."
"Ah. He's not dying, so you're not interested."
"You know me so, so well."
--------------------
"Having the memory of you all desperate and sweating, begging me
for more..."
"House, give it a rest," Wilson cut in, while the young woman on
the lobby's sofa cowered in fear. "He's relatively harmless.
Don't worry, he'll be upstairs and on his medication in no time."
House perked up at the mention of medication and followed Wilson
down the hall.
"What is with you?" Wilson stopped and forced House to stop as
well. "You've been spouting that stupid line all day today.
You're starting to scare people."
"Starting?" House raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, scaring people more than usual. What gives?"
"It's true," House protested. "Well, with Cuddy anyway. Those
fun bags aren't just for decoration, you know."
"House."
"When did you get so sanctimonious anyway?" House asked,
sounding irritated. "The number of times I've had to listen to
you with your cheesy pick up lines - God, it's enough to make a
man gag."
"If you actually listened to any of my pick up lines, you'd learn
better ones than that 'long winter evenings' garbage. Mine
worked," Wilson reminded him. "Then again, I never shouted them
from the lobby or used them on random strangers."
"I was practicing."
"Practicing?"
"You told me that I needed to get out more, needed to meet
people. I thought up a way to start the ball rolling and was
checking to see if it would work." House looked utterly sincere
and more than a little proud of himself.
"You thought that would actually work?"
"Cuddy's desperate and Cameron loves me. I don't know why they
didn't take me up on it."
"That's because it's crude, unflattering and unsubtle."
"So if someone said that to you, you'd decline."
"Of course I would."
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
"What isn't wrong with it?"
"Look, let me try it again." House turned to look directly at
Wilson, his bright blue eyes locking onto Wilsons'.
"Having the memory of you all desperate and sweating, begging for
more, is the only thing that might make the long winter evenings
even remotely bearable," he said, and Wilson felt a little tingle
down his spine.
"Well?" House demanded, as Wilson looked off into the middle
distance, thinking.
"Nope. Doesn't work."
"Okay, Dr Panty Peeler, how can I fix it?"
"It needs to be more sincere. More truthful," Wilson advised.
"Having the reality of me all desperate and sweating, begging you
for more is the only thing that might make the long winter
evenings even remotely bearable."
House looked as if he'd been sucker punched and Wilson smiled
inwardly. Outwardly, he kept the big brown eyed seductive look
that had been so successful for him in the past.
"Is..." House licked his lips and swallowed. "Is that an
offer?"
"Invite me over to see your etchings and find out," Wilson
murmured.
"And if I don't actually have any etchings?"
"Ask me anyway," Wilson said softly. Pulling a fresh bottle of
Vicodin out of his pocket, he handed them to House and slipped
away.
-------------------
A few minutes later, Wilson heard House's voice though the wall
of his office.
"Foreman, you owe me a hundred bucks."
"Somebody actually fell for that line?" Foreman sounded
sceptical, as well he might.
"Not as such. It's a stupid line."
"What do you mean, 'not as such'?" Foreman protested. "Either
you did or did not get a date out of it."
"I did, which means you owe me a hundred. However, I was right;
it is a stupid line that no woman in her right mind would take me
up on."
"So you're going out with a crazy woman."
"Nope."
"Your date must be crazy. Going out with you, especially after
you used that line, is crazy."
"I never said my date wasn't crazy," House replied and Wilson
could well imagine the smug look on his face.
Then again, House was right, maybe he was crazy. But he also
knew that House was up a hundred bucks and could well afford to
actually buy him dinner for a change.
END
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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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