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house_wilson_ghcTitle: Haunting House
Author: athinfacade
Rating: PG to PG13 for now
Summary: House gets haunted. Takes place currently.
Characters: House/Wilson friendship, possible to likely slash later.
Disclaimer: I do not own House, Wilson, or any other characters on the show House. I don't own the show, either. I don't even have a video camera.
A/N: Got on a roll. Just kinda sharing where I'm headed. Other chapters will likely not be as fast in coming. :) Unintentional pun.
First chapter here: http://community.livejournal.com/house_wilson/3013468.html?#cutid1
“Why are you here so early? Shouldn't you be...well, meandering in whenever you feel like it?”
“It's seven-forty five in the morning. Why are you speaking to me?”
“Because it's seven-forty five in the morning. And you're at work. If you don't want to be spoken to until ten, show up at ten like you always do.” Wilson poured them each a cup of coffee. House reached around him and grabbed his, blowing on it quickly and taking that first, wonderful sip. Wilson raised an eyebrow at him.
“I couldn't sleep, OK?”
“Fine. Fine. It was curious, that's all,” Wilson said.
“So is the color of your tie, but I'm not harassing you about it, am I? And in that same vein, pleats do nothing for your waistline,” House let his eyes fall to Wilson's khakis and then travel back up again.
“They're not pleated!”
“They are.”
“They're wrinkled...” Wilson began smoothing the pants diligently with his palms.
“I have things to do. See you around.” House headed for his office and then he paused. He turned to Wilson, who was now visibly dismayed about his supposedly pleated pants. House stifled a grin. “Hey, Wilson?”
“Yeah?”
House debated mentioning the previous night's incident to Wilson. But how would he broach that subject delicately? I had a supernatural encounter with your recently dead girlfriend? Somehow he needed to bounce this off Wilson without Wilson knowing about it. But it was early. He would come up with something later. “Nevermind. Go smooth your pants.”
Cuddy met him in the hallway. “Since you're here so early...”
“We should have a quickie?”
Cuddy's gaze sliced the air. “No. I have a couple cases for you to review. You're never here early enough to preview anything before I have to toss it in your lap.”
“What? I'm sorry, but it's too early for a lapdance.”
“Enough. Here.” She shoved two files at him.
House raised his eyebrows. “I have coffee in one hand and I'm a gimp. Think you can accompany me to my office with those?”
Cuddy opted to forego a response, but fell in to step beside House.
“Did I tell you that my father wasn't my father?” House asked.
Cuddy looked at him. “No.”
“My father, the one who died, is not my father, the one who got my mother pregnant with me. Two different guys. Kind of like the two Dicks on Bewitched. You think they're the same, but...” he trailed off. They were at the office and House leaned on the door to open it, letting Cuddy through ahead of him. The door closed behind them and she tossed the files on his desk. She looked at him but didn't ask him anything. “What?” he said.
“I'm...waiting for you to finish.”
House considered for a moment. “If you found out your father wasn't your father, what would you say to your mother about it?”
Cuddy's mouth opened and shut. She tried again. “I don't know. Does your mother know that you...know?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “You might...tell her that, first. I guess. If you were thinking of... talking to her. House, what is this about?”
“Nothing!” House put on his patented fake-sincerity face, complete with expressive eyes. “Can't we just have a heart to heart? Can't I come to you for valuable input and advice?”
She looked at him askance as she headed for the door. “Sure. Just warn me first next time so I can slather on some anti-weirdness cream.”
“Warn me and I'll slather it for you.”
***
“Team!” House addressed his group loudly as he entered the room. “Forty-something guy presenting with visions of dead chicks. Differential diagnosis.”
Everyone looked at each other. “Is this the real case?” Kutner asked.
“Kutner...read the file. Of course it's not the real case. But if it was, what would you say?”
“Hallucination,” Foreman said without looking up.
“No history of hallucinations or psychological disturbances.” House paused. “No drug use.”
Cameron was watching him curiously. “What does this have to do with the case? Are you alright?”
“If you'd read the file, you'd know that the guy we're dealing with presents with a constellation of strange symptoms, the next of which could very well be a hallucination.”
“Could be, if any of the symptoms were neurological. And if the patient was male. House.” Foreman raised his eyebrows. “Did you see something?”
House paused. He let his eyes widen. “Oh my god! I see the black specter of death! Oh, wait, it's just you, Foreman. OK, move on. Let's get to work on this woman. You did say it was a woman, didn't you?”
Cameron began. “Female, twenty seven. Hemolytic anemia, 102 fever, chills. Decreased red blood cells and platelets.”
“Negative on fungus. Clean tox screen,” Foreman continued.
