Disclaimer: I do not own House, Cameron, Wilson, the TV Show or even, sadly, the TV.
Author's Note: I borrow the dialogue format from charmingly-holly, the only one I've ever read who used this format. For all I know, there could be a dialogue-format-anonymous.
Right.
So . . . I've only started watching House this season. Which, of course, means that House lovers can throw stones at me.
BUT PLEASE DON'T.
I'll get the first season on DVD the moment my internet connection is fixed. Which would be approximately . . . 3.37 minutes after I upload this.
Bed Talk
"Greg?"
"Mfmf."
"Are you awake?"
"Well, now I am."
"The thing is . . ."
"Spit it out, Ally."
"I think I'm pregnant."
Muffled thud.
"Greg?"
"Mfmf."
"You just fell off the bed."
"I noticed, yes. Maybe it was the floor that gave it away. Gabby bitch."
"Greg!"
"Ow! Don't hit the cripple!"
"I didn't hit you. You're so weak – the comforter fell on you."
"I never liked her."
"Can you seriously hold a conversation?"
"Not seriously. But we're havinga conversation."
"While you're on the floor? I don't think so."
Bed groaning.
"Better?"
"Yes, Ally."
"Why do you have to say my name like that?"
"Would you prefer if I said it like . . . AAAllleee."
"Not if the face comes with it."
"The face is part of the package."
"Can we move back to the original subject?"
"Can we not?"
"No. I think I'm pregnant."
"You think, or you know?"
"Well, I went to the doc. . . Greg, are you even listening?"
"Sure."
"Then why did you just make a face at the pictures on the bureau?"
"Auntie Marge started it!"
"DO YOU EVEN CARE IF I'M PREGNANT!"
"Be careful, Wilson's out on the couch."
"I let him in, you buffoon."
Swish.
"You just hit me!"
"With a pillow. Because you won't calm down enough to STOP MAKING FACES at my family pictures and START LISTENING to me!"
"Sorry. And, for the record, I am calm. Just not—"
"GREG!"
"I'm sorry if it's so hard for me to listen to something when I already know what you're going to say?"
"What do you mean . . . already know?"
"Dr. Gibson and I are gab buddies."
"You don't even know Dr. Gibson."
"Yes, well, Dr. Gibson and my greenbacks are gab buddies."
"You bribed my doctor to find out if I was pregnant?"
"Wow, your voice went really high on the word 'pregnant'. Could you do that again?"
"Greg."
"Why do you think I wouldn't let you near our latest patient?"
"So . . . you knew."
"Probably before you did."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"Well . . . it was my intention that you would never find out about the gab buddies."
"And your immaturity got in the way."
"Mm-hm."
Squeal of bedsprings.
"God, Greg."
Squeal of bedsprings.
"Why'd you fall off the bed if you already knew?"
"Dramatic influence."
"Hmph."
Squeal of bedsprings.
"Well, good night to you too."
"Ally?"
"I suppose we'll have to get married won't we?"
. . . . . . . ."I don't know how a girl could ever resist a proposal like that!"
"How about one that comes with something like . . . this?"
"Go away, Greg."
"No, really. Look."
"Good night."
"Pretty please?"
"GO AW—is that a diamond ring?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Did you plan this out before or after you found out that I was pregnant? And don't lie to me."
"Middle."
"Middle? Could you be more obscure?"
"I was on the way to bribing your doctor when I saw the ring."
"From a motorcycle going 50 about the speed limit?"
"Even I break for kids."
"Yeah. If they're selling Vicodin."
"Ow. That hurt."
"Yes."
"Yes, that hurt? I already knew that."
"Are you really that thick? Yes, I'll marry you!"
"Well, that was nice. I should propose more often."
"Shut up."
"I just have one question first."
"God."
"What'll they do when they ask for doctor House? House G and House A?"
"Who said I was becoming a House?"
"With such a stunning last name, you could go anywhere!"
"You mean, I would never get hired anywhere."
"What's with all this negative attitude? We're engaged!"
"Oh my god."
"What?"
"I'm engaged."
"Yeah. Generally that's what they call it when two people agree to get married and hefty jewelry is exchanged."
"I've been engaged before."
"So have I."
"And gotten married before."
"Ditto."
"It's just . . . surreal."
"Feel the weight of that ring? That's real, let me tell you."
"Skinflint."
"Which is why you love me."
"Who said anything about love?"
"Well, then why are you marrying me?"
"Your money."
"And I'm marrying you to get a closer look at Auntie Marge. From the bed she looks pretty good."
"Auntie Marge weighs 320 lbs."
" . . . . I must be going blind."
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Two, and something that looks like a wart."
"It's a pretty expensive wart."
"Two dollars and fifty cents, plus change. According to Mrs. Polito down at the corner shop."
"And I'm sure that Mrs. Polito is an expert is such matters."
"The best."
"Mm-hmm."
"Ally."
"Yes."
"You know, this is a momentous . . . moment."
"Why is that?"
"Well, we find out that we're having a baby and we're getting married."
"We knew about the baby already."
"Hey, something funny! Want to think of it?"
"Um . . . I won't even bother to point out all the things grammatically wrong with that sentence."
"Imagine something with me."
"Sure."
"Okay. You're in Cuddy's office."
"Okay."
"And you're standing in front of Cuddy."
"Yep."
"And you're telling her that, not only is cordially invited to the marriage of Greg House and Allyson Cameron, but you're requesting maternity leave in nine months."
"I can't even imagine it."
"Can I plant a video camera on you to see her face when you tell her?"
"Too cowardly to come with me?"
"Yes."
"Coward."
"But you're marrying me anyway."
"I must be crazy."
"Any chance on some celebratory—"
"Shh, the baby might hear."
"You have gone stark raving bonkers."
"Mm-hmm. But yes, there is a large chance."
"Really?"
"Once Wilson leaves. Good-night, Greg."
"Curses. Foiled again."
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OR BAD.
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