Author: Sorafrosty
Title: Housekeeping
Summary: House doesn't want anything for his birthday, but does Wilson listen? Nope, so he gets him an unbearable gift he knows is going to piss House off. Rated 'T' for language. Sorry for the bad and weird title…
Disclaimer: I do not own House MD or any of its characters. The ones you don't recognize belong to me. This is purely fictional and there's no need to sue, as I am not making a profit out of this. I do, however, own Stella (or Housekeeper girl).
A/N: If you look up the word 'amazing' in a dictionary, I'm sure you'll find all your names listed! Oh, and this is another filler chapter I guess… I hope it isn't bad. In any case, I promise the next one will be better!D Updates will come soon to a fanfiction site near you Review if you feel like it:)
--
Outside House's office…
Luckily I spotted Wilson the second I was pushed out of House's office. It must've seemed weird if someone was watching; being dizzy from the loss of blood, I stumbled out of there, and when spotting Wilson, I swaggered in that direction, following him to the elevator.
Hastily I got in to the elevator after him, and when the doors closed, I realized that it was only the two of us standing in there. I cleared my throat and attempted to speak, only discovering that I managed to spit more blood on my shirt. Oh, great, I thought, I sincerely hope House has chlorine at his place… I need to wash this filthy… Oh god, don't vomit onto his tie… which by the way is terrible… who the hell came up with combo pink stripes and green dots anyway?!
I didn't try to say anything after this, but it seemed as if Wilson had finally notice that I was there when we were down on the first floor and he was about to leave (like I said earlier, the man had a slow mind for an oncologist).
"Oh my… how did you…" He attempted to ask, before frowning, seemingly noticing me almost falling over when walking after him out of the elevator. "Did House do this to you?!"
"No, no, no," I replied, trying to keep my mind on the subject (the blood around my nose was starting to dry, and it felt rather icky, and then I started to think about… other icky things; like parasites and other blood sucking things). "I sort of did this to myself… not that I like hurting myself, but I tripped and stuff…"
He looked puzzled, obviously wondering why I was talking to him and not in some bathroom trying to wash off the blood. Before I managed to say anything, realization came to his mind and he smiled at me. Not a friendly smile, but a sly one. Like the smile you see on people when they suddenly understand that they are about to win in a game of chess.
"But he did send you, didn't he? Well, tell him to talk to me if he wonders about something. He's too old for games, although he is what he is."
He left me, leaving me to take the elevator up again alone. Although the dizziness soon became overwhelming, I found that Wilson was not an easy person to spy on.
House's office…
"What," House reacted sort of unsurprised when I told him, "did I not make myself clear? SPY ON WILSON. NOW. There. You got it. Go do that."
I rolled my eyes, feeling rather stupid there I stood, in front of his desk, sort of on display for him with my blood caked shirt and face. Every time I tried to be serious, or look him in the eye (not an easy task, I tell you) his lips were dragged upwards into a smile (not a heartwarming one, of course not, it seemed both psychologically and physically impossible for him to do that) and he started to laugh, so it took a while before I managed to recollect Wilson's exact words.
"It's a bit hard. As I told you, he said you should talk to him yourself." He looked sort of angered, so I added: "Don't hit me; I'm just the messenger… and not a good one at that…"
He sighed, flinging staples at me. "Fine. I'm hungry anyways. It's lasagna for dinner today, and you're making it. I trust you did grocery shopping for all of next year yesterday? Good. Come on, let's go."
We made our way to the elevator and out on the parking lot. The bike ride back to his place was as bad as the one to the clinic; he sped up on purpose, making me clinch to him like… well, something that clinches to something else really hard. Naturally, like before, I found this sort of revolting, having to break personal space like that. Another thing was that just before I had gotten on the bike with him, I had said that I would rather take the bus. He had sighed, rolled his eyes and said that if I didn't get on behind him, he would introduce me to the business en of his cane. I said no more, and did as I was told.
Back at House's apartment…
Once back at the gloomy place that was my boss' apartment, I pillaged through my bag until found a clean shirt to put on. While washing it in the sink, I found out that it really looked like House had hit me; the blood had found it's way around my lips and chin, plus it was smudged all over my face anyway. My nose wasn't broken (it would certainly have hurt if it was), but I still felt sort of stupid for having splattered blood on that table (what if some cleaning lady came in there tonight and saw that? if she knew how he was, she might think that House's wits finally had gone bye-bye and killed someone in public with nobody noticing).
After having put on a clean shirt, I went on to making dinner. House didn't have any of those pasta plates you put between the actual lasagna, so I improvised by putting more cheese there instead. While I put the lasagna in the oven, I heard House started to play his piano. His fingers touched the keys gracefully for a moment or two, before breaking in to a melody. I recognized it after a few chords as 'Trouble' by Coldplay. Still keeping to the kitchen, I starting to hum along (well, at least till House yelled that I should shut up).
"Where's my dinner? I'll start to sing if I have to wait any longer… " He asked and said, actually very unfriendly, from the living room. I was just taking it out of the oven (careful not to burn my fingers halfway off this time; said oven wouldn't get the best of me again), and setting it on the tiled thing beside the stove to let it to cool off.
Suddenly, I noticed that he had stopped playing. Then I heard him speak from right behind me. "You will get out of Wilson why he is behaving like this."
--
Well, that takes care of that! Lets see now, tomorrow's my last day at school, and then my summer holiday is starting! That means I'll get lots of writing done, and faster updates:)