Author's Note: The usual disclaimers apply. Many thanks for the kind reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy.
When they got upstairs again, House wasn't sure what to do. His laundry would be dry in another hour and he'd have to go back down for it. He didn't want to admit it but he wasn't looking forward to negotiating the steep and narrow staircase two more times.
He realized he'd stopped walking and that his neighbor was a few steps ahead of him. She turned to look back at him.
"Coming in for your change?" she asked.
"Ok," House said, moving forward again. Once more she waited until he'd closed the door before taking down the gate that kept the dog away from the door. The dog wagged her tail joyfully, clearly pleased that he had returned. House couldn't help but smile. He looked up to find his neighbor watching him, looking amused. He could feel himself start to flush. He was getting sappy over a dog. She handed him some bills and he stuffed them into his pocket without looking at them.
"PhD or MD?" she asked, confusing him. "Your mail was addressed to Dr. Gregory House."
"MD," he said, moving over to sit on her sofa again. "I work at Princeton Plainsboro." Once more the little dog climbed up beside him and he started petting her automatically.
"I work in the history department's office at the university." It seemed to be his turn to talk but he didn't know what to say next. The music was still playing, the singer asking "How big can you get?"
"Is this the same band?" he asked. He knew that it was, at least, the same singer that he'd heard before. Music seemed like a safe conversation choice.
"Yeah. This is from an album they did in tribute to Cab Callaway." She dropped onto opposite end of the couch. "They were pretty popular in the 90s. Everybody was learning to swing dance for a while."
"You learned?"
"Never got past the rock step," she said, laughing. "I am not the most coordinated person. My parents put me into swim lessons figuring I wouldn't hurt myself in the pool." The song changed and this one House did recognize. It was "Minnie the Moocher." The dog jumped down from the couch, running over to the end table near his hostess. She returned a second later, dragging what looked like a pelt. She put it down by his feet and looked up him, tail wagging. After a second she barked.
"What is that?" he asked, gesturing toward the pelt-like object.
"It was a stuffed animal – a rabbit I think. She's gutted it but she still likes to chase the pelt. She wants you to throw it." The woman got up from the couch and moved to retrieve the rabbit-pelt, throwing it down the hall. The dog was off like a shot, racing after it. She came running back, raising her head up high so that she wouldn't trip over the toy. House felt himself start to smile again. The next song started, mostly piano joined by the singer.
For the next half-hour, his neighbor played with her dog, throwing the pelt down the hall for her to retrieve, and House listened to the music. Some songs were more in the style of New Orleans jazz, while others were pure big band. He felt himself relaxing and was surprised when his hostess got to her feet.
"My laundry's done," she said. He shifted, preparing to get up and she put out a hand. "You don't have to leave. I'll be right back." She didn't wait for a response, moving to the door, stepping over the gate, and heading out. He watched her go and wondered what he should do. He was tempted to just go back to his own apartment. She surely had better things to do than entertain him this evening.
His musings were interrupted by a loud bark and he looked down to see that the dog had brought a toy to him to throw. Instead of the rabbit-pelt, it was a half-stuffed blue dog. She looked up at him, tail wagging and he swore she was smiling. He reached for the toy to throw it, but she picked it up, jerking it away from him.
"I'm not playing tug-of-war," he told her. "If you want me to throw it, put it down." To his surprise, she did. Of course, it was now out of his reach. She barked again, tail still wagging. House looked at the toy and had an idea. He grabbed his cane, reaching out to hook the toy with it and scooped it up. The dog barked again and he threw the toy down the hall. She raced after it.
Sarah was half-way down the basement stairs when it hit her. She had a complete stranger sitting in her apartment, alone with her dog. What was she thinking? She didn't know this man, or anything more about him than his name and that he was (he said) a medical doctor. What if he really was an axe murderer? The image of her neighbor, trying to sneak up on someone with an axe in one hand and his cane in the other sprang into her mind and she laughed before she could stop herself.
"Ok, that was totally inappropriate," she said, shaking her head at herself. She went on down the stairs to the laundry room to get her things.
When she returned to her apartment, she laughed out loud at what she saw. Her neighbor was using his cane to hook a half-stuffed dog toy up from the floor before throwing it down the hallway for her dog to chase. He turned in surprise at her laugh and the toy fell to the floor. Maggie promptly started barking. Sarah stepped carefully over the baby-gate, depositing her laundry basket into a chair and scooping up the toy to throw it again.
"I wasn't sure you'd still be here," she said.
"I was just going," he said quickly, starting to get up. Maggie returned with the toy, dropping it by his feet and he hesitated.
"I'm not kicking you out. I just figured you had something better to do with your Friday night than entertain a dog."
