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Snow White
by hilsonlover
House knows that something is off as soon as he opens the door of his apartment. Silently he closes the door and sniffs - Wilson is baking. If his nose isn't betraying him he's baking an apple pie. The smell of baking apples mingled with the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon causes his mouth to water.
Wilson baking means Wilson in trouble, wanting to soothe House before the bomb drops. Wilson baking apple pie means Wilson in deep shit and in desperate need to soothe House. House looks around the apartment; everything looks normal, he can't find anything out of the ordinary. Slowly he sweeps with his eyes again over the living room; the feeling of something being not right is too strong to shrug it off. Yet, he can't stand here forever waiting for an epiphany.
Eventually he throws his keys on the coffee-table, his jacket carelessly over the sofa while dumping his backpack on the floor. The clinking sound of his keys alert Wilson who emerges from the kitchen looking flushed.
"Hey, you're early! Did you figure out the mysterious illness? Do you want a beer?" Wilson is rambling and kneading the towel in his hands nervously. House frowns - Wilson is upset ... and looks guilty.
"O-okay, what have you done?"
"Huh? I ask about your day and that's your reaction?"
"You, my dear, are rambling. And you're baking an apple pie. That alone tells me that you have done something which will probably piss me off," House clarifies while slowly approaching Wilson.
Wilson's adam's apple bobs up and down in response, his cheeks are heating up and he's blinking rapidly. When he starts to lick his lips nervously House has to focus on his task, namely to find out what's going on. Wilson doesn't budge an inch - House has to give him credit for that. On the other hand this means Wilson is stealing himself for a severe confrontation which isn't a good sign - at all.
"C-can't I just bake from time to time?" Wilson retorts with a short squeak at the end of his sentence.
"You're baking apple pie. You always do this when you feel guilty or think you should apologize to me. Furthermore, you left work early and without telling me."
Wilson rolls his eyes and sighs exasperatedly, "I don't always have an ulterior reason for baking apple pie. And I'm a big boy; I don't need to tell you when I leave work. Besides, you were busy."
House's face is only a few inches from Wilson's. The fact that Wilson tries to look him straight in the eye gives away that there is indeed something he wants to hide. A useless attempt of course, at least in House's opinion. House lays one hand around Wilson's neck, feeling the rapid beating of the carotid under his palm. His other hand lands on Wilson's hip, drawing him in close until their bodies are flush.
Wilson embraces him and hides his face against House's shoulder. House responds with a hug of his own, then whispers in his ear, "Tell me what you did. I'll find out anyway."
He feels Wilson shivering and swallowing in his arms. Suddenly coldness seeps into House; does he really want to know what this is all about? He's not sure anymore. He didn't change fundamentally within the last two years but gradually. One thing he knows for sure - since Wilson has moved in with him and they started their relationship in a new way he's way more relaxed and at ease than he has ever been before. He doesn't want to lose this feeling, doesn't want to lose Wilson.
While House holds Wilson and inhales his scent he's suddenly aware of a noise he hasn't heard in his apartment before; sounds from lumbering little feet. He frowns and lifts his head up when the lumbering sounds come closer, accompanied by a soft wailing. Wilson stiffens in his arms and clutches more tightly too him when he hears the wail.
House sweeps the apartment again with his eyes to find the source of the unknown noise. He's still searching when Wilson extricates himself from his embrace, bends down and speaks soothingly to something on the floor. Wilson gets up again, cradling something white to his chest. House blinks - this just can't be true!
"What the heck is this?" he asks incredulously.
"Um, it's a dog," Wilson answers without looking at him, the scarlet-red flush on his neck speaking for him rather clearly.
"It looks like a cat or a rat," House grouses, earning himself an annoyed glare from Wilson. "Anyway, that's not the point. What is ... whatever it is ... doing here?"
"It is a she," Wilson answers rather petulantly while petting the little white ball of fur.
"Do I look like I care about the sex?"
"She's a Shinarian," Wilson retorts with a hint of pride in his voice. He's still petting the little hyperactive dog when he looks at House with a hopeful expression on his face, "She's cute, isn't she?"
"Why is she here?" House inquires further, ranting inwardly at himself for calling the dog she.
