A/N: A friend once told me that the purest of thoughts come out late at night, when you are too tired to be able to stop yourself from thinking them. So Friday nights have become Writer's Nights for me. Last week, the fruits of my labor became Sleepytime at PPTH. This week, I received this little number. So enjoy, and please review, because even one-shot authors deserve critique.
Disclaimer: The fact that you're reading this on FANfiction means something. Guess what it is.
Wilson sighed and stared at the tall stack of files piled on his desk. Individually, each file was perfectly organized and completely detailed, but as a whole group, the files were a disastrous mess inconveniently scattered across his workspace. Sort of like his life. Day in and day out, his life was perfectly fine, yet he was utterly dissatisfied with it.
He sighed, and his hand gravitated to the top of his nose, gently pinching with his thumb and forefinger. Wilson felt a migraine coming on. And they always happened at the worst times, too. For once, however, the oncologist found that Murphy's Law was working in his favor. The patient meeting he had scheduled to occur in 10 minutes had been cancelled. The patient was sick: some winter bug thing.
He yawned, going without air for so long that little black oxygen-deprivation spots began dancing about his field of vision. So. Tired. There was a possible relief chance, however. No meetings for the rest of the day, and all the work he had left was just paperwork. And so, the Boy Wonder Oncologist figured that a nap could be relatively easily slipped under Cuddy's radar. As the poor, tired, slightly sick doctor fell asleep at his desk, he was unaware that he'd forgotten to calculate the odds of being interrupted by another someone, nor did he notice the two ice-blue orbs carefully and protectively watching over from above, on a balcony not-so-faraway.