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What Do You Know?
by OldHamster
Freshly Baked Bread
Wilson knocked, although his friend's office door was open. Unlike House, he remembered his manners.
"Lunch? I'll buy."
"You always do," said House.
"Yes, but this time I'm volunteering."
Over sandwiches, House asked, "So what's up?"
"What makes you think something's up?"
"You rarely invite me to lunch unless something is. Or someone. Who is she?
"None of your business. But she is what I want to talk about," said Wilson.
"Remember what you told me the day I found out about you and Cameron? You said I might want to take my time before sleeping with a woman. Get to know her. Well, I've been seeing this woman for about three weeks. I think we're ready. But I can't be sure.
That's my question," Wilson concluded. "How do you know when you're ready?"
"You've come to the right person," House answered. "Gregory House, M.D. Diagnostician by day, adviser to the lovelorn by night. Let's see, how well have you gotten to know this sweet young thing?"
"She's not-" Wilson began, then stopped. "I mean, how do I answer that? It's a big question."
"Let's break it down," said House. "What's her middle name?"
"Michelle."
"Favorite color?"
"Royal blue."
"Favorite movie?"
"'North by Northwest.'"
"Cocktail?"
"Vodka collins."
"Allergies?"
"Cats. But only the long-haired breeds. And sulfites."
"Mother's maiden name? Social Security number?"
"For heaven's sake, House, I want to sleep with her, not steal her identity. Besides, I'll bet you don't know all these things about Cameron."
"She's your best friend's girl. You're allowed to call her Allison. Frances, dusty rose, 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' with 'Casablanca' a close second, tequila sunrise, ragweed, Marshall, 432-99..." Wilson cut him off.
"You memorized her Social Security number?"
"Read it in her file. I was her boss, remember? Thought it would be handy to know in case she gets hit by a truck and I have to fill out those pesky ER forms. I also know Chase's and Foreman's. Haven't learned the new guy's yet."
Wilson shook his head. "Now I know why there's no room in your brain for things like remembering to take your wallet and iron your shirts."
"We're getting off-topic here, Jimmy," said House. "You asked how you know when you're ready to take things to the next level with your flavor of the month. Flavor of the quarter, if you manage not to screw up.
"The questions I just shot at you were bullshit. The answer is: freshly baked bread."
"Huh?"
House chuckled. "One of the guys I shared an apartment with in college was an amazing baker. A skill I never developed and probably never will. He tried to teach me, but everything I attempted came out either burned or mush. I asked him his secret for knowing when something was done. He said, 'When it you can't stand the smell anymore.'"
"Um, House," said Wilson, "if I couldn't stand the way she smelled, I wouldn't want to take her to bed. I'd tell her to take a shower."
"It's a metaphor, idiot," said his friend. "My housemate meant when it smells so good you can't stand it anymore. He was right. By the time his bread was ready to come out of the oven, the place smelled ... " He closed his eyes, remembering. "... like I imagine heaven smelling, if I believed in heaven. An olfactory orgasm.
"You'll know you're ready with her," House continued, "when the desire becomes like that aroma -- overwhelming, unbearable. I'm not talking about horniness; I'm talking about desire. There's a difference. Horny just wants release. Desire wants it all. Do I need to elaborate, or do you understand the distinction, O Metaphorically Challenged One?"
"No, I get it," said Wilson. "And I think I'm there. I suspect she is, too."
"Good! Then you just answered your own question. Have fun. And use protection. You don't know where she's been."
Wilson rolled his eyes at that remark and glanced at his watch. "Gotta run. Patient. Thanks, House."
"Thanks for lunch. And be careful out there."
House:
Chase smiles to himself when he thinks you aren't looking.
You're at opposite ends of the conference table, grinding through a pile of paperwork. Foreman and your newest fellow have clinic duty.
You smile, too, inwardly, pleased that Chase and McGuirk, the little intern you saw him dancing with at the benefit months ago, are still an item. She's from Scotland, and while you'll never tell him this, you find it hugely entertaining to listen to them converse, her Scottish burr bouncing off his Aussie drawl.
What pleases you the most, of course, is that he's over Allison.
Still, you wonder what they were like together. How well he got to know her.
Do you know that she can eat an enormous bowl of salted peanuts in one sitting but can't stand peanut butter?
Do you know her favorite kids' book is 'Alice in Wonderland,' because when she was very small, she misheard the title as 'Allison Wonderland' and thought it was about her?
Do you know how hot she looks in a black Rolling Stones concert T-shirt, men's size large, and nothing else?
Do you know that she sincerely tried to reciprocate your feelings for her, but that every time she tried to give you her heart, she found the way blocked by some cranky old cripple who'd taken up residence in there?
Do you know how glad I am that he did?
Stacy:
It still hurts, but you can smile instead of crying now when you reread his e-mail.
You were disappointed, but not surprised, when he said he didn't want to try again with you. But it was a surprise to learn there was someone else. An even bigger one when he told you who it was.
You'd taken her for just another little innocent with a "Beauty and the Beast" complex who thought she could bring out the monster's inner prince. Heaven knows there were enough of them, before, during and after your time together. They generally gave up after about a month. But she's been with him a year now, and he hasn't changed, and obviously she doesn't mind.
Well, maybe he has changed, a little. He wrote that part of him would always love you and that he'd always cherish the memory of his time with you. Not in a million years could you imagine the Gregory House you knew using a word like "cherish."
You wonder about them. You wonder what he's shared with her that he never shared with you. And whether she now knows those things about him that only you knew.
Do you know that the ending of "Saving Private Ryan" made him cry?
Do you know that his most beloved possession is an autographed Benny Goodman record that belonged to his grandfather?
Do you know that he washes his vintage rock 'n' roll T-shirts on the delicate cycle and hangs them on the shower rod to dry, to preserve the design?
Do you know that his mother's childhood pet name for him was "Greggybean," and he will throw a death glare at anyone who brings it up, including her?
Do you know that the biggest hole in his heart isn't caused by the damage to his leg, or my leaving him, but his failure to win his father's approval?
Allison Cameron, do you know what I'd give to be you?
Cuddy:
All but one of today's meetings have been canceled, and that's fine with you.
You just want to sit quietly in your office and relive last night's date. A date that ended differently from all the others with him. In fact, it didn't end until this morning.
He has someone else. Someone else for whom he cares deeply. Competition? Maybe. But you'll have to see how it all plays out. Time will tell if there's room in his life for both of you, and if you remain willing to share him.
You wonder if both of you know him in the same way.
Do you know he didn't go on a real date until he was 19?
Do you know he loves Cosmopolitans but wouldn't be caught dead ordering a "girl" drink in public?
Do you know his Hebrew name is Yaacov?
Do you know he hasn't had children because he's seen so many little ones sicken, suffer and die, and he's afraid of what watching a child of his own go through that would do to him?
Do you know he hates being called "Jimmy" but lets you get away with it, because it amuses you, and he loves you?
House, do you know how very, very much that man, your best friend, loves you?
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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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