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Title: Hallmark Moments
Author: Mer
Summary: Some people give cards, Wilson gives canes.
Author's Notes: Written for The Clinic’s linked drabble exercise (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
housefic_pens), complete with actual links that should take you to real Hallmark cards, (because House and Wilson are so Hallmark). Spoilers for "Safe" and "All In". 3x100, finishing with a double-drabble at 200.
Get Well (Just can't wait till You're back on your feet!)
Even before the infarction, Gregory House was not the kind of man who accepted things with good grace, even gifts. He knew what was in the narrow box Wilson had left by his bed. He also knew why Wilson had waited until he was asleep to leave it. Wilson had a keen sense of self-preservation. House unfolded the attached note and deciphered the familiar scrawl.
“How to terrorize patients: Speak softly and carry a big stick.”
House smiled and opened the box. He ran his hand over the smooth wood, fit his fingers around the grip, and tested his weight.
Thank You (Sometimes kindness just sneaks up on you.)
House argued that the biker couldn't hurt him (much), but Wilson still insisted on trying to separate them. The biker’s buddy, however, decided the only thing that needed to be separated was Wilson's head from his shoulders. House saw the sucker punch coming and swung his cane to deflect the blow. He missed, splintering the cane on the bar, but Wilson's assailant was startled enough to only graze his target.
"You made me break my cane," House complained when Wilson could stand again.
"I'll buy you a new one," Wilson said, rubbing the back of his head and smiling gratefully.
Congratulations (Here's to you!)
Sometimes sacrifices had to be made in the name of science. While testing the braking efficiencies of hospital equipment, House discovered that the tensile strength of a wooden cane wasn't enough to resist the force of a loaded gurney. It was worth it, though, for the expression on Cuddy's face when she saw her office chair hurtling down the fourth floor corridor, just edging out a wheelchair. After they finished their clinic hours, House and Wilson built a funeral pyre for the cane in the alley.
"Come on," Wilson said. "We'll stop at the cripple store on the way home."
Friends Forever (It's you and me against whatever.)
The day after Wilson filed through his cane, House found a familiar narrow box on his desk. House wasn't sure whether that indicated efficiency or pre-meditation on Wilson's part. He opened it and found a sleek ebony cane with a solid silver handle. He hopped over the balcony wall to tell Wilson how much he liked it.
"Are you trying to make me look like a pimp?" he demanded.
Wilson didn't even glance up from his paperwork. "Since when was that a problem?"
House hated it when Wilson had a point. "Whatever happened to scorched beechwood?"
"The oncology benefit is tomorrow night. It'll look good with your tux."
House dropped the cane on Wilson’s desk. “There are two problems with that statement. One: I don’t own a tux. Two: I’m not going to the benefit.”
Unfortunately, Wilson was a master at countering House’s arguments. "One: Lady found your tux buried in your closet. Two: if you don't show up, I'll tell everybody you cry at those Mormon commercials."
"You're buying my drinks," House conceded.
"I always buy your drinks."
"You always buy my canes, too. Why is that?"
Wilson shrugged. "Nothing says I love you like a long, hard stick."
Author: Mer
Summary: Some people give cards, Wilson gives canes.
Author's Notes: Written for The Clinic’s linked drabble exercise (
housefic_pens), complete with actual links that should take you to real Hallmark cards, (because House and Wilson are so Hallmark). Spoilers for "Safe" and "All In". 3x100, finishing with a double-drabble at 200.Get Well (Just can't wait till You're back on your feet!)
Even before the infarction, Gregory House was not the kind of man who accepted things with good grace, even gifts. He knew what was in the narrow box Wilson had left by his bed. He also knew why Wilson had waited until he was asleep to leave it. Wilson had a keen sense of self-preservation. House unfolded the attached note and deciphered the familiar scrawl.
“How to terrorize patients: Speak softly and carry a big stick.”
House smiled and opened the box. He ran his hand over the smooth wood, fit his fingers around the grip, and tested his weight.
Thank You (Sometimes kindness just sneaks up on you.)
House argued that the biker couldn't hurt him (much), but Wilson still insisted on trying to separate them. The biker’s buddy, however, decided the only thing that needed to be separated was Wilson's head from his shoulders. House saw the sucker punch coming and swung his cane to deflect the blow. He missed, splintering the cane on the bar, but Wilson's assailant was startled enough to only graze his target.
"You made me break my cane," House complained when Wilson could stand again.
"I'll buy you a new one," Wilson said, rubbing the back of his head and smiling gratefully.
Congratulations (Here's to you!)
Sometimes sacrifices had to be made in the name of science. While testing the braking efficiencies of hospital equipment, House discovered that the tensile strength of a wooden cane wasn't enough to resist the force of a loaded gurney. It was worth it, though, for the expression on Cuddy's face when she saw her office chair hurtling down the fourth floor corridor, just edging out a wheelchair. After they finished their clinic hours, House and Wilson built a funeral pyre for the cane in the alley.
"Come on," Wilson said. "We'll stop at the cripple store on the way home."
Friends Forever (It's you and me against whatever.)
The day after Wilson filed through his cane, House found a familiar narrow box on his desk. House wasn't sure whether that indicated efficiency or pre-meditation on Wilson's part. He opened it and found a sleek ebony cane with a solid silver handle. He hopped over the balcony wall to tell Wilson how much he liked it.
"Are you trying to make me look like a pimp?" he demanded.
Wilson didn't even glance up from his paperwork. "Since when was that a problem?"
House hated it when Wilson had a point. "Whatever happened to scorched beechwood?"
"The oncology benefit is tomorrow night. It'll look good with your tux."
House dropped the cane on Wilson’s desk. “There are two problems with that statement. One: I don’t own a tux. Two: I’m not going to the benefit.”
Unfortunately, Wilson was a master at countering House’s arguments. "One: Lady found your tux buried in your closet. Two: if you don't show up, I'll tell everybody you cry at those Mormon commercials."
"You're buying my drinks," House conceded.
"I always buy your drinks."
"You always buy my canes, too. Why is that?"
Wilson shrugged. "Nothing says I love you like a long, hard stick."
