Post ep (8.13) fic: A House Is Not A Home

[roseofpain84.livejournal.com]

Title: A House Is Not A Home
Characters: House, Wilson, Dominica
Pairings: House/Dominica (As it's portrayed on the show. No romance), House/Wilson (pre-slash in my book but if you think it's friendship, OK) and mentions of past House/Cuddy and House/Stacy
Rating: PG (G even? Not sure about ratings tbh)
Spoilers: For 8.13 - Man Of The House
Words: 761 according to MS Word
Warnings: None whatsoever other than the fact that it's unbeta-ed and written by a non native speaker...>.<
Summary: House's flat doesn't feel much like home lately...

  The first time House opened his door to a warm flat and Dominica dancing happily in the background he froze on his feet. Despite knowing that she would be there, things still felt quite wrong and the surreal thought that maybe he was in the wrong flat temporarily crossed his mind. Then he took a deep breath and decided to just go with it. Enjoy the married life.

  The second time around he thought he was prepared. The fire was glowing merrily in the fireplace and Dominica was asleep on the couch. He looked at all the picture frames cluttering his piano, the photoshopped images of their mock up holidays. Time he was supposed to have spent with her. Time he had actually spent in jail. He thought about Cuddy and wondered if he could ever have this with her. A real version of this. He didn’t miss her, but he occasionally missed the hope he had that she would be the one to bring him peace.

  The third time it happened he felt nearly apprehensive. Opening his door was turning into some weird ritual that revealed portals to a different world, another dimension, an alternate reality. So, this time, when the domesticity assaulted him and all he could think of was fractured memories of him and Stacy and the time they had spent together, he told himself that he was expecting it. He had been happy then, with her. But that was at least two lifetimes ago…

  By the fourth time this occurred he was actually anticipating it and therefore reassured himself that nothing could surprise him. He entered the flat, dropped down his bag and took off his jacket. He called out to Dominica, who was apparently in the kitchen cooking up dinner, and sat on the couch. Even though he still wasn’t used to the idea of his home being taken over by her, today, he felt at ease. If only he didn’t feel that weird longing on the pits of his stomach.

  He contemplated this for a while. He didn’t miss Stacy. That had been ages ago. He didn’t really miss Cuddy either. He had made sure this was over forever. But this, he thought as he looked all around him, this was making him miss something and he just wasn’t sure what. He sighed and closed his eyes.

  He must have dozed off cause when he next became conscious of his surroundings, the television was on, and the smell of home cooked dinner was tickling his nostrils. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see that it was Dominica sitting beside him on the couch, looking lazily at the TV screen.

“Dinner is ready.” She announced and all he could do was gape at her while all the dots finally connected on his mind.

  Without uttering a word, and looking through her with the expression usually saved for medical puzzle epiphanies, he put on his jacket, grabbed his keys and left the flat.

  When Wilson opened the door to him he looked momentarily worried but House grinned at him and then proceeded to sniff the room with the loudest snorting noise he could manage.

“Whatever it is you’ve been cooking, I’d kill for some of it!” he said as he walked in and made himself comfortable on the couch.

“The wife starving you again?” Wilson asked but didn’t wait for his answer as he walked to the kitchen to fill up a plate.

  House tucked in to his dinner as Wilson carried over his own half eaten meal and sat beside him on the couch.

  The sound of the TV was a pleasant background noise, the food was tasty and fulfilling, the organ was still in the corner bringing back fond memories of long ago and Wilson had started talking about some inane rumor the nurses had shared with him this morning. It felt a lot more like home than his place did these past few days.

  He lied back on the couch and thought that this is it. This was always it. Whatever it really was. He knew that he had to reconsider this, think it through, re-evaluate it. He knew that there must be a deeper reason why the longing he had been feeling these past days had led him here. Why this was the place, Wilson’s place…Wilson himself, that felt like home and brought him peace of mind.

  For now though, he was content to bask in the sensation of it all. He was here and everything was alright in the world.

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So umm......if you feel like it, do point out any atrocious mistakes you can see on language or punctuation and I'll try to fix them.

P.S. I hope I tagged this correctly....D: