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Just Add Water
by Topaz Eyes
The milk carton felt suspiciously light when Wilson, already running late that snowy winter morning, pulled it out of the fridge. He shook it, hearing only a small splash of liquid inside. When he opened it to pour on his cereal, only a few white drops fell out.
House was serenely eating his full bowl of cornflakes and milk at the table. He looked up only when Wilson smashed the milk carton in front of him.
"You put an empty carton back in the fridge," Wilson accused.
House shrugged. "Wasn't empty. It had some milk left."
Wilson raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? There wasn't enough even for Steve. Much less my cereal."
"Oh." House just shoveled another spoonful in his mouth.
Wilson glowered at him for a moment, then trudged to the sink. Turning on the cold water tap, he let the water drip into his bowl.
House turned around at the sound of running water. His lips curled in disgust. "Dude. Who puts water on their cereal? That's just gross."
"I can't eat dry cornflakes," Wilson snapped. "And it's not like you left me a choice." He poked glumly at the bowl of brownish flakes, rapidly congealing to a soggy mess, with his spoon.
"Sure. There's orange juice, yogurt, and beer in the fridge--"
"I am not having beer with my cornflakes!"
"--Whiskey, brandy--"
"HOUSE!"
"Then you should have got up earlier and made some macadamia nut pancakes. Then there'd be plenty of milk left."
Wilson dropped the bowl into the sink, ignoring a glop of goo that splattered and landed on his tie. He snatched his coat off the back of his chair. "Fine. I am eating at the hospital," he said tightly, clearly trying not to strangle House where he sat.
"Suit yourself. You do know that cornflakes look better in you than on you?" House yelled at Wilson's retreating back.
The door slammed, and House stood up. Shaking his head, he limped to the sink and retrieved the bowl. He scraped some of its contents into Steve's food dish and set it into the rat's cage. Steve poked his head out from his nest of newspapers. Sniffing, he approached the food dish, but turned up his nose at the unappealing mess and scuttled away.
"Everyone's a critic," House muttered. He left the dish in the cage anyway, went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Maker's Mark, then grabbed Wilson's bowl. Wilson was going to be pissed off at the caked cereal in the sink that evening, but he may as well not let the rest of the cornflakes go to waste.
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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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