Persuasion
"Jimmyyyyy!"
He froze mid-step in the hallway, like a deer that had just run straight into the middle of a hunting camp, all wide-eyed and stunned. At least two staff had to abruptly swerve to avoid running into his back, but none of them so much as thought badly of him for stopping so abruptly in the middle of a busy hall.
You tended to pity someone with Greg House on their heels, and be thankful to them for diverting his attention, rather than be resentful. Unless you were Cameron perhaps. Then you might have been jealous.
Wilson stayed frozen for a millisecond longer before he turned sharply and made for his office at a faster clip, bottom of the long white medical jacket flaring as he walked as fast as possible.
'Just make it to the office,' he thought, seeing the door now. 'Whatever he wants, I know that tone of voice, and I swear he's not going to- HA!' He bolted into his office and slammed the door shut behind him like a scared teenager in a horror movie slams and locks the door to ward off the psycho killer/monster/evil spirit. He sighed and moved over to his desk, collapsing into his chair and leaning back, expecting at any moment to hear the insistent banging of House Cane on Wilson Office Door, and waited.
And waited some more.
After fifteen minutes passed, he grew suspicious, then worried. And then more suspicious. It was not like House to give up… ever. Wilson stood up from the chair and moved towards the door, hesitating as his hand hovered over the handle. He could be laying in wait just outside the door… it would be like him, to pounce like that. But did House have the patience to wait at all… even if it did involve Wilson? And the more he thought about it, the more it seemed unlikely. He couldn't stand still for thirty seconds without playing a game or making noise or otherwise keeping himself occupied… unless acting like a cat crouching in long grass to pounce a James Gazelle was enough to keep the man occupied. But he doubted it.
'Besides,' he reassured himself, opening the door. 'His leg probably wouldn't let him stand for that long.' He stuck his head out, glancing left and right. No House in sight. He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out. His beeper kept reminding him that he did have patients to check in on, and he couldn't let House interfere with his work. Sighing again, he glances at the room number on his beeper and walked quickly to the patient's room.
"Hello Jimmy!"
Wilson jumped about a foot into the air, one hand reflexively grabbing his chest. He stared in horror and shock at the scruffy man sitting casually on a bed in the otherwise empty room, twirling his cane absently. Wilson quickly tried to gather his wits. Looking vulnerable in front of a predator spelled instant death- anyone who dealt with House knew this fact of life. And if they didn't they learned quickly.
"What… what in the world do you want?" Wilson finally managed, pasting an indignant look on his face. "I have patients to see you know. Some of us need to do our jo-"
"Yes, yes, very busy Doctor Wilson," House quipped, pulling an envelope from inside his jacket while Wilson eyed it skeptically. "Needs to go tell more people they're dying and all, like they can't wait five minutes to start crying."
Wilson massaged the bridge of his nose. House grinned. He knew the exact signs of Wilson breaking to his will.
"What is it," Wilson groaned.
"Well if you don't sound more enthusiastic, I don't think I'll enjoy inviting you," House sniffed, inflecting a hurt tone. "You'll just spoil it all with your Mr. Serious Doctor attitude." He slowly pulled the passes to a monster truck rally out of the envelope, fanning himself with them. Wilson's eyes got wider and his mouth hung open. He took an involuntary step forward.
"When?"
House couldn't even pretend to hide the bubbling excitement the question brought to his face. His whole expression lit up like an eight year old on his birthday.
"Two weeks," he answered quickly. "Saturday. Grave Digger. Are you in?" Wilson faltered, shuffling his feet, and House's expression dropped.
"If it's Stacy again I don't give a damn," he interjected before Wilson could open his mouth. Wilson cringed a little.
"It… it's not," he defended. "I actually do have a conference, and-"
"Cancel!"
"I can't just cancel!"
"I can't take Cameron again! She's been looking at me funny!"
"What are you, seven? A girl looks at you and she must want to be your girlfriend?"
"Well who doesn't want a piece of this?"
"You're… I can't go House!"
"Fine," he pouted. "But you know you want to. It's only a matter of time before you crack."
