"If there are any questions, direct them to that brick wall over there."."

Sweet Summer Watermelon - (House/Wilson)

Thu, 16 Jul 2009 00:33:30 GMT

Wilson sat nervously on the edge of House's couch. He was bouncing his right knee up and down, and biting his nails in a desperate attempt to calm himself down.

Today was the day.

A few weeks ago, House had taken it upon himself to show the neighborhood punk that an old cripple like him could skateboard way better than he could. A monetary bet was made, and Wilson pulled up into the driveway with just enough time to watch in horror as the skateboard glided effortlessly down the porch railing, leaving House in a motionless heap on the front steps.

One black eye, a ripped tie, and an Indian-Rug-Burn later, Wilson managed to convince House to go to the hospital to get himself checked out. House walked out of the ER bandaged, gauzed, and sporting a neon pink leg cast.

"Ladies love pink," House had said when Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Now they'll be all up on me wanting to sign it."

The worst of his injuries, at least it Wilson's opinion, was the broken coccyx. It was likely that Wilson classified this as the worst because it effected him negatively as well.

It was simple really: A broken coccyx meant no sex. Not for awhile anyway. But awhile was just long enough to give Wilson a wandering eye. And he had told himself that he wouldn't do that.

Not this time around.

Not with House.

And so, Wilson had found himself masturbating so often, and with such fury, that if his hand never made contact with his cock again, that would be fine with him.

But today...today was the day House was going to get his cast removed, and Wilson was more than confident that his coccyx had had enough time to feel better. Oh yes, House's coccyx would be up for the task of pleasing Wilson. And if not...well, what's one more Vicodin to ease the pain?

"Honey! I'm home!"

Wilson jumped up at the sound of House's sarcastic declaration, quickly glancing himself over in the hall mirror.

The door opened, and in limped House sporting a neon pink cast and a blow up donut seat.

"I thought...they were removing that today?"

House shut the door and tossed the donut seat at Wilson. It grazed past his ear and landed with a delicate plop on the floor. "It's nice to see you too." He furrowed his brows and gave Wilson the once-over. "What are you wearing?"

Wilson glanced down at himself. He thought he looked pretty hot in his bondage collar and tight, black, latex boxers.

"You...don't like it?"

"Not when my leg's snapped in half and my ass is still broken." House tossed his cane onto the floor and lowered himself onto the couch, fluffing up a pillow behind his head, his bright pink cast resting on top of the couch arm, mocking Wilson.

Wilson felt his face flush. "I'm sorry. I just thought that after so long-"

"Unlike you, I can actually refrain from sex for more than 4 hours."

"So can I!"

"Not according to your calloused hands."

Wilson sighed. "So I like sex? Sue me, House. It's not like your mouth is broken you know. You could...help me out in other ways that wouldn't agitate your injuries and give these a break now and then." Wilson held up his hands, palms up, and pouted.

"The only thing I want in my mouth right now is food. And something of sustenance before you say anything perverse. A million little Wilson's won't do anything for me."

Wilson balled his fists and stormed into the kitchen.

Now, the only thing worse than a sex-deprived Wilson is an angry one, and as he rummaged through the kitchen to the sweet sound of House's snores, he decided that House would digest a million little Wilson's whether he wanted to or not.

And so, as he scooped out an opening in the watermelon that he had bought for desert, he closed his eyes and imagined instead that he was working House, getting him ready for entry. And, when he finally pushed himself inside, he was thankful that House had neglected to put the melon in the fridge. The room-temperature of the flesh made it all the easier for Wilson to pretend he was pumping himself into House.

When he was done, and had pulled himself out of the watermelon, he glanced around the kitchen at the mess he had made. Pieces of watermelon and juice were seemingly everywhere.

"And you wonder why I don't want you anywhere near my broken ass."

Wilson jumped at the sound of House's voice behind him, and just about died of embarrassment.

House took a bite out of a piece of watermelon that had landed on the counter beside him. He smirked, held it up, muttered thanks and then limped his way back to the couch, leaving Wilson alone with a destroyed watermelon and an ego so broken it was beyond repair.

Death Note Kink Meme - Fic

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 03:47:05 GMT

Kink: L has sex with a watermelon, then feeds the slices to Light.
OBVIOUSLY THIS IS NSFL but enjoy it anyways.

It wasn't that L was above having sex, he wasn't. He just simply couldn't find the time. He did, however, find that he always had time for sweets. Able to be enjoyed all day, everyday and especially while working, they had become like sex to him.

Delicious, convenient, satisfying.

They fulfilled any desire he had for sex, and for that he was grateful. The more of his mind he could put into his work, the better. As a matter of fact, years of sugar cubes, cakes, and overly-sugared coffee had managed to thwart any sexual desire he may have had.

And he had had a few. For any number of desirable young cops he worked with via web-cam, there were perfect opportunities for him to indulge in a bit of self-gratification. He could very easily slip his hand down his pants and work himself to orgasm, while this cop or that cop leaned, chest-forward, into the camera explaining to him what their thoughts on any particular case was. And no one would ever know.

But, every time he reached for his zipper, the light on his desk glistened off the icing on a piece of cake, and well...L had suddenly better things to do than give in to some animalistic desire.

He had cake to enjoy.

This was the way it always was, and probably always would have been if it hadn't been for Light Yagami taking it upon himself to murder hundreds of people every week. And to look so damn good while doing so. The first time L found himself sitting next to light, the chocolate cake he had been dreaming about seemed 1 percent less appealing. It was Light he was beginning to crave.

It was frustrating, yet not surprising, that Light did not fully succumb to L's advances. He instead would lead him on in minor, subtle ways, which usually resulted in L finding himself hungry more for Light's finger, than the pink frosting his number one suspect was seductively licking off of it.

When the teasing got to be more than L could handle and cake didn't taste as sweet anymore, he handcuffed Light to himself. It was believable to the rest of the Task Force that it was simply to keep an eye on Light, but Light knew better and played things up more than ever. L came to close to unlocking them from each other a few times for this reason alone, but the close proximity in which they had to sleep near each other resulted in L getting an earful of Light getting himself off almost nightly, so L thought better of it.

And this was how things continued for weeks. L was becoming distracted, focusing more on his desire to fuck Light than on the Kira case, and it was driving him mad. He knew he was falling into Light's trap, but what could he do? He was human, afterall.

When the Task Force had just about given up, and L had just about lost his mind, he un-cuffed himself from Light.

"Does this mean you finally believe I'm not Kira?"

L said nothing, just cuffed Light to a railing and headed towards the kitchen in an attempt to re-establish his love with sweets.

"Shit!.."

L rummaged through the cupboards frantically, assuming that the lack of sweets was a result of his sudden disinterest, but Watari should know better!

His eyes stopped on the fridge and he prayed to a god he was sure didn't exist, that there was something, anything, in there.

"Watermelon..."

L struggled to lift the large fruit out of the fridge and placed it on the floor. It had been a long time since he'd had any fruit, but he recalled watermelon being sweet...

....and pink, and moist....

L tried to talk himself out of it. But he couldn't. It was just too perfect. And as he scooped out a large hole with a spoon, and then gripped each side of the melon as he slipped his erection inside, he couldn't even be bothered to feel remotely perverse. It felt too good. Of course, if it had been sitting on the counter, instead of in the cold fridge, it probably would have been easier to imagine he was inside Light when he closed his eyes, but even so, the sheer thought of it sent him over the edge and he filled the fruit with some seed of his own.

A few minutes later, when L was handcuffed back to Light who was sitting on the floor enjoying the slices of watermelon that L had so thoughtfully brought out to him, L couldn't help but smile.

He had won this round. Whether Light knew it or not.

d20

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 01:56:30 GMT

House half-heartedly tosses the iridescent d20 onto the plastic folding table Wilson set up in the living room.

As it rolls its way down the length of the table, and then off of the edge, House glances around at all of his furniture. Couches pressed against tables, pressed against bookshelves...

"...It rolled off the table."

House looks up at Wilson, who is impatiently tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the table top.

"Really? And here I thought it had just vanished into thin air. What number did it land on?"

Wilson sighs and bends down. "Fourteen." He scoops the die up and chucks it towards House, half-hoping that it hits him upside the head. He's been crawling around the floor all night looking for die House has thrown around; he's tired of it, and so are his knees.

It doesn't, of course. (As if Wilson could be so lucky) since House somehow has the reflexes of a God, who catches it without even looking up.

"Then my Perception is a 23. I'm fairly certain that means I can detect a hidden door."

Wilson smirks. "You do not detect any hidden doors."

House slams his fist down on the table. "Bullshit. You only need a 15 to detect a hidden door!"

"You're right."

House leans back and crosses his arms. "I'm always right. So where is it?"

"Nowhere." Wilson stifles some laughter as House's eyes narrow, and his cheeks turn red.

"But we just decided that a 15-"

"...would detect a hidden door if there was one. Which there isn't...Sorry. You're just going to have to find another way out."

House grabs a handful of Cheeto-s and shoves them in his mouth, orange crumbs falling onto his shirt.

"Attractive," Wilson mumbles as he leans across the table and brushes the crumbs off of House.

"I have an incredibly high charisma. It's a 19 or something."

"Clearly."

"I'm also trained in Dungeon Massage and Fellatio."

Wilson scoffed. "Roll me a bluff check."

"Oh, I'll roll you a bluff check." House winks.

"What does that even mean?"

"I want to fuck you."

Wilson bites his bottom lip and grabs House's character sheet and glances it over. "I guess it couldn't hurt to make you proficient with a staff."

Bammel: Drabble for you (100 WORDS IS HARD TO DO OMG)

Wed, 29 Apr 2009 02:09:38 GMT

MR SPRINKLES & TRITTER

Lucas Douglas let out a yell as the side of his face met the front of his ice cream truck. He placed both of his hands on the metal bumper and pushed as hard as he could in an attempt to stand back up, but a sudden weight against his back held him in place.

"Hey, what the hell man? I wasn't even doing anything wrong!"

Tritter kept one hand on the back of Mr Sprinkles' head and lowered his other hand to his belt. "Your word against mine." He snapped his gum, and Lucas heard the sound of a zipper. "Who do you think they're going to believe?"

Lucas felt tears stream down his face. "I'm pretty sure that anal rape is against the law."

Tritter smirked and grunted, as he thrust himself in deeper. "I am the law."

A Kitten for all Seasons - for Jane

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 00:44:02 GMT

"...But you said anything."

"What I meant to say, was anything but that."

"Oh well. You didn't specify at the time, so now it's too late. And what do you care anyway? It's not like you're ever here, so how often will you actually see her anyway?" Jane narrowed her eyes at Wilson, and lightly scratched between the kitten's ears.

Wilson chewed on his bottom lip, digging through the filing cabinet of lies and excuses in his brain for one that might actually work here. "What if...what if I have a patient that's allergic? Sick as they are, I would hate to put them through anything else."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Well, if sleeping with them won't make them forgive you-"

Wilson reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jane, that isn't fair-"

"- then this will probably help." She bent down and dug around in the bag of pet supplies she had picked up, pulling out a lint brush. She tossed it towards Wilson, and he sighed as he looked it over.

"I'm not sure how effective this will be."

