Sports Fic: Sweet Sixteen
Mar. 27th, 2008 09:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
namasteTitle: Sweet Sixteen
Author: Namaste
Summary: House and Wilson track their -- or should we say Wilson's -- picks in the NCAA basketball pool. Fluff and friendship. About 1,100 words. Sequel to March Madness.
Excerpt:
"Where is Xavier anyway?" Wilson asked.
"Does it matter?"
"You don't know either, do you?"
House scowled. "Of course I do," he said, but went silent.
"Why, exactly, do we care about Xavier?"
House looked over at Wilson, then turned toward the obstetrics intern who sat at a table, eating soup and scribbling something in a notebook. "Because you bet on them, remember?" His voice was raised, directed at the woman's back. She ignored him.
"Guess I forgot," Wilson said. He stood behind the couch, watching the game as it played out on the TV screen. "It's hard to keep them all straight. Almost like I hadn't even filled out the bracket."
The lounge was nearly empty, just Wilson, House and the intern who was ignoring both them and the game.
Wilson rounded the couch, sat beside House. "I thought North Carolina was playing now."
House shook his head. "In a few minutes." He took a piece of licorice out of a bag, then held the bag open for Wilson. "West Virginia sucks," he said.
Wilson looked at the score, nodded. "But that's good for us. Right?"
House looked back at the intern again. She still didn't seem to be paying attention to them. "Everybody and their brother bet on North Carolina and UCLA for the finals. You want to win, you'll need points in the Sweet Sixteen to beat everyone else. You're golden, except for Davidson."
"I hear Thirteen actually picked Davidson to make it to the Sixteen," Wilson said. "I can't imagine anyone who would have been crazy enough to do that. Pure luck, of course."
House glared at him. "Maybe she knew what she was doing."
Wilson took a bite of the licorice. "Doubt it."
The screen suddenly switched from the white and dark blue uniforms of the Xavier and West Virginia game to the white and crimson of North Carolina and Washington. Wilson leaned forward, watching the teams take the floor. He winced as the basketball clanged off the rim for North Carolina.
House turned up the volume and the room filled with the sound of cheers and shouts and sneakers squeaking on the hard wooden floor. Wilson had never played much organized basketball, never seemed to have time -- there was always something he needed to finish for one class or the other -- but he remembered shooting baskets with his brothers in the driveway, the way the ball would feel as it slipped off his fingers, arcing toward the basket for a perfect lay-up.
He looked at House. "You ever play?" He could picture him, tall and lanky, fearless as he charged down the court, setting himself up under the basket and daring opposing players to run him down, taking the foul and laughing with every bump and hit.
House shook his head, didn't take his eyes off the screen. "Not my sport," he said. A North Carolina guard drew himself up in front of the three point line, jumped and shot, the ball slipping through the net. He finally turned, looked at Wilson. "We never stayed at one school long enough for team sports." His voice was soft. Wilson guessed he didn't want the intern to hear.
House looked back at the screen, cheered as North Carolina broke away, finally took the lead. Wilson leaned back, took another bite of licorice.
He heard a chair scraping and turned to see the intern getting up from the table. She went into the kitchen area, rinsed out her bowl. For a minute he thought she'd leave, but she settled herself back at the table, drew her notebook closer and wrote something on the pages.
"So why are we watching here?" Wilson asked, turning back to House. He hunched forward, lowered his voice. "More privacy at your place. You can cheer for whoever you want."
House pointed toward the set. "High def," he pointed out.
"You could always buy a new TV, you know."
"The old one still works."
"But the old one's not high def."
"But this one is."
"You have to share this one."
"Not tonight."
Wilson raised his hands in defeat, knowing he'd never get a straight answer, guessing if there was one it had something to do with House using the TV as some way to establish his territory in the lounge. "Fine."
As the half ended, Wilson stood and stretched. He walked over to the vending machines. "Get me a Coke," House said.
Wilson stopped, turned back to House. "Give me a buck."
"Left my wallet in my office."
Wilson didn't move. Just waited.