Wilson averts his eyes, shuffles his feet and is obviously fully concentrated on the difficult task of petting the dog. The dog seems to be very little and Wilson doesn't seem to answer within the next hour or so. House's eyebrows knit together more sharply as he says, "James! Why is that dog here? It shouldn't even be called a dog; it is smaller than a cat!"
"She's a puppy! She is 12 weeks old, she's allowed to be small," Wilson is glowering at House now.
"You're still evading the question."
"Um, which one?"
"Okay, my dear. I hope you're not going to tell me what I think you're going to tell me!" House's voice drops lower; a threat lingers beneath the surface.
Wilson wishes for something good to say or explain but feels way too intimidated by House's gloomy stare. He swallows, trying to get some saliva back into his mouth and backs away a few steps from House. Wilson knows that his breathing is too fast and there isn't really a reason for him to be scared. Well, that's a lie but it has to do the trick. He takes a deep breath, straightens up and mutters, "This ... this is my dog. She will ... live here from now on."
Nothing happens for the next minute; only the soft barks from the puppy can be heard. Finally Wilson lifts his head and steals a glance at House; flinching at the enraged look on his face.
"Your dog? Don't you think you should at least ask me if I'm game for a dog living here? How the hell will you be able to look after it?" House's voice is getting louder and louder until he's practically screaming.
Wilson winces and the puppy starts to whimper. Quickly he soothes her again before he answers, "You ... you said I could get a dog."
"What? Are you drunk? I would never say such a thing!"
House is furious and it absolutely doesn't make Wilson wish to flee the scene and hide under a blanket until the storm is over. Nervously he licks his lips while scratching the puppy behind its ears.
"I'm not drunk. Your words were 'If you really want a dog then go ahead' - at least that's what I remember," Wilson replies bravely although he's sweating and fine tremors are running through his body. To jog House's memory he adds, "You might remember the ... discussion we had yesterday."
It hits House with full force - with closed eyes he throws his head back and groans in utter disbelief.
XXXXX
"Hey," Wilson greets when he enters the apartment after a long and exhausting day at work. It's almost midnight, he has lost a patient, the pulsating pain in his head is signaling an oncoming headache and he simply wants some affection from House.
House doesn't even acknowledge Wilson's presence. He's watching a mindless show, chewing on some popcorn, occasionally taking a sip of his beer. Wilson puts away his briefcase and keys, hangs up his coat and slips out of his shoes. Silently he stands in the half-light of the living room and fights heavily against tears of anger and frustration. After standing there for ten minutes and not getting a single reaction from House, although commercials flicker over the screen and surely that can't be too distracting to at least turn around and acknowledge Wilson's presence, nothing happens.
Finally he moves, walks stiffly to the sofa and sits down next to House. Still, he doesn't get more than a grunt as a sign of House recognizing him. Anger and frustration mingle and explode in a sudden outburst, "You're an ass, you know that? You could at least greet me when I come home!"
House looks at him startled. "Didn't know I had to roll out the red carpet for you when you stepped foot over the threshold."
"I didn't ask for such a thing and I would never expect you to ... to be happy when I come home but you could at least greet me! Even a dog would greet me and be happy to see me!" Wilson exclaims forcefully. He's wiping away some tears that dared to leak out of the corners of his eyes, feeling embarrassed about showing so much emotion.
House looks somewhat shocked but collects himself quickly and replies, "If you really want a dog then go ahead."
Now it's Wilson's turn to look shocked because House shrugs and turns back to the show, ignoring him again. Rage blazes up in him. Jumping to his feet he accidentally knocks over House's glass on the coffee table. Without bothering about the wet spot on the floor and ignoring House's indignant comment he flounces out of the living room, loudly slamming the bedroom-door behind him. He stands in the middle of the bedroom and is beside himself with anger. Dark spots are dancing in his field of vision, the pounding of blood in his ears is deafening. His body is quivering; he's torn between blind lust of destruction and crying his eyes out.