Jane scoffed. "First, unless you're going to be hugging and rubbing up on your patients that should be perfectly effective. Second, I'm lonely. I thought you wanted me to find something that would make me happy?" She looked up at him with large, puppy dog eyes, and he sighed and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

~~~~

"If you were really sorry, you'd go home this second and throw it down a well!" House frowned as he brought another handful of tissues up to his nose and sneezed.

"You know I can't do that House!"

House sneezed again and blew his nose, tossing the wad of used tissues at Wilson. "Sure you can. Compared to sneaking around on your wife five nights a week, I'd think tossing out a kitten ought to be child's play."

Wilson sighed and rolled off of the bed, walked over to his briefcase, and pulled out the lint brush Jane had so thoughtfully packed for him that morning. He peeled off the first fur covered sheet, shoved it back into his bag, and began running the new one over his bare skin.

House watched him through red and watery eyes, shaking his head in disgust. "What are you even doing? What's that supposed to do?"

"Get the fur off. Look, I'm doing the best I can."

"Well, your best obviously isn't good enough." House sniffled, and slowly moved his hand from rubbing his sinuses down to stroking his cock. "Good thing I can take care of things myself."

Wilson watched him, and frowned. He started rolling himself with even more ferocity. "Just give me five seconds."

House snorted and started jerking faster. "I'll be done by then. Just have to think about your wife and-" House leaned his head back and let out a congested groan as he spilled out over his hand.

Wilson stared, wide eyed and open mouthed. "My...wife?"

House sneezed as Wilson walked closer to the bed. "I'm allergic to cats Wilson, not pussy."

Wilson narrowed his eyes.

That cat was toast.

Thursday Night is Movie Night

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 01:46:14 GMT

For as long as he could remember, Thursday night had always been movie, pizza, and beer night with House. House provided the television and the movie, while Wilson provided the beer and the food. You know, the pricey stuff.

As Wilson walked unsteadily up the sidewalk to House's door, his arms weighed down with drinks and food, he silently hoped House had chosen a film with a little more substance than last weeks "Gaytanamo Bay." Wilson was all for a good porno now and then, but that monstrosity had been some of the filthiest he'd ever seen. Borderline grotesque really, and Wilson shuddered just thinking about it as he kicked House's door.

A few agonizing minutes later, House opened the door, acknowledged Wilson's presence with a nod, and limped his way back over to the couch without offering any help. Not that Wilson should have expected him to, but just one of these times....well, it would be nice.

Wilson stepped inside and and kicked the door shut behind him. He meandered his way over to the couch, where he loudly dropped the food and beer onto the coffee table, slipped out of his jacket, and plopped down onto the couch.

"Thanks for helping me with that," Wilson mumbled, grabbing a beer and twisting the cap off. House ignored him and reached for the remote.

"Bad news," House said as he turned the power on the television. "All the good porn was taken. So, naturally, I had no idea what else would entertain you, so I asked the air-headed young person behind the counter for a suggestion."

Wilson perked up at this. Air-headed young people liked romantic comedies. Wilson loved romantic comedies.

House tossed the empty DVD case at Wilson, who picked it up and raised an eyebrow.

"Twilight?" He flipped the case over. "What the hell is this?"

House shrugged and pressed play. "Damned if I know. The girl said it was the 'best movie ever', which means that it's probably awful, which to me means that you'll probably like it. I was trying to be thoughtful." House gave Wilson an exaggerated pout and grabbed a box of Chinese food.

Twilight, as it turned out, was a nauseatingly unrealistic high school romance movie starring Vampires. If there had been a deeper plot, it was lost on House, who had fallen asleep within the first ten minutes.

Wilson, however, remained on the edge of his seat, biting nervously on his nails, completely terrified.

Wilson hated vampires. They scared the shit out of him, though he'd never admit it. However, he had always taken comfort in the fact that:

a. Vampires couldn't go out during the day. And since Wilson had no life, and was always in bed by 9pm, they didn't pose much of a threat to him in that regard.

and

b. Vampires had large fangs and other such obvious features, such as looking un-dead, to name just one off the top of Wilson's head. This comforted Wilson, since he assumed that if he did ever see a vampire, he would know with enough time to start running away.

But, Twilight! Twilight was showing Wilson that that vampires looked normal. They didn't even have fangs! And what was worse was that they could walk around during the day without anyone even knowing what was walking amongst them.

Wilson felt his legs begin to shake. Sure, if these vampires went into the sun, they ~*~dazzled~*~ but so what? How many times had Wilson treated patients that were covered in glitter? Too many to count off the top of his head, and for all he knew, it hadn't been glitter at all. It had been the skin of a killer.

Wilson felt sick. Jersey was a great place for vampires to live, too. It was covered in a thick layer of smog ninety-nine percent of the time, so natural sunlight wouldn't be an issue for them here. It wasn't much different than Forks, Washington when it came down to it, except for the amount of precipitation, Wilson supposed.

Wilson swallowed heavily, and reached for another beer.

By the end of the movie, Wilson was convinced that Jersey was infested by Cullen-esque vampires. He looked over at House, who was snoring loudly, pieces of fried-rice down the front of his shirt.

House could be a vampire, Wilson thought, moving himself further down the couch. He was basically a genius, after all. Gorgeous as hell, and he had eyes that Wilson could get lost in for hours. They were inhumanly beautiful. And, sure, he was sleeping right now, but he could just as easily be faking it. Wilson had seen this first hand, almost every time House was supposed to have been working.

By the time his leg had stopped shaking, Wilson had bitten all of his nails as far down as they could go.

He reached for his sixth beer.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, House briefly looked up from his PSP to watch Wilson walking into the kitchen, dark circles of sleeplessness under his eyes.

"You look like shit." House smiled slightly and went back to his game.

"Thanks. Couldn't really sleep." Wilson walked over to the coffee pot and poured the remainder of the ground-filled liquid into the only clean mug (he hoped it was clean, anyways) he could find in the cupboard.

"Don't tell me Twilight scared you? That was the worst movie I've ever seen. Worse than Rain Women. And that was bad. Didn't even get a rise out of me, if you catch my drift."

"That's...lovely. I'm going to work."

"I'm not. Called in. Horrible explosive bowel movements. Must have ate something that didn't agree with me."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Right."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Wilson walked into work feeling a bit more neurotic than usual. He was questioning everyone's possible Vampirism as he passed them in the lobby. Twilight was the worst thing that had happened to him since...well, since ever really. As if he didn't have enough stress in his life...

He only felt a bit of relief upon remembering that if his patients had been vampires, they wouldn't have been able to get cancer. Upon rationalizing that, he felt good enough to grab a real cup of coffee from the cafeteria before heading to his office, where he was now convinced he'd be safe until work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was at the condiment station when he first saw him. Biting off the tops of Splenda packets when he convinced himself that he was hallucinating. Lack of sleep was obviously playing games with his mind. He slowly placed the lid back on top of his cup and picked it up, laughing at his stupidity as he turned toward what he thought he had seen.

Only, he was still there. He being Edward Cullen.

No way! Wilson began chewing on his lower lip. That was just a movie. Edward can't be real. That's...ridiculous.

Wilson looked around the cafeteria, to see if anyone else was seeing him too. Odds are they weren't, because if the movie had been any sort of clue, if any of the women in this hospital had seen him, they'd be all over him by now, panties left back at the door. And, as Wilson scanned his eyes around the room, everyone was indeed minding their own business.

He brought his coffee up to his lips, returning his glance towards Edward. Their eyes locked, and Wilson tilted his head back, taking a sip. Where was the Bailey's when you needed it? When he lowered his cup, Edward was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few hours later, after his third patient had left, leaving a handful of snot filled tissues on top of his desk, Wilson kicked his feet up, and loosened his tie. He had managed to choke down eight cups of coffee, and was feeling much more awake now than he had been when he had first arrived at work.

But, feeling awake doesn't mean a nap isn't in order. So, after making sure he had some time without patients, Wilson decided to take a short nap. He closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair, resting his arms behind his head. He let out a relaxed sigh, and began to think of House.

(Wilson would never admit it, even to himself, but he did this in hopes that he would somehow dream of House. And, that somehow these dreams would be really, really hot.)

The sun blaring in through his windows was making sleep difficult, so Wilson sat up, fully intent on shutting the blinds when he saw him again.

Only this time, Edward was on the porch, pressed up against the sliding glass door to his office. Hands pressed firmly against the cool door, his breathing leaving marks of fog on the glass.

Wilson jumped up from his chair, and began jumping around his office screaming. He stopped eventually and peered through the fingers of the hands he had brought up to his face, and noticed Edward was still there. He looked around him, and picked up the nearest object -which happened to be a book- and chucked it as hard as he could against the door. The glass shattered (it was a very large book) and Edward disappeared.

"And stay away you asshole freak!" Wilson was hysterical now, He turned towards his desk, placed his hands on the balled up tissues, not even caring about the obvious gross, and lowered his head. He tried to regulate his breathing.

Calm down Wilson, calm down. This is insane. You are insane...You really, really need to calm down.

Upon that realization, Wilson remembered that he had some marijuana in his desk drawer. Normally, he wouldn't tap in to his patient's medication, but this was a special situation. He needed to relax, and that seemed to be the only option. He straightened himself up, only to find himself face to face with Edward, who was already inhaling a blunt, his golden eyes staring right into Wilson.

Wilson began to slowly back up, but Edward was extremely fast and managed to move around the desk and grab his arm before Wilson could do much of anything.

"W-What d-d-do you w-want?" Wilson was practically crying, shaking so hard he could barely speak.

Edward removed the blunt and handed it to Wilson. "Just relax," his voice was beautiful and when he passed it to Wilson, Wilson jumped at the absolute chill to Edward's skin.

Wilson brought a shaky hand up to his mouth and inhaled.

Edward smiled as Wilson exhaled the cloud of smoke in his face. "Better?"

Wilson closed his eyes and smiled slightly as he felt the chemical take over.

Edward reached out and ran an ice cold finger down Wilson's cheek. "Good. I need you to to be relaxed when I do this."

Wilson opened his brown eyes, and stared into Edward's topaz ones. "Relax?"

"It's just," Edward placed his hands tightly on Wilson's shoulders. "You smell so good."

Wilson snapped back to reality, as Edward placed a hand in his hair and pulled his head back. "Wait! P-please! Don't do this. D-don't!"

Edward leaned in, and Wilson felt his breath against his neck. "PLEASE. PLEASE, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" Wilson struggled, but he knew he would be no match for Edward. He had learned that last night.

Edward just laughed and bit down.

Wilson screamed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Wilson!"

Wilson jumped to his feet and balled his fists, punching the air. "Get away from me you asshole. Get away!"

House grabbed the television remote and tossed it at Wilson's head. "Will you calm down? You're ruining the movie! Cost me five bucks to rent you know."

Wilson shook his head, and brought his hands up to his eyes, rubbing them. "Where...what?" He ran his hand down his neck, expecting to see blood on his hands, only there was nothing.

"I didn't get bit?"

House raised an eyebrow and glanced over at the empty beer bottles on the coffee table. "How many of those did you drink? Lightweight. No, you didn't get bit. You fell asleep almost as soon as I put this piece of shit in. I knew I should have got The Magic Bed 4 as antique as it is."

Wilson slowly sat back down on the couch and watched as the credits began to roll up the screen.

So it had all been a dream then.

He turned towards House, and felt his stomach grumble.

But if that was true, why did House smell so damn good?

~*~FIN~*~

lol Watchmen fic

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 00:03:50 GMT

Yeah, yeah I wrote Watchmen fic. I wanted to link you guys to my fic over there, but that comm is friends only for some reason, so I will put it under this cut. If you want to read it. lololol

There's no sex, I wanted to test the waters over there so I wrote some 'cute' shit. (which seems to be all I can do lately anyways) They are much nicer than the House fandom. (EXCEPT YOU GUYS)

Title: Amends
Pairing: Adrian/Dan
Rating: PG13 for boy-kissing
Warning: Sex-less. Man kissing though.
Summary: Dan pays a visit to Adrian. mild cuteness. srry

Dan knocked on Adrian's penthouse door, shivering slightly from the cold rain that had drenched him. He removed his glasses and tried to dry them off on his wet shirt.

A useless attempt, obviously.

He sighed and pushed them back up the bridge of his nose. He would never understand why the weather always had to be so terrible whenever he was going to visit Adrian. Rain, snow, blizzards, it was always something. Maybe he should start taking that as a sign to stay away.

"Dan." Adrian raised his head slightly upon opening the door. "I have to admit that I'm surprised to see you here."

Dan pressed his blueing lips together and nodded slightly. "Hello, Adrian. It's certainly been a long time."

"It certainly has," Adrian looked beyond Dan into the hallway and then took a step back. "Forgive me, I'm being rude. Please, would you like to come in?"

