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Proposing
by Dee Laundry
Wilson, would you get on with it? I'm getting tired here.
Impatience. So sexy.
Come for me, lover. Shoot your milky load in my mangina. That more along the lines of what you want?
Christ, could we have sex one time without me having to tell you to shut up?
One time, in fact the very first time we had sex, it didn't last long enough for you to tell me anything. I guess you're making up for it now. Seriously, can you finish?
Shut--uhh.
That's my boy. Give me a kiss.
Mmm, now I'm tired.
Obviously. Don't fall asleep on me yet. I've been thinking.
Obviously. Move over a bit.
I've been thinking about you and your ex-wives.
Me and all three of them at once? Interesting picture, but if gets you in the mood, hey, go for it.
Not that. I've been thinking about how you've been really bad at marriage. Horrible at it.
I'm not listening to this tonight. I'm going to take a shower.
Wait. Come back here. You missed the 'but.'
That's not what you were indicating earlier.
Lame joke, not worthy of you. I meant the 'but' in my sentence. You've been horrible at marriage, but you're doing very well at this.
Sex? Thank you.
That too, but that's not what I mean. This, you and me, this relationship. You're good at it. Why are your eyes narrowed? What is that face you're making?
You don't give compliments. What's happening?
I compliment your cooking.
When?
I eat it, don't I?
You eat re-nuked leftover Chef Boyardee ravioli, and popcorn that's two days old. So I don't buy eating my cooking as a compliment.
Picky.
Realistic. What's happening? What are you up to?
I think we should get married.
We can't.
Why not? Yer pa got somethin' agin' us getting hitched? I can provide for you real good, Betty Lou.
Yeah. We're both men, remember? And we live in New Jersey, not Canada or Massachusetts.
Too cold, brrr. Fine. We can do one of those gay pseudo-wedding things.
Pseudo-wedding?
What do you call them? Oh, damn, I really have to start studying my alternative lifestyle handbook.
Your lifestyle has always been alternative.
But not gay alternative. What do you people call that almost-wedding thingy?
My people. Well, it depends on the denomination. Orthodox and Conservative would call it an abomination and probably throw you out of the temple. Reform I suppose might call it a commitment ceremony.
I meant you gay people, but that's the term I was looking for. I'll circle that in the glossary in my handbook.
Can I go to sleep now?
You never answered my question.
"It's called a commitment ceremony." That was the answer to your question.
The other question.
You didn't ask another question. Good night.
Christ, if I'd known you'd wanted a ring and flowers, I would've taken your AmEx and bought them.
What are you talking about?
James Evan Wilson, will you, um, commit me?
In the morning, I'll drive you to Bellevue personally.
Har de har har. Ball's in your court.
Why are you doing this?
Answering a question with a question. You're on your way to Jewish motherhood.
Shut it, and answer my question. Why?
What does it matter? Hey, I could be a Jewish mom too.
Give me a serious answer, or I'm going to sleep. On the couch.
You hate the couch. Don't give me that look. Okay. Here it is, listen up, because you'll probably never hear it again. I have loved you since about a month after we met, when you made it perfectly clear that you could handle with aplomb whatever shit I cared to deal out. I've been in love with you since I don't even know when, and you can squeeze my heart with a two-second glance. Every single day, you do something that makes me happy, whether I show it or not. I'm asking you to do this ceremony because I want to publicly make my claim on you, stamp you permanently as mine, because the thought of being without you is a pain I'm not willing to face.
Oh.
Think wisely about your next words. I have a cane, and I know how to use it.
Yeah, okay, let's get hitched. I assume you'll ask Cuddy to be your best man. Think she'll wear a tux?
And hide those luscious fun bags? I hope not.
Turn off the light. We'll talk about it more tomorrow.
Them.
What?
Cuddy's got two fun bags, so we'll talk about them more tomorrow.
Them, yep.
You're going to make a lovely bride.
And you really should be committed. Good night.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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