"You cheat."
"I do not."
"You took my piece when that guy bumped into me, I saw you."
"It's not my fault you're senile."
House and Wilson sat and played checkers. Both sitting comfortably in a wheelchair, they hunched over the game board like the winner was going to get a free pepperoni pizza. House had in fact cheated at the game, but Wilson always won without even trying, so he felt he deserved to feel defeat this time.
"See, this is why you always lose. You took the wrong piece." Wilson grinned as much as his wrinkly face would let him and he hopped over two of House's pieces, his red piece about to be kinged on House's side.
House grumbled and leaned back in his chair.
"I don't want to play anymore."
"King me."
"I said I don't want to play anymore." House crossed his arms and looked to the side.
An elderly woman was getting a spongebath. He wrinkled his nose and turned the other way.
"Don't be a baby and king me," Wilson took House's pieces off the board and set them in a nice neat row on his side of the table. Always so organized.
House sighed loudly to make a point and Wilson stared at him waiting patiently for his piece to be kinged. He could have easily done it himself but wanted the satisfaction of seeing House stack the pieces together.
Forty years ago, they wouldn't have been wasting time playing a game of Checkers. House would have been breaking the rules to save a life, and Wilson would have been trying to cure cancer. The two doctors had gotten older though, as all people did, and now held residence at a Retirement Home.
House lifted his right arm and kinged Wilson's rightful piece.
"I thought you weren't playing anymore."
"I'm not."
"You're just mad because you got your dessert taken away-"
"That wasn't my fault. All we get is a microscope pudding cup. I'm not that old, why not give me a honking piece of devil's food. I still have all my teeth," House moved his next black piece on the board, back in the game it seemed.
"You're just jealous because the nurse likes me better," Wilson smirked, coughed, and then moved his own piece.
"Oh please, she's got to be sixty years old. I would demand my plug be pulled before even nearing that woman with my ten foot cane."
Wilson didn't respond right away but looked down at the board, and then snuck a peek at House who was staring intently at the board himself, contemplating his next move.
"You know.. Cameron is in her sixties by now." The corners of his mouth were almost turned into a grin as he waited for his friend's response.
House's shoulders and arms shuddered dramaically as if a brisk winter wind had swept through the recreation hall and right up his spine. He hadn't thought of Cameron in decades, but still remembered her now as she had been back then. Not that anything had really come of them two, but Wilson was right, she would be old and menopausal right now.
"I could still hit that," House mumbled back and jumped Wilson's piece, even though his opponent hardly noticed.
"Do you seem to be forgetting the fact that you're 85 years old? You couldn't hit anything unless it was deceased and lying on a gurney and that would still be without consent."
"Calling me a necrophiliac, real nice. Yes that's right. Every night when you're falling asleep in your wheelchair with the broken wheel, I'm sneaking off all in black to the morgue to jump on some bodies. Good thing I was a doctor because for decades I stashed 'little blue pills' in a secret drawer in my desk, and now the scheming is all paying off," House said seriously and hopped another one of Wilson's pieces.
"Well.. thanks for that information. I will kindly wheel myself over to Bernie and Ester over there and warn them about your erotic fantasies involving having your way with their corpses," Wilson turned his chair to the side and motioned towards the elderly couple sitting at a table staring off into space.
"Oh don't bother Bernie and Ester.. It's Rupert I have my eye on." House turned his glance to a feeble old man standing in the middle of the room clutching onto an IV pole for dear life. "Yummy," he added sarcastically.
Wilson glanced at Rupert briefly and then back at the game board. In the time they had rambled on about nothing, House had stolen two of Wilson's pieces without him noticing.
"You're cheating again; Do you really need to win Checkers that bad?"
"Look, I was old then, and I'm even older now. Beating you at checkers is my dying wish. After I waste your butt with my fabulous skills, I can die satisfied."
Wilson moved one of his last pieces not even really caring that he should have had at least four more on the board. Silence for about a minute and then he eyed House sitting across from him.
White hair, wrinkled face to hell, but the eyes had stayed the same. He could read those eyes like a bad science-fiction novel.
"Betty hasn't been in your room has she?" he raised his eyebrow.
House simply stared at him, the corners of his mouth almost twitching into a smile.
"Betty's been giving you tips! I knew it! You are truly pathetic, you know that," Wilson accused and leaned back with an amused sigh.
House shook his head and started to defend himself.
"Leave poor Betty out of this. She may be needing serious medication for the little people she sees running around, but she can make pleasant conversation like the rest of these old lunatics."
"You're the old lunatic," Wilson muttered and jumped one of House's remaining pieces, sliding the black piece over to his neat row.
"Only when it comes to checkers, my friend. And I believe.. Yes I think I may believe that I have just won."
House took Wilson's last piece and held up the red piece like a trophy, the checkerboard now covered in black.
"Only because you cheated like six times," Wilson smirked and gave him a half smile.
"I resent that accusation. Shall we check the video tape? Oh that's right, there is no real evidence. Boo Jimmy, making up stories is bad," House twirled the winning piece around his fingers like he used to do with his cane 'back in the day'. Now he had been upgraded to a snazzy wheelchair. Which he never wanted of course. He would have rather been beat with his own walking stick than roll around in a chair with a plaid blanket on his lap.
Wilson crossed his arms and stared at the old fart sitting across from him.
"Another game?" he asked and gestured towards the board.
"Not on your life. I have retired undefeated. And it's about time," House answered smugly.
"Oh stop being a baby and make up the board," Wilson started placing his pieces back on their correct squares.
"Fine, but I'm still being black. You cursed the color red."
----
A/N: Yes I know House would never be in a retirement home, so don't start throwing fire balls about that lol. I just thought "What if".