House began writing on the white board.
***
“You told Cuddy about your father?”
House paused in the lunch line and looked around in mock confusion. “Does anyone else hear that?”
“Knock it off,” Wilson said, getting in line behind House. “Sorry,” he offered to the woman he'd cut in front of.
House leaned across Wilson to talk to the woman behind him. “He can't help his rudeness. It's genetic.”
Wilson looked over his shoulder at her. “He can help his, but chooses not to.”
“Nice counter.”
“Thank you. Stop evading. Cuddy said you asked her advice on talking to your mother. I didn't know you were...”
“That's because I wasn't planning to. It was just a thought. Does Cuddy repeat everything I say to her verbatim?”
“To me, yes. So, you're not going to talk to your mother?”
“No.” They sat down. House looked at his lunch and then looked up at Wilson again. “Maybe.”
“Why?”
“You think it's a bad idea?” House asked.
“Um, no...but, why? I mean, you came up with this...dealing with a problem...on your own?”
“It's not a problem, first of all. Second of all, yes I did come up with it all by myself, daddy.”
Wilson paused with sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Don't even go there. Oh, I also heard from your team that you're obsessing over ghosts now. This is new.”
“If by obsessing you mean mentioning one time, then, yes, commit me now. Otherwise, no. Which apparently humorless member of my team said this to you?”
“Not naming names.” Wilson bit in to his sandwich. “I think it would be good for you to talk to your mom.”
“Why? Dare I ask.”
Wilson shrugged. “Clear the air. Ask her anything you need to ask and get it out of the way. She's getting older, House, and...”
House waved a dismissive hand. “I know. Time didn't start moving backwards when I woke up this morning.”
“I just think it would do you good. But you ignore everything else I think would do you good, so why should this be any different?”
“Would it do you any good?” House chugged some water while Wilson gave him a stare.
“I don't think so, House. I'm going to say no to that.”
“Hm.”
“What was that for?”
“I was wondering if my patient ever had a splenectomy.”
“Of course you were.”
***
House burst in to the room and every one looked up.
“We've eliminated...”
“Does the patient have a spleen?” House interrupted.
A shuffling of files ensued. “It doesn't say...” Foreman began.
“Of course it says!” House swiped the folder from Foreman. He flipped through to the page with the earliest dates and worked his way forward. “Right here.” He tossed the file down again. “Splenectomy. She was eleven.”
“So what?” Kutner said. “It was sixteen years ago. Besides, there's no septicemia. No neutrophilia...”
Cameron came in. “Her liver's failing.”
House turned back to Foreman and Kutner. “We better figure this out, then. What else do we have? Did we check for parasites?”
“She's negative for parasites.” Cameron said.
“Test her again.”
“It's a waste of time. We should...”
“Bzz! Wrong! Test her again. This time look really, really hard.” House scrunched up his face at Cameron and pretended to pinch something very tiny between his thumb and forefinger.
Cameron sighed. “What am I looking really, really hard for?”
House shrugged. “A parasite.” Cameron just stared at him. “Hello! Liver failure! Move!” House shooed her with his cane and she left.
***
“...eighty seven, eighty eight, eighty nine...”
“Well, I do hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
House offered Wilson a quick glance. “...ninety one, ninety two...” He was bouncing the ball off the wall and catching it in the hook of his cane. “Don't...ninety five...make me...ninety six...lose count. Ninety eight. Going for... ninety nine...the record...”
“Did Guinness introduce a new category?”
“...hundred one... yes, just for me. Hundred three...”
Wilson took a seat. He let House get up to one hundred and fifteen, and then he surreptitiously stuck out his foot and intercepted the ball on its way back to House's cane. The ball bounced off the desk and rolled in to a corner. House gave him a defeated look. “Why do you take away my happiness?”
“Because it gives me the giggles. How's your patient?”
House retrieved the ball and sat down. “I think she has a parasite.”
“You've narrowed it down. She tested positive?”
“Not yet, but she will. She went to the Hamptons on vacation last month. And she has no spleen.”
“Another mystery solved.”
“I think she has babesiosis. Cameron said she tested negative for parasites, but I'm having her test again. This bugger only shows up in less than 1% of circulating red blood cells.”
“And the Long Island thing?”
“It's found in Long Island Iced Tea.”
“What?” Wilson's eyebrows shot up.
House rolled his eyes. “You're as bad as Kutner. Predominant location. More severe in patients with no spleen.”
“Ah hah.”
They sat in silence for a minute. “Do you harbor any secret resentment toward me?”
“Tons,” Wilson replied evenly.
“Want to come with me to my mother's?”
“Sure.”