"I'm doing laundry, just like you," he pointed out. "Seems neither of us have much of a social life." He sank back on the couch, using his cane to scoop up the toy as Maggie returned it and then throwing it back down the hall.
"You don't have to keep doing that. I can get her a treat to distract her," Sarah offered. He shrugged.
"I don't mind."
"I'm going down the hall. Try not to hit me with that thing." Sarah picked up her laundry basket and carried it down the hall to her bedroom, depositing it on her bed. When she returned to the living room the toy sailed past her. She went into the kitchen to clean up the pizza box and plates, returning to take a seat in the wing-back chair where her laundry basket had rested. It faced down the hall toward her bedroom, giving her a good position from which to throw the toy. Her dog kept returning to her neighbor however. He looked over at her and arched a brow.
"It's the new toy factor," Sarah told him. "I'm always around to be played with. You're not so she wants to play with you while she can."
"Sounds like a kid," he said, scooping up the toy again.
"She's my kid," Sarah said, watching as Maggie came running back up to the couch and her neighbor. The dog was breathing heavily now. "I think that's enough, Magpie. How about a rawhide?" Sarah got up and moved back to the kitchen to get the treat out of a cabinet. The dog's toenails clicked on the floor behind her.
The woman and dog returned to the living room, the dog carrying her rawhide. She made for the couch and the woman stepped in front of her.
"Let me get a blanket. I don't want to clean rawhide goo off of the couch, again." She retrieved a blanket from the box beneath the end table and spread it out on one end of the couch. The dog leaped up and lay down, rawhide propped between her two front feet, and started to chew. House watched for a moment before turning to look at his neighbor. She had settled back into the wing-back chair, one foot tapping lightly to the beat of the music. The songs had started to repeat; they were back to "How Big Can You Get" again.
"So, her name is Magpie?" he asked, trying to remember what she'd called the dog before. Magpie didn't sound right.
"Maggie Mae. Magpie is just a nickname. What about you? Do I call you Dr. House? Gregory?"
"Most people call me House," he said.
"Ok."
"Call me Greg," he said, surprising himself.
"Alright. Call me Sarah."
"I think my laundry should be done now," he said, getting up from the couch. The leg wasn't trembling any more but he still wasn't looking forward to a trip down the stairs. She stood too.
"I'll get it," she said, starting for the door. He felt a surge of annoyance.
"That's not necessary," he said, starting after her.
"I know," she said, moving aside the baby-gate so he could join her by the door. She put it back as soon as he was there. "I'll bring it up, but you're on your own folding it." They stepped out into the hallway and she locked the door behind them. House wanted to protest again but she was moving toward the stairs and he knew he couldn't keep up with her. He watched her disappear through doorway to the staircase. House stayed where we was, thinking.
He'd felt like the evening had been going pretty well up until now. He'd managed some small talk and she hadn't seemed troubled by his silences. He'd enjoyed listening to the music and had even found playing with the dog amusing. He didn't like it that she'd insisted on going and getting his laundry, though he admitted to himself that it was partly because he was afraid she was right to worry. The leg was feeling better now that he'd spent some time off of his feet, but it wouldn't take much to have it trembling again. The hours in the clinic, the walk from his car, and his previous trips up and down the stairs all added up. He needed to take some ibuprofen and get off of his feet. He yawned and glanced at his watch, surprised to see that it was just after 10pm. He was normally a night owl but suddenly he wished that his overly-helpful neighbor would hurry. He wanted to collapse in his bed and go to sleep without images of Amber staring down at him.
As if in response to his wish, Sarah emerged from the stairway, carrying his laundry bag.
"Here you go," she said, holding out the bag as she reached him. He took it from her, shrugging the strap over his shoulder.
"Good night," he said, turning to go back to his apartment.
"Good night," she said.
Greg went into his own apartment and Sarah stared after him. Had she just ruined everything? She'd been having a pleasant evening and she thought he had too. It had taken him time to relax but he'd liked the music. She was sure of that. He'd seemed to enjoy playing with Maggie too. Small talk clearly wasn't his forte but that hadn't bothered her. She was around too many people who enjoyed the sound of their own voices at work. Everything had been ok until she'd insisted on going and getting his laundry for him. She'd seen that he was prickly about the leg. Sometimes her own stupidity amazed her. With a sigh of frustration she went back to her own apartment.
Maggie was waiting by the gate but as soon as Sarah stepped over she raced back to her rawhide.
"I'm not going to take it from you, Silly," Sarah chided, walking over to the sofa and dropping down beside her dog. "Well, Magpie, I'm afraid I screwed that up. I don't think you'll see Greg again anytime soon." She leaned back, looking up at her ceiling. The dog moved closer to her, pressing up against her leg, and Sarah stroked her idly. "I am such an idiot."
