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Day 1: Pep Talk [House M.D./Doctor Who]
And we are live! Here we go!
Title: Pep Talk
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: House M.D./Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Character(s): Gregory House. The Doctor.
Date: December 01
Author’s Notes: Response for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
motschekiebchen's prompt for this year's Advent Calender (spots still open).
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“Boredom or emo brooding?” House asked with an affected grating chirp.
“Neither,” the recipient of his attention answered with a quelling glare.
“Ah, emo brooding it is. With a tasty side of angst, apparently.”
“Is that your diagnosis, Doctor House?” the man mocked scornfully.
House shrugged before downing the rest of his scotch and motioning for another. “It’s Christmas Eve and you’ve come to me of all people. You’re alone, so no fun, kinky, sex hijinks in your bitchin’ pad to distract you,” (here his companion spluttered on his banana daiquiri) House continued blithely, “And you’re not out thwarting dastardly plots in the name of all that’s fluffy and good. You’re in a crap bar with a girly drink and me for company. That’s pathetic. Even for you.”
“And if I just wanted to make myself feel better by talking with someone whose circumstances are exponentially more wretched?” he questioned with feigned innocence.
House snorted into his glass. “You don’t even have a companion and you’re calling me pathetic? I have Wilson,” he said smugly as if that ended the argument.
“Where is your better half?”
House shrugged, unconcerned and finished off his drink. “Probably setting up dinner at my place. For a Jew, he has a deeply disturbing hard-on for Christmas.”
House stood, surprisingly graceful for a man who’d imbibed as much as he had. “Do something. Save a puppy, play Santa, get laid. You know you’ve hit rock bottom when you’re coming to me to make yourself better.”
The Doctor chuckled wryly, thinking that House would be surprised to know that he actually did find himself in better spirits after their chat.
“Here’re your bills, buddy. Merry Christmas.” The bartender slapped down a few slips of paper.
“What?” The Doctor frowned at the receipts for four whiskies and a banana daiquiri.
Title: Pep Talk
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: House M.D./Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Character(s): Gregory House. The Doctor.
Date: December 01
Author’s Notes: Response for
motschekiebchen's prompt for this year's Advent Calender (spots still open). --------
“Boredom or emo brooding?” House asked with an affected grating chirp.
“Neither,” the recipient of his attention answered with a quelling glare.
“Ah, emo brooding it is. With a tasty side of angst, apparently.”
“Is that your diagnosis, Doctor House?” the man mocked scornfully.
House shrugged before downing the rest of his scotch and motioning for another. “It’s Christmas Eve and you’ve come to me of all people. You’re alone, so no fun, kinky, sex hijinks in your bitchin’ pad to distract you,” (here his companion spluttered on his banana daiquiri) House continued blithely, “And you’re not out thwarting dastardly plots in the name of all that’s fluffy and good. You’re in a crap bar with a girly drink and me for company. That’s pathetic. Even for you.”
“And if I just wanted to make myself feel better by talking with someone whose circumstances are exponentially more wretched?” he questioned with feigned innocence.
House snorted into his glass. “You don’t even have a companion and you’re calling me pathetic? I have Wilson,” he said smugly as if that ended the argument.
“Where is your better half?”
House shrugged, unconcerned and finished off his drink. “Probably setting up dinner at my place. For a Jew, he has a deeply disturbing hard-on for Christmas.”
House stood, surprisingly graceful for a man who’d imbibed as much as he had. “Do something. Save a puppy, play Santa, get laid. You know you’ve hit rock bottom when you’re coming to me to make yourself better.”
The Doctor chuckled wryly, thinking that House would be surprised to know that he actually did find himself in better spirits after their chat.
“Here’re your bills, buddy. Merry Christmas.” The bartender slapped down a few slips of paper.
“What?” The Doctor frowned at the receipts for four whiskies and a banana daiquiri.
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That's House for you, to compare who's more pathetic... and to win.
But whom miss the Doc? Maybe House should send him a wombat. *G*
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lol. the best part!
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