Sports Fic: Home Plate
Oct. 22nd, 2008 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
namasteTitle: Home Plate
Author: Namaste
Summary: What better way to celebrate a renewed friendship than beer, pizza, and the World Series? Well, for House there's always the promise of winning some money off of Wilson. Sports fluff, PG, about 1,280 words. House and Wilson friendship.
Author's Note: Part of my personal canon of House and Wilson betting on sporting events. Only the first inning for this one.
"Explain this one more time, and go slowly," Wilson said as he took off his coat. "Why am I betting on Tampa?"
"Because you lost the coin toss."
"See, now you've lost me again." Wilson draped his coat over the back of a chair. "I don't remember any coin toss."
House turned to look up at him from the couch. "That's because you weren't talking to me at the time." The pre-game show was on the TV and House lowered the volume. "I offered to go two out of three, but since you never answered, I figured you were OK with the results."
Wilson could almost picture it happening -- House sitting alone in his apartment, idly flipping a coin and placing bets on whether it'd turn up heads or tails. Sooner or later he would have tired of betting against himself, and come up with a more interesting scenario. He wasn't sure if the image scared him, or just left him wistful for everything he'd missed in the past four months.
Wilson shook off the memory and walked around to the side of the couch. "If you want to bring up old bets, how about the fifty bucks you owe me for Toledo embarrassing Michigan a couple of weeks ago?"
"You'd actually stoop to taking money based on Michigan football this season? It's a rebuilding year." House slumped down into the cushions, took a drink from the beer bottle. "It'd be like taking candy from a baby."
"You'd take candy from a baby," Wilson pointed out.
"I would, but you're better than that. Besides," House continued, looking at the TV where the announcers were still previewing the game, "you want to root for the Rays anyway, don't you?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Wilson asked. "They've taken out both the Yankees and the Red Sox, with a payroll that wouldn't pay for a month of parking in New York."
"Exactly," House said. "They're the sentimental favorite, the underdogs, the scrappy youngsters who go from worst to first." He pointed the remote at Wilson. "Very you. You should thank me for taking the Phillies."
Wilson ignored him, took a minute to look around the apartment. It had been spring the last time he was here, the baseball season barely under way, with the promise of something new hanging out there waiting for every team to grab.
Nothing had been moved in the four walls of the apartment in the past few months. The piano still sat there with its keys exposed, ready to be played at any moment. The desk was still covered with an assortment of junk mail, catalogues, journals and empty pill bottles -- though it was Cuddy's name on the label as the prescribing physician, rather than his. The TV was still the same cheap model House refused to replace.
But something felt different, like everything in the room had been altered just slightly, and he just couldn't tell what it was.
Wilson looked down at the floor, at the spot where the bottom of the bookcase met the floorboards, actually thinking for just a moment that it would be like House to move everything two inches to the right, just to play with his head, but everything was right where it had been. Maybe it just him. Maybe he just needed time to feel at home here again, like it had taken time to decide to stay in the apartment, where everything felt out of place after Amber died, as if the world had shifted off its axis without her, and he was the only one who felt the tectonic shift.
"I ordered pizza," House said, and Wilson pushed away the thoughts of Amber and furniture and focused on where he was now, rather than what he'd had then. He told himself that he was over thinking things again. This wasn't about the past or the future. This was just for fun.
He looked at House, grinned. "I suppose you expect me to pay?"
"We could flip a coin."
"I have the feeling I've already lost the toss." Wilson sat on the couch, in his usual spot. He put his feet up on the table and felt the world slip back into place.
House claimed he only had a five dollar bill when the pizza showed up, so Wilson gave the guy a twenty out of his own pocket. He put the box on the coffee table between them and grabbed two beers before he settled down on the couch.
On the screen, McCarver was filling air time as the Rays' pitcher finished his warm up pitches. Finally the Phillies' Rollins stepped into the batter's box.
"Ten bucks says the first pitch is a ball," House said
"You said you only had five."
"Oops," House said, taking a wad of bills out of his front pocket. "Forgot about this."
It was a strike.
"Too late," House said.
"I'd rather have an easy out," Wilson said, as Rollins hit a long fly ball out to right field.
"I'd rather have a guy on base," House said a few pitches later as a Phillies player took first in a walk.
Wilson groaned and took another piece of pizza. He ignored the TV for a minute. "So why pick the Phillies?"