Dan felt his heart begin to beat faster. He shouldn't be here. Laurie would disapprove, and Rorschach, well, Adrian had killed him.

Dan began to feel sick.

"Oh, I don't know...I actually just stopped by to - I...I have something for you." Dan pushed his wet glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his finger and then bent down, picking up a box. It was brown and wet, the packaging tape just barely holding it together.

Adrian raised an eyebrow slightly as Dan extended the box towards him.

"It's not a bomb or anything," Dan laughed nervously. "It's just...well, I just thought it might-, well, I don't really know I guess." He lifted the box a bit higher.

"You can't blame me for being cautious." Adrian carefully took the box from Dan and turned, walking over to his desk. He set the box down and pulled open a drawer, taking out a letter opener. He stabbed it rather harshly through the tape and into the box.

Dan widened his eyes, and took a step forward. "You might want to be a little more careful with that."

Adrian's curiosity was peaked, and he now hoped that it was perhaps an Egyptian bust to replace one of the many that Dan and Rorschach had so carelessly destroyed while trying to kill him. He slowly dragged the blade along the length of the box and then set it down. He glanced up at Dan once more, before pulling the flaps open and peering inside.

"Oh. Dan-" He reached down into the box briefly and then looked back up. "Thank you, Dan."

Dan watched as Adrian reached both hands down into the box, and pulled out the Lynx kitten that Dan had found rather difficult to hide from Laurie.

Rats, he had said when she had questioned the sounds coming up from the basement,Really big rats. That had kept her away. Funny how even rats could scare the toughest of women.

"It's not...purple or anything, but I thought, you know-I thought you might like the company after what happened to Bubastis."

Adrian smiled sadly as the lynx batted his large paws at the finger Adrian was circling around over its head. "The purple can he helped. This was very thoughtful of you, Dan."

Adrian scooped the lynx up and placed him firmly under his right arm as he walked over towards Dan, embracing him with his left. Dan hesitated at first, but then returned the embrace, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I'm really glad you stopped by." Adrian lowered his hand and scratched between the Lynx's ears. "You look good, healthy."

"That means I look fat." Dan laughed. "We can't all be God's, Adrian."

"No, I suppose not." He set the lynx down onto the floor and reached out for Dan's hand. "I've really missed you."

Dan felt his face flush, and he cleared his throat and bit his bottom lip as he looked down at his hand in Adrian's. "Look, Adrian, I really should get going. Laurie will be home soon, and I-"

Adrian reached up and placed a finger over Dan's lips. "Shut up, Dan."

And just like that, Dan found himself pressed up against the wall, with Adrian's mouth pressed hungrily over his own and the lynx gnawing on his pant leg. He would have stopped it instantly, if only Adrian hadn't been so damn good at it, which shouldn't have been so surprising considering Adrian was good at everything. He gave in and let Adrian run his tongue up his neck, along his jaw line, on his lips...only when Adrian's hand made it's way between his legs did Dan push him off.

"Adrian-"

"I know, you have to go." Adrian seemed nonplussed about it, and walked over to a mirror on the wall Dan had only moments ago been pressed up against and fussed with his hair. "You should come back soon. Dinner, drinks. That sort of thing. See where the mood takes us."

It wasn't really a question, so Dan decided that it wouldn't be fair say no. He just nodded, zipped up his coat and left, leaving Adrian feeling rather pleased with himself, as always.

House BigBang Round Two: Stay Away From the Glass; Tales of Petty Crime and Self Punishment

Sun, 15 Mar 2009 23:19:15 GMT

Title: Stay Away From the Glass: Tales of Petty Crime and Self Punishment
Pairing: Multiple, the more the merrier I always say; House/Wilson, House/Bruce Wayne, House/Gob Bluth, Wilson/Joker
Rating:NC17
Length:21,700
Warnings: Violence, NonCon, Major Character Death
Spoilers: None
This is an Xover: 3 ways, actually. House/ Arrested Development/ Batman. I wrote Batman with the Nolan!Verse in mind, because the characters are most attractive to me in that verse, lol. Special Guest Appearance by the Aqua Teen Hunger Force.
Author's Notes: Special thanks to my beta lifefeed , to rosenskimmer , and to causticchick for the title. Thanks to Chris and Pat for daring me to include things in this fic, and to Fireball Island for inspiration when I needed it the most. Hugs to those on my FL as well, who gave me feedback now and again and red the parts I posted for input! :)
Summary: It's a crazy world out there, and unfortunately, Wilson's about to get shoved right into the middle of it.

Well, here you are. My BigBang Fic. It pissed me off a lot (still does, lol) but I wanted to try and write something different and a bit over the top, and I think I accomplished that much at least. Those of you who are brave enough to read this, please have fun! That's what I was aiming for. Why So Serious, yaknow :)

Link: housebigbang.panfandom.ca/fiction/stay_away.htm

Idiot, M.D.

Fri, 27 Feb 2009 23:59:00 GMT

House leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles on the top of his desk, knocking some charts onto the floor in the process. He switched on the power to his PSP and began his journey; stealing cars and shooting down pedestrians with AK47s. Quite frankly, being able to partake in some Grand Theft Auto somewhere around three hours a day was the best part of his job. Saving lives, figuring shit out...it had all grown tiresome.

He was right the middle of a helicopter heist when he heard the door to his office swing open. He had left the blinds closed over the door as a way to ensure that he heard people barging into his office, just in case he was engrossed in some less than moral activity. (Porn comes to mind)

"Christ, House," Wilson batted the floor-to-ceiling blinds out of his way as he stepped into House's office. "Your blinds just sliced my arm."

"That'll teach you to roll your sleeves up in an attempt to appear busy." House narrowed his eyes as his helicopter just barely missed a skyscraper.

"Some of us," Wilson flopped down in the chair across from House's desk, "are actually busy. Like, oh I don't know...me for example? I can't remember the last time I had a free minute to play video games at work."

House snorted and tilted his PSP as if that would help anything. "Well, that's why you have to convince Cuddy that your job is so important, demanding, and complicated that you need at least three underlings to help you so that your patients don't die. Then, you just make them do everything, so you can play video games and then collect a paycheck at the end of the week like you figured everything out all on your own."

Wilson shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

House shrugged. "Did you need something, or are you just being annoying for the hell of it?"

Wilson sighed and tossed a box of guitar picks and strings and a box of heart shaped chocolates onto House's desk. "Happy Valentine's Day."

House finally looked up. "You're an idiot."

"Wow! Thanks, House! I love you too!"

House eyed over the candy. (Chocolate covered coconut, his favorite.) "Shouldn't you be giving this stuff to your wife?"

Wilson threw his hands into the air. "She's not my wife!"

"...Yet."

Wilson stood up quickly, sending the chair falling backwards onto the floor. "You make the idea of it sound sweeter every single time you suggest it."

"The sex is always better when you're cheating on one of your wives, what can I say?" House went back to his PSP.

Wilson reached up, pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think of a way to respond. All that came out was an unintelligible noise, and he turned and stormed out of the office.

House looked up and watched him leave.

"We're getting married." Wilson sat across from House in the cafeteria, loudly slamming his tray down in front of him.

House reached over and grabbed a handful of fries, shoving most of them into his mouth at once. He glanced down at his hand. "What, no ring?" Pieces of half-chewed fry landed on Wilson's tray.

Wilson pushed the tray towards House, a disgusted look on his face. "Not to you. To...Jane."

House scoffed. "You're an idiot." He grabbed Wilson's Coke and drained most of it in one gulp.

Wilson rolled his eyes and placed his hands down on the table. "You know...you can still decide that this," he motioned furiously between them, "is actually worth something to you, and I'll call the whole thing off."

House leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, smirking ever so slightly. "What? And hurt Jane? Wouldn't dream of it. Besides, you know what they say. Fourth times the charm."

Wilson just stared at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Fifth?...Sixth? I'm afraid I've lost count."

Wilson balled his fists, so tightly that the color was draining from his knuckles and traveling into his face, House noticed. They sat like that for a few moments; Wilson counting to ten at least eight times, and House eating fries while casually disregarding his true feelings, per usual.

Finally, Wilson stood up. " I assume you'll be my best man again?"

House nodded slightly.

"Good." Wilson turned and left.

House watched him leave.

"I just wanted you to straighten it out, not strangle me!" House frowned as Wilson re-tied his bow-tie a bit too snug.

"Oh, shut up and stand still! I'll be done in three seconds." Wilson stood back to admire his work (and House, while he was at it.) "Perfect."

House grumbled and reached up, loosening the tie a bit once Wilson went back to admiring his own self in the full length mirror.

"Well...how do I look?"

"Like you're getting married for the millionth time."

Wilson smiled, seemingly pleased with that answer. He walked over to House and gave him a pat on the back. "Well, let's go do this."

Jane's walk down the aisle was a bit too dramatic for House's taste. Too many flowers, too much orchestral music, and too big a smile from Wilson.

He cursed himself under his breath.

What if he had been right? The fourth time could be the charm. Jane wasn't like Wilson's other wives. She was needy enough to keep Wilson happy, and from what House overheard at the rehearsal dinner the previous night, she was horny enough to keep him satisfied. There'd be no reason for Wilson to come over anymore.

So this was the end, then.

The one marriage that would work and House had pushed Wilson into it. He had been the idiot, not Wilson.

House began to silently say a eulogy to his sex life, when the first kiss as husband and wife brought his attention back to the wedding. After all was said and done, House watched as Jane hugged her eleven bridesmaids one-by-one, a nauseating look of pride on her face. Halfway down the line, House felt Wilson's arms wrap around him tightly. He stood perfectly still for a minute, his arms pressed against his sides, but then he wrapped his arms around Wilson even tighter, realizing that this would probably be the last time he ever got to hold Wilson this close.

Wilson leaned in. "See you tonight?"

Or not.

House smiled to himself and then pulled back from the hug, raising an eyebrow at Wilson. He nodded.

Wilson quickly leaned in to hug House one last time before his walk back down the aisle, pressing his mouth practically against House's ear. "You're right about the sex being better."

And with that, Wilson took his unsuspecting wife's hand, and walked her down the aisle, turning to smile at House knowingly, before stepping through the church doors.

House smiled.

"Idiot."

A Love Story (lol)

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 03:47:44 GMT

House sat on the faded green recliner in Wilson's apartment. Wilson was engrossed in some sort of boring news program and House, never one for boring news programs, couldn't help but fidget with his cane. He bounced it back and forth between his knees, desperately trying to think of something to talk about, to drag Wilson's attention away from the t.v., even if only for a second.

He couldn't.

It's wasn't surprising, really. He'd never really been good at holding a conversation with Wilson, unless it involved some sort of sarcasm and a hint of pretentiousness.

He let his cane fall loudly to the floor, and Wilson glanced over towards it, and tilted his head slightly. "Need help with that?"

"No."

Wilson looked as though he was about to get up for it anyway, but House grabbed it before Wilson could get completely off of the couch.

"Everything alright?" Wilson settled back down into the cushions and stared back at the screen.

"Sure. Isn't it always?"

Wilson made some sort of noise, and House rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Wilson?"

"Hey, House?"

"I love you."

House could see the corner of Wilson's mouth turn up. "I love you too."

House forced a smile as Wilson looked over towards him, briefly. He didn't believe him. How could he? How could someone as handsome as Wilson, who could have any woman he wanted, be in love with a miserable, old, bitchy, cripple like him? It didn't make sense.

And life just had to make sense.

House glanced around Wilson's apartment, taking in all of the photos perfectly placed on shelves, and perfectly aligned on walls. All of Wilson with his various wives and girlfriends; plaques of his amazing conquests.

Beautiful, able-bodied, conquests.

There were no pictures of Wilson with House anywhere. And why would there be? He couldn't go hiking or skiing. And he certainly couldn't build Habitats for Humanity in Belize.

House began to feel incredibly insecure. He'd never admit that he was capable of such feminine emotions, but there it was. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat when Wilson's phone started to vibrate on the coffee table.

Wilson reached forward and picked it up, putting the television on mute.

"Hello?" His voice was almost sing-songy. It made House nauseous.

"Who is it? Jane again?" House couldn't have hidden the venom in his voice even if he had wanted to.

Luckily, he didn't want too.

Wilson rolled his eyes at House and stood up from the couch, walking into the kitchen with the phone.

"She's a Succubus, you know. She'll kill you when she's done with you!" House leaned back into the recliner, straining his neck, in an attempt to hear Wilson's conversation. He couldn't, so he just let his imagination run wild. He figured it would take only three weeks before there were pictures of Wilson and Jane on the walls.

He stood up and made his way over to the bookshelf, eyeing over all of the marriage self-help books, and cookbooks that were arranged in alphabetical order, by author. (And of course all of the pictures.) He picked one of the frames up and blew the dust off of it.

Wife-Number-Two. What a bitch she was.

"See something you like?" Wilson tossed his phone towards the couch as he made his way back into the living room, and walked over to House, standing beside him and taking the picture from him. "What a bitch she was, huh?"