House finally shifted slightly, took the brown wallet out from his pocket and tossed it to him. "Get some chips while you're at it," he said.
Wilson fished out two dollar bills, fed one into the soft drink machine, pressed the button for a Coke and heard it drop. He put another bill in and hit the button for a Diet Coke for himself.
He handed House the can and a bag of barbecue chips.
"Looks like West Virginia's got some life left in them," House said, nodding at the score. The Mountaineers had climbed within just a few points of Xavier and the TV switched from North Carolina back to the Xavier and West Virginia game.
Wilson slouched down on the couch. "What happens if Xavier loses?"
"West Virginia advances to the Elite Eight."
"Thanks. I figured that much out." Wilson took a drink. "I mean in the pool."
House shrugged. "Depends on what happens Friday. Three points from an Xavier win would be a nice buffer for ..." he glanced back at the intern, "you," he said loudly. He turned back to the TV. "But you've got another shot with Michigan State."
Wilson watched the players run from one end of the court to the other, moving the ball from player to player, watching it sail toward the basket -- sometimes falling through for two points, sometimes bouncing off the rim.
"Where is Xavier anyway?" Wilson asked.
"Does it matter?"
"You don't know either, do you?"
House scowled. "Of course I do," he said, but went silent.
The West Virginia player jumped, sank the shot.
"Overtime," Wilson said.
House took a drink, stared at the screen but he didn't seem to be watching the game. West Virginia took the lead, tried to stretch it out. One foul ball bounced away, one fell in for a three-point lead.
"Cincinnati," House said.
"What?"
"Cincinnati. Xavier is in Cincinnati." House nodded. "Told you I knew it."
Xavier took a one point lead, then hit a three-point shot to build its lead to four.
Wilson smiled. "Never doubted you."
"And North Carolina won," House said, pointing to the other game's score listed up in the corner of the screen. He grinned as the clock ran down, Xavier walking off the court as the winners. "Looks like you know how to pick winners."
Wilson smiled, finished off his Diet Coke. "Lucky for us," he said. "So who did I pick for the next game, Louisville or Tennessee?"
Author: Namaste
Summary: House and Wilson track their -- or should we say Wilson's -- picks in the NCAA basketball pool. Fluff and friendship. About 1,100 words. Sequel to March Madness.
Excerpt:
"Where is Xavier anyway?" Wilson asked.
"Does it matter?"
"You don't know either, do you?"
House scowled. "Of course I do," he said, but went silent.
"Why, exactly, do we care about Xavier?"
House looked over at Wilson, then turned toward the obstetrics intern who sat at a table, eating soup and scribbling something in a notebook. "Because you bet on them, remember?" His voice was raised, directed at the woman's back. She ignored him.
"Guess I forgot," Wilson said. He stood behind the couch, watching the game as it played out on the TV screen. "It's hard to keep them all straight. Almost like I hadn't even filled out the bracket."
The lounge was nearly empty, just Wilson, House and the intern who was ignoring both them and the game.
Wilson rounded the couch, sat beside House. "I thought North Carolina was playing now."
House shook his head. "In a few minutes." He took a piece of licorice out of a bag, then held the bag open for Wilson. "West Virginia sucks," he said.
Wilson looked at the score, nodded. "But that's good for us. Right?"
House looked back at the intern again. She still didn't seem to be paying attention to them. "Everybody and their brother bet on North Carolina and UCLA for the finals. You want to win, you'll need points in the Sweet Sixteen to beat everyone else. You're golden, except for Davidson."
"I hear Thirteen actually picked Davidson to make it to the Sixteen," Wilson said. "I can't imagine anyone who would have been crazy enough to do that. Pure luck, of course."
House glared at him. "Maybe she knew what she was doing."
Wilson took a bite of the licorice. "Doubt it."
The screen suddenly switched from the white and dark blue uniforms of the Xavier and West Virginia game to the white and crimson of North Carolina and Washington. Wilson leaned forward, watching the teams take the floor. He winced as the basketball clanged off the rim for North Carolina.