"I'm not allowed to root for the home team?"
"You hate Philadelphia sports," Wilson said. "You hate the Sixers ..."
"No one's put up any impressive numbers in Philadelphia since Wilt Chamberlain," House said, "and by numbers, I'm not talking about three pointers, more like three..."
Wilson held up a hand. "I get your point," he said. "And you always say that the Flyers suck."
"Am I wrong?"
Wilson shrugged. "No," he admitted. "But that doesn't explain why it is that you're now putting money -- a hundred bucks -- on the Phillies, a team that has lost 10,000 games in its history."
"Fine." House swallowed the last of his pizza. "I confess. I've been won over by the Phanatic. There's just something about a fat, green, furry mascot with a phallic symbol for a nose that I can't resist."
"A hundred bucks," Wilson repeated, as the Rays pitcher tried to strike out the next batter. "On the Phillies?"
"You're the one putting a hundred bucks on a Cinderella team that's about to lose its glass slipper," House said.
"Wait." Wilson stared at House. "You'd rather win a hundred bucks then root for the underdog?"
The pitcher shook off one sign, then nodded.
"An underdog is just another word for loser," House said, "and losers always lose, sooner or later."
The batter swung, made contact, the ball climbing high, going back. It landed in the right field seats and the Phillies were up, 2-0.
House waved toward the TV. "See what I mean?"
"The game's not over yet," Wilson pointed out. "The inning isn't even over. We've got a long way to go."
House leaned back, put his feet up on the table. "Might as well sit back and enjoy it," he said.
Wilson swung his feet up as the Phillies took the field. Half an inning down, another eight-and-a-half to go, and there was nowhere else he'd rather be. He grinned. "Might as well."
Author: Namaste
Summary: What better way to celebrate a renewed friendship than beer, pizza, and the World Series? Well, for House there's always the promise of winning some money off of Wilson. Sports fluff, PG, about 1,280 words. House and Wilson friendship.
Author's Note: Part of my personal canon of House and Wilson betting on sporting events. Only the first inning for this one.
"Explain this one more time, and go slowly," Wilson said as he took off his coat. "Why am I betting on Tampa?"
"Because you lost the coin toss."
"See, now you've lost me again." Wilson draped his coat over the back of a chair. "I don't remember any coin toss."
House turned to look up at him from the couch. "That's because you weren't talking to me at the time." The pre-game show was on the TV and House lowered the volume. "I offered to go two out of three, but since you never answered, I figured you were OK with the results."
Wilson could almost picture it happening -- House sitting alone in his apartment, idly flipping a coin and placing bets on whether it'd turn up heads or tails. Sooner or later he would have tired of betting against himself, and come up with a more interesting scenario. He wasn't sure if the image scared him, or just left him wistful for everything he'd missed in the past four months.
Wilson shook off the memory and walked around to the side of the couch. "If you want to bring up old bets, how about the fifty bucks you owe me for Toledo embarrassing Michigan a couple of weeks ago?"
"You'd actually stoop to taking money based on Michigan football this season? It's a rebuilding year." House slumped down into the cushions, took a drink from the beer bottle. "It'd be like taking candy from a baby."
"You'd take candy from a baby," Wilson pointed out.
"I would, but you're better than that. Besides," House continued, looking at the TV where the announcers were still previewing the game, "you want to root for the Rays anyway, don't you?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Wilson asked. "They've taken out both the Yankees and the Red Sox, with a payroll that wouldn't pay for a month of parking in New York."
"Exactly," House said. "They're the sentimental favorite, the underdogs, the scrappy youngsters who go from worst to first." He pointed the remote at Wilson. "Very you. You should thank me for taking the Phillies."
Wilson ignored him, took a minute to look around the apartment. It had been spring the last time he was here, the baseball season barely under way, with the promise of something new hanging out there waiting for every team to grab.
Nothing had been moved in the four walls of the apartment in the past few months. The piano still sat there with its keys exposed, ready to be played at any moment. The desk was still covered with an assortment of junk mail, catalogues, journals and empty pill bottles -- though it was Cuddy's name on the label as the prescribing physician, rather than his. The TV was still the same cheap model House refused to replace.
But something felt different, like everything in the room had been altered just slightly, and he just couldn't tell what it was.