House turned and looked at Wilson, an amused look making its way across his face. "Well, I wouldn't have put it so nicely, but basically."

Wilson set the picture back on the shelf and ran his hand down House's back.

"How come you don't have any pictures of me? My chest not big enough? Can't brag about me or something?" House turned to face Wilson.

"Oh I can brag about you, alright. I just figured you wouldn't appreciate hundreds of pictures of your cock all over my house."

"Better than no pictures of my cock all over your house."

Wilson raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on House's forehead. "Are you on your period or something? You're awfully moody tonight."

House rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He shoved past Wilson and sat on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Wilson walked over and flopped down next to him, turning the sound back on the television. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Wilson finally cleared his throat.

"...I don't have any pictures of you anywhere because I don't like thinking that I'll ever have to remember you. I just sort of assume you'll always be here. You know?"

House just stared at the television.

Wilson reached over towards the coffee table and grabbed his wallet. He opened it up and pulled something out. "But if it makes you feel better...here."

House looked down at the crinkled up Polaroid that Wilson set on his lap. You could hardly make the image out anymore it was so crinkled, but House knew what it was and it was easy for him to make out his own figure sitting on Wilson's lap, his arms wrapped around him tightly, at Wilson's second bachelor party. They were wearing bright feather boas and tiaras.

House had been completely drunk at the time, or at least that had been his excuse for doing such a thing, and he was sticking with it.

But apparently Wilson knew better.

"We're so gay." House smirked at Wilson.

"Pretty much...yeah." Wilson leaned over and kissed House, and then shoved the picture back into his wallet. "So...are you going to tell me when you're off your period so we can have sex again?"

   House just smirked and started to undo his belt.

The Special

Wed, 24 Dec 2008 01:32:32 GMT

"I cant believe you talked me into this." House tugged at his tie, loosening it up a bit around his neck, as he darted his eyes around the restaurant. "Look at this place. It's filled with over-dressed and underpaid people, shelling out money the probably don't have on food that probably isn't even worth it."

"Do you always have to be so cynical?"

"It's not being cynical, it's being realistic." House picked up his tumbler of Scotch and took a sip, opening the menu in front of him with his free hand.

"And to think people can't understand why I love you. You're such a warm hearted individual."

House opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the waitress, who flipped open her ordering pad, and started to give a spiel about the specials that evening. House interrupted her. "Just spaghetti and meatballs. Al Dente if you can handle that here in this fine establishment." He lifted his menu up and held it out towards her without even looking up.

Wilson sighed, and looked at her apologetically. "I'll have the special, thanks."

After she had trotted off, Wilson raised his wine glass. "To many more years of...this."

"And mind-blowing sex? I can drink to that." House clang his glass against Wilson's and downed the rest of it. Wilson smiled and shook his head, taking a sip of his wine. "Unbelievable."

By the time their food arrived, Wilson had finished half a bottle of the Cabernet he had ordered for the table, and House had thrown back at least four tumblers of Scotch. They were in good spirits, and only when Wilson cut into his dinner, did House get sarcastic.

"Mushroom raviolis? DIsgusting."

"They're actually rather good. Want to try?" Wilson held his fork out, a large piece of ravioli dangling in front of House's face.

"No thanks. I don't find fungus that has probably been peed on by a few wild animals while thriving in dirt, appetizing." He shoved the fork away with his hand. Wilson just shrugged, "Your loss."

By the time they had finished dinner, they both concluded that they were too intoxicated to drive, so they opted to walk the short distance to House's apartment. The walk home was done in silence for the most part, until Wilson spotted the the neighborhood duck pond out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh. My. God." He grinned wildly and started sprinting down the small hill towards the water, removing his tie, and flinging it behind him as he ran.

"Wilson! What are you doing?"

Wilson removed his suit jacket and tossed it, giggling wildly when the wind grabbed it, and flew it a few feet behind him. "I can walk on water, House!"

"Wilson-"

"No, House, I can! I can walk on water, like that apostle, Peter!"

Wilson started hopping from foot to foot as he unbuttoned his dress shirt, slipping one arm out and then the other, and then letting the wind carry that off as well.

House sighed and started walking down the hill. "Christ, Wilson-"

"That's right!"

"No," House sighed and shook his head. "How much wine did you drink?"

Wilson just laughed and slipped off his pants, and then turned towards the water, wearing only his boxers and his black socks. He spread his arms out wide, and turned his head upwards towards the sky. "I am going to walk on this water, and you are going to worship me as your God!"

Wilson took a few steps forward, and then walked right into (not on) the water. He continued forward, until the water was up to his waist.

House reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pills. He had a feeling he was going to need them, when Wilson began yelling out prophesies at the top of his lungs.

"Have you ever seen such a miracle as this?!" Wilson turned around in the water and grinned stupidly at House. "I have walked on water! I have done the unthinkable!"

House pointed towards Wilson's stomach. "Is that so? So tell me why you're up to your waist in that duck-shit filled water."

Wilson, arms still spread wide, glanced down. And for the first time since he had stepped foot into the murky pond, he realized that he was not on top of the water at all.

"I'm drowning! Oh please help...I'm drowning!" Wilson began to panic, waving his arms around wildly as he waded his way through the pond, onto the shore. House offered Wilson a hand, and Wilson took it, tears streaming down his face.

"I could have died!...I did die!" He began to pat himself down, "I'm dead! I'm so dead!" He only stopped when House grabbed his chin in his hand, and tilted his face up for a better look. House smirked.

"You aren't dead. But you are high."

Wilson stood there, staring at House, looking as though he was trying to understand what House had just said. He gave up after a while, and began shivering instead. House shrugged off his own jacket and handed it to Wilson, who tied the arms around his neck like a cape.

Fortunately for House, the walk to his apartment from the duck pond was mere minutes. This spared him the embarrassment of risking too many people seeing him with a half naked man, soaking wet with a jacket-cape around his neck.

When they arrived, House ushered Wilson into the apartment, and tossed a clean towel at him. "Take a shower and warm up a bit. I'm sure that'll help you feel better and calm down."

Wilson just stood there, staring down at the towel. House sighed and pushed him down the hallway towards the bathroom with the tip of his cane. "Be quick, or I'm coming in to get you."

When the door was shut, and House heard the water turn on, he made his way back towards the couch, where he flopped down and turned on the television. He put the sound on low so he could listen for anything bizarre coming from the bathroom.

"You don't say!"

.......

"Me too!"

.......

"Well what do you think about Rachel Ray?"

.......

"I completely agree. We should write her a letter!"

Wilson's animated conversation, which was progressively getting louder, woke House up from the sleep he had accidentally fallen into. He glanced at his watch. Two-thirty in the morning. He had been asleep for over three hours.

"Oh yeah?"

House turned off the television and held his breath, listening. Who the hell was Wilson talking to at this hour?

"So...what are you wearing?"

House reached for his cane. Oh hell no, If Wilson's drunk dialed Cameron again...

He made his way towards his bedroom and peered inside. Empty. He turned and headed back down towards the bathroom. The door was still shut, but the light was on.

Sneaky bastard!

House opened the door, ready for a fight, when he realized Wilson wasn't on the phone at all. Instead, he was heavily engaged in conversation with the bathroom light switch.

House pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture. "Hello, this year's holiday cards." He smirked and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Wilson either didn't notice House standing there, or didn't care, and he lovingly ran his fingers down the switch plate. "You're so beautiful tonight."

House rolled his eyes. "Okay, Romeo. Say goodnight, it's time for bed."

Wilson leaned in and kissed the switch plate. Small pecks at first, and then he ran his tongue around the switch. House cursed himself for being so slow getting his phone out, because by the time he did, Wilson had turned off the light.

House led Wilson into the bedroom and shoved him onto the bed. He crawled in next to him and tossed Wilson a blanket. "You are so, so high. No wonder those raviolis were so expensive."

"No, I'm not." Wilson pulled the blanket up to his chin. "I'm in love with her."

House reached over and turned off the light, the bedroom glowing in a soft blue light from the street-lamps. "Of course you are. Now shut up, and sleep it off."

House was awoken about a half hour later by a persistent tapping on his shoulder. He rolled over onto his back, but didn't open his eyes. He just made an incoherent noise, which was just enough to get Wilson talking.

"House! They're holding a banquet in my honor."

House opened an eye and glanced over at Wilson. He was sitting upright, hands clasped together and wide eyed with an excitement that House had only ever seen Wilson display when he was going down on him.

He gave in. "Who is?"

Wilson grinned so wide, his eyes began to squint, and he pointed towards the wall opposite the bed which had a large tapestry adorning it. The tapestry, something House had picked up many years ago, was adorned with knights and swords aplenty. House breathed a sigh of relief that Wilson was witnessing a banquet and not a medieval execution.

"Congratulations, Wilson. That's...really something."

"I know! They've prepared so much food, and look how they all bow down to me!"

"Mmmhmm...," House was slowly drifting back to sleep.

"The pig tastes wonderful, thank you!"

House opened an eye, and looked over at Wilson, who was happily gorging himself on an imaginary feast. House laughed himself back to sleep.

The next morning, House found Wilson sprawled out on the bathroom floor, empty packages of Alka-Seltzer all over the place.

"Morning. Now whose the drug addict?"

"You are."

House smirked and spun his car keys around on his finger.

"Where are you going? You're supposed to take care of me when I'm like this! It's what being in love is all about."

"I will when I get back. I ordered some of that mushroom ravioli you had last night and I have to go pick it up."

The sheer thought of the raviolis made Wilson want to vomit. "So, you want to get food poisoning too then, I take it?"

House just grinned. "You have no idea how badly."

The Happiest Day of His Life

Tue, 02 Dec 2008 03:12:54 GMT

    Wilson awoke to the sound of House playing the piano. He smiled to himself as he let himself get lost in the soft melodies. How he ever had allowed himself to wake up any other way than this before amazed him, and as he laid there lost in thought, he almost didn't feel the rough lick of their new kitten on his nose.

    He laughed and scratched behind the little orange kitten's ears. "Good morning, Cameron." He laughed to himself as the kitten batted at his hand. It had been House's idea to name the kitten Cameron, having convinced Wilson that nothing was quite as sweet and adorable as her. After a short twinge of jealousy, Wilson had agreed. Anything to make House happy. Anything at all.

    Wilson slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe, tying it around his waist as he slowly made his way down the hall and into the living room. He smiled as he saw House sitting at the piano, eyes closed and letting the sound of the keys see for him. Wilson quietly walked up behind him, and wrapped his arms around House's waist, resting his chin delicately on his shoulder.

    "Good morning," he whispered, as he gently kissed House's neck.

    House didn't stop playing, just slightly turned his head so that he could return the kiss. "It is now that you're here." He smiled and turned back to his piano, sliding over just enough so that Wilson could sit down beside him.

    Wilson placed a hand delicately on House's thigh and watched him play. Pachelbel's Canon. His favorite song. Always had been and always would be. He had dreams of walking down the aisle to that song, so long as he could get House to agree. He didn't think he'd have much of a problem, however, as House was always willing to please Wilson. It was one of the reasons their relationship worked so well. They were equals. The only thing Wilson regretted, was that it had taken so long for them to take that step. Better late than never. And now they had the rest of their lives to make up for lost time.

    When House stopped playing, he turned and took Wilson's face in his hands. His eyes, the color of the sky in the Adirondacks on a clear day, always made Wilson melt, and today was no exception. He could get lost in those eyes for hours.

    "I love you." House smiled and kissed Wilson gently on the lips.

    "I love you too, House."

    House slipped off the bench and tried not to curse as he dropped down to one knee. He reached into his back pocket.

    "House-" Wilson could feel himself tear up. He knew what was coming and he had been waiting for this moment for as long as he could remember.

    "Will you marry me?" House looked up at Wilson, smiling with tears in his eyes. The ring was antique, gold, and perfect.

    "Yes. A million times yes." Wilson dropped down from the bench and wrapped his arms around House as tight as he could.

    His dreams were coming true. Nothing was better than this.

Happy Anniversary

Mon, 01 Dec 2008 03:33:58 GMT

    When House showed up at the restaurant Wilson had asked them to meet at, he instantly knew something was wrong. Behind a wall of empty wine glasses, Wilson sat hunched over, hands wrapped tightly around the one glass that had something left in it.

    He barely looked up when House sat down, and turned away when House reached for his hand.

    "Wilson-" House ran a thumb slowly over Wilson's knuckles, but Wilson refused to look up.