Rage leaves him as unexpected as it hit him; he's lightheaded and trembling from defeat. House will never change, he knows that, but to be ignored because of a TV show doesn't hurt any less. He wipes his shaky fingers over his face, desperately trying to calm down. He changes into a flannel-pajama, not caring about the inevitable mocking this will evoke. He's cold, drained and disappointed. He clambers onto the bed and huddles under the blanket, thinking that getting a dog might be a really good idea. He had dogs as a kid and teenager and even Hector with his second wife and ... he misses it. Furthermore, House gave him more or less permission to get one. Or at least he can interpret his statement like that.
A small smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth at the thought of getting a dog when the bedroom-door creaks. House changes silently into his sleeping-clothes, settles on the bed and scoots closer to him. He leans over to Wilson, pecks him on a cheek and whispers, "You're worse than a woman."
Wilson grunts and huddles himself deeper into the blanket before he says, "You're still an ass. If you want to make it up to me get over here. I'm freezing."
"There's no reason for me to make anything up to you and you're always freezing."
Fury reboils in Wilson and he turns around with an enraged expression on his face; before one syllable is able to leave his mouth House tugs at him sharply. Losing his balance Wilson lands with his head on House's chest while one of House's hands comes to a rest on the small of Wilson's back, holding him in place with force. This is as close to an apology as Wilson will get from House, so he simply surrenders and goes slack, finally drifting off to sleep.
~~~~~
The next morning it seems as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Though the atmosphere remains tense and wary, conversation isn't flowing as smoothly as usual. They drive to the hospital, each in their own car. Wilson still feels a little bit unbalanced; he can't really focus on the papers in front of him. He skims through the entries in his calendar for the next few days and is uncomfortably surprised at seeing that his mother's birthday is approaching in three days. He decides to take the rest of the day off to buy a present for his mother; maybe she'll get it in time if he sends it this very day.
It takes him more than two hours to find a gift and he's more than lucky to have it wrapped and sent directly to her. He's still exhausted from the previous day and is thinking about dinner as he walks to the exit of the mall. He walks past a pet shop, then turns around and watches the pets through the window. His feet go into the shop on their own volition, leading him to a big box with puppies where he kneels down. The puppies are scuffling, barking, sometimes wailing and Wilson's heart is mellowing at the sight. A small, white furred puppy lumbers over to him and sniffs at his hand. He scratches the puppy behind its little ears, earning him a lick at his hand and an appreciating look from its shiny black eyes.
The salesman comes over, explaining that this puppy is female and a Shinarian. He goes on with what the puppy needs, how much it'll weigh and how big it'll get. Wilson's eyes are glued to the white ball of fur that's wagging her tail and nudging his hand with her head whenever he stops petting her. He lifts her out of the box, hearing himself say that he'll take her. He carries her around while he gets all the needed supplies, blocking out all thoughts of House's reaction.
He's smiling the whole ride home, in between stealing glances at the puppy in the box. She's sitting in the box curled together tightly, shivering violently and he's petting her soothingly at every stop light. At home he lifts her out of the box as soon as he turns off the car. A few minutes later she's wagging her tail and happily exploring him and the car. He carries her and the supplies into the apartment and unpacks everything. He cuddles and feeds her before laying her in a basket where she's sound asleep in an instant. That's the moment when he realizes that he will have a problem in about two or three hours; a big problem, to be precise. He doesn't know how to break the news to House so he decides on soothing House beforehand. Nothing is better for that than baking apple pie.
XXXXX
House stares at Wilson, shakes his head, then snarls, "Did you honestly believe that my comment gives you a free-pass to get a dog? Especially a dog that can be mistaken for a rat?"
Wilson purses his lips, frowns and answers, "Well, that's what you said. Since you're always honest to the point of being arrogant I trusted you."
House is stunned. If it wasn't for Wilson's lazy eye acting worse than usual, House might be able to believe him. House straightens up to his full height and approaches Wilson slowly, knowing that showing off his still muscular and bulky frame is able to intimidate Wilson. It works as expected when Wilson warily scurries a few steps backwards until his escape is hindered by the sofa.
"You - are - lying," House emphasizes each word theatrically. "You know I didn't mean it the way you choose to interpret it."
Wilson feels the inevitable flush creeping up his body, betraying his attempt of appearing cool and unfazed. His body ticks really make it impossible to be a good liar! He doesn't trust his voice, so he stays quiet and tries not to blink too much.
