| |
Lent
by sy dedalus
House stuffed a row of pink marshmallow rabbits into his mouth.
"What did you give up for Lent?"
Wilson shot him a disgusted look over the pages of Golf Digest. House didn't have to sit right next to him to eat that plastic garbage.
"Christianity."
House guzzled pink Peep-mixed saliva unfazed. "I gave up clinic hours."
Wilson fluffed the magazine pointedly. "One day," he said, "Cuddy is going to stick your head on a pike for all to see. The peasants will rejoice."
House retrieved another package of Peeps and brandished them.
"You're just jealous cause I have all the chicks."
The package contained yellow chicks. Wilson snorted despite himself.
"The sugar shock is all yours too," he said with amusement.
"You'd like some sugar, wouldn't you?" House leered.
Wilson casually raised his eyebrows. "Want me to leave again so you can hang the stethoscope and spend another four hours pretending you have a sex life?" he snipped.
House narrowed his eyes. "You gave up women," he said. "That's it." More Peeps met a dastardly end. "Stupid thing to give up."
"My people have given up enough," Wilson said casually, flipping the page.
"Your people," House echoed, eyebrow cocked.
"My people."
House didn't budge. "All that time you spend at temple, that's what confuses me," he deadpanned.
Wilson shifted. "Don't have to be religious to be spiritual."
"Then why did you give up women?" House's eyebrows leapt toward his hairline and he leaned closer.
"All that sugar is rotting your brain," Wilson said, turning back to the fascinating article on a new series of titanium shafts. He wouldn't squirm.
House placed a Peep on his palm and waved it under Wilson's nose before sucking it loudly into his mouth.
Wilson made a face. There was no way House's childish Peep-sucking actions were remotely attractive. No way.
"What's for dinner?" House asked through yellow sugar.
"I don't cook on Saturdays."
"You do now."
Wilson grumbled something unintelligible.
"Aww," House mocked, "he misses sex."
Wilson knew that House wanted him exasperated, that he was playing into House's hands by reacting, but sometimes that was the only way to get the man to shut up.
"I didn't give up women!" Wilson exclaimed.
"No," House said as he put a hand on Wilson's crotch, "but I did."
Wilson sucked in a surprised breath. House's grip was expert.
"It's always games with you, isn't it," Wilson said, his voice cracking on `you'--precisely the moment he saw House leaning dangerously close.
"Higher success rate." The words rumbled in House's chest.
When their lips met, Wilson's appreciation of marshmallows quadrupled.
Please post a comment on this story.
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 Fox Television, 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.
|