The House Fan Fiction Archive

 

Long Winter Evenings, Or The Line


by Adrienne S.


Author's Note - The first line comes from a Dr Who fanfic called Precious Little Space Dumplings of Love by shaggydogtail, which I am using without permission. The original story is a hoot and I highly recommend that everyone go read it. My story comes from Elizabeth Helena (who writes in Starky and Hutch fandom) giving me the line as a challenge.

Long Winter Evenings, Or The Line

"Having the memory of you all desperate and sweating, begging me for more, is the only thing that might make the long winter evenings even remotely bearable."

James Wilson stopped halfway across the lobby as House's voice rang out, clearly audible to everyone in the lobby, the clinic and, probably, on the second floor and in the parking garage. It was a tribute to the professionalism, or to long experience with such pronouncements, of the staff that nobody actually employed by the hospital raised an eyebrow.

Wilson frowned. Who was House saying such things to this time? As he moved forward, he noted that Cuddy was standing in front of him, mostly hidden by House's back. As she came into his view, he also noted that her arms were crossed and her foot was tapping out a rapid beat on the floor.

"I don't care what you do on long winter evenings. It's the short winter days that concern me, particularly whether you actually work during them," Cuddy responded. "You are a doctor. These are patients. You pride yourself on your vast intellectual gifts. Do the math. Then do your job."

Wilson didn't bother to hide the smile as Cuddy held her ground and House eventually gave in, taking the file that Brenda held out.

"Ah, Brenda. Would you like to go have coffee with me?" House asked her, in a wheedling tone. "By which I mean wild monkey sex in exam room two, not the caffeinated beverage. It would mean so much to me. After all, having the memory of you..."

"Heard the speech. Wasn't impressed the first time, not impressed now." Brenda cut him off.

House dawdled at the desk, pretending to read the file, and Wilson sidled up next to him.

"Wow. Two rejections in less than two minutes. You might have to work on your technique."

"Nope. They're just playing hard to get. Secretly, they want me."

"To do what?" Wilson asked innocently.

"My job, apparently," House said gloomily, closing the file and beginning to limp towards exam two. "What are you doing down here?"

"Consult." Wilson waved vaguely towards exam room one. "Foreman paged me for testicular lumps."

"You have testicular lumps? And you're just giving them away?"

"My testicles are fine and if I sold access to them, you'd call me nastier names than you do now."

House put on a face of exaggerated shock.

"There's something nastier than calling you a sl...?" House murmured the rest of the word into Wilson's hand, which was over his mouth.

"We both have patients," Wilson said firmly. "You can call me names after lunch."

"Okay, snookieshims," House said sweetly. "See you later, Snicklebottom Lardypants."

"Oh, that's going to get you snugglebunnyburgers in no time." Wilson rolled his eyes and went into exam one.

-----------------

"Having the memory of you all desperate and sweating, begging me for more..." House was saying to Cameron as Wilson walked into diagnostics later that day and Wilson rolled his eyes. From the expression on Foreman and Chase's faces, they were well ahead in the eyerolling competition.

"You don't have any memories of me like that," Cameron huffed.

"No, but all I have to do is take a look at the love sick koala over there to know what I'm supposed to do." House put on a face that Wilson supposed was meant to be longing, but just made him look constipated.

"House, can we leave the sexual harassment until later?" Foreman asked. "Our patient..."

"Is undergoing tests. There's nothing to do until Wilson gets his lazy butt in here..." House jumped theatrically, turning to Wilson as if he'd just seen him. Which Wilson knew was untrue.

"I and my lazy butt have the results." Wilson flipped the file to Foreman, who opened it.

"And it's not cancer."

"No, it is. It's non-Hodgkins lymphoma, stage one," Wilson said. "It's confined to the tonsils and some associated lymph nodes on the left side. A tonsillectomy and some chemo will take care of it."

"Boring." House put in.

"The cancer is," Wilson replied. "The pulmonary edema isn't."