"I have patients!" Wilson called out over his shoulder as he exited the room again. House stared at the door and thumped his cane against the floor in a rhythm. A slow grin spread across his face.
"Jiiiiimmmyyyyyy!"
"Oh god," Wilson moaned, glancing around for an exit and finding none. He walked faster.
"Stop trying to outrun a cripple!" House yelled from down the hall. Several nurses stopped and stared. "You're cruel, Wilson! My fragile little heart is breaking over here!" Wilson continued walking, glancing over his shoulder. He felt a pang of guilt, seeing House hobble as fast as he could, but not enough to stop.
"I'm not going, House!"
"You'll cave eventually!" House yelled back, stopping and shaking his cane in the air at Wilson's retreating back. Wilson disappeared down the hall and House put his cane back down and leaned on it with both hands. Nurses and other staff automatically gave him a wide breadth. Subconsciously, they recognized the signals that lit up danger centers in their brains.
All signs pointed to one thing: House was plotting.
House glanced up from his Gameboy and expertly repressed any outward expression of amusement as Wilson barged into his office.
"Why, Dr. Wilson!" he said in an overly cheery voice, not looking up again from his game. "What brings your cheery compassionate snuggly-soft self into my humble little office?"
"More like into the depths of Hell," Wilson snapped back. "Or the lair of an evil genius. I'm surprised you're not swirling a glass of red wine and airing out your dark cape. You sure you don't have bats somewhere?"
"Why I'm flattered!" he responded, setting the Gameboy down and grinning. "It's not every day I'm acknowledged for my obviously superior intellect. But that leaves the question- what can I do for you, my good doctor?"
"Take them out of my room," Wilson hissed. House adopted a bemused but innocent face.
"What is that?"
"You know damn well, House!"
"I'm afraid I don't. Care to explain?"
"Kittens. Hilarious. Now get them out."
"But mooom, they're so cuuuute!"
"Then put them in your office!" Wilson started, blinking in realization an instant later and shaking his head. "Scratch that. Against hospital policy. Look, if they get found in my office I get in trouble-"
"Too late," House sing-songed happily. "I took the liberty of calling Cuddy." He mimicked a phone receiver in hand and talked into it. "Hello Dr. Cuddy! You're sounding particularly lovely today. By the way, you know how soft and squishy Wilson is… it pains me to rat him out like this, but the poor boy is breaking hospital rules and bringing in kittens to comfort patients… yes yes, I know, but he's such a cute sap, so be easy on him, will you? Maybe just give him some time off to cuddle small furry animals on his own time… or a good sound spanking. He likes that."
"Oh no," Wilson started, gearing up for the back-argument brewing. "Cuddy would not believe that, no matter what. Try it again."
"Spoilsport," House pouted, then sobered instantly. "I actually didn't tell Cuddy. I told your colleagues. And they told Cuddy. Good news! You have this Saturday off. Dr. Taylor is covering for you at the conference. So!" He slapped two monster truck passes onto the glass desk and leaned back, a smirk on his unshaven face. Wilson stared at him incredulously.
"This… this is low. Even for you."
"I'll take that as a yes!" House fairly crowed, snatching up the tickets triumphantly again and standing. "I'll pick you up at 5." He started walking past the still-stunned Wilson and gave him a serious face. "And don't think about running. I'll find you. I have connections." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis and left.
Wilson rubbed his temples and wondered if it would hurt his reputation any more to be seen banging his head into the walls of House's office.
AN:
Oh dear lord what have I done. My first House fan fiction. One-shot, blah blah blah. Here it is. The testament to my weak will. I tried to not like House. I really did! But here it is anyway. Eating away at my brain. At least it distracts me sufficiently from homework.
Uh. Right. This is my firstest House fan fiction everrrr. I've only watched the first season, clips on YouTube, and a couple episodes from the third season. And I like House and I like Wilson. And I like House teasing Wilson as a 8 year old boy might torment his crush. And also just because I love him when he's manipulative.
Right then! Hope you enjoyed my first little journey into this absolutely insane fandom, and please leave a review!