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moose_mcmoose) wrote2010-03-18 10:02 pm
moose_mcmoose) wrote2010-03-18 10:02 pm
Entry tags:
On Hands and Knees
Just a stupid post-ep thing. Whatever. Trying to keep my writer's block at bay. Woot
Title: On Hands And Knees
Characters: Wilson/House
Rating: PG
Words: 966
Disclaimer: I don't own them. A shame, as then I could buy some new jeans.
Summary: Picking out furniture really shouldn't be this difficult. Just a post-ep thang. Spoilers for 6x16 'Black Hole'
At first he was embarrassed by his genuine lack of indecision. Was finding something he actually liked really that difficult? Had it always been this difficult and taxing?
Then he was just embarrassed to even be there.
He could see the assistants watching him pace back and forth as he slipped through tables and weaved past sofas, sighing loudly and rolling their eyes as he checked out the same table for the third time in ten minutes.
He doesn't remember shopping for furniture being this difficult but this particular situation was way out of his comfort zone. Usually, it went, woman points or squeaks with delight at something, and Wilson buys. At this precise moment there is no woman to point and squeak so all he could really do was to wander aimlessly around a bleached out store until his mind tells him to stop torturing itself. He had past the point of mild confusion, took a scenic diversion away from extreme bewilderment, slipped on by disorientation and was now standing on the precipice of sheer exasperation at his own inability to pick out some damn furniture.
Furniture. That's all this thing was. A table here, some matching chairs there, and maybe some nice comfortable sofas to pad everything out. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But House piped up and made it some sort of personal, life defining experience.
Now he was struggling, flapping around the store like a deranged turkey. He'd even resorted to climbing in the furniture, hoping that somehow curling himself up into a giant Weeto was going to give him the answer he needed, before a stern glare from the burly manager had sent him scrambling for the table section.
And now he was on his knees underneath a table for some reason inexplicable to both the world and to himself. He wasn't sure how the angle from below the table would tell him if he liked it or not. Though, it was a nice table. Nice colour. It would look nice in the apartment. Nice. Nice. Nice.
It looked good. Well, from down here anyway.
He likes it. He thinks. He thinks it's nice so he must like it right? Yeah...right?
Would House like it?
That's when he stops himself and cordially, inwardly wags a finger. This was his decision. So if he likes it then he buys it. It's nothing to do with House.
But what if House doesn't like it?
House does live with him, he thinks, so it really does have a lot to do with him. House has to eat off this table too, so really it should be a joint decision. House should really be here because it is important that House likes it.
But House had told him to do this by himself.
Shit.
A delicately twirled reef knot has managed to curl itself tightly in Wilson's head. And he was still on his hands and knees underneath a table in the middle of a furniture store. Somehow he needed to get out of here before he either buys everything in sight with the vain hope that he will mix and match until House decides for him, or leave with nothing in tow and have to face the fact that he is internally empty.
Maybe getting out from underneath the table and looking less like a lunatic would be the first and best course of action.
"That is a remarkable collection if I can show it to you."
Or maybe following those hot legs from beneath the table would be a better course.
"I'm Gabriella."
Wow. The furniture slips his mind for only a second but manages to pull it back quick enough. Hopefully Gabriella won't notice and will hopefully pick something for him, because this was just torture.
"I'm really just looking for a nice dining room table." A hint of confusion with a little pinch of desperation, mixed at just the right pace. He had always amazed himself how smooth he was at not being smooth at all.
"I see. You're daring."
"Yes. I do that sometimes." Daring was never an adjective applied much to his persons, if ever. He wasn't sure if he was being an idiot or she was using the word in completely the wrong context, but he was still yet to grasp what was so daring about purchasing a dining table. "But right now, why am I daring?"
"You're not constrained by rules."
She's flirting. She has to be.
"What else attracts you in the patio section?"
Oh. Somehow he'd missed that important slice of information. "Wait...this is a patio table? For outside?" The giant tree and the bamboo light should possibly have given him some sort of hint.
And now that old friend called Flushed Embarrassment was seeping back into the fold and all he can do to save himself is to pat the gorgeous Gabriella on the arm and stride away at an alarming speed, almost knocking a two hundred dollar lamp from a chintzy table on his way.
He eyes up the bouncy black chair and the giant Weeto one last time before deciding enough was enough. He could never decide and he was running the risk of giving himself a stroke if he kept on trying.
It takes him four attempts to get the key into the lock on the driver's door of his Volvo. Sweaty palms and metal don't mix, a bit like himself and unsupervised shopping trips, but eventually he manages to clamber into his car with some less than graceful manoeuvres.
He would have to call a decorator. No doubt he would get a barrage of abuse, totally founded accusations of being a wuss, but he didn't care.
Though, he was pretty sure he would find that one thing he promised House, eventually.
______________________________________________________________________________
Oh yeah and anyone unsure what a Weeto is then look HERE
Title: On Hands And Knees
Characters: Wilson/House
Rating: PG
Words: 966
Disclaimer: I don't own them. A shame, as then I could buy some new jeans.
Summary: Picking out furniture really shouldn't be this difficult. Just a post-ep thang. Spoilers for 6x16 'Black Hole'
At first he was embarrassed by his genuine lack of indecision. Was finding something he actually liked really that difficult? Had it always been this difficult and taxing?
Then he was just embarrassed to even be there.
He could see the assistants watching him pace back and forth as he slipped through tables and weaved past sofas, sighing loudly and rolling their eyes as he checked out the same table for the third time in ten minutes.