"Pulmonary edema?" Chase echoed and got up to read over Foreman's shoulder.

"So what else is wrong with him?"

"Not my area of expertise." Wilson shrugged.

"Not you, dumbass," House snapped. "My three highly trained diagnostics fellows."

"On that note, I'm taking my lazy, dumb ass to my office," Wilson remarked. "I've put Paretsky on the case."

"You're not doing it yourself?"

"It is, as you so succinctly put it, boring."

"Ah. He's not dying, so you're not interested."

"You know me so, so well."

--------------------

"Having the memory of you all desperate and sweating, begging me for more..."

"House, give it a rest," Wilson cut in, while the young woman on the lobby's sofa cowered in fear. "He's relatively harmless. Don't worry, he'll be upstairs and on his medication in no time."

House perked up at the mention of medication and followed Wilson down the hall.

"What is with you?" Wilson stopped and forced House to stop as well. "You've been spouting that stupid line all day today. You're starting to scare people."

"Starting?" House raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, scaring people more than usual. What gives?"

"It's true," House protested. "Well, with Cuddy anyway. Those fun bags aren't just for decoration, you know."

"House."

"When did you get so sanctimonious anyway?" House asked, sounding irritated. "The number of times I've had to listen to you with your cheesy pick up lines - God, it's enough to make a man gag."

"If you actually listened to any of my pick up lines, you'd learn better ones than that 'long winter evenings' garbage. Mine worked," Wilson reminded him. "Then again, I never shouted them from the lobby or used them on random strangers."

"I was practicing."

"Practicing?"

"You told me that I needed to get out more, needed to meet people. I thought up a way to start the ball rolling and was checking to see if it would work." House looked utterly sincere and more than a little proud of himself.

"You thought that would actually work?"

"Cuddy's desperate and Cameron loves me. I don't know why they didn't take me up on it."

"That's because it's crude, unflattering and unsubtle."

"So if someone said that to you, you'd decline."

"Of course I would."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"What isn't wrong with it?"

"Look, let me try it again." House turned to look directly at Wilson, his bright blue eyes locking onto Wilsons'.

"Having the memory of you all desperate and sweating, begging for more, is the only thing that might make the long winter evenings even remotely bearable," he said, and Wilson felt a little tingle down his spine.

"Well?" House demanded, as Wilson looked off into the middle distance, thinking.

"Nope. Doesn't work."

"Okay, Dr Panty Peeler, how can I fix it?"

"It needs to be more sincere. More truthful," Wilson advised. "Having the reality of me all desperate and sweating, begging you for more is the only thing that might make the long winter evenings even remotely bearable."

House looked as if he'd been sucker punched and Wilson smiled inwardly. Outwardly, he kept the big brown eyed seductive look that had been so successful for him in the past.

"Is..." House licked his lips and swallowed. "Is that an offer?"

"Invite me over to see your etchings and find out," Wilson murmured.

"And if I don't actually have any etchings?"

"Ask me anyway," Wilson said softly. Pulling a fresh bottle of Vicodin out of his pocket, he handed them to House and slipped away.

-------------------

A few minutes later, Wilson heard House's voice though the wall of his office.

"Foreman, you owe me a hundred bucks."

"Somebody actually fell for that line?" Foreman sounded sceptical, as well he might.

"Not as such. It's a stupid line."

"What do you mean, 'not as such'?" Foreman protested. "Either you did or did not get a date out of it."

"I did, which means you owe me a hundred. However, I was right; it is a stupid line that no woman in her right mind would take me up on."

"So you're going out with a crazy woman."

"Nope."

"Your date must be crazy. Going out with you, especially after you used that line, is crazy."

"I never said my date wasn't crazy," House replied and Wilson could well imagine the smug look on his face.

Then again, House was right, maybe he was crazy. But he also knew that House was up a hundred bucks and could well afford to actually buy him dinner for a change.

END


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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 NBC/Universal, 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.