Dr. Gregory House . . .it's easy to see why people wouldn't like him. He's rude, he's dismissive, and frankly, he doesn't want to be liked. At least, that is the front he puts up. That plus the drug thing is enough to make almost anyone turn away. But there's a lot more to him though. There's this whole other side, well maybe not a while side, but a good part of one. Nobody sees that though.
Most people who spend any time with him don't take the time of the effort to get to know House. Plus he doesn't exactly want people to. You could blame it on Stacy if you want, but I have feeling that it started a long time before that. Best I can figure something happened when he was a kid. Of course he won't talk about any of that stuff so it's impossible to know for sure. Childhood trauma is pretty much the number one cause of mental illness. That's one of the reason that there are so many insane people running around all over the world, but we're not talking about those people, we're talking about House.
I don't know what happened to House to make him the way he is, probably his whole life built up to it. Anyway, what I do know, is that under all the insanity and the snappy, cruel, comebacks, and the bitterness, and the anger—and everything else that people pretend is all there is to him—there is something else. Cameron sees it too, but her mistake was she wanted to try and bring it out, to make him all that. She wanted o fix him. She doesn't understand. He's not broken. He's not perfect, but who the Hell is? I'm not saying that I don't want him to be happy, I do, but at the same time I know I can't force happiness on him.
The door squeaks open and he doesn't even look up. He's sitting there, just sitting there playing game boy, perfectly contended to be at work and not doing any work what so ever. He looked up just long enough to see who it was, and the goes back to his game. I turn and lock the door. Privacy is important, esp. right now.
"Give me a minute," he says. Clearly he didn't see the huge package in my hands. Either that or he assumed someone gave it to me.
"I um—." Suddenly I can't talk. Not at all. I feel like a complete idiot. Come on! I tell myself, just tell him already! "I just thought that—"
"Seriously, I've got one life left. If I die because of you, I'm going to be very grumpy." I couldn't help but laugh. God, what would a complete stranger think if they heard that? I wanted to say something like 'but you're always grump,' only my tongue wouldn't let me. "Damnit," he curses the game system and probably me, since I interrupted him from getting the high score. He shuts it off and tosses it aside. Then he loops up at me and clasps his hands in a totally fake but eerily serine gesture.
"Here," is about all I can manage to say, putting the brightly wrapped box on the desk in front of him. House looks at the fit, at me, at the fit, again, and me once more. I try to smile try to be coy or something; only I know I just look stupid.
"What the hell is this," he asks, pushing his chair away slowly, as if the present might reach up and bite him. I put my hand on the bow that's on top, trying to prove that it's safe.
"What do you think," I smirk. I finally get back to my normal self, whatever that is. He moves tentatively towards the box. It's almost funny. He's suspicious of a fucking Christmas present. Although I doubt if anyone's give him one in a long time. Certainly nobody in this hospital. Wilson maybe—no—that would be too weird. Certainly he's not gotten anything since she left him.
"Well ordinarily I'd say that it looks like a Christmas present, but my name is on the card. A bomb maybe? Or what if I open it and a giant pie comes out and hits me in the face. Funny. I like it, now leave." When he puts his hand on mine, by the bow I can see that he really wants to open it. It's hard to believe that nobody else sees this in him.
"If it was a bomb, I'd get as many people to sign the card as possible, that way there's no suspect. Then I'd have someone deliver it, so I wouldn't get blown up too."
"At least, I'm teaching you how to be a good criminal. Seems like all of those cop shows we've been watching are paying off.' I put my hand over his soft. I brush my thumb over his knuckles, hand, and wrist. He takes my hand in both of his. Then he kisses it. "I'm not going to explode?"
"Would I be in the room with you when you opened the thing?"
"Well, you are a bit of a sadist, but I don't think you'd risk getting blown up, just to see it happen to me." He pulls the bow open, tares the paper off, opens the box, looks inside, and laughs.