Wilson looked down at the floor, at the spot where the bottom of the bookcase met the floorboards, actually thinking for just a moment that it would be like House to move everything two inches to the right, just to play with his head, but everything was right where it had been. Maybe it just him. Maybe he just needed time to feel at home here again, like it had taken time to decide to stay in the apartment, where everything felt out of place after Amber died, as if the world had shifted off its axis without her, and he was the only one who felt the tectonic shift.
"I ordered pizza," House said, and Wilson pushed away the thoughts of Amber and furniture and focused on where he was now, rather than what he'd had then. He told himself that he was over thinking things again. This wasn't about the past or the future. This was just for fun.
He looked at House, grinned. "I suppose you expect me to pay?"
"We could flip a coin."
"I have the feeling I've already lost the toss." Wilson sat on the couch, in his usual spot. He put his feet up on the table and felt the world slip back into place.
House claimed he only had a five dollar bill when the pizza showed up, so Wilson gave the guy a twenty out of his own pocket. He put the box on the coffee table between them and grabbed two beers before he settled down on the couch.
On the screen, McCarver was filling air time as the Rays' pitcher finished his warm up pitches. Finally the Phillies' Rollins stepped into the batter's box.
"Ten bucks says the first pitch is a ball," House said
"You said you only had five."
"Oops," House said, taking a wad of bills out of his front pocket. "Forgot about this."
It was a strike.
"Too late," House said.
"I'd rather have an easy out," Wilson said, as Rollins hit a long fly ball out to right field.
"I'd rather have a guy on base," House said a few pitches later as a Phillies player took first in a walk.
Wilson groaned and took another piece of pizza. He ignored the TV for a minute. "So why pick the Phillies?"
"I'm not allowed to root for the home team?"
"You hate Philadelphia sports," Wilson said. "You hate the Sixers ..."
"No one's put up any impressive numbers in Philadelphia since Wilt Chamberlain," House said, "and by numbers, I'm not talking about three pointers, more like three..."
Wilson held up a hand. "I get your point," he said. "And you always say that the Flyers suck."
"Am I wrong?"
Wilson shrugged. "No," he admitted. "But that doesn't explain why it is that you're now putting money -- a hundred bucks -- on the Phillies, a team that has lost 10,000 games in its history."
"Fine." House swallowed the last of his pizza. "I confess. I've been won over by the Phanatic. There's just something about a fat, green, furry mascot with a phallic symbol for a nose that I can't resist."
"A hundred bucks," Wilson repeated, as the Rays pitcher tried to strike out the next batter. "On the Phillies?"
"You're the one putting a hundred bucks on a Cinderella team that's about to lose its glass slipper," House said.
"Wait." Wilson stared at House. "You'd rather win a hundred bucks then root for the underdog?"
The pitcher shook off one sign, then nodded.
"An underdog is just another word for loser," House said, "and losers always lose, sooner or later."
The batter swung, made contact, the ball climbing high, going back. It landed in the right field seats and the Phillies were up, 2-0.
House waved toward the TV. "See what I mean?"
"The game's not over yet," Wilson pointed out. "The inning isn't even over. We've got a long way to go."
House leaned back, put his feet up on the table. "Might as well sit back and enjoy it," he said.
Wilson swung his feet up as the Phillies took the field. Half an inning down, another eight-and-a-half to go, and there was nowhere else he'd rather be. He grinned. "Might as well."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 01:20 am (UTC)And I'm glad the Phillies are winning. I hope they sweep. I hate the *&*(&^ Rays. They ruined my Indian Summer. (Yes I'm from Boston) :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 01:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 01:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 01:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 01:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 01:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 01:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 01:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 02:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 10:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 02:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 02:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 10:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 03:28 am (UTC)Not even Allen Iverson? *g* I can't say that I like the man, but he was a beauty to watch on the court.
I think this one is my favorite of all your sports-themed fics, simply because my Phillies are in it. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 10:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-27 11:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 05:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 10:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 11:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 07:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 07:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 07:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 08:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-23 11:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-24 01:45 pm (UTC)Sport + House and Wilson = NOT BORING AT ALL
I love these ficlets, and this is one of my favourites, partly because of House betting with Wilson in Wilson's absence, and partly because of it would be like House to move everything two inches to the right, just to play with his head, because it would. Lovely!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-01 12:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-29 06:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-01 12:36 pm (UTC)