Whiteboard Romance
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): House/Wilson
Disclaimer: 'practically canon. :I
Summary: House teases Wilson using the whiteboard.
Word Count: 228
Wilson sighed with exasperation, "I can't. I've got a date tonight."
House turned around and wrote out his response on the whiteboard in neat, capital letters. They were just big enough to be apprehended through the glass walls of his office if the reader stopped and squinted.
Another? That's two this week.
You're a whore.
As usual Wilson followed along with his friend's games with minimal protest, murmuring the words to himself as they were written, "...whore?" He sputtered, "House, believe it or not you shouldn't sexually harass your co-workers. That's doubly true if they're also your best friend."
House didn't look up when the oncologist was speaking. He started composing his answer before the other man was even finished.
Please. You have one night stands with them,
you filthy indecent slut.
"House," he reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. For once, the gesture was both to hide his growing blush and numb the headache merely being in the same room as Gregory could produce. "Stop, someone will see."
Good. You're shameless. Maybe, if everyone
knew you'd learn some modesty.
"As though," he growled as he threw out his hands to punctuate his words, "you are any better. You keep the whores in this town in business."
House cocked his head, pressed his lips into a thin line and knitted his eyebrows. He put the marker down deliberately and unhooked his cane from the board.
"What can I say?" he barley contained his mischievous grin as he limped out of the room, "I know what I like."
His office door clicked open and closed. And Wilson stood staring for just one awkward beat too long before picking up the eraser and wiping the whiteboard clean.
Pairing(s): House/Wilson
Disclaimer: 'practically canon. :I
Summary: House teases Wilson using the whiteboard.
Word Count: 228
Wilson sighed with exasperation, "I can't. I've got a date tonight."
House turned around and wrote out his response on the whiteboard in neat, capital letters. They were just big enough to be apprehended through the glass walls of his office if the reader stopped and squinted.
Another? That's two this week.
You're a whore.
As usual Wilson followed along with his friend's games with minimal protest, murmuring the words to himself as they were written, "...whore?" He sputtered, "House, believe it or not you shouldn't sexually harass your co-workers. That's doubly true if they're also your best friend."
House didn't look up when the oncologist was speaking. He started composing his answer before the other man was even finished.
Please. You have one night stands with them,
you filthy indecent slut.
"House," he reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. For once, the gesture was both to hide his growing blush and numb the headache merely being in the same room as Gregory could produce. "Stop, someone will see."
Good. You're shameless. Maybe, if everyone
knew you'd learn some modesty.
"As though," he growled as he threw out his hands to punctuate his words, "you are any better. You keep the whores in this town in business."
House cocked his head, pressed his lips into a thin line and knitted his eyebrows. He put the marker down deliberately and unhooked his cane from the board.
"What can I say?" he barley contained his mischievous grin as he limped out of the room, "I know what I like."
His office door clicked open and closed. And Wilson stood staring for just one awkward beat too long before picking up the eraser and wiping the whiteboard clean.