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 Housekeeper girl (or Stella).
A/N: Okay, okay… I know I should've wrote more and updated more often as I promised, but fact is, the lack of Internet has been overwhelmingly annoying, so I have not been able to update. This chapter is extremely short and another filler. I know you guys hate that, and I'm deeply sorry for any inconvenience. Onward to the story! Review if you feel like it and, as always, happy reading!:)
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The thing I had dreaded the whole week I had been working for House, had suddenly arrived; the weekend. I mean, what the hell would I do? He surely didn't go to work in the weekends, and I had work to do (House's place was… well, I won't lament on that; most areas of it was, quite frankly, extremely and utterly gross)! It would be hell in there! He would insult me to pieces and make me snap again, all to his amusement, then he'd criticize my food and… the worst part; being in the same room as him. The thought of having to talk to him, be around him for a WHOLE day, made me sick. It was all different when he was working and I was left at the apartment.
Now, thinking the resigning thought again, I was standing in the lobby of the clinic, waiting for House to be finished with… whatever he was doing. I had finally finished cleaning the damn office, writing down all those weird stuff House and his lackeys were pondering on (every time I spelt something wrong, which was about every time I tried to spell something, the guy called Foreman would stand up and protest. At least until House dragged the chair away from him when he attempted to sit down, causing Foreman to fall on his ass of course, and giving me a sour look, as if it was my fault) and I was actually very tired. All I wanted to do was sleep (eleven hours of just that would do me good).
"Ah, there's the dog… right where I left it," House said, approaching me from the elevator. He looked sort of smug, so I guessed either he had something insane in store for me or Dr. Wilson, or he had solved some weird diagnostic case. He tossed his jacket, backpack and empty carton coffee jug at me. I had to really lean far back to catch it.
"It's a stew or other for dinner," I said, as I hurried after him out to the parking lot and to his bike (okay, so I hurried after a limping person, it does sound strange). He was hobbling quite fast, mind you, and I, having to carry his backpack and all, wasn't moving very fast (what was in that bag anyways? Big and heavy stones?)
"What's other?" He asked, apparently very uninterested in the subject.
I held out his jacket for him to put on. "It's… you don't want to know what's in it, but it tastes nice."
He peered down at me, his eyes small scary streaks. "Oh? Make it then, and let's see."
He grabbed his bad leg and swung it over the bike, then made sort of a jerk with his head towards me, suggesting that I should (ordering me to) get on the bike behind him. I did just that.
The 'other' I was talking about, was some sort of stew/weird mashed thingy a friend had taught me to make. It contained various strange ingredients (like apples, sausages, beans, curry paste and… fried onions), but it tasted pretty good, and I was an expert on making it, if I may say so myself (wasn't that hard to make; you just put it all into a pot and then try not to singe it).
I wrapped my arms (reluctantly) around House's waist. He chuckled when he sensed that I found the situation uncomfortable. "You know, you could go lower," he laughed, indicating the position of my hands.
"Just drive," I said, ignoring the comment and squeezing my eyes shut.
After having received a full update on House's day, without wanting to (which contained many snarky and very inappropriate comments on his boss and lackeys, not to mention the patient they had been treating), I started making the dinner.
House had had a good enough day, although Cuddy had commented on him bringing the wretched girl with him to work. When he asked her what was wrong with it, she had given him the infamous 'Cuddy stare', which should (by her standards) have made him crawl at her feet while apologizing and begging for forgiveness, but only made him snort of annoyance. She had taken a deep breath, trying very hard not to show her real reaction and just strolled off, leaving him there to be the victor of their argument.
He was currently sitting slouched on the couch, waiting for the girl to be finished with his dinner. She had called the stuff she was currently making for 'other'. On a different occasion he might have persuaded her to tell him what the dish consisted of, but not tonight. He was still curious about her. Sure, she was a pain, and her cooking was… special, but her low pay rate made him interested. I'll use the weekend to force it out of her, he thought while watching the clumsy (stupid) girl come into the living room with a bowl of that mysterious 'other stew', nearly tripping and spilling it all over the couch.
"Here," she said, handing him the bowl. "If it tastes like shit, don't blame me, it's the recipe-"
"Shut it and hand me the fork," he cut her off, holding out a hand for it. She gave it to him, muttered something about that she had to take some clothes out of the dryer, and left him to himself.
The stew was probably the strangest thing he'd ever eaten.
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Yes, another filler, don't hit me for it, please! but I promise the weekend for those two will be... interesting. No, i am certainly not planning on them falling in love (who would want that anyway?), so don't be afraid that that'll happen! Also I promise to write and update fast!:)
PS: I got a sequel for this one almost ready in my head... any thoughts?