    "You're late." Wilson brought the glass to his lips, letting it linger there for a moment before taking a sip. He set the glass down, and began to absentmindedly run his finger around the rim.

    "At least I showed up." House snapped.

    Wilson let out an aggravated laugh, and for the first time since House had arrived, looked up. "You know...you have a lot of nerve." He raised the glass and finished it off, setting it down loud enough to attract some unwanted attention towards their table.

    House sat back and crossed his arms. "Yell at me now and you'll regret it later I assure you."

    "The only thing I regret," he began motioning a hand between them. "Is ever thinking that this could work." He stood up abruptly, almost knocking over his chair. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, throwing a few twenties down onto the table. "You don't even know what today is, do you?" Wilson stood there with balled fists and furrowed brows.

    House raised his wrist and glanced at his watch. "Tuesday." He looked up and raised an eyebrow at Wilson. His attempt at humor failed, however, and he watched as Wilson reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

    "You know what House? That's it. This...is over. We're over." He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, and without looking back walked away. House exhaled loudly through his nose and waved the waiter over (which wasn't that difficult to do, considering Wilson's little outburst had attracted everyone's attention), and ordered himself a glass of Scotch.

    When Wilson started driving home, he became annoyed even further upon remembering that home was actually House's apartment. He sucked in a breath and pressed down on the accelerator in hopes that he could beat House home, get his stuff, and find a hotel for the night.

    He struggled with his keys briefly before he managed to get the door to swing open. He stepped into the darkness, and felt along the wall for the light switch. He flipped on the lights, and was sobered rather quickly.

    House's apartment was just as Wilson always remembered it, except for the coffee table. Instead of being cluttered with Playboys, various remotes and dirty dishes, the table was clean, with a huge box on it. There was a bottle of wine next to the box, and a couple of glasses next to that.

    Wilson walked over towards the box and pressed his lips together, as he reached down for the sticky note that had been haphazardly placed on the side of the box.

     Bet you thought I'd forget.
        -House

    Wilson was feeling rather ashamed by now and with a shaky hand he reached for the box, lifting it up and picking at the Duct Tape, which was all House had bothered to wrap it with. When he managed to get it open he reached inside and pulled out a Build-A-Bear that had been dressed to look quite a bit like House. He held it to his chest.

    "Happy Anniversary."

    Wilson jumped at the sound of House's voice. "House."

    House shut the door behind him and leaned heavily against his cane. "And you thought I forgot." He smirked, proud of himself, and Wilson felt nothing but shame. "I was late because I was trying to be romantic or what have you."

    "House, I'm sorry. I-"

    House walked over towards Wilson, and stopped right in front of him. He reached out for the bear that Wilson was holding and looked it over. He laughed through his nose and handed it back. "It's not nearly as cute as me. Don't hold it against him." He pushed past Wilson and tossed his cane onto the couch as he limped towards the bedroom.

    Wilson watched him go, hesitating for a few moments before slowly making his way down the hall as well. When he got to the bedroom, House was already on his back, arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. "Wilson, just leave."

    "No, House, I want to talk."

    "There's nothing to talk about."

    "House-"

    "Wilson, it's okay. You managed to put up with me for 365 days. That's 364 more than most people would have. Congratulations."

    "House, stop it! I wasn't putting up with you. I wanted to be with you...I still do."

    "So you break up with me. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense." House rolled his eyes, and turned over onto his side, reaching for the blanket.

    Wilson could feel himself become agitated. This was all becoming very high-school. Without thinking, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a box of his own, and chucked it at House.

    Hard.

    "You idiot!" House sat up quickly and brought a hand to his nose, taking it away and looking at the smear of blood. "What the hell was that."

    "Happy Anniversary." Wilson turned and started down the hallway.

    As he was buttoning up his coat, House limped up in front of him, and without saying a word, pushed him up against the door.

    "I take it you opened the box?" Wilson raised an eyebrow, but House said nothing, just pressed his mouth hungrily against Wilson's and slowly ran his hands down the front of his shirt.

    Wilson closed his eyes, feeling his body react to every touch. House fumbled with Wilson's belt, and then silently thanked the Vicodin and Scotch he had indulged in earlier as he dropped to his knees.

    Wilson banged the back of his head against the door and closed his eyes as he felt House's tongue run up along the underside of his cock. House flicked his tongue over the tip of it, before opening his mouth and taking in as much of Wilson as he could.

    Wilson moaned and reached down, grabbing a handful of House's hair.

    It didn't take long, it never did, and within a couple of minutes Wilson was catching his breath, and House was wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

    "A little help here." House reached out for Wilson's hand and cursed as he got up from the floor.

    Wilson watched as House limped over towards his desk, flinging the door open and pulling out a bottle of pills. "So, the box. You...you opened it?"

    House tilted his head back, swallowing his pills. He tossed the bottle back in the drawer and turned his attention back towards Wilson. "Yeah, thanks."

    "And?"

    "And I think you have some serious making up to do-" House pointed a finger towards his very obvious erection. "-before I say anything about anything." Wilson smirked and walked over towards House, dropping down in front of him. It was only a matter of minutes before House was moaning, "Yes."

    And that was answer enough for Wilson.

So It Goes (wilson/chase, house/wilson)

Thu, 30 Oct 2008 16:19:21 GMT

(for ace_of_spades6 )

Wilson barely looks up when Chase walks into his office.

He knows that House has just fired him and that he is Chase's last desperate attempt to get his job back, and he's just not in the mood.

"Can I...help you?" Wilson pushes his chair back from his desk and gathers up some files as he asks the question. It's an attempt to make it seem like he's busy, in an attempt to get Chase out of his office without pestering him about House.

He would have thought by now that House's team would have realized he doesn't have that much weight over what the man does, anyway.

Chase says nothing, just stands by the door and stares at him. His eyes are rimmed with red, and Wilson is somewhat pleased that he isn't the only one House can make cry.

Chase's lack of a response is annoying, however, and Wilson walks towards the door, ready to leave the situation. "I have to see my patients. I assume we're done here?"

Chase reaches forward and takes the files from Wilson's hand and tosses them over to the couch.

Wilson watches as they bounce off the cushions, papers sliding across the floor.

Chase reaches behind him and locks the door.

Wilson can feel his chest tighten up and by the time Chase wraps his hand around Wilson's throat, Wilson can barely breathe. He reaches up, startled, and tries to pry Chase's hand off of him. The boy is stronger than he looks, however, and refuses to give. Instead, he leans in and mashes his mouth against Wilson's.

Wilson is moaning in protest, and does the only thing he can think to do. He kicks Chase, hard, in the shin.

Chase stumbles back, and Wilson takes the opportunity to slip past him and try for the door, but he isn't quite fast enough. Chase reaches out and grabs him by the arm.

Wilson can feel himself being pulled back towards Chase. "Why are you doing this?"

Chase shoves Wilson up against his desk. He bends him over and places a hand on the back of Wilson's head.

"You're all he cares about."

It's all he says, and all he ever will say to Wilson.

He pushes down on Wilson's head, and Wilson can feel the trickle of blood from his nose. It happens almost as soon as his face meets the hardwood of his desk. He closes his eyes, and struggles to hold back his tears as he feels Chase's hands on his belt.

"P-please." Wilson is begging, and the tears begin to fall. "Don't do this." He can hear the zipper on Chase's pants, and hears him spitting somewhere.

Wilson can only assume, and hope, that it's in the palm of his hand and that he's using it to lube up the cock that Wilson is almost certain is about to ruin any last bit of dignity he might have had in this situation.

When he feels the head of Chase's cock press against his ass he thinks about House.

He thinks about what House will say when he finds out Chase raped him. He's sure that he won't say much of anything, because House never says much of anything when it matters. But maybe if Wilson is lucky, and he can play it just right, House will hold him and comfort him, and-

"Fuck-"

Wilson grimaces as Chase forces himself inside. Chase has no reservations about what he's doing, and Wilson can tell with the forcefulness of each thrust that he isn't going to start having them either.

It hurts, and Wilson does all he can to keep himself from crying out. It's bad enough that he is aware of what's going on, he doesn't need the entire hospital knowing. Chase has other ideas, however, and reaches forward for a handful of Wilson's hair. He pulls back, hard, and finally evokes a reaction out of Wilson.

Wilson is clawing at his desk, and yelling out rather loudly for someone who only seconds before wanted no one to know what was going on. Chase's movements are becoming faster, and Wilson is sure that this will be over just as fast as it started.

Might as well enjoy it...

Wait, where did that thought come from? Wilson isn't sure, but he is sure that it doesn't feel quite as awful anymore. And as he reaches down and starts tugging on his own cock, he's beginning to realize that it almost feels good.

House doesn't realize what he's losing.

Wilson smirks and pulls on himself harder and faster, matching Chase's pace to a T. He wants to cum when Chase does, and so he focuses solely on himself.

When he hears Chase moan, and feels him bite on his shoulder it's over, and he falls forward as he cums against his desk.

A few seconds later he feels Chase fall forward against his back, and he knows it's over for him too.

Chase steps back, and gets dressed. Wilson expects him to say something, anything, but he only walks out of the office, slamming the door and leaving Wilson bent over his desk, where he stays for a few minutes afterward trying to take in what just happened.

At the end of the day, Wilson finds himself in bed with House. They are sweaty, and entangled, and happy.

House lets out a yawn as he pulls the blanket up over them. "I'm glad I fired Chase."

Wilson can only smile as he reaches out and pulls House closer to him. "Yeah, me too."

An Unfortunate Discovery

Mon, 27 Oct 2008 01:20:02 GMT

Wilson sprinted into the living room wearing a white t-shirt and flannel pants. House, who had made himself comfortable, sprawled out on the couch watching infomercials, looked up somewhat annoyed as Wilson drowned out the sound with his shrieking and blocked out the screen with his flailing body.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Th-there's a mouse....in your bed!"

"Ok."

"Ok? OK? Th-there's a mouse in you're bed and you're okay with that?!"

"I'm not okay with it, but there's nothing I can do about it. It'll leave eventually. Now get out of the way."

"It won't leave House, it's dead!" Wilson started sprinting around again, looking rather pathetic.

"How the hell did a dead mouse get in my bed?" House was interested now and sat up, reaching for his cane.

"I don't know, but it did. Get it out, get it out!"

House tried to hold back a smile as he pushed past Wilson on his way to the bedroom. He made his way over to the bed, Wilson following a few feet behind. Sure enough, there under the covers, was a dead mouse. House poked at it with his cane, just to be sure.

"Yup, he's dead alright."

"Get him out!" Wilson was frantic, hovering behind House, peering over his shoulder.

"I'm not touching it. You get it."

"M-me? No way! You're used to touching bizarre diseases, you do it!"

House rolled his eyes and made his way over to his dresser. He opened a drawer and felt around until finally pulling out an old shirt. He walked back over to the bed and tossed it over the mouse.

"There. Now just scoop it up and throw it in the trash."

Wilson looked at House wide eyed. "You're joking?"

"Completely serious. Scoop it up. Throw it out."

Wilson bit his bottom lip and took a weary step forward. He slowly began to reach out for the shirt covered mouse, but retracted his hand before he could wrap his hand around it.

"I...I can't. I can't do it."

"Why?"

"Because! If I scoop it up, I'll feel the mouse and I'll throw up, I know it."

"Have you always been such a baby?" House turned and started to walk out of the bedroom. He was quickly stopped as two arms tightly wrapped around his waist.

"Don't go. I'll get him out, just...don't leave me alone with it."

House pressed his lips together, doing his best to suppress his laughter. He failed, and threw his head back, laughing enough to make Wilson cross his arms and look rather embarrassed.

"Fine. Just hurry up. That 'set it and forget it' guy is going to be coming on the t.v. soon."

Wilson nodded and walked over towards the bed, assessing the situation. He tried a couple times to build up the nerve to scoop the mouse up in the shirt, but eventually decided the best method would be to take the sheets off and bundle them up around the mouse.

House leaned on his cane and watched with amusement as Wilson walked down the hallway, holding the ball of sheets as far out from his body as he possibly could.

After all had been said and done, and the sheets has been tossed into the garbage, House handed Wilson a beer and the two of them flopped down on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Well that was absolutely ridiculous." House grabbed the remote and turned his infomercials back on.

"I'm sorry. But that was just disgusting. I mean, who knows how long it had been there! That thing could have been there last night when we were having sex! I mean..what if...what if that's how it died!? What if we crushed it?" Wilson grew pathetically pale and House placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Well then at least he died happy. I know I would've if your cock was the last thing I saw."