TBC
Author: athinfacade
Rating: PG to PG13 for now
Summary: House gets haunted. Takes place currently.
Characters: House/Wilson friendship, possible to likely slash later.
Disclaimer: I do not own House, Wilson, or any other characters on the show House. I don't own the show, either. I don't even have a video camera.
A/N: Got on a roll. Just kinda sharing where I'm headed. Other chapters will likely not be as fast in coming. :) Unintentional pun.
First chapter here: http://community.livejournal.com/house_wilson/3013468.html?#cutid1
“Why are you here so early? Shouldn't you be...well, meandering in whenever you feel like it?”
“It's seven-forty five in the morning. Why are you speaking to me?”
“Because it's seven-forty five in the morning. And you're at work. If you don't want to be spoken to until ten, show up at ten like you always do.” Wilson poured them each a cup of coffee. House reached around him and grabbed his, blowing on it quickly and taking that first, wonderful sip. Wilson raised an eyebrow at him.
“I couldn't sleep, OK?”
“Fine. Fine. It was curious, that's all,” Wilson said.
“So is the color of your tie, but I'm not harassing you about it, am I? And in that same vein, pleats do nothing for your waistline,” House let his eyes fall to Wilson's khakis and then travel back up again.
“They're not pleated!”
“They are.”
“They're wrinkled...” Wilson began smoothing the pants diligently with his palms.
“I have things to do. See you around.” House headed for his office and then he paused. He turned to Wilson, who was now visibly dismayed about his supposedly pleated pants. House stifled a grin. “Hey, Wilson?”
“Yeah?”
House debated mentioning the previous night's incident to Wilson. But how would he broach that subject delicately? I had a supernatural encounter with your recently dead girlfriend? Somehow he needed to bounce this off Wilson without Wilson knowing about it. But it was early. He would come up with something later. “Nevermind. Go smooth your pants.”
Cuddy met him in the hallway. “Since you're here so early...”
“We should have a quickie?”
Cuddy's gaze sliced the air. “No. I have a couple cases for you to review. You're never here early enough to preview anything before I have to toss it in your lap.”
“What? I'm sorry, but it's too early for a lapdance.”
“Enough. Here.” She shoved two files at him.
House raised his eyebrows. “I have coffee in one hand and I'm a gimp. Think you can accompany me to my office with those?”
Cuddy opted to forego a response, but fell in to step beside House.
“Did I tell you that my father wasn't my father?” House asked.
Cuddy looked at him. “No.”
“My father, the one who died, is not my father, the one who got my mother pregnant with me. Two different guys. Kind of like the two Dicks on Bewitched. You think they're the same, but...” he trailed off. They were at the office and House leaned on the door to open it, letting Cuddy through ahead of him. The door closed behind them and she tossed the files on his desk. She looked at him but didn't ask him anything. “What?” he said.
“I'm...waiting for you to finish.”
House considered for a moment. “If you found out your father wasn't your father, what would you say to your mother about it?”
Cuddy's mouth opened and shut. She tried again. “I don't know. Does your mother know that you...know?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “You might...tell her that, first. I guess. If you were thinking of... talking to her. House, what is this about?”
“Nothing!” House put on his patented fake-sincerity face, complete with expressive eyes. “Can't we just have a heart to heart? Can't I come to you for valuable input and advice?”
She looked at him askance as she headed for the door. “Sure. Just warn me first next time so I can slather on some anti-weirdness cream.”
“Warn me and I'll slather it for you.”
***
“Team!” House addressed his group loudly as he entered the room. “Forty-something guy presenting with visions of dead chicks. Differential diagnosis.”
Everyone looked at each other. “Is this the real case?” Kutner asked.
“Kutner...read the file. Of course it's not the real case. But if it was, what would you say?”
“Hallucination,” Foreman said without looking up.
“No history of hallucinations or psychological disturbances.” House paused. “No drug use.”
Cameron was watching him curiously. “What does this have to do with the case? Are you alright?”
“If you'd read the file, you'd know that the guy we're dealing with presents with a constellation of strange symptoms, the next of which could very well be a hallucination.”
“Could be, if any of the symptoms were neurological. And if the patient was male. House.” Foreman raised his eyebrows. “Did you see something?”
House paused. He let his eyes widen. “Oh my god! I see the black specter of death! Oh, wait, it's just you, Foreman. OK, move on. Let's get to work on this woman. You did say it was a woman, didn't you?”
Cameron began. “Female, twenty seven. Hemolytic anemia, 102 fever, chills. Decreased red blood cells and platelets.”
“Negative on fungus. Clean tox screen,” Foreman continued.
House began writing on the white board.
***
“You told Cuddy about your father?”
