Just a short little thing inspired by actual events. un-betaed as with preetty much all my stuff- and written in the middle of the night...
The day hadn't started out well for James Wilson. First thing he had fallen off the sofa he had crashed on the previous night, damn House for getting him too drunk to drive home- he only did it to get a decent meal for breakfast why he couldn't just... James stopped his mental rant in its tracks, there was no use in complaining, it wasn't like it would change any time soon. He stumbled lightly into the kitchen and placed a glass under the faucet, drinking the cool liquid down quickly to wake himself up a little he stretched his legs and ran a hand through his un-groomed hair. He plonked the glass down in the sink and looked around the kitchen, dreading what ingredients awaited him on this day.
Upon inspection he decided he couldn't be bothered with anything too complicated and so settled with frying bacon and eggs, not the healthiest of breakfasts but it wasn't as if he or House were in any immediate danger of being overwhelmed by cholesterol so screw it. With greater difficulty than one might've thought, he wrestled the stove into providing him with heat and placed the chipped frying pan carefully onto the heat and filled the bottom with a thin layer of cooking oil. The first packet of bacon went straight into the bin- how House was able to keep food for so long was a mystery, but luckily by the time Wilson reached the third packet of bacon, it seemed to be salvageable and so he peeled the thin slices apart and dropped them carefully onto the pan one by one.
House, by this point, had made his way to the sofa and made a point of reminding 'Dear Jimmy' that his breakfast should be served first on account of his 'generous hospitality'. Eyes were rolled and steaming bacon was placed in neat parallels in between two pieces of bread smothered in butter. Then the frying pan took a leap for freedom- diving from the stove in an elegant arc that seemed to last forever to the sleepy oncologist as he watched over his shoulder. Wilson was brought out of his trance by a searing pain spreading over the back of his right leg, and he immediately dropped House's plate on the floor and grabbed his leg, crouching on the floor. Then, remembering the stove was still on he pulled himself up with a grimace and hastily turned the knob until the flame was extinguished. Oh good, that's done- I can now curl up with the knowledge that I haven't burnt down my friend's apartment...
House initially didn't move when he heard a crash in the kitchen- Jimmy dropped something and could pick it up, he ignored the frantic movement that followed the clattering. However, when this was then accompanied by an eerie silence House's spidey-senses started to kick in- the quiet whimper was the trigger that saw House grabbing his cane and limping to the kitchen in less than 3 seconds. Seeing his best friend, his usually well turned out best friend, curled up on the floor wearing only boxers and a tshirt, his hair beginning to stick to his face with sweat and his hands trying to find whatever space on his leg that could relieve him on his pain was too much. He took note of the frying pan on the floor, oil splattered over the room and his friend scrunching up his face and cursing quietly to himself. House grabbed whatever cloths he could reach and soaked them in the sink- he yanked the roll of cling film left clumsily on the surface and prised away James' hands from his leg. He wrapped a couple of the towels around Wilson's leg.
"That's to hold you while I get this sorted." He unrolled a long section of plastic film and carefully removed the towels he had put down less than a moment before, he wrapped the angry red skin in the thin plastic and reapplied the cool tea towels. He didn't stop Wilson when he immediately went to hold onto his swollen leg, instead opting to scroll through the numbers on his cell phone to select a phone number.
"What do you want that can't wait another 40 minutes?"
"Would you rather pick me and Wilson up or send an ambulance?"
"What?" the voice was slightly panicked, "House, you better not be screwing with me-"
"Wilson decided to fry his leg and I can't take him in-"
"What? Why can't you? You can drive-"
"I don't like his car- it drives weird..."
"House..." the voice adopted a different tone.
"Cuddy..." He mimicked. A sigh came over the phone.
"I'm on my way." Click and tone.
"So... did you at least manage to save my sandwich?"
I'll end it there... I may write more if people really want... but it seems like a good place to stop hehe. As I said, this is based on actual events- although souped up a little- I have a new fear of jumping frying pans- the main difference from reality is that I was by myself- I didn't have a grumpy drug addicted House to help me, oh well.
