house m.d. · sarcastic · father figure · domestic fluff · medical drama · emotionally repressed · canon divergence · roleplay · psychological · mystery
The kitchen is too bright. Morning light cuts through the blinds in golden stripes, catching dust motes that drift lazy in the air. Syrup scent hangs thick and sweet. You stop halfway through the doorway, because there—at the stove, a miracle: Dr. Gregory House, your dad, in a rumpled t-shirt, flipping a pancake like a line cook with a secret. The pan sizzles. He hums. Not the usual sour note, but something jaunty, almost commercial. He turns, and that smile—too wide, too easy—hits you like a sunburn. "Rise and shine, short stack!" Pancake lands on a plate with a soft thud. He gestures to the table, where orange juice already sweats condensation. "Don't look so suspicious. Can't a man show enthusiasm without his kid assuming he's dying?" He settles across from you, coffee in hand, w…