House paused in the lunch line and looked around in mock confusion. “Does anyone else hear that?”
“Knock it off,” Wilson said, getting in line behind House. “Sorry,” he offered to the woman he'd cut in front of.
House leaned across Wilson to talk to the woman behind him. “He can't help his rudeness. It's genetic.”
Wilson looked over his shoulder at her. “He can help his, but chooses not to.”
“Nice counter.”
“Thank you. Stop evading. Cuddy said you asked her advice on talking to your mother. I didn't know you were...”
“That's because I wasn't planning to. It was just a thought. Does Cuddy repeat everything I say to her verbatim?”
“To me, yes. So, you're not going to talk to your mother?”
“No.” They sat down. House looked at his lunch and then looked up at Wilson again. “Maybe.”
“Why?”
“You think it's a bad idea?” House asked.
“Um, no...but, why? I mean, you came up with this...dealing with a problem...on your own?”
“It's not a problem, first of all. Second of all, yes I did come up with it all by myself, daddy.”
Wilson paused with sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Don't even go there. Oh, I also heard from your team that you're obsessing over ghosts now. This is new.”
“If by obsessing you mean mentioning one time, then, yes, commit me now. Otherwise, no. Which apparently humorless member of my team said this to you?”
“Not naming names.” Wilson bit in to his sandwich. “I think it would be good for you to talk to your mom.”
“Why? Dare I ask.”
Wilson shrugged. “Clear the air. Ask her anything you need to ask and get it out of the way. She's getting older, House, and...”
House waved a dismissive hand. “I know. Time didn't start moving backwards when I woke up this morning.”
“I just think it would do you good. But you ignore everything else I think would do you good, so why should this be any different?”
“Would it do you any good?” House chugged some water while Wilson gave him a stare.
“I don't think so, House. I'm going to say no to that.”
“Hm.”
“What was that for?”
“I was wondering if my patient ever had a splenectomy.”
“Of course you were.”
***
House burst in to the room and every one looked up.
“We've eliminated...”
“Does the patient have a spleen?” House interrupted.
A shuffling of files ensued. “It doesn't say...” Foreman began.
“Of course it says!” House swiped the folder from Foreman. He flipped through to the page with the earliest dates and worked his way forward. “Right here.” He tossed the file down again. “Splenectomy. She was eleven.”
“So what?” Kutner said. “It was sixteen years ago. Besides, there's no septicemia. No neutrophilia...”
Cameron came in. “Her liver's failing.”
House turned back to Foreman and Kutner. “We better figure this out, then. What else do we have? Did we check for parasites?”
“She's negative for parasites.” Cameron said.
“Test her again.”
“It's a waste of time. We should...”
“Bzz! Wrong! Test her again. This time look really, really hard.” House scrunched up his face at Cameron and pretended to pinch something very tiny between his thumb and forefinger.
Cameron sighed. “What am I looking really, really hard for?”
House shrugged. “A parasite.” Cameron just stared at him. “Hello! Liver failure! Move!” House shooed her with his cane and she left.
***
“...eighty seven, eighty eight, eighty nine...”
“Well, I do hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
House offered Wilson a quick glance. “...ninety one, ninety two...” He was bouncing the ball off the wall and catching it in the hook of his cane. “Don't...ninety five...make me...ninety six...lose count. Ninety eight. Going for... ninety nine...the record...”
“Did Guinness introduce a new category?”
“...hundred one... yes, just for me. Hundred three...”
Wilson took a seat. He let House get up to one hundred and fifteen, and then he surreptitiously stuck out his foot and intercepted the ball on its way back to House's cane. The ball bounced off the desk and rolled in to a corner. House gave him a defeated look. “Why do you take away my happiness?”
“Because it gives me the giggles. How's your patient?”
House retrieved the ball and sat down. “I think she has a parasite.”
“You've narrowed it down. She tested positive?”
“Not yet, but she will. She went to the Hamptons on vacation last month. And she has no spleen.”
“Another mystery solved.”
“I think she has babesiosis. Cameron said she tested negative for parasites, but I'm having her test again. This bugger only shows up in less than 1% of circulating red blood cells.”
“And the Long Island thing?”
“It's found in Long Island Iced Tea.”
“What?” Wilson's eyebrows shot up.
House rolled his eyes. “You're as bad as Kutner. Predominant location. More severe in patients with no spleen.”
“Ah hah.”
They sat in silence for a minute. “Do you harbor any secret resentment toward me?”
“Tons,” Wilson replied evenly.
“Want to come with me to my mother's?”
“Sure.”
TBC
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Date: 2008-12-24 04:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 12:23 pm (UTC)