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house_wilson_ghcTitle: Balls
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lucid_dreamer_
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo
Summary: Wilson sees House juggling and decides to try for himself.
Author's note: You guessed it, another prompt fromchickloveslotr. Count how many times the words "ball" or "balls" are used.
Disclaimer: I do not own House, or "The Thing".
Wilson paused in the hallway, looking into House’s glass walled office. House looked like he was, as usual, ignoring the team during a differential. He was juggling his balls.
…No, that wasn’t the right way to say that. If House was privy to Wilson’s thoughts in that moment…
He was juggling the balls from his desk. The gray and red lacrosse ball always sat on the top, but the other two were often produced from who the hell knows where. The point was, it was mesmerizing to watch House juggle. House was always doing interesting things like that, and Wilson always wondered just where the man had learned to do them.
Hours of boredom? He supposed that was where House had taught himself to juggle almost anything he got his hands on. That was also where he had probably learned to spin his cane like a baton. There’d been a time, before the infarction, that House had managed to put his leg over his head. Now, Wilson could easily imagine what kind of use a man like House could get out of that. Why pay a hooker to---
He watched House for a few more seconds before continuing on to his own office. A few hours of paperwork passed before Wilson allowed himself to take a break.
If House had learned to juggle in his spare time, then Wilson probably could. It couldn’t be that hard, and Wilson had coordination… he’d played tennis at McGill, after all. He was good with balls.
…he really had to stop thinking about balls.
There was nothing in his office even remotely like a ball (ha). Wait, no, that was inaccurate. There was a handful of bouncy balls in his desk, in a plastic bag. He’d bought a bunch of them for some of his younger patients to have something to do while he talked to their parents… a clear bouncy balls with a fish or a dinosaur in it had done the trick for some of them.
He grabbed three and tried it out. The balls were probably too small, and they kept escaping his grasp, or somehow flying out of control. One ricocheted off his desk, whacked into the bookcase behind him and knocked one of his diplomas off.
Wilson heard it (the sound of impending doom via your own education) before he felt the sharp corner of the frame dig into his scalp. He fell into his chair and the frame thudded away across the floor, untouched by their unintentional altercation.
He sat in his chair, dazed and bleeding for what seemed like an eternity. He didn’t even hear House slipping the lock on the balcony door and coming in. All he was aware of was the fact that House’s hands were on his shoulders and the other man was laughing.
“That was… prime entertainment. You don’t juggle with bouncy balls, and you never start with balls. You get to look girly with scarves first. This is bad… you’re going to need stitches.”
“Scarves?”
“Yup. Or handkerchiefs. Things that won’t hurt you or your environment when you fuck it all up. Come on. Daddy will make everything better. You want ice cream?”
“Sure. You’d actually get me ice cream?”
“I wasn’t serious.”
“Oh.”
Wilson allowed House to lead him down to one of the exam rooms, dimly aware of the fact that he had some piece of fabric that House had produced pressed against his head. He pulled it off while they were in the elevator and realized it was a handkerchief.
….Of course House would have a handkerchief. For no other good reason than just to have it. Who really knew what was in his pockets? Wilson didn’t.
He looked at House’s chest as the other man pushed the handkerchief back against his scalp. House always had things in his pockets and did interesting things with them.
…. He really had to stop thinking in vague, possibly sexual, statements.
House sat him down on the exam table and pulled on some gloves. There was a small smile on his face as he prepped Wilson for the stitches.
“You’re an idiot.”
“What? Hey… I wanted to try. You’re always doing something interesting.”
“Juggling keeps me busy, it isn’t interesting.”
“It is to me. You’re always interesting to me…”
There was a quick jab in his scalp and Wilson winced, “Jesus…”
“Sorry. Just trying to numb your head. Oh wait… you’re already a numbskull.”
“Ha. I just wanted to try it.”
“You know, despite what they say, imitation is not the best form of flattery.”
“Where’d you learn to juggle, House?”
“I taught myself, when I was a kid. It passed the time.”
“And you… never hit yourself on the head.”
“Nope. There’s this amazing thing called reading. I always do it before I start something new… I suppose I should have read about sutures before I started, huh? Maybe I can embroider something in your scalp…”
“You read about juggling.”
“Yep.”