He doesn't remember shopping for furniture being this difficult but this particular situation was way out of his comfort zone. Usually, it went, woman points or squeaks with delight at something, and Wilson buys. At this precise moment there is no woman to point and squeak so all he could really do was to wander aimlessly around a bleached out store until his mind tells him to stop torturing itself. He had past the point of mild confusion, took a scenic diversion away from extreme bewilderment, slipped on by disorientation and was now standing on the precipice of sheer exasperation at his own inability to pick out some damn furniture.
Furniture. That's all this thing was. A table here, some matching chairs there, and maybe some nice comfortable sofas to pad everything out. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But House piped up and made it some sort of personal, life defining experience.
Now he was struggling, flapping around the store like a deranged turkey. He'd even resorted to climbing in the furniture, hoping that somehow curling himself up into a giant Weeto was going to give him the answer he needed, before a stern glare from the burly manager had sent him scrambling for the table section.
And now he was on his knees underneath a table for some reason inexplicable to both the world and to himself. He wasn't sure how the angle from below the table would tell him if he liked it or not. Though, it was a nice table. Nice colour. It would look nice in the apartment. Nice. Nice. Nice.
It looked good. Well, from down here anyway.
He likes it. He thinks. He thinks it's nice so he must like it right? Yeah...right?
Would House like it?
That's when he stops himself and cordially, inwardly wags a finger. This was his decision. So if he likes it then he buys it. It's nothing to do with House.
But what if House doesn't like it?
House does live with him, he thinks, so it really does have a lot to do with him. House has to eat off this table too, so really it should be a joint decision. House should really be here because it is important that House likes it.
But House had told him to do this by himself.
Shit.
A delicately twirled reef knot has managed to curl itself tightly in Wilson's head. And he was still on his hands and knees underneath a table in the middle of a furniture store. Somehow he needed to get out of here before he either buys everything in sight with the vain hope that he will mix and match until House decides for him, or leave with nothing in tow and have to face the fact that he is internally empty.
Maybe getting out from underneath the table and looking less like a lunatic would be the first and best course of action.
"That is a remarkable collection if I can show it to you."
Or maybe following those hot legs from beneath the table would be a better course.
"I'm Gabriella."
Wow. The furniture slips his mind for only a second but manages to pull it back quick enough. Hopefully Gabriella won't notice and will hopefully pick something for him, because this was just torture.
"I'm really just looking for a nice dining room table." A hint of confusion with a little pinch of desperation, mixed at just the right pace. He had always amazed himself how smooth he was at not being smooth at all.
"I see. You're daring."
"Yes. I do that sometimes." Daring was never an adjective applied much to his persons, if ever. He wasn't sure if he was being an idiot or she was using the word in completely the wrong context, but he was still yet to grasp what was so daring about purchasing a dining table. "But right now, why am I daring?"
"You're not constrained by rules."
She's flirting. She has to be.
"What else attracts you in the patio section?"
Oh. Somehow he'd missed that important slice of information. "Wait...this is a patio table? For outside?" The giant tree and the bamboo light should possibly have given him some sort of hint.
And now that old friend called Flushed Embarrassment was seeping back into the fold and all he can do to save himself is to pat the gorgeous Gabriella on the arm and stride away at an alarming speed, almost knocking a two hundred dollar lamp from a chintzy table on his way.
He eyes up the bouncy black chair and the giant Weeto one last time before deciding enough was enough. He could never decide and he was running the risk of giving himself a stroke if he kept on trying.
It takes him four attempts to get the key into the lock on the driver's door of his Volvo. Sweaty palms and metal don't mix, a bit like himself and unsupervised shopping trips, but eventually he manages to clamber into his car with some less than graceful manoeuvres.
He would have to call a decorator. No doubt he would get a barrage of abuse, totally founded accusations of being a wuss, but he didn't care.
Though, he was pretty sure he would find that one thing he promised House, eventually.
______________________________________________________________________________
Oh yeah and anyone unsure what a Weeto is then look HERE
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Cheers for reading and commenting XD
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This line described Wilson perfectly: Now he was struggling, flapping around the store like a deranged turkey. lol
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Cheers for reading and commenting.
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And this is Wilson in a nutshell: He had always amazed himself how smooth he was at not being smooth at all, haha!!
Thanks for sharing, great way to start the day for me!!!!
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Lol. I was watching that scene and he just wasn't slick but the shop assistant was still blatantly flirting with him. Must be the power of the wonky eye. :D
Glad you enjoyed it. Cheers for reading and commenting hib! XD
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Cheers for taking the time to read and to comment. Much appreciated XD
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Loved this! :)
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Glad you enjoyed this.
Cheers for reading and commenting XD
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And agree with you that it was House's statement that made furniture shopping so much harder for Wilson. But of course he is not empty inside after all - House with a harpsichord and a cape resides in there!
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Cheers for reading and commenting XD
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Thanks for your great comment. And thank you reading. It's much appreciated XD
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I'm glad you enjoyed this. Cheers for reading and commenting XD
(Btw, I am away this weekend but I'll be sure to read the next chapter of Expecting The Unexpected as soon as I return :D)
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Loved these lines especially:
flapping around the store like a deranged turkey
and
that old friend called Flushed Embarrassment
Thanks for sharing another wonderful story!
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Glad to hear you enjoyed this. And thank you for reading and commenting XD
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Cheers for reading and commenting XD
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Thanks for reading and commenting XD Much appreciated.
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Cheers for reading and commenting.