(no subject)
Title: The Best of Bad Ideas
Author: l57371
Pairing: House/Wilson
Wordcount: 5236
Rating: NC17
Warning: Classic rock
Spoilers: It's been 10 years.
Disclaimer: legally meaningless
Summary: It's just such a bad idea, but hey, they've had worse and come out alive.
Beta: mrs_sweetpeach
Wilson levered himself off the couch, collected the empty containers and smeared dishes from the coffee table and ferried everything into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Want another beer?”
House glared after him and drained the bottle in his hand. “What do you think?” he growled.
“Of course, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Wilson replied, returning to the room with two long-necks in one hand and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos in the other. He flopped back onto the couch and held the hand with the beers out to House. On the television, purportedly real housewives screeched and flailed.
He took one. “Aw, Jimmy, you even opened it for me to save my poor delicate fingers.” House mugged a smirk and took a swig. “Whatever would I do without you.” He turned back to the TV but watched the younger man from the corner of his eye.
Wilson snorted a chuckle and took a long pull on his own bottle. “Well,” he said, “I suppose you’d just have to get off your ass and find the bottle opener on your own.” He glanced at House across the sofa. “Did you know you had one?” One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile.
House grunted and returned to the vapid power struggles playing out on the screen.
“But hey, that’s why you love me, right?” Wilson said, turning and staring fixedly at the electronic scrum.
Continue on AO3
Author: l57371
Pairing: House/Wilson
Wordcount: 5236
Rating: NC17
Warning: Classic rock
Spoilers: It's been 10 years.
Disclaimer: legally meaningless
Summary: It's just such a bad idea, but hey, they've had worse and come out alive.
Beta: mrs_sweetpeach
Wilson levered himself off the couch, collected the empty containers and smeared dishes from the coffee table and ferried everything into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Want another beer?”
House glared after him and drained the bottle in his hand. “What do you think?” he growled.
“Of course, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Wilson replied, returning to the room with two long-necks in one hand and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos in the other. He flopped back onto the couch and held the hand with the beers out to House. On the television, purportedly real housewives screeched and flailed.
He took one. “Aw, Jimmy, you even opened it for me to save my poor delicate fingers.” House mugged a smirk and took a swig. “Whatever would I do without you.” He turned back to the TV but watched the younger man from the corner of his eye.
Wilson snorted a chuckle and took a long pull on his own bottle. “Well,” he said, “I suppose you’d just have to get off your ass and find the bottle opener on your own.” He glanced at House across the sofa. “Did you know you had one?” One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile.
House grunted and returned to the vapid power struggles playing out on the screen.
“But hey, that’s why you love me, right?” Wilson said, turning and staring fixedly at the electronic scrum.
Continue on AO3