Paradoxical Undressing
Title: Paradoxical Undressing
Pairing: Hints at H/W
Rating: T
Word Count: 730
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Summary: An ice storm leaves everyone stranded in the hospital.
A/N: It's freezing here, and I wanted to do an apocalypse fic, but it seems like I'm in too good a mood. Maybe one day. This fic is All Dialogue between House and Wilson.
“It’s like The Day After Tomorrow.”
“It’s nothing like The Day After Tomorrow.”
“How would you know? You spent the whole night making Brokeback Mountain jokes.”
“Just out of curiosity, was it my spot-on impression of Jake Gyllenhaal that had you panting like a bitch in heat, or are you really just that into movies about weather?”
“It was more the fact that you could accurately quote a movie about gay cowboys.”
“Slut. Anyway, if this was The Day After Tomorrow, we’d have drowned in the flood. As is, this isn’t much worse than Hurricane Floyd.”
“Except the snow.”
“Except the snow.”
“And the ice.”
“True.”
“And the fact that Mercer County is now an island.”
“We’ll be fine. The governor lives in Princeton. Few days stuck here with the backup generators to keep us warm. Boo hoo. Not the end of the world.”
“You do realize that with all the flooding, it could be weeks before we get a new shipment of Vicodin.”
“You do realize that in case of apocalypse, my first action will always be to secure my drug supply.”
“Please tell me you didn’t raid the pharmacy. Again.”
“Relax. A hundred bucks, and whatshisface will keep the good stuff on reserve. Even I can’t get through four thousand milligrams in a few weeks. Plus, think of all the morphine.”
“Wait, where did you get a hundred bucks?”
“Apparently, you have to watch out for paradoxical undressing.”
“What, like stripping in front of your wife even though you know the sight of your naked ass will kill all chances of getting laid?”
“Last stages of extreme hypothermia include vasodilation. Sudden infusion of warm blood and you feel feverish, take off your clothes and die that much sooner from exposure.”
“Stop, you’re turning me on.”
“What are you doing outside?!”
“I don’t want to die from carbon monoxide poisoning.”
“And pneumonia is so much better.”
“Seriously, my lips were cherry red. Soooo not my shade. Needed some fresh air.”
“We actually have carbon monoxide detectors in the cafeteria, you know.”
“Maybe it was all the lollipops.”
“Come inside before you freeze to death.”
“I know how to make an igloo.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“We can spoon. We can fork and spoon. Keep me warm with all that insulation.”
“You think you’ll get sex by calling me fat? Is this the first step of paradoxical undressing?”
“Why are you out here again?”
“I think you mean, ‘why am I out here still?’”
“House…”
“All the world smells like a tater tot.”
“Someone in the kitchen thought it’d be a good idea to use the ovens to heat the room.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant.”
“Cuddy’s taking care of it.”
“When all this ice and snow melts, we’re going to need a canoe to get out of here.”
“Seriously man, is your ass frozen to the chair or something?”
“I’ve got the three thousand blankets you piled on me, haven’t I? Quit your bitchin’.”
“House -,”
“I just don’t want to move, ok? Now go get me some food. I’m in the mood for a corndog.”
“In an Alive situation, who would you eat first?”
“Ethan Hawke.”
“Literally, or figuratively?”
“Why can’t it be both?”
“Jimmy, you are one sick bastard.”
“Fine. The bitch?”
“Why?”
“She’s annoying.”
“You are what you eat.”
“Well, who would you pick?”
“A toddler. I think they’re supposed to taste the best.”
“Stay away from my patients.”
“Oh, relax. Cancer tastes like shit.”
“Cuddy told me to check on you.”
“Like you weren’t going to anyway.”
“She said you had frost nip. Why don’t you just let me help you inside?”
“I’m watching the tranny nurse make a snow angel.”
“We have food inside.”
“Surprised Cameron hasn’t staged a production of The Nutcracker out there yet.”
“We have food and drugs.”
“Who do you think would win in a fight - Cutthroat Bitch or Tanya Harding?”
“Fine. Don’t come crying to me when you lose a finger to frostbite.”
“House?”
“Yeah?”
“Tanya Harding.”
“Yeah.”
“Need anything?”
“It’s nice. Not being able to feel my legs.”
“Is that what you were waiting for?”
“Don’t worry. It’s only been a few minutes. Warm socks, gloves, mountain of blankets. Still have all my fingers and toes.”
“The better to fondle you with, my dear.”
“Sick, sick bastard.”
“Re-warming is gonna hurt like hell.”
