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visionshadows
I want to flop on my bed and flail about weakly in exhaustion. Work. Gah. Why must you suck the life out of me so? Couldn't get up this morning so I stayed in bed instead of making lunch, packing up more RiverKids stuff, and showering. Wish I could call out again, but I just have to get through two nights and I'm off Wednesday. Mmm...off.
[flails]
More ficlets will be coming soon. There are three more to write and then I think I'm done for awhile. Here's another one that's finished though.
House looks up from the container of Rocky Road he's eating to see Wilson holding a Tupperware container in his hand, scowling. He licks the spoon and pushes it back into the soft ice cream for another bite as Wilson continues to seethe in silence.
"House."
House eats another bite of ice cream before answering, "Wilson."
"I know we've been over this before, but apparently we need to go over it again. If my name is on a container, don't eat what's inside."
"Gee that's really hard to remember. Maybe you should write that down," House says, swinging his legs off the couch and getting to his feet. "Want some ice cream?"
Wilson throws the empty container at him, watching as it bounces off of House's chest and lands harmlessly on the ground, the label saying 'James Wilson' staring up at them mockingly.
"So I take it you're angry." House hobbles past him and into the kitchen, putting the ice cream away. "Throwing things never makes me feel better."
"It makes me feel better," Wilson says, reaching for a dishtowel and throwing that at House too. "I had a really shitty day and I just wanted to come home and not have to make food."
"You aim really low these days," House says calmly, plucking the dishtowel off his shoulder. He rummages through the refrigerator and pulls out a container of leftover chinese food. "Here you go. Dinner is served."
"Is that even edible?"
House sniffs the carton and raises an eyebrow. "I say you eat it and we see exactly how good your digestive system is."
"As tempting as that offer is," Wilson grabs the carton and tosses it in the trash. "I'll pass. I'm going to bed."
"I'm not ready for bed," House says, hurrying back into the living room to sit on the couch again. "So your bed is occupied."
"Is your bed occupied?"
"Yes. There are two hookers in there preparing themselves for the wicked ride they're going to get later..."
Wilson turns and heads into House's bedroom, ignoring the rest of whatever it is House is saying about hookers. The bed is soft and comfortable and entirely unoccupied. Wilson kicks off his shoes and takes off his tie before getting on the bed.
When he wakes up in the morning, he's naked and House has shaved off his eyebrows. As he stares at his very odd reflection, he decides that this means war.
[flails]
More ficlets will be coming soon. There are three more to write and then I think I'm done for awhile. Here's another one that's finished though.
House looks up from the container of Rocky Road he's eating to see Wilson holding a Tupperware container in his hand, scowling. He licks the spoon and pushes it back into the soft ice cream for another bite as Wilson continues to seethe in silence.
"House."
House eats another bite of ice cream before answering, "Wilson."
"I know we've been over this before, but apparently we need to go over it again. If my name is on a container, don't eat what's inside."
"Gee that's really hard to remember. Maybe you should write that down," House says, swinging his legs off the couch and getting to his feet. "Want some ice cream?"
Wilson throws the empty container at him, watching as it bounces off of House's chest and lands harmlessly on the ground, the label saying 'James Wilson' staring up at them mockingly.
"So I take it you're angry." House hobbles past him and into the kitchen, putting the ice cream away. "Throwing things never makes me feel better."
"It makes me feel better," Wilson says, reaching for a dishtowel and throwing that at House too. "I had a really shitty day and I just wanted to come home and not have to make food."
"You aim really low these days," House says calmly, plucking the dishtowel off his shoulder. He rummages through the refrigerator and pulls out a container of leftover chinese food. "Here you go. Dinner is served."
"Is that even edible?"
House sniffs the carton and raises an eyebrow. "I say you eat it and we see exactly how good your digestive system is."
"As tempting as that offer is," Wilson grabs the carton and tosses it in the trash. "I'll pass. I'm going to bed."
"I'm not ready for bed," House says, hurrying back into the living room to sit on the couch again. "So your bed is occupied."
"Is your bed occupied?"
"Yes. There are two hookers in there preparing themselves for the wicked ride they're going to get later..."
Wilson turns and heads into House's bedroom, ignoring the rest of whatever it is House is saying about hookers. The bed is soft and comfortable and entirely unoccupied. Wilson kicks off his shoes and takes off his tie before getting on the bed.
When he wakes up in the morning, he's naked and House has shaved off his eyebrows. As he stares at his very odd reflection, he decides that this means war.