House turned up the volume and the room filled with the sound of cheers and shouts and sneakers squeaking on the hard wooden floor. Wilson had never played much organized basketball, never seemed to have time -- there was always something he needed to finish for one class or the other -- but he remembered shooting baskets with his brothers in the driveway, the way the ball would feel as it slipped off his fingers, arcing toward the basket for a perfect lay-up.
He looked at House. "You ever play?" He could picture him, tall and lanky, fearless as he charged down the court, setting himself up under the basket and daring opposing players to run him down, taking the foul and laughing with every bump and hit.
House shook his head, didn't take his eyes off the screen. "Not my sport," he said. A North Carolina guard drew himself up in front of the three point line, jumped and shot, the ball slipping through the net. He finally turned, looked at Wilson. "We never stayed at one school long enough for team sports." His voice was soft. Wilson guessed he didn't want the intern to hear.
House looked back at the screen, cheered as North Carolina broke away, finally took the lead. Wilson leaned back, took another bite of licorice.
He heard a chair scraping and turned to see the intern getting up from the table. She went into the kitchen area, rinsed out her bowl. For a minute he thought she'd leave, but she settled herself back at the table, drew her notebook closer and wrote something on the pages.
"So why are we watching here?" Wilson asked, turning back to House. He hunched forward, lowered his voice. "More privacy at your place. You can cheer for whoever you want."
House pointed toward the set. "High def," he pointed out.
"You could always buy a new TV, you know."
"The old one still works."
"But the old one's not high def."
"But this one is."
"You have to share this one."
"Not tonight."
Wilson raised his hands in defeat, knowing he'd never get a straight answer, guessing if there was one it had something to do with House using the TV as some way to establish his territory in the lounge. "Fine."
As the half ended, Wilson stood and stretched. He walked over to the vending machines. "Get me a Coke," House said.
Wilson stopped, turned back to House. "Give me a buck."
"Left my wallet in my office."
Wilson didn't move. Just waited.
House finally shifted slightly, took the brown wallet out from his pocket and tossed it to him. "Get some chips while you're at it," he said.
Wilson fished out two dollar bills, fed one into the soft drink machine, pressed the button for a Coke and heard it drop. He put another bill in and hit the button for a Diet Coke for himself.
He handed House the can and a bag of barbecue chips.
"Looks like West Virginia's got some life left in them," House said, nodding at the score. The Mountaineers had climbed within just a few points of Xavier and the TV switched from North Carolina back to the Xavier and West Virginia game.
Wilson slouched down on the couch. "What happens if Xavier loses?"
"West Virginia advances to the Elite Eight."
"Thanks. I figured that much out." Wilson took a drink. "I mean in the pool."
House shrugged. "Depends on what happens Friday. Three points from an Xavier win would be a nice buffer for ..." he glanced back at the intern, "you," he said loudly. He turned back to the TV. "But you've got another shot with Michigan State."
Wilson watched the players run from one end of the court to the other, moving the ball from player to player, watching it sail toward the basket -- sometimes falling through for two points, sometimes bouncing off the rim.
"Where is Xavier anyway?" Wilson asked.
"Does it matter?"
"You don't know either, do you?"
House scowled. "Of course I do," he said, but went silent.
The West Virginia player jumped, sank the shot.
"Overtime," Wilson said.
House took a drink, stared at the screen but he didn't seem to be watching the game. West Virginia took the lead, tried to stretch it out. One foul ball bounced away, one fell in for a three-point lead.
"Cincinnati," House said.
"What?"
"Cincinnati. Xavier is in Cincinnati." House nodded. "Told you I knew it."
Xavier took a one point lead, then hit a three-point shot to build its lead to four.
Wilson smiled. "Never doubted you."
"And North Carolina won," House said, pointing to the other game's score listed up in the corner of the screen. He grinned as the clock ran down, Xavier walking off the court as the winners. "Looks like you know how to pick winners."
Wilson smiled, finished off his Diet Coke. "Lucky for us," he said. "So who did I pick for the next game, Louisville or Tennessee?"