Fic : Four Years
Apr. 29th, 2011 11:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
menolly_auTitle: Four Years
Words: 885
Rating : G
Spoilers : Season 7
Characters: House & Wilson
Summary : A small crack fic in honour of the 4th Birthday of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sick_wilson - inspired by this post.
Wilson stared at the screen. Four years! He couldn't believe it, what had he ever done to these people to deserve this?
"Four years," he said aloud.
"What are you rabbiting about Wilson?" House wandered in from the kitchen area, a couple of suspicious smudges on his clothes. Wilson had been banned from the kitchen tonight.
"These people," Wilson pointed at the laptop screen, "are celebrating four years of their sick!Wilson community. Four years of torturing me anyway they can think of. Look at the tags! Assault, car accident, fractures, alcoholism, drug addiction, brain damage!" He stabbed at the screen with his finger with each word. "Nothing is beyond these people, nothing is sacred. TB, smallpox!, Cotard's Syndrome, retinal vascular occlusion - I mean who even thinks of that! There's even..." he gulped, "impotence! I am not now and never have been impotent!"
"Of course you haven't been Wilson," House soothed, "if you say so."
"And look, now they're saying how they hope it continues for many years to come, even past the end of the show! I've got plays to do - I can't hang around here being sick for the next ten years!"
House came closer, staring at the screen, seemingly entranced by the picture of Wilson lying comatose in a hospital bed.
"Relax, Wilson. It's nothing personal. There's a sick!House site too, you don't hear me complaining."
"That's because there's not much on yours, I've got easily five times as many stories on my site as you have on yours. And you're an asshole - I'm the nice one! They shouldn't be doing this to me."
"Well they make up for it on the show. I've been shot - twice!, I've had an infarction, two (or is it three) heart attacks, I've broken my own finger, electrocuted myself, overdosed, had a bad blood transfusion reaction, had a skull fracture, a mental breakdown, deep brain stimulation, detoxed three times, had sex with Cuddy...There's not much else they can do to me. You, on the other hand..."
"I donated part of my liver to that jerk Tucker, only last year," Wilson said defensively. "I was sick then."
"Please, you were sick for about seven minutes and a couple of ad breaks, just time for a quick spin in the wheelchair and then you were hopping up on breakfast counters. I've had longer recovery periods from a stubbed toe."
Wilson sat back on the couch, sulking. It wasn't fair. House didn't understand, he was always the one who got to do the comforting. House got to be the good guy looking after his poor sick friend. Wilson just got to suffer, endlessly.
"Cheer up Wilson, it will be summer soon. Time for camp, you liked that so much last year." House offered as he disappeared back into the kitchen.
Wilson shuddered, he still remembered camp from last year, the bears, the crocodiles, the bees, the frostbite and sunstroke. Oh yes, camp should be an absolute blast this year, he couldn't wait.
He looked up as he heard House coming back into the living area. He was carrying a large cake, with five lit candles on top of it.
"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you..." House was singing.
"It's not my birthday." Wilson glanced at the screen, remembered his original complaint, "you made me a cake for Sick!Wilson's birthday? The site that likes to torture me endlessly?"
"Yep."
"And you put...five candles on it? The place is only four years old."
"One for next year, I'm sure they'll be going at least that long, there's still heaps of diseases they haven't done. They haven't even done lupus yet!"
Wilson sighed in resignation, eyeing the cake House had put before him. It was a very nice looking cake, chocolate, with more chocolate oozing down the sides. He was getting fatter just looking at it. He snuck a look at the screen - hah - no entry for obesity yet.
House cut him a large piece of cake and Wilson took a bite. Lovely cake, nice and rich and creamy, just how he liked it. Except, the room was spinning, he was breaking out in a sweat and his stomach was gurgling. He stumbled to his feet and rang to the bathroom.
House looked thoughtfully at the Sick!Wilson site - it had to be there somewhere...there it was - food poisoning! Cool!
He picked up the laptop and left a quick post on the site, encouraging the authors to keep writing more sick!Wilson stories, after all this was the only time House was allowed to be a caring human being instead of an insensitive asshole jerk.
He got to his feet and followed Wilson to the bathroom. "Wilson...Wilson! What are you doing? You're going to hurt yourself...oops, too late!" He got there just in time to pick Wilson up off the floor where he'd fallen. He held the dazed man securely in his arms.