“So, by your logic, you can do anything you read about.”
“I’ve read the Kama Sutra at least a hundred times.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You don’t believe me?” House smirked, steadily suturing the wound on Wilson’s head, “Ask Stacy.”
“Or any hooker.”
“Or any hooker. Well. Except Bess.”
“You know them by name. Of course you do. Why not Bess?”
“You’d know if you saw Bess.”
“What’s wrong with Bess?”
“She’s wall-eyed. I’d feel like I’m fucking this spaniel my aunt used to have. I can’t bring myself to do it.”
Wilson laughed and House waited until he was done to finish the stitches.
“There. Boo-boo is all better now. Well. Until it gets crusty and you look like the Thing.”
“The Thing was a shapeshifter. We all look like the Thing.”
“No, not necessarily true. It had that all fucked up looking form too. You know, when it sprayed acid all over the dogs and generally lurched around?”
“That scene with the dogs damaged me for life.”
“You were already damaged before John Carpenter got to you with tales of arctic terror,” House peeled off his gloves and sat down on the exam table beside him.
“How are you doin’, old boy?” Wilson looked over at House.
“I don’t know who to trust,” House looked back at him.
“I know what you mean, Blair. Trusts’ a tough thing to come by these days. Tell you what—Why don’t you just trust in the Lord?”
House started to laugh, a thin husky sound, “Hey… come by my office after you’re done for the day. I’ll teach you how to juggle.”
Wilson smiled and nodded dimly, “Yeah. I’d like that. You want to catch a movie?”
“Sure. I’ll go grab The Thing.”
“Thanks,” Wilson slid off the table and stood. House just nodded and disappeared out the exam room door.
Author:
lucid_dreamer_Rating: PG-13 for innuendo
Summary: Wilson sees House juggling and decides to try for himself.
Author's note: You guessed it, another prompt from
chickloveslotr. Count how many times the words "ball" or "balls" are used.Disclaimer: I do not own House, or "The Thing".
Wilson paused in the hallway, looking into House’s glass walled office. House looked like he was, as usual, ignoring the team during a differential. He was juggling his balls.
…No, that wasn’t the right way to say that. If House was privy to Wilson’s thoughts in that moment…
He was juggling the balls from his desk. The gray and red lacrosse ball always sat on the top, but the other two were often produced from who the hell knows where. The point was, it was mesmerizing to watch House juggle. House was always doing interesting things like that, and Wilson always wondered just where the man had learned to do them.
Hours of boredom? He supposed that was where House had taught himself to juggle almost anything he got his hands on. That was also where he had probably learned to spin his cane like a baton. There’d been a time, before the infarction, that House had managed to put his leg over his head. Now, Wilson could easily imagine what kind of use a man like House could get out of that. Why pay a hooker to---
He watched House for a few more seconds before continuing on to his own office. A few hours of paperwork passed before Wilson allowed himself to take a break.
If House had learned to juggle in his spare time, then Wilson probably could. It couldn’t be that hard, and Wilson had coordination… he’d played tennis at McGill, after all. He was good with balls.
…he really had to stop thinking about balls.
There was nothing in his office even remotely like a ball (ha). Wait, no, that was inaccurate. There was a handful of bouncy balls in his desk, in a plastic bag. He’d bought a bunch of them for some of his younger patients to have something to do while he talked to their parents… a clear bouncy balls with a fish or a dinosaur in it had done the trick for some of them.
He grabbed three and tried it out. The balls were probably too small, and they kept escaping his grasp, or somehow flying out of control. One ricocheted off his desk, whacked into the bookcase behind him and knocked one of his diplomas off.
Wilson heard it (the sound of impending doom via your own education) before he felt the sharp corner of the frame dig into his scalp. He fell into his chair and the frame thudded away across the floor, untouched by their unintentional altercation.
He sat in his chair, dazed and bleeding for what seemed like an eternity. He didn’t even hear House slipping the lock on the balcony door and coming in. All he was aware of was the fact that House’s hands were on his shoulders and the other man was laughing.
“That was… prime entertainment. You don’t juggle with bouncy balls, and you never start with balls. You get to look girly with scarves first. This is bad… you’re going to need stitches.”
“Scarves?”
“Yup. Or handkerchiefs. Things that won’t hurt you or your environment when you fuck it all up. Come on. Daddy will make everything better. You want ice cream?”
“Sure. You’d actually get me ice cream?”
“I wasn’t serious.”
“Oh.”
Wilson allowed House to lead him down to one of the exam rooms, dimly aware of the fact that he had some piece of fabric that House had produced pressed against his head. He pulled it off while they were in the elevator and realized it was a handkerchief.
….Of course House would have a handkerchief. For no other good reason than just to have it. Who really knew what was in his pockets? Wilson didn’t.
He looked at House’s chest as the other man pushed the handkerchief back against his scalp. House always had things in his pockets and did interesting things with them.
…. He really had to stop thinking in vague, possibly sexual, statements.
House sat him down on the exam table and pulled on some gloves. There was a small smile on his face as he prepped Wilson for the stitches.
“You’re an idiot.”
“What? Hey… I wanted to try. You’re always doing something interesting.”
“Juggling keeps me busy, it isn’t interesting.”
“It is to me. You’re always interesting to me…”
There was a quick jab in his scalp and Wilson winced, “Jesus…”
“Sorry. Just trying to numb your head. Oh wait… you’re already a numbskull.”
“Ha. I just wanted to try it.”
“You know, despite what they say, imitation is not the best form of flattery.”
“Where’d you learn to juggle, House?”
“I taught myself, when I was a kid. It passed the time.”
“And you… never hit yourself on the head.”
“Nope. There’s this amazing thing called reading. I always do it before I start something new… I suppose I should have read about sutures before I started, huh? Maybe I can embroider something in your scalp…”
“You read about juggling.”
“Yep.”
“So, by your logic, you can do anything you read about.”
“I’ve read the Kama Sutra at least a hundred times.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You don’t believe me?” House smirked, steadily suturing the wound on Wilson’s head, “Ask Stacy.”
“Or any hooker.”
“Or any hooker. Well. Except Bess.”
“You know them by name. Of course you do. Why not Bess?”
“You’d know if you saw Bess.”
“What’s wrong with Bess?”
“She’s wall-eyed. I’d feel like I’m fucking this spaniel my aunt used to have. I can’t bring myself to do it.”
Wilson laughed and House waited until he was done to finish the stitches.
“There. Boo-boo is all better now. Well. Until it gets crusty and you look like the Thing.”
“The Thing was a shapeshifter. We all look like the Thing.”
“No, not necessarily true. It had that all fucked up looking form too. You know, when it sprayed acid all over the dogs and generally lurched around?”
“That scene with the dogs damaged me for life.”
“You were already damaged before John Carpenter got to you with tales of arctic terror,” House peeled off his gloves and sat down on the exam table beside him.
“How are you doin’, old boy?” Wilson looked over at House.
“I don’t know who to trust,” House looked back at him.
“I know what you mean, Blair. Trusts’ a tough thing to come by these days. Tell you what—Why don’t you just trust in the Lord?”
House started to laugh, a thin husky sound, “Hey… come by my office after you’re done for the day. I’ll teach you how to juggle.”
Wilson smiled and nodded dimly, “Yeah. I’d like that. You want to catch a movie?”
“Sure. I’ll go grab The Thing.”
“Thanks,” Wilson slid off the table and stood. House just nodded and disappeared out the exam room door.
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no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 06:29 pm (UTC)*sweats and pulls on collar*
^-^*
I see 15 balls/ball on this page....
I couldn't stop smiling...this was great! *glomps*
no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 06:47 pm (UTC):D You give me the most prompts.
Glad you enjoyed.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 06:52 pm (UTC)Well actually I write...but I don't write fanfiction all that often.
But I wrote a tiny thing for one of my LJ buddy's birthday...
so that'll be up in a week or so.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 07:00 pm (UTC)I used to write, things other than fanfiction. Then I decided that I actually suck at that for the most part and should just stick to art. I was going to be an English major, but I was surrounded by idiots and couldn't do it anymore. So now I make pretty, pretty pictures ^0^ Sometimes.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 07:04 pm (UTC)they are very pretty indeed!
no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 06:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 10:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 10:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 10:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-09 10:52 pm (UTC)...vein...balls...ha....
If you have any requests, I generally take them, even if all I cough up is drabble.
Thank you for reading :)