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House Calls
by gena
HOUSE CALLS
Two Twenty Seven A.M. Wilson Residence.
"Wh-? Pho'Jmmms."
"Y-yeah, I got it. I got it. Wilson."
"If there's swelling in the pericardial tissue but the patient isn't showing any signs of -"
"What - House? House? What's going on? Where are you?"
"Home. Listen, this -"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just had a question."
"In the middle of the night?"
"I don't live my life in servitude to some artificial standard of measurement."
"You didn't look at the clock again, did you?"
"Well, you shouldn't answer the phone if you don't want to talk."
"I'm a doctor. I have to answer the phone."
"I'm a doctor, I don't."
"Is there a point to all this or was it just my night for random screwing around?"
"I didn't think you believed in random screwing?"
"House."
"About my question-"
"You don't have a patient."
"So? What, are you keeping score, Wilson? Does the winner get a prize? Let's see I had rabies woman, leper anthrax boy - that's two points, the peeing pitcher, want me to go on `cause mine are still among the living - well, most of them."
"House - *sigh* Why'd you call me?"
"I was just reading this article and -"
"Thought 2:28 would be a good time to ask my opinion?"
"Well not if you're going to be all snippy."
"You wake me up in the middle of the night and I'm suppose to be kind and cordial. Okay, got it."
"Sarcasm isn't your color Wilson."
"Forgive me. So, Doctor House, read any good articles lately?"
"I'm not tell you."
"I'll hang up if you don't start talking."
"Okay, okay. You in bed with Julie?"
"Downstairs now. I didn't want to wake her if I had to yell at you. Want to know what I'm wearing?"
"I know what you're wearing. Those cotton pajama bottoms with the brown stripes and - my Def Jam t-shirt."
"Wrong. It's your Van Morrison shirt. What about you?"
"Silk boxers and a smug grin."
"Yes, I'm sure." *amused silence deepening to concern * "Can't sleep?"
"I don't need to sleep." *resigned silence * "Yeah."
"Want me to come over?"
"Why, so you can tuck me in bed and read me a story?"
"Well, you do like Snow White and the Seven Little Pricks."
"That's a good one. I like the part where one gets too hard and one gets too soft and the other is just right."
"That's Goldie Licks and the Three Queers."
"I get those confused."
"Yes, they are similar except one is full of naked, sweaty men with huge dicks doing each other."
"I knew there was something different about that one. You liked it, too."
"It has a certain charm. That last old queen, the grizzled one with the blue eyes, reminded me of someone I know."
"You could tell me a story right now."
"Will you get into bed?"
"I was in bed, just not sleeping."
"You never shut down, do you?"
"Open 24/7, that's me. Believe me if there was a way to stop thinking I'd find it. Drugs maybe, or booze, but nah, I'm not like that. *sigh* Everything just keeps coming at me. So tell me a story."
"Okay, hold on. I need - ah, we have pineapple juice, good. So, you're comfy?"
"Tucked in and ready for dreamland."
"Lights off?"
"Okay. There. Start talking, Scheherazade. "
"Once upon a time -"
"Very good start, doctor. Comforting, takes me back to my childhood and those happy nights when mommy would sit for hours telling me stories."
"Ah, yes, the good old days, you at your mother's knee, annoying the crap out of her with your endless questions."
*aggrieved silence* "I get better stories than this at 1-976-HO DOWN."
"Yes, but this is cheaper and easier to write off on your taxes."
"True. So, when does this conversational expedition take off?"
"Right now, Skipper. Once upon a time there was a cranky little boy who refused to go to bed -"
"Hey, this isn't going to be a morality play, is it? Cuddy has so burned me out on those."
"Are you sleepy yet?"
*sigh* "Yeah, maybe. You want to crawl back in your king size bed with your spunky little woman, I guess."
"Nah, just checking to see if my technique needs improving."
"Not from what the nurses say about you."
"House."
"This little boy, was he an orphan? I'm a sucker for those pathetic little creatures who freeze to death with "love" the last word they ever utter."
"No, this cranky little kid would never let the word love pass his lips. He'd scoff at such blatant sentimentality. No, this is a tough kid who doesn't need anyone."
"What happens to him?"
"The usual; pain, sorrow, loneliness, eventually he realizes he's squandered every opportunity for happiness he's ever had in his life."
"Uh-oh, I'm sensing there are no happy endings."
"Now, you'd be wrong about that. It has a happy ending. The cranky, stubborn kid makes a friend and except for the fact that his friend tends to ignore him, use him, mock him and call him in the middle of the night, the kid learns to believe in love even if it's not the kind he'd scoffed at."
*silence* "Oh."
"Uh-huh."
*long silence*
"Good night, Wilson."
"Night, House."
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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 Fox Television, 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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