Wilson rolled his eyes and set down his beer, leaning in to kiss House...just as a mouse ran across the top of the couch. He screamed and jumped up, covering his face with his hands, skipping frantically on the couch.

House shook his head, smirking, and lifted himself off of the couch. He grabbed Wilson's hand and helped him down. "Come on," he pressed his lips against Wilson's neck. "Let's go and see if we can't kill this one too."

Hemoglobin

Wed, 22 Oct 2008 16:13:48 GMT

Written for bammel

Warnings:
Major character death
NonCon
A photo of underage Cameron
Suicide

(placed under a cut for anyone who doesn't want to read it.)

House loved Wilson.

And it was with this love that he entered into the one relationship that he knew would inevitably break him.

House had a remarkable amount of patience when it came to Wilson. Perhaps a result of his own insecurities and the complete fear of losing the one person who meant everything, House would often find himself being increasingly tolerant of situations even a saint would have lost his patience over.

Some people would point out later that House should have known what he was getting into when he began dating Wilson. Known for his wandering eye and perhaps even more for his inability to remain one hundred percent monogamous, it did not come much as a surprise that he would continue this behavior even with House.

And as painful as it was, House found himself turning a blind eye towards Wilson's occasional misbehaviors because it was just easier that way.

Unfortunately, even the most patient of men have their breaking point. And House certainly was not the most patient of men.

On this particular day, House had left work early. A result of a completely boring case and an even more boring team, House took into consideration the fact that Wilson was home (and Wilson being home always meant a home cooked meal), and had walked out during the differential. With a slight nod of his head on the way out, he left Foreman in charge, who rolled his eyes in complete frustration.

House had been thinking about Wilson all day. He usually did anyway, but lately he was trying to figure out a way to make..no, to keep, Wilson happy. He was convinced that Wilson wandered because Wilson was bored. House could accept that. He knew that Wilson had the hormones of a fifteen year old boy, and when you're a fifty-two year old drug addict sometimes you just can't perform as often, or as well, as the fifteen year old would like.

Because of this, House always blamed himself for Wilson's actions. Forget that Wilson had a mind of his own. If House wasn't so old, if he hadn't had the infarction...you get the idea. So, in a desperate attempt to show Wilson that he could be every inch the man he wanted House to be, he had forgone taking any Vicodin at all. And now, as he thought about all the ways he wanted to fuck Wilson, he couldn't help but smile. He hadn't felt an erection of his own in days, and now he had quite the impressive one and he couldn't wait to give it to Wilson as many ways as he possibly could.

Now seeing as how he wasn't supposed to have been home for at least another four hours, it's not surprising that Wilson was startled when House walked in.

House, on the other hand, knew Wilson was home and shouldn't have been startled at all. But what he walked in on was nothing short of shocking.

"House!" Wilson jumped, one hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the other around a photo.

House said nothing, just kicked the door shut behind him and slowly made his way over to the couch.

Wilson was dressed for work, suit and tie, and it made the image before House all the more obscene. He slowly circled around to the back of the couch and then peered over Wilson's shoulder, looking at the picture.

"Where did you get that?" House ripped the picture out of Wilson's hand and looked at it. It was a picture of Cameron, but she looked young. Incredibly young. Illegally young.

"I...I don't remember."

Wilson couldn't even look at House. He focused all of his attention down towards his cock, which was slowly softening under both his tight grip and embarrassment.

House reached around Wilson and wrapped an arm around his neck. He leaned in so his lips brushed against Wilson's ear as he spoke. "I know that you've been cheating on me. I understand that I can't always be what you want, so I let it slide. But this is completely inexcusable. This is disgusting, even for you."

Wilson closed his eyes tightly as House spoke. Something about the tone in House's voice was making him nervous, and he just wanted him to shut up.

"House, I-I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough!" House let go of Wilson's neck and dropped the picture in his lap. "Do you know why I came home?"

Wilson shook his head vigorously.

"I didn't take a single Vicodin today. Did you know that?"

Again Wilson shook his head. House was standing behind him, and he was thankful for that. If House looked halfway as angry as his voice sounded, well, Wilson didn't really want to think about that.

"I suffered through today in pain!" House raised his hand and brought it down, hard, across the back of Wilson's head. "I did that, so I could come home and fuck you! Because I thought you'd like that!"

Wilson is nodding now, and tears are streaming down his cheeks. From the pain, from the embarrassment, from everything. He slowly lets go of his cock, which by now is completely soft, but House hits him again.

"Don't even think about it! You're going to finish what you started, and I'm going to watch."

House picks the picture of from Wilson's lap and places it back in Wilson's right hand. He watches as Wilson slowly starts to stroke himself back to attention, and then tosses his cane to the side of him. "Actually," he limps in front of Wilson and starts to unzip his jeans. "You're going to finish, and I'm going to fuck you while you do."

"N-no, House."

House grabs a handful of Wilson's hair, and pulls him to his feet. He then turns him around and pushes him forward until he is bending over the couch. He drops his own jeans to the floor and then rips Wilson's down over his hips.

Wilson isn't ready, and when House pushes into him it hurts enough to make him cry out. He lets go of the picture and reaches out on either side of him, gripping what fabric of the couch he can grab a hold of. House is thrusting hard, and fast, but when he sees Wilson let go of the picture he slows down enough to lean forward and pick it up himself. He sets it down so it is resting right below Wilson's face, and he picks his pace back up. His leg is on fire, and he wants Wilson to feel just as much pain as he is. Both emotionally and mentally. Wilson is crying. House can hear it, feel it, and see it and it only adds fuel to his fire. "You did this to yourself," he spits out. "You did this to yourself."

"House, please stop. Please."

House grabs the back of Wilson's tie and pulls hard. "Why should I? You never did." He leans back, using Wilson's tie for leverage and a way to hold his own weight as he continues to fuck Wilson. Wilson's ears are beginning to go red, and House can tell he's struggling for breath, but he doesn't loosen his grip. He just thrusts and thrusts until he finally cums. It is only then that he releases his grip, and watches as Wilson falls heavily against the couch.

It takes House a minute to realize what he's just done. And when he does, everything goes black.

When he comes to, he is on the floor. He looks up and is quickly reminded of what has just happened when he sees Wilson exactly where he saw him last.

He lets out a cry of emotion as he pulls himself up from the floor, limping painfully towards the bedroom. He grabs his Vicodin and slowly works his way back towards the living room. On the way he grabs a bottle of his best Scotch, and he settles himself down beside Wilson.

He just sits there for a few minutes, wearing nothing but a t-shirt. A bottle of pills in one hand and a bottle of Scotch in the other.

It almost disgusts him how easy it was for him to kill the only man he's ever loved, and he wants to write some sort of letter explaining how completely sorry he is, so whoever finds the two of them will know that he never meant for it to go that far. But he quickly decides that there is no reason for him to even worry about it.

It's only a matter of time until he will be with him again, anyways. And then he can tell him himself.

A Weekend With Theo

Mon, 20 Oct 2008 18:57:58 GMT

                                                                                        Thursday


    Wilson is not surprised when he receives a page from House in the middle of the night. He is surprised, however, that after following the address given to him, he is pulling into the parking lot of an otherwise deserted IHOP. He takes in a deep breath, preparing himself for god knows what, and steps out of his car. It's cold, and he's mad at himself for leaving his apartment without a jacket. Wrapping his arms tightly around his chest, he walks into the restaurant. After only a second, he spots House in a booth in the farthest corner.

      "This was your emergency, House? Pancakes?"

       Wilson slides into the booth across from House and unrolls his napkin. He pulls out a fork, lifting it to the light and looking it over for any spots of grime. He doesn't see anything, but is still not entirely convinced of the sanitary state of the utensils in a 24-hour pancake house. For all Wilson knows, the dishwasher's girlfriend just dumped him an hour ago, and he wants to take his rage out on anyone who is taking away from the time he can spend texting her, begging for forgiveness.

      Wilson reaches across the table and places a thumb over the straw in House's glass of water, lifting it from the glass, and splashing its contents over the fork.

      Just to be sure.

      House rolls his eyes.

      "You're absolutely ridiculous."

      "Hey, I'm not the one sitting at an IHOP at three in the morning."

      "Uh..yes you are."

      "Not by choice." Wilson points out as he reaches across the table and takes a stab at House's pancakes.

      "Hey! Order your own!"

      Wilson ignores him and brings the fork up to his mouth, biting off the pancakes (which by now are terribly cold) and makes a face as a significant amount of syrup drips down his chin. He frowns and picks up his napkin, trying to wipe it off of his face, but instead just ends up leaving remnants of napkin behind on his sticky chin.

       House doesn't bother pointing it out.

      "So...why are we here?"

      "I need your advice."

      Wilson sets his fork down and raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "You woke me up in the middle of the night...for advice?"

      House nods. "I'm pretty sure that's what I just said."

      "You are absolutely unreal." Wilson shakes his head and takes another stab at the pancakes, this time slamming the fork down with enough force to express his annoyance. He takes another bite and sets the fork down in front of him. "Well...what about, then?"

      House points down towards the booth.

      "You need advice about IHOP?" Wilson reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You know what? I don't have time for this. I have a full day tomorrow, I'm going home to get some sl-"

      "No, you idiot! I don't need advice about IHOP, I need advice about this thing!" House reaches forward, grabbing a handful of Wilson's shirt, pulling him across the table. Wilson looks down besides House, and his eyes widen.

      "Th-That's a kid."

      "I am well aware what it is."

      "What? Who's-"

      "What do I do with it?"

      "Where did you get it!?"

      "Oh you know, the corner store was having a sale..."

      "House! Did you...find him somewhere?"

      House sighs and looks down as the kid begins to stir in the seat beside him. "No, I didn't find him. Apparently, he's my responsibility."

      Wilson sits back into the booth, and takes that last statement in for a minute. He does some math in his head, and tries to figure out who the kid's mother could be.

      "Did you...get more than you bargained for with a hooker one night?"

      "Maybe you shouldn't be talking about hookers with this kid right here."

      "He's not even awake."

      "Now he is. Heard the word hooker and perked right up."

      Wilson smirks and peers back over the table. "Takes right after his father then."

      "Huh?"

      "Seriously though," Wilson leans in towards House, keeping his voice low. "Is his mother a hooker?"

      House rolls his eyes. "I'd call Stacy a lot of things, but a hooker isn't one of them."

      Wilson's eyes get wider, if that was even possible. "Stacy? Does...does Mark know?"

      "Well, I'd imagine."

      Wilson shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "That man has more patience than anyone should."

      "...Right. Look, back to the matter at hand. I've got this kid here, and I'm completely lost. You seem like the motherly type, so be a good friend and help me out, ok?"

      "Sure House."

      "What are you smiling at?"

      "Nothing."

      "Good. So, what now?"

      "How old is he?"

      "Why does that matter?"

      "Well, it should matter. You should want to know these things!"

       House looks the kid over. "I'm guessing no older than one."

      "What's his name?"

      "Theo. Look, why does all of this matter to you?"

      Wilson ignores him and just slides out of the booth and walks over to the other side of the table, sliding in next to House. He leans over him, so he can get a better look at the kid.

      "House, he's completely adorable."

      "Great! He's adorable! So what do I do with him? You're not helping me here."

      Wilson reaches over House and carefully picks Theo up, holding him in his arms as he leans carefully back against the booth. "House, you're a doctor. You can't be that incapable of taking care of a baby."

      House watches as Wilson brushes some hair out of Theo's face. The kid is cute, sure, but not nearly as cute as Wilson is being right now.

      "Maybe not. But I don't feel like doing it."

      Wilson shoots a look at House.

      "...Alone. I don't feel like doing it alone."

      Wilson smiles at that, and nods as he carefully slips out of the booth. "Alright."

                                                                                                        Friday

    When House arrives at his apartment Friday evening after work, he is greeted by Wilson who is covered in what appears to be spit-up and what House hopes isn’t pee.

    “Say hi to Daddy!” Wilson practically tosses Theo into House’s free arm and runs the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead.

    “Look, Wilson-”

    “House, not now. I have too much to do around here to baby proof everything.”

    House peers over Wilson’s shoulder and cringes at the amount of half put together baby furniture and the like, that is now strewn about his living room.

    "You're cramping my style with all this junk. Get rid of it."

    Wilson waves him off and walks over to the baby gate that is resting against the kitchen doorway. "This junk is necessary."

    "Wilson, it’s just for a weekend.”

    Wilson sighs wistfully. "It sure seems like that doesn't it? They grow up so fast."

