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Kitty's Got Claws
by Taima Hiroshima
KITTY'S GOT CLAWS
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Inspired by a conversation I had after a sex ed. Class. By the way, I did NO research for this. This is probably NOT the way an actual thing like this would be done. But I'm an author, so what the heck, right?
They were searching for a surrogate mother. They had thumbed through the magazine at least thirty times. But House had found something wrong with each woman.
"She's too fat! I don't want a tubby kid running around." House whined about one woman. The next had the wrong color hair, the next had weird ears, and so on and so forth. In exasperation, Wilson had thrown the booklet down on the table.
Birdie blinked her big cat eyes at them. She jumped up onto the couch and onto Wilson's lap in an attempt to calm him down. As usual, the cat managed to soothe his frayed nerves.
"If Daddy Greg doesn't make up his mind, you may not get a little brother or sister." He said to her. From the satisfied look she had on her face, he knew she figured that would be okay.
"It's not my fault they put all the ugo's in there." House grumbled.
"They're not ugo's, House, you're just hard to please." Wilson bent and put the booklet on the couch between them. He then cuddled the white ball of fluff, who purred and snuggled into his chest.
"Why d'you think they have glow-in-the-dark condoms?" House asked suddenly. He was idly flipping through the channels on the television.
"What?" this was a conversation leap, even for House. "What the hell are you talking about, Greg?"
"They don't do anything. You can't actually use them." He mused.
"Maybe they're just for kicks, House. Much like the idea that you actually heal any patients." He quipped. House glared and gently pushed a pillow over her face. Birdie mewed in anger and pawed gently at his hand so he'd remove it. House pulled the pillow away.
"Oh, relax, Birdie. He's not even blue in the lips." She gave him a dirty look anyway and set about licking Wilson's fingers.
"Really, about the condoms, though."
"Maybe some streakers invented them." Wilson suggested thoughtfully. "Maybe, right when they were about to go, they had second thoughts about their naughty bits showing."
"So they painted them? Glow in the DARK painted them?" House raised an eyebrow. "Wilson, you're kinkier than I thought."
"No!" Wilson blushed. "The condoms they had were clear, so they painted them so you couldn't see through them."
"Oh," House looked at his lover curiously. "Are you speaking from experience here or something?"
"No!"
"You sure? You look like the type who would have gone streaking as a pledge."
"And you would know because...?"
"Because I went streaking, okay?" House picked a corny looking movie on TV and put the remote down.
"Really?"
"Yup, at the football game at U of M. U of M versus Michigan State*." He smiled as he reminisced. "I think there are still a few small children still having nightmares about a naked dude running across the field."
"The things you do," Wilson chuckled. He moved on the couch so he was leaning against the armrest, Birdie on his belly. She nestled down, happy to set up camp there for the night.
"Yeah. Hey!" the movie ended and another came on. Star Wars, Episode One. He grinned. "Awright!"
"Oh, House, no." Wilson groaned. This was probably the last thing he wanted to watch, but House already looked like he was thinking about something.
"Maybe they invented those so gay men could play Star Wars."
"I don't get it." James said blankly.
"You know, with their LIGHT SABERS?" House wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "You wanna do battle, my Jedi?" he teased. Wilson turned red.
"That is probably the lamest thing I've ever heard," he managed.
"Then you don't go to the clinic nearly as often as you should." House reached over and plucked Birdie from his lap, cradling her in his arms. She stretched out, equally pleased to be held by him.
They watched the movie. Or rather, House watched it and Wilson thumbed through the booklet, read a novel, and stared at the wall. He simply couldn't abide Star Wars in any way, shape, or form.
When it was over, House handed him the cat with a gleam in his eye. Wilson felt a sense of dread spread to his toes. He held Birdie as he got up.
"I know it's early," he began quickly, before House could even open his mouth. "But I'm going to turn in." he walked to the bedroom he and House now shared. He rather enjoyed it. House's aftershave always clung to the sheets, and in the morning he usually woke up with the other man's arms wrapped around his waist.
It was pretty nice, all in all. Birdie curled up at his back. He thought again how nice it was to have a cat. He had thought, after he first got her, that he would probably regret doing it. But now he couldn't really imagine life without her.
House came to bed shortly after. The Snowy Princess, as House called her when she was in a prissy mood, got up and went to lie down near their feet, not caring for the way they often spooned. More than once she had been crushed.
"I found one," he murmured into a drowsy James's ear. His eyes opened part way.
"One what?" Oh, please, he thought. Let it be something good. Like one bottle of compassion or something.
"A surrogate."
"Really?" James bolted upright, immediately wide away. "Show me! Which one is it?" he was eager to see where half of their child's jeans would come from. House showed him the booklet.
James switched on his light and looked at her. She had brown eyes and brown hair, and a shy sort of smile. She looked just a little bit like him, and he hoped desperately that their child would as well. She wasn't thin, but wasn't fat either. He looked at her name.
"Leia? You picked her just because her name is Leia, didn't you? I knew there was something wrong with you." James scolded. House smirked.
"You didn't say WHY I had to pick her." He pointed out.
* For those of you who don't know, U of M and Michigan State are MAJOR rivals...
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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 Fox Television, 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.
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