"You'll bring it back," House growls with a nod in the direction of the puppy.
This draws Wilson out of the daunted copy of himself. He blurts, "What? - No! I won't bring Snow White back!"
House closes his eyes, opens them again, and then asks, "Please, tell me that you didn't give this thing the name of a fairy-tale figure."
Wilson's cheeks burn up in flames as he stammers, "I-it ... it fits. She's cute and ... and ..."
House rubs a hand over his face, stabs Wilson's chest with a finger but can't suppress a small smile, "Couldn't you give her a different name? One that didn't scream "Hey, I'm gay!'"
Wilson purses his lips again, this time in annoyance. Before he's able to reply House adds, "Oh, I forgot! The breed as it is screams that you're gay; why not add a gay name too!"
Wilson is obviously in a huff when he retorts in a mixture of exasperation and annoyance, "Which name wouldn't have been too gay for you?"
"What about Sally or Selma?"
"Riiiight! Not gay, but boring and ordinary."
"You don't have an exciting forename either."
"That's why my dog at least needs an extraordinary name."
"I don't want a dog!" House rants.
"But I do! I want to come home to someone who cares if I'm here or not; even if it is just a dog!" Wilson shouts while at the same time stroking the puppy who is currently sprawled out on his forearm.
"You really got this ... whatever, for that reason? Could you be any gayer?"
"Your insults are really heartwarming. I'll have to get the pie out of the oven. Here, hold Snow White for a minute."
Suddenly the white ball of fur is pushed into House's hands, leaving him frozen to the spot and staring after Wilson in bewilderment. The puppy doesn't seem to be very fond of this arrangement either; she's trembling and gazing at him saucer-eyed. House frowns, the eyes remind him of someone else - which is of course completely ridiculous. The puppy's light trembles change into a heavy shiver and she starts to wail softly, looking around for Wilson to rescue her.
To the utmost relief of both of them Wilson comes back quickly and takes her. He cradles the puppy in his arms where she waggles her tail in appreciation and doesn't even bother to glance back at House. House decides that he doesn't like this dog, rat, whatever - at all.
"You will bring her back tomorrow, right?"
"No!" Wilson answers irritated. "I already told you I'm keeping her. You even gave me permission!"
"You're quite adamant with your interpretation of my statement. Where will Snow White stay when you're at work?"
House almost chokes on his tongue when he notices his slip; specifically when he discovers a smug little smile appearing on Wilson's face. Just to wipe this victory off Wilson's face House presses on, "You did think about this before you got her, right?"
"Sure," Wilson lies. Even though he knows that House sees right through his lie he can't admit that he bought Snow White on pure impulse.
"I ... I'll take her with me to the hospital. She ... can stay in my office where I can look after her and maybe you could, um, ..."
Wilson's awkward stammering is cut off by House, "No. She's your dog, your responsibility. I won't participate in taking care of her."
Wilson glares; the nonchalant aura of arrogance House radiates is really disgusting. He spits out, "I don't need your help! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my dog by myself."
"Sure. Nothing easier for the boy-wonder oncologist than to run a huge department and care for a puppy," House retorts sarcastically. "What makes you think that you can bring a dog with you to the hospital on a regular base?"
"What do you care? Like you said, it is my responsibility not yours!" Wilson snaps. Damn House for always finding the holes in his arguments!
"You didn't think about it beforehand and you don't have a clue how to make this work. You'll have to bring her back in a few days anyway," House says triumphantly.
Wilson feels defiant at House's comment and promises himself and Snow White to prove House wrong. Still he wants House to like the puppy and cautiously suggests, "It would be easier if you would help me. But if you don't want to, that's fine with me, I'll manage without you. It's not the only thing I'm managing without you."
"The psycho-track doesn't work with me. You'll see that I'm right. And you would do us both a favor if you took her back immediately. Otherwise you'll set your heart on her and get on my nerves with all the whining when the inevitable happens."
"Nothing like that will happen but I'm getting the impression you are jealous - of a dog," Wilson replies coolly.
Inwardly he makes a victory-sign when House's face goes blank and grips his cane harder. He simply shrugs his shoulders to House's comment of him being a moron.