    House’s jaw drops in disbelief and he shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

    “Hmmmm?”

    “Nothing. Forget it.”

                                                                                                Saturday

    House is woken up to the sound of a screaming baby. He opens an eye, and looks around the room until he spots Wilson curled up on the nearby chaise.

    "Your turn, Mommy!" He reaches beside him for the spare pillow and tosses it at Wilson. It hits him in the face, and Wilson groans as he stretches. "You're his Father, you do it." He tries to reposition himself on the lounge, but is disrupted as another pillow hits him in the back of his head.

    "You said you'd help me. And you getting up so the cripple doesn't have to is a big help."

    Wilson sighs, and kicks the blanket off of himself. He sits on the edge of the chaise wearing only plaid boxers and black dress socks. House can't help but smile.

    "Might want to take care of that before you go swaddle Theo, or whatever it is that you motherly types do."

    "What?"

    "Or I guess I could take care of it for you?"

    Wilson follows House's gaze down between his own legs.

    "Oh for god's sake!" Wilson grabs the blanket off the lounge and ties it around his waist. "There problem solved."

    "Problem concealed."

    Wilson rolls his eyes and storms out of the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with a crying Theo in his arms.

    "I told you to take care of it!"

    "He obviously wants his Father!"

    "Well that isn't going to happen, so figure out an alternative!"

    "Oh it certainly is going to happen!" Wilson sits down on the bed and places Theo on House's chest. House just sits there and watches as Theo rolls off and onto the bed.

    Wilson just about has a heart attack and scoops Theo right up. "House! Be careful!" He hovers over House until he is sure that Theo is secured by at least one of House's arms.

    "Wilson, it's a kid. He's not going to break by falling onto a padded surface!"

    Wilson presses a finger against House's lips, shutting him up. "Shhhh. See, I told you."

    "Told me what?" House's words are muffled because Wilson's finger is still firmly pressed against his mouth. (Not that he's complaining)

    "That all he wanted was his father. He stopped crying."

    House looks down at Theo, who is curled up on his chest, sucking on his thumb. "He's probably just tired."

    "He looks just like you."

    "Wilson-"

    "No, he does. He has your hair, and your nose, and your attitude most of the time."

    "Are you crying?"

    "..."

    "Wilson, you sap! Stop it."

    "I'm sorry, it's just..."

    "Just what?"

    "Nothing, House. It's nothing."

                                                                        Sunday

    By four in the morning, Theo is finally sleeping. House plops himself down on the couch, kicks his feet up on the coffee table and lets out a sigh of relief. Wilson walks into the room with two beers. He hands one to House and sits down beside him.

    "He's out like a light."

    "Good. If I heard one more scream out of that kid, I was going to drive him over to Cuddy's and leave him on the doorstep. Ring the doorbell and run away."

    "You wouldn't get very far." Wilson smirks and takes a swig of his beer.

    House lightly punches his shoulder. "Gee, thanks."

    Wilson just smiles.

    "Look...thanks for helping me with that thing. I don't think I could have handled it on my own."

    Wilson turns and looks at House. It's not often he thanks him for anything, and Wilson can't help but feel a bit of warmth come over him. "He's not a thing, and you're welcome. I had fun. It was...nice seeing you with him."

    "Okay."

    They sit in silence for a few minutes before Wilson just can't take it anymore and he takes House's face in his hands. House closes his eyes when he feels Wilson's lips on his own. Time stands still, until it doesn't, and Wilson is back on his side of the couch, beer in hand.

    "I'm...I'm sorry. Just...seeing you with Theo, it did something to me I guess."

    "You know he's not my son right?" House smirks slightly as he brings his beer bottle up to his mouth, taking a long sip.

    "...What?"

    "Not. My. Son."

    "But you said-"

    "I said he was Stacey's son. And beyond that I couldn't get a word in edgewise, you were so googley eyed over him. However, if it keeps you kissing me like that, we can keep pretending he's mine."

    Wilson just stares at House for a minute and then looks around the living room. "I spent 500 dollars on baby stuff."

    House nods, taking another sip of his beer. "I know."

    "What are we going to do with it all?"

    House thinks for a minute and then sets his beer on the coffee table and stands up. He holds a hand out for Wilson. "Come on. We can go to the bedroom and try to make one of our own."

    Wilson smiles and shakes his head, but certainly doesn't object.

Spongebob Ice Creams - (for Jane_Hidell)

Fri, 26 Sep 2008 01:44:54 GMT

"An ice cream truck?"

House ignored him and slid open the door on the side, ushering Wilson inside.

"Where did you find an ice cream truck?"

"I borrowed it."

"You mean you...stole it?"

"That's not what I said."

"Well, true but-"

House pulled on the door handle, slamming the door shut and cutting Wilson off. Wilson sighed and glanced around the inside of the truck. There were a few coolers pressed up against the side, and a folding chair tossed carelessly onto the floor. Candy hung from displays on the walls of the truck. Overall, well, it looked like an ice cream truck.

And it was so cold in there.

A few seconds later, Wilson ducked out of the way as House's cane went flying back towards the coolers from the front of the truck.

"House!"

"Sorry! No room for that up here!"

"Some warning would have been nice!"

House waved a hand at Wilson and turned the key in the ignition. The truck started rather loudly, and House squealed the tires as he pulled away from the curb.

Wilson went flying and fell into some empty boxes.

"God! House...slow down!"

"That wouldn't have happened if you were sitting down!"

"It wouldn't have happened if you knew how to drive!"

House turned a corner then, rather abruptly, sending Wilson this time face first into some boxes that weren't so empty.

As soon as he hit them, he could feel the drastic change in temperature against his skin, as ice cream soaked into his clothes.

"Shit," he mumbled as he reached up for one of the coolers, using it to hoist himself up. "House...this is absurd. Where are we going?"

House sighed. "You just can't have fun ever, can you? Don't worry, we're just about there."

Wilson could feel himself start to shiver, so he slowly sunk down back onto the floor, and wrapped his arms tightly around his body in an attempt to keep warm.

When they finally did stop, House didn't get out of truck, but instead climbed into the back, and sat down beside Wilson. Wilson almost felt bad when he saw House wince in pain as he lowered himself to the ground, but quickly got over it when he remembered how sore and cold he was.

"House...what're you doing? What's going on?"

"I wanted to talk."

"And you had to do it...in an ice cream truck?"

"I didn't think you'd listen to me if we stayed at your place. This way I could at least bribe you with ice cream."

Wilson snorted. "Yeah...I don't know how well that's going to work at this point. I've lost all desire for the stuff on the way over here."

House looked Wilson over and frowned. "It looks so good though."

Wilson grabbed his tie and brought it up to his mouth, licking some of the ice cream off. "I guess it's not too bad."

House watched Wilson intently as he took another lick of the ice cream off of his tie, then slowly ran his tongue over his lips, licking the excess off.

House shifted uncomfortably, and Wilson looked up, catching his gaze.

"Something...wrong?" Wilson licked some ice cream off of his wrist, and before he could question his friend again, House had reached forward, grabbing a handful of Wilson's hair. He pulled him forward and met his mouth with a hungry kiss.

Wilson struggled at first, but soon House could feel him relax, and he opened his mouth. Wilson moaned into the kiss and reached forward, fumbling with House's belt.

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted you to do this," Wilson reached into House's pants, wrapping his hand around his cock when all of a sudden -

*knock knock knock*

"Hey! Anyone in there? I'd like some ice cream, please!"

"Go away!" House yelled and reached forward for Wilson, who was already frantically trying to tuck House back into his pants. "Dont. Stop."

"House, it's probably a kid. We can't - No. I'm going to see what she wants."

House buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Unbelievable."

"What? You can't hide out in an ice cream truck and expect people to walk on by on a hot summer day. Five minutes...and we'll pick up where we left off."

"Five seconds."

"Fine....fine."

Wilson ran a sticky hand through his hair before sliding open the serving window on the side of the truck.

Outside, a woman with streaks of blond in her hair and a silver necklace in the shape of a tie stood before him, holding a handful of dollar bills.

Wilson cleared his throat. "Uh, can I...help you?"

"I'd like a Spongebob ice cream please." She smacked the money down on the inside of the window and crossed her arms.

Wilson just looked at the money, and then back up at the girl. "Huh? Oh...Oh, okay. Hold on."

He closed the window half way and began to rummage through the freezers looking for the Spongebob ice creams. House pulled himself up and started rummaging also, in an attempt to get rid of the girl faster.

"Tell her we're out."

"I can't tell her we're out. She's really...adamant about it."

House smirked. "You're scared of a kid?"

"She's not a kid, House."

"Well then ignore her, and she'll go away."

"No, I think I'm going to -"

House, impatient man that he was, shut Wilson up with another kiss, and spun him around, bending him over the cooler. Seconds later, Wilson's pants were around his ankles and House was pushing into him, causing Wilson to yell out rather loudly.

So loud, in fact, that the girl who had been waiting for her ice cream overheard and, rather intrigued, slid the window open and peered inside.

When House and Wilson had finished, and cleaned up the best they could considering, Wilson noticed something shut between the window and the side of the truck. He walked over and pulled it out. It was a napkin.

Hey, thanks for the show. It was well worth the 3 dollars. I'm still pissed about the ice cream, but I'll get over it. -Jane

Wilson turned pale and House snatched the napkin out of his hands.

"I'd say we were worth at least five bucks. Cheap."

Wilson just buried his face in his hands.

The Best Chef in the World

Sat, 20 Sep 2008 02:44:44 GMT

    "What the hell is this?" House tossed his cane onto the floor and plopped down onto the couch beside Wilson, picking up a carton of food from the coffee table.

    "Uh...Thai, like you wanted."

    "Not the food, the television. What the hell is this?"

    "Kitchen Nightmares."

    "Looks stupid. I'm changing it."

    "What? No! It just started and--Hey!" Wilson leaned over, ripping the remote from House's hand and flipping the channel back to where it was, then tossed the remote behind the couch. "I just need to see what he thinks of their food. Its the best part, ok?"

    "What who thinks?"

    "Gordon Ramsay."

    House gave Wilson a blank look.

    Wilson sighed. "He's only the best chef in all of America."

    "If he's so great, then how come I've never heard of him?"

    Wilson ignored him and just waved at him to shut him up as Chef Ramsay appeared on the television. House rolled his eyes and sunk back into the couch cushions, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, shoveling forkfuls of noodles into his mouth, trying to enjoy the show.

    After a few minutes, however, House had had enough and found himself peering over the back of the couch in hopes of finding the remote Wilson had tossed.

    "Wilson."

    "Shhhh!"

    "Wilson! This is ridiculous. All he does is sit there and say 'Fuck' all the time."

    "I know. It's...sexy."

    House turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Wilson. Wilson could feel his cheeks begin to burn.

    House smirked and slammed his carton of Thai food down onto the coffee table, pieces of food spilling down the sides. He loudly smacked his hand down beside it.

    "These noodles are fucking pathetic. A fucking baby could have made a better meal!"

    "House...what are you doing?"

    "Trying to express my sheer hatred of this fucking Thai food! I've eaten better food out of the hospital dumpster!"

    Wilson gave House a look of disbelief.

    "...And I'm trying to get you to fuck me."

    Wilson just shook his head.

    "Well?"

    "Well, what?"

    "Is it working?"

    "I said it was sexy. I didn't say I wanted to fuck him." He thought for a moment. "I only want to do that when I see him doing the dishes."

    House snorted. "Nice try."

    Wilson shrugged, turning his attention back to the television. "It was worth a shot."

so close to giving up

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 01:33:06 GMT

Lack of sleep has taken its toll, and when he looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, he hardly recognizes the man staring back at him.

He turns on the tap and holds his hands under the running water until it becomes unbearably cold. He bends over, and brings handfuls of water up to his face. It is a sorry attempt to clean up, but it's better than nothing.

Standing back up, he grabs the hand towel off of the thin metal rack, wiping the water off of his face. His eyes still rest above dark circles caused by insomnia, and his hair has become unkempt, but at least he feels a bit better.

He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it out, trying to remember the last time he had bothered to get it cut.

He thinks it was right before her funeral, but for the life of him he can't remember.

He grabs his toothbrush and spreads too much toothpaste on the worn bristles, and brings it up to his mouth. Opening up, he begins to brush carelessly, going through the motions, and not caring when globs of foam fall onto his shirt.

He rinses, spits and stands up, using his finger to wipe away the toothpaste from his shirt the best he can.

He stands back and looks himself over.

Good enough.

He flips off the bathroom light and walks into the bedroom, grabbing his keys.

He reaches for the door handle, hesitating for a moment and turning around, glancing one last time around the apartment he shared with her.

He takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly, before stepping out of the door, and leaving that part of him behind.

He tells himself it's for the best.

When he knocks on the door, he instantly regrets it and considers a fast retreat to his car.

He's suddenly not sure why he's come here, or what he even expects from this.

Or from him.

