Jack doesn't flirt with someone attractive. And not because of angst or "wrong time, wrong place."
Alternately: House is nice.
It's probably telling that everything I can come up with is really just OOC behavior. That IS the stupidest thing I can think of where fanfic is concerned.
He's way more Wilson-esque in his approach to the sex/love conundrum. Whether he'll admit it or not, House is the one who actually takes the sex seriously, which is why he reverts to the hookers and gets his heart broken every time Wilson falls back into his old patterns.
It felt odd to be on a mission alone, but as soon as he got his bearings it all made sense. Thirteenth century Italian city state. Not a time or place for his partner’s particular set of skills.
He was in a cell, among many prisoners. The criminals were hiding here, but he was temporarily distracted. He had sworn off deities since the tragedy on his home world, but couldn’t help but be touched by the young man praying in the corner.
Saucy quips failed him in the face of such overwhelming spirituality.
Sam gazed at the office with a mixture of dismay and disgust, visions of his old workspace and computer growing ever more clean and shiny in comparison to the literal and metaphorical filth.
Chris’ desk was a veritable museum of used food wrappers, while Ray had a few of his mates around examining some hard-core centerfold as though it were the Dead Sea scrolls.
“This general nincompoopery must stop immediately,” he announced, only to feel an ominous tap on his shoulder telling him it was time for a session in Gene’s office.
Tough one!karaokegalNovember 19 2008, 05:35:33 UTC
Something had gone badly wrong.
Every suggestion was met by Gene with complete acceptance and not a single derisive reference to “Hyde.” Furthermore, Gene’s plans sounded like the pinnacle of reason, even when they involved introducing a subject’s head to the table of the interrogation room.
He’d wanted Tug of War, not Ring Around Rosie and started wondering if he’d have to jump off another roof to make it stop.
“Wake up, you daft bugger.”
“I’m not daft. Or a bugger.”
“Could have fooled me. Stop dicking about with files and let’s go crack skulls.”
One lemur, coming right up.karaokegalNovember 19 2008, 20:55:40 UTC
Wilson came home to fine House sprawled on the couch. He appeared to be engrossed in some National Geographic special, probably shoring up his supply of annoying facts for the next poker tournament.
“Cuddy is a lemur.”
“That’s a euphemism you haven’t used before.”
“They’re female dominant. If we got together, she’d have total control of feeding, grooming, and sleeping site priority.”
“She’d make you shave, pick the restaurants and take up too much of the bed?”
“Exactly. She is kind of sleek though.”
Wilson pushed back the jealousy. He knew exactly who House wanted to be dominated by.
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Alternately: House is nice.
It's probably telling that everything I can come up with is really just OOC behavior. That IS the stupidest thing I can think of where fanfic is concerned.
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He's way more Wilson-esque in his approach to the sex/love conundrum. Whether he'll admit it or not, House is the one who actually takes the sex seriously, which is why he reverts to the hookers and gets his heart broken every time Wilson falls back into his old patterns.
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He was in a cell, among many prisoners. The criminals were hiding here, but he was temporarily distracted. He had sworn off deities since the tragedy on his home world, but couldn’t help but be touched by the young man praying in the corner.
Saucy quips failed him in the face of such overwhelming spirituality.
Even he couldn’t flirt with St. Francis.
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Chris’ desk was a veritable museum of used food wrappers, while Ray had a few of his mates around examining some hard-core centerfold as though it were the Dead Sea scrolls.
“This general nincompoopery must stop immediately,” he announced, only to feel an ominous tap on his shoulder telling him it was time for a session in Gene’s office.
“Only one General here, mate. And it’s me.”
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http://karaokegal.livejournal.com/379151.html
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Every suggestion was met by Gene with complete acceptance and not a single derisive reference to “Hyde.” Furthermore, Gene’s plans sounded like the pinnacle of reason, even when they involved introducing a subject’s head to the table of the interrogation room.
He’d wanted Tug of War, not Ring Around Rosie and started wondering if he’d have to jump off another roof to make it stop.
“Wake up, you daft bugger.”
“I’m not daft. Or a bugger.”
“Could have fooled me. Stop dicking about with files and let’s go crack skulls.”
There’s no place like home.
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Now then... a drabble with a lemur in it. Torchwood would be too easy (Rift as deus-ex-machina), so make it in the House universe.
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“Cuddy is a lemur.”
“That’s a euphemism you haven’t used before.”
“They’re female dominant. If we got together, she’d have total control of feeding, grooming, and sleeping site priority.”
“She’d make you shave, pick the restaurants and take up too much of the bed?”
“Exactly. She is kind of sleek though.”
Wilson pushed back the jealousy. He knew exactly who House wanted to be dominated by.
Him.
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