XXXXX
The whole evening goes by with House scowling at Snow White; even eating three pieces of apple pie aren't able to soothe him. When House starts to kiss Wilson on the sofa during a commercial, Snow White shows that she isn't very fond of this show of affection towards her owner. She clumsily jumps onto the sofa and makes herself comfortable on Wilson's lap. Of course it's way more important for Wilson to pet the puppy, whisper and play around with her than kissing House further. Every time House tries to attract Wilson's interest, Snow White acts up, drawing all of Wilson's attention to her. House is so annoyed after a while that he decides to go to bed early; at least he will have Wilson to himself there.
Wilson follows him soon after he laid Snow White in her basket. He even put a night light into a socket, getting him a mumbled remark of acting like an overprotective Mommy. Wilson doesn't bother to answer, instead makes sure that Snow White is asleep before he trails after House.
House is already lying in bed, the blanket is put aside so Wilson only has to get on the bed and slide under it. He does exactly that, immediately curling around House.
"I really don't get it how you can always be such an ice-ball," House grunts out grumpily.
Wilson rolls his eyes, it's an old discussion. Instead of starting an argument he deadpans, "It's the easiest way to trick you into letting me cuddle you."
Suddenly they are flipped around and House is lying on top of him, squishing the breath out of him. Both wrists are captured into one of House's hands and before he's able to catch up with what is happening House has started a fierce onslaught of kisses to his face and throat. It only takes him a moment to reciprocate the kisses while weakly struggling against House's hold on him. Even with the disadvantage of his leg House is a strong man with a bulky frame. Sometimes House's physical supremacy is intimidating to Wilson, making him feel small and delicate in comparison.
They are both naked in a blink of an eye, only heavy panting is audible. House is fumbling around in the drawer of his nightstand, his eyes glued to Wilson's swollen and parted lips when his hand suddenly touches something warm and fluffy. His head swivels around and he's eye to eye with Snow White. She's sitting on top of his nightstand, her head is tilted to one side and she's staring at him with open curiosity. Wilson turns his head too and winces at seeing her sitting there. He can't help it but feels embarrassed and suggests, "Maybe, um, we should postpone ... our activity."
House glares at him with a mixture of ice and fire at the same time, sending shivers throughout Wilson's body. He moans softly when House rumbles, "I won't let this thing interrupt us!"
He angles for the jar with Vaseline and a condom and scowls at Snow White with clear defiance and stubbornness. He settles back to his former position, using all his body-weight to trap Wilson between himself and the mattress before he jokes, "Don't you like having an audience?"
"Not really," Wilson answers breathlessly. He's stealing glances at House and Snow White, not being sure of what to make of this situation. Fortunately indecisiveness flees him when House bites down hard on his collarbone, pushing at him until he rolls over on his side. He's gasping when House carelessly smears Vaseline around his anus and wiggles three fingers in all at once. He really doesn't need much preparation anymore but he's also a big wuss in regards of anal sex.
"H-hey! Slow down a bit! I don't want to get interrogated by the hospital staff because I'm limping tomorrow. Again, I might add."
House reacts promptly and withdraws his fingers, muttering, "I forgot how sensitive you are about this cute little ass of yours."
"I just don't want you to be all whiny because you can't fuck me properly for a few days."
"Very thoughtful of you."
This time the stretching happens more slowly and with much more tenderness, giving Wilson time to adjust. House is kissing a trail around Wilson's neck and collarbone, making him giggle when he flicks his tongue around the ticklish spot right behind Wilson's ear. Deciding that Wilson is prepared enough and feeling the scrutinizing stare of the puppy in his back, House rips the wrapper open.
"Oh fuck," he hisses while rolling the condom over his erection.
"Having a hard time there?" Wilson asks coyly.
House blinks before he counters, "Feeling cheeky, my dear?"
Tremors ripple through Wilson's body and he's curling a bit more on his side, waiting for House to enter him. He's surprised when House loops one arm under his side and the other one under the hollow of the knee of his upper leg. His breath is hitching and he has to stifle a loud groan by putting his fist into his mouth, knowing what this means. House is hoisting his leg up, exposing his entrance and with it spreading him wide open. When House finally glides into his welcoming body all restraint is gone; Wilson is moaning and arching his back, scooting as close as possible to House.