His inner turmoil is time consuming, and before he can make a decision, he hears the door unlock, and then House is standing before him looking just as unsure about the situation as Wilson feels.

House raises an eyebrow and makes a face that Wilson can only interpret as annoyance. The second he feels his eyes stinging, Wilson is looking down at his feet.

Have his shoes always looked so raggedy? He doesn't think so, but it's hard to know for sure-

A finger on the bottom of his chin interrupts his thoughts, and he soon finds himself face to face with the one person he has been avoiding for weeks.

They stand in silence for what seems like forever, and when it becomes unbearable, he struggles to say what he's been wanting to say for so long.

But his words fail him.

"I....I don't know why I came. I'm sorry, I-"

He turns to leave, but House pulls him to his chest and wraps his arms around him.

And just holds him.

Wilson returns the embrace and closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of the man that he's so desperately wanted to be this close to for so long.

And then it happens.

For the first time in a long time, he cries. All over House's shirt, and almost instantly he can feel House tense up.

He panics and lets go of House, pushing him back, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his face.

"God this is embarrassing. I'm such a...baby."

"Well just consider yourself lucky I have a soft spot for kids."

"You...hate kids."

"Well, then consider yourself lucky I've had a few beers."

Wilson can't help but smile at that, and House smiles back, stepping to the side so Wilson can come in.

He does and makes his way over to the couch he's become so familiar with over all these years, while House goes to grab them a couple beers.

He kicks off his shoes and stretches out, smiling to himself.

It's only a matter of minutes until he's asleep.

ANATOMY TEXTBOOK - DRABBLE

Wed, 03 Sep 2008 01:35:30 GMT

    House swung open the door to his apartment, rolling his eyes dramatically when he spotted Wilson sprawled out on his couch, an open book in his lap.

    "Don't you have somewhere to be?" House pushed the door shut and tossed his cane at Wilson, which hit him upside the head. "Like, in my kitchen. Making me dinner, perhaps?"

    "Hello to you too." Wilson reached up and rubbed the back of his head, frowning. "I was going to cook, but then I came across this and just...lost all motivation."

    House raised an eyebrow and limped over to the couch, peering over Wilson's shoulder.

    "Mmm. Appetizing. Nothing like staring at a dead baby's gaping chest cavity to get you in the mood for dinner."

    "Like I said...not in the mood for dinner."

    House sighed loudly and shoved the anatomy book off of Wilson's lap and onto the floor. "What the hell are you looking at that for anyway?"

    Wilson shrugged. "I was bored."

    "And you thought looking at a black and white anatomy text book would amuse you? You have some altered sense of entertainment."

    "There's not much to do here, House. Not my fault."

    "You could have been lying on my bed, naked, waiting for me to get home?"

    Wilson raised an eyebrow at House. "Right, because that's something you'd want to come home to."

    House just raised his hands and shrugged, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "Only one way to find out."

    Wilson sat there for a moment watching House, a grin slowly spreading across his face. He pushed himself off the couch and made his way down the hall towards House's bedroom, stripping off his clothes as he went.

    Forty five minutes, an orgasm, and a shower later, Wilson had forgotten all about the gaping chest cavity.

    Good thing too, because House was starving.

    /fin

A Bit Unconventional - At the Movies

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 16:15:35 GMT

"Was this really necessary?"

"Yes. You wanted to come with us, so yes."

"No...I wanted to come with you. And I have a feeling if it had just been you, I wouldn't look so completely..."

"Sexy?"

"No...I was thinking more along the lines of ridiculous. But I'm glad that you think so."

House rolled his eyes and stuck his hand deep into the bucket of popcorn he was nuzzling in the crook of his arm, spilling a significant amount of the concession onto the floor.

Wilson sighed and reached up, tugging uncomfortably at the bullet proof vest House had forced him to wear.

Earlier in the week,Wilson had tried to convince House that he could get away with being Commissioner Gordon in his normal day to day attire (shirt and tie), but House had rebutted with a "Gob would do it. He'd want to go all out."

Wilson, who had found himself involved in a competition with Gob that only he knew about, sucked it up and went all out. As a matter of fact, before it had fallen off into the tub of popcorn that House had since taken possession of, he had even been wearing a fake mustache.

"Stop fidgeting with it," House pushed Wilson's hand away from the velcro straps on his vest with the handle of his cane. "You're going to mess it up."

"Well I'm sorry, but this isn't that comfortable! Not that you'd know anything about it, it's not like you dressed up or anything!"

"I did so."

"Tying a hospital sheet around your neck and drawing a bat on your T-shirt in white board marker is hardly dressing up."

"I'm a cripple, cut me some slack."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I just don't see why you'd expect me to try and squeeze my agonizingly painful leg into skin tight leather. Seems sort of cruel if you ask me."

Wilson reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine...whatever." He looked around at the growing line to get into the movie. The heat of all the people crowding around them was beginning to get unbearable and he reached up, loosening the top few buttons on his shirt.

"How much longer?"

House glanced down at his pager. "An hour."

"An...hour? This is ridiculous, we should have just waited until -"

"WHY SO SERIOUS COMMMMISSIONER?"

Wilson jumped at the screaming in his ear. "Gob! What the hell?"

Gob grinned, the red makeup smeared around his mouth making him look even more maniacal than usual. "Just getting into character. "

"Well...stop it! Act like you're dying for once in your life!"

House grinned, shoving more popcorn into his mouth, enjoying the show way too much.

Gob shoved the armful of candy he was carrying at Wilson, who stumbled backwards, trying to keep it all from falling to the ground. He frowned at the amount of (his) money that had obviously just been spent.

"What, did you buy the entire concession stand? What do you need all this for?"

"A dying man needs his candy." Gob stepped towards House, backing him up against the wall. "Just like the Joker needs his Batman."

House beamed.

Gob licked his lipstick covered lips.

Wilson felt sick.

He stepped forward, piling the candy into House's half-empty popcorn bucket. "Here. I'm going to the bathroom. Save my spot in line." He pushed through them, marching his way into the nearest stall and locking the door behind him. He took in a few deep breaths, counted to ten, and walked back out feeling as calm as he possibly could.

This feeling, however, quickly dissipated as House turned around to hand the candy back to Wilson, his face smeared with red and white makeup.

"Took you long enough." House mumbled, piling the boxes of candy into Wilson's arms.

"Not that we're complaining." Gob piped in from behind him.

"I'm complaining," House slipped the lip of the popcorn bucket between Wilson's thumb and forefinger. "My arms were falling asleep."

"Your mouth clearly wasn't." Wilson turned his head slightly as the pile of candy pressed up against his chin.

House reached up and wiped his hand over his mouth, smiling somewhat embarrassed as his hand came back down covered in makeup.

"Oh. Well, you know how it is. Have to distract the bad guy long enough to save Gotham or whatever." He waved a hand at Wilson, trying to dismiss any further inquiry.

"And distract me you did." Gob stepped in front of Wilson, grabbing some popcorn out of the bucket and feeding it to House.

"The good guys always win in the end, you know," Wilson mumbled as the line started to move forward. "You'll see. I'll show you."

A Bit Unconventional - George Michael

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 01:13:18 GMT

"There's nothing to be nervous about, okay buddy? He actually looks pretty good all things considered."

   Michael Bluth smiled somewhat reassuringly at his son, George Michael, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

   "Yeah...okay."

   Michael removed his hand and pressed the button for the elevator. When the doors opened, the two stepped inside.

   As the elevator started to make its ascent, George Michael began to fidget with the buttons on his shirt. "You know, maybe we should wait for the rest of the family to get here. I'm sure Gob would like to see everyone, you know?"

   The doors opened and Michael gave his son a light shove out into the hallway. "Don't be silly. Gob'll be happy to see you. Second door down there on the left, okay? I'm going to go get some coffee."

   "W-wait -" But the doors shut before George Michael could get anything else out.

   He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, slowly making his way down the hallway until he got to the door that had a small white board attached to it, with "Gob Bluth - Magician" written across it in Purple and Yellow marker. He took in a nervous breath and pushed open the door.

   "Hey, Uncle Gob?" George Michael stepped into the room and turned the small corner, spotting Gob sitting on the side of his bed, with his back facing his nephew.

    "G-Gob?"

    "George Michael!" Gob quickly tied his silk robe shut and turned his body sideways, giving his nephew a nervous smile, while kicking a rather large object onto the floor. "What...what are you doing here?"

    "Oh, well my Dad thought you might like to see me."

    "Your Dad's an idiot."

    George Michael jumped back as a man reached up from the floor and grabbed the side of Gob's hospital bed, pulling himself up. He hopped over to a nearby chair and picked up the cane that was there, narrowing his eyes at George Michael as he wiped the sleeve of his suit jacket across his mouth.

    Gob let out a nervous laugh and shrugged at George Michael. "This is Dr. House. He was just, ah...checking my vitals. Since Im dying..you know they have to do that sort of thing at least four times a day."

    House and Gob exchanged glances, but George Michael was so preoccupied by hearing his Uncle say he was dying that he failed to notice.

    House cleared his throat and picked up the chart that was hanging off the end of the bed, pretending to look it over before tossing it back a few seconds later. Gob made a face as the clipboard hit his leg.

    House pushed his way past George Michael, stopping for a second in the doorway.

    "Page me when this kid's gone. I'll come back then with your nightly injection."

    Had George Michael picked up on that innuendo he probably would have passed out, he was close enough as it was.

    "So...your dying?" George Michael looked down towards his feet.

    Gob, realizing that he probably wasn't acting like he was, let out a few forced coughs and crawled slowly under the hospital covers. "Yeah. I have cancer, probably the same kind your Mom had. Runs in the family or something."

    George Michael looked confused, since last he had heard, men did not have ovaries, thus did not get ovarian cancer.

    "But Gob, my Mom had ovaria-"

    "I know. And now so do I. Life is so incredibly unfair." He forced out a few more coughs and an incredibly exaggerated sneeze. Then, for dramatic effect, he wrapped his arms around his stomach and rocked back and forth.

    "Gob!" George Michael sprinted over to the bed and reached forward grabbing onto his Uncle's arm. "Are you okay? I mean..obviously you're not okay. But are you -"

    Gob looked up and realized that he apparently was doing a damn good job of acting (Take that, Tobias!) as George Michael reached out, wrapping his arms tightly around Gob and started to cry.

    Gob, always having had a soft spot for his nephew, suddenly began to feel bad and pushed him off.

    "Hey. George Michael."

    George Michael sniffed and looked up at Gob.

    "Want to know a secret? But you can't tell anyone. Especially not your Dad, he ruins everything for me."

    George Michael, who normally couldn't keep anything from his Father, agreed. His favorite Uncle, after all, was on his death bed.

    "I don't really have cancer!" Gob spread his arms out, a huge grin on his face.

    George Michael stammered. "You..don't really have...cancer?"

    "That's right! It's part of my greatest illusion yet! A sure fire way to get back into the Alliance. When they see me rise from my death bed, there's no way they'll refuse me again!"

    "But...you aren't on your death be-"

    "So smile, kid! I'm perfectly fine!"

    After a few seconds of disbelief, George Michael did smile, once he realized that he had been let in a huge secret.

    "Now run off and tell your Dad to take you to dinner or something. On me, here." Gob pulled open the drawer in the side table next to his hospital bed and pulled out his wallet. He tossed a Bluth Company credit card at his nephew.

    "Wow, thanks Gob. I'll come back later and -"

    "Don't bother. Those injections...they put me right to sleep. You know, because of the cancer." Gob winked and formed quotes with his fingers as he spoke.

    George Michael nodded and walked out of the room, leaving Gob without his only source of money, and wishing he hadn't just outed himself to his nephew.

    He was going to have to get him back up here soon and shove a forget-me-now down his throat.

    But for now, he would settle on shoving something else down someone else's throat.

    He reached for his phone and paged House.

Is anyone lj-clever enough to help me? lol

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 15:22:14 GMT

Ok, so I have the code for my crossovers50 table. But it is way to big for my layout. :( Does anyone know how to make it smaller? lol
Also, if you know how to link my fics to the prompts that would be sweet too, lol.

Im so computer illiterate, its almost sad XD

~~sophisticated~~

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 03:21:21 GMT

lol i made my journal argyle.

what a pointless post.

"If there are any questions, direct them to that brick wall over there."."

Sweet Summer Watermelon - (House/Wilson)

Death Note Kink Meme - Fic

d20

Bammel: Drabble for you (100 WORDS IS HARD TO DO OMG)

A Kitten for all Seasons - for Jane

Thursday Night is Movie Night

lol Watchmen fic

House BigBang Round Two: Stay Away From the Glass; Tales of Petty Crime and Self Punishment

Idiot, M.D.

A Love Story (lol)

The Special

The Happiest Day of His Life

Happy Anniversary

So It Goes (wilson/chase, house/wilson)

An Unfortunate Discovery

Hemoglobin

A Weekend With Theo

Spongebob Ice Creams - (for Jane_Hidell)

The Best Chef in the World

so close to giving up

ANATOMY TEXTBOOK - DRABBLE

A Bit Unconventional - At the Movies

A Bit Unconventional - George Michael

Is anyone lj-clever enough to help me? lol

~*~sophisticated~*~

~~sophisticated~~