"It's okay,Wilson. You're okay. Don't forget, we're only doing it because we love you!"
Words: 885
Rating : G
Spoilers : Season 7
Characters: House & Wilson
Summary : A small crack fic in honour of the 4th Birthday of
sick_wilson - inspired by this post.Wilson stared at the screen. Four years! He couldn't believe it, what had he ever done to these people to deserve this?
"Four years," he said aloud.
"What are you rabbiting about Wilson?" House wandered in from the kitchen area, a couple of suspicious smudges on his clothes. Wilson had been banned from the kitchen tonight.
"These people," Wilson pointed at the laptop screen, "are celebrating four years of their sick!Wilson community. Four years of torturing me anyway they can think of. Look at the tags! Assault, car accident, fractures, alcoholism, drug addiction, brain damage!" He stabbed at the screen with his finger with each word. "Nothing is beyond these people, nothing is sacred. TB, smallpox!, Cotard's Syndrome, retinal vascular occlusion - I mean who even thinks of that! There's even..." he gulped, "impotence! I am not now and never have been impotent!"
"Of course you haven't been Wilson," House soothed, "if you say so."
"And look, now they're saying how they hope it continues for many years to come, even past the end of the show! I've got plays to do - I can't hang around here being sick for the next ten years!"
House came closer, staring at the screen, seemingly entranced by the picture of Wilson lying comatose in a hospital bed.
"Relax, Wilson. It's nothing personal. There's a sick!House site too, you don't hear me complaining."
"That's because there's not much on yours, I've got easily five times as many stories on my site as you have on yours. And you're an asshole - I'm the nice one! They shouldn't be doing this to me."
"Well they make up for it on the show. I've been shot - twice!, I've had an infarction, two (or is it three) heart attacks, I've broken my own finger, electrocuted myself, overdosed, had a bad blood transfusion reaction, had a skull fracture, a mental breakdown, deep brain stimulation, detoxed three times, had sex with Cuddy...There's not much else they can do to me. You, on the other hand..."
"I donated part of my liver to that jerk Tucker, only last year," Wilson said defensively. "I was sick then."
"Please, you were sick for about seven minutes and a couple of ad breaks, just time for a quick spin in the wheelchair and then you were hopping up on breakfast counters. I've had longer recovery periods from a stubbed toe."
Wilson sat back on the couch, sulking. It wasn't fair. House didn't understand, he was always the one who got to do the comforting. House got to be the good guy looking after his poor sick friend. Wilson just got to suffer, endlessly.
"Cheer up Wilson, it will be summer soon. Time for camp, you liked that so much last year." House offered as he disappeared back into the kitchen.
Wilson shuddered, he still remembered camp from last year, the bears, the crocodiles, the bees, the frostbite and sunstroke. Oh yes, camp should be an absolute blast this year, he couldn't wait.
He looked up as he heard House coming back into the living area. He was carrying a large cake, with five lit candles on top of it.
"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you..." House was singing.
"It's not my birthday." Wilson glanced at the screen, remembered his original complaint, "you made me a cake for Sick!Wilson's birthday? The site that likes to torture me endlessly?"
"Yep."
"And you put...five candles on it? The place is only four years old."
"One for next year, I'm sure they'll be going at least that long, there's still heaps of diseases they haven't done. They haven't even done lupus yet!"
Wilson sighed in resignation, eyeing the cake House had put before him. It was a very nice looking cake, chocolate, with more chocolate oozing down the sides. He was getting fatter just looking at it. He snuck a look at the screen - hah - no entry for obesity yet.
House cut him a large piece of cake and Wilson took a bite. Lovely cake, nice and rich and creamy, just how he liked it. Except, the room was spinning, he was breaking out in a sweat and his stomach was gurgling. He stumbled to his feet and rang to the bathroom.
House looked thoughtfully at the Sick!Wilson site - it had to be there somewhere...there it was - food poisoning! Cool!
He picked up the laptop and left a quick post on the site, encouraging the authors to keep writing more sick!Wilson stories, after all this was the only time House was allowed to be a caring human being instead of an insensitive asshole jerk.
He got to his feet and followed Wilson to the bathroom. "Wilson...Wilson! What are you doing? You're going to hurt yourself...oops, too late!" He got there just in time to pick Wilson up off the floor where he'd fallen. He held the dazed man securely in his arms.
"It's okay,Wilson. You're okay. Don't forget, we're only doing it because we love you!"