He won't be limping tomorrow but he sure as hell will remember the night because House will be going slow, it will last and he'll penetrate deep, so deep. Wilson is shuddering, almost forgetting to breathe when House rocks back and forth, scratching his prostate with every shallow thrust. He's tingling all over, tightly clutching to House's arm which holds him, gasping and whimpering, losing himself in the sensations.
"What the fuck?" House squeezes out suddenly, stopping midway, leaving Wilson confused and short of begging House to go on. Then he feels something unfamiliar and only when Snow White has climbed over him and sits down next to him, it hits him.
"This dog is a pervert!" House exclaims with a deep guttural growl, tightening his grip around Wilson.
"Just because she likes to watch?"
"That's not normal!"
"Do you ... want to stop?"
...
"Ow! Oh God!" Wilson actually starts to scream after yelping as House bites down hard on his throat while pushing all the way back in. Stars are blurring his vision and all he can make out through the haze are two big black eyes, studying him with unnerving intensity. Snow White makes herself comfortable on the bed; she lies down while keeping a close look on the two men. Wilson surrenders to the awkward situation, closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of House gliding in and out, slamming over his prostate until he's short of wailing. The pressure, the fire in him - everything screams for release and he screams too.
Suddenly everything coils up and he's shouting a litany of curses as his climax washes through him, sweeping him up. He's aware of House pumping in and out for another few minutes, yelping at every new hit on his oversensitive prostate. Finally House shudders against his back, nearly squashing all breath out of him.
It takes them a while to get back to earth and House is the first one to arrive at their destination. He pulls out of Wilson who can't suppress a sharp hiss and another "Ow!" escaping his mouth. 'Damn, the drive to work tomorrow will be a real challenge!' he thinks when House tosses the condom aside and starts to nag, "She will not sleep in our bedroom and especially not in our bed."
Wilson rolls his eyes, so much for dwelling in coital bliss! He extricates himself from House, cradles Snow White in his arms and carries her out with an unsteady gait. He lays her back in the basket, pets her a bit and tells her to stay there. The saucer-eyed expression almost breaks his heart, "Just stay for a while in the basket until he's asleep. I'll leave the door ajar, okay?"
Of course she can't understand what he means but he still feels better telling her that. Back in the bedroom he hastily crawls under the blanket, re-establishing their former position. House presses him firmly against his chest and Wilson is again marveling at how perfectly they mold together. He's slowly drifting off to sleep when he hears the soft sounds of little paws coming closer. Snow White sniffles lightly and he hushes her as quietly as possible.
"Come here, but be quiet for God's sake. We don't want him to know that I allowed you to sleep in the bed," Wilson whispers towards an upset Snow White. She jumps onto the bed, clumsily crawls to him, nudging him with her nose and waggling her tail in excitement and thankfulness. She yawns heartily, curls herself into a ball right in front of Wilson's chest and he is smiling a goofy smile.
"Don't think I didn't hear what you said," House informs him in a low voice, startling him.
Before Wilson is able to come up with something better he blurts, "She's a baby!"
House drops his head to Wilson's shoulder, mumbling, "Oh my God! You turned into Mommy!"
Wilson is too indignant to reply at all and simply huffs. He relaxes into House's arms when said man doesn't continue but also doesn't demand he take Snow White out. No need to wake up sleeping dogs ...
Shortly before he falls asleep with House curled around his back and Snow White curled around his front, House mutters, "I am always happy to see you and to have you around. Don't doubt that ever again."
"Thank you," Wilson answers softly, then adds firmly, "I won't bring Snow White back to the shop."
"Why am I not surprised by this?"
"Because you know me so well?"
"It'll be very interesting to watch you dealing with work and a puppy."
Wilson titters in a mixture of sorrow and hope, "I aim to please you."
A tender kiss is placed onto his shoulder, then House sighs in playful defeat, "You're going to trick me into taking care of her, won't you?"
Wilson twists his head a bit to get a better look at House's face and brushes a kiss on House's forehead. "I'll make it up to you, alright?"
"More sex with an audience? More pies?" A melodramatic pause follows till House says, "I'll give it a try."
END
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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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