“Didn’t you mention drugs?”
The End.
Pairing: Hints at H/W
Rating: T
Word Count: 730
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Summary: An ice storm leaves everyone stranded in the hospital.
A/N: It's freezing here, and I wanted to do an apocalypse fic, but it seems like I'm in too good a mood. Maybe one day. This fic is All Dialogue between House and Wilson.
“It’s like The Day After Tomorrow.”
“It’s nothing like The Day After Tomorrow.”
“How would you know? You spent the whole night making Brokeback Mountain jokes.”
“Just out of curiosity, was it my spot-on impression of Jake Gyllenhaal that had you panting like a bitch in heat, or are you really just that into movies about weather?”
“It was more the fact that you could accurately quote a movie about gay cowboys.”
“Slut. Anyway, if this was The Day After Tomorrow, we’d have drowned in the flood. As is, this isn’t much worse than Hurricane Floyd.”
“Except the snow.”
“Except the snow.”
“And the ice.”
“True.”
“And the fact that Mercer County is now an island.”
“We’ll be fine. The governor lives in Princeton. Few days stuck here with the backup generators to keep us warm. Boo hoo. Not the end of the world.”
“You do realize that with all the flooding, it could be weeks before we get a new shipment of Vicodin.”
“You do realize that in case of apocalypse, my first action will always be to secure my drug supply.”
“Please tell me you didn’t raid the pharmacy. Again.”
“Relax. A hundred bucks, and whatshisface will keep the good stuff on reserve. Even I can’t get through four thousand milligrams in a few weeks. Plus, think of all the morphine.”
“Wait, where did you get a hundred bucks?”
“Apparently, you have to watch out for paradoxical undressing.”
“What, like stripping in front of your wife even though you know the sight of your naked ass will kill all chances of getting laid?”
“Last stages of extreme hypothermia include vasodilation. Sudden infusion of warm blood and you feel feverish, take off your clothes and die that much sooner from exposure.”
“Stop, you’re turning me on.”
“What are you doing outside?!”
“I don’t want to die from carbon monoxide poisoning.”
“And pneumonia is so much better.”
“Seriously, my lips were cherry red. Soooo not my shade. Needed some fresh air.”
“We actually have carbon monoxide detectors in the cafeteria, you know.”
“Maybe it was all the lollipops.”
“Come inside before you freeze to death.”
“I know how to make an igloo.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“We can spoon. We can fork and spoon. Keep me warm with all that insulation.”
“You think you’ll get sex by calling me fat? Is this the first step of paradoxical undressing?”
“Why are you out here again?”
“I think you mean, ‘why am I out here still?’”
“House…”
“All the world smells like a tater tot.”
“Someone in the kitchen thought it’d be a good idea to use the ovens to heat the room.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant.”
“Cuddy’s taking care of it.”
“When all this ice and snow melts, we’re going to need a canoe to get out of here.”
“Seriously man, is your ass frozen to the chair or something?”
“I’ve got the three thousand blankets you piled on me, haven’t I? Quit your bitchin’.”
“House -,”
“I just don’t want to move, ok? Now go get me some food. I’m in the mood for a corndog.”
“In an Alive situation, who would you eat first?”
“Ethan Hawke.”
“Literally, or figuratively?”
“Why can’t it be both?”
“Jimmy, you are one sick bastard.”
“Fine. The bitch?”
“Why?”
“She’s annoying.”
“You are what you eat.”
“Well, who would you pick?”
“A toddler. I think they’re supposed to taste the best.”
“Stay away from my patients.”
“Oh, relax. Cancer tastes like shit.”
“Cuddy told me to check on you.”
“Like you weren’t going to anyway.”
“She said you had frost nip. Why don’t you just let me help you inside?”
“I’m watching the tranny nurse make a snow angel.”
“We have food inside.”
“Surprised Cameron hasn’t staged a production of The Nutcracker out there yet.”
“We have food and drugs.”
“Who do you think would win in a fight - Cutthroat Bitch or Tanya Harding?”
“Fine. Don’t come crying to me when you lose a finger to frostbite.”
“House?”
“Yeah?”
“Tanya Harding.”
“Yeah.”
“Need anything?”
“It’s nice. Not being able to feel my legs.”
“Is that what you were waiting for?”
“Don’t worry. It’s only been a few minutes. Warm socks, gloves, mountain of blankets. Still have all my fingers and toes.”
“The better to fondle you with, my dear.”
“Sick, sick bastard.”
“Re-warming is gonna hurt like hell.”
“Didn’t you mention drugs?”
The End.