Dancing (PG)
Hope you've had a wonderful birthday, daasgrrl! Last year I got you a quick fic; this year I got you a... 'nother quick fic. Dancing, House & Wilson, PG, 236 words.
"You're going to dance on my grave."
"If you want me to." Wilson shifted in his seat, trying to pull his jacket out from under his rear.
House snorted. "You're such a moron."
"Uh huh," Wilson replied, still fidgeting with his jacket. "Got the framed certificate to prove it. Signed by a G. House, MD, FACS, BKCCH. I never got what that last abbreviation was." His head tilted and his lips quirked in what was probably a smirk, the damn bastard. "But then again, I'm a moron."
"Burger King Crown Card Holder."
Wilson's eyebrows went up and his eyes crossed a little. They'd been doing that more and more in the past few years, but he refused to get glasses to correct it. Vanity, thy name is James Evan Wilson. Huh. Wilson's initials spelled out JEW. House wondered why he hadn't ever teased Wilson about that.
"How come I --"
Wilson interrupted him blithely. "What the hell is a Burger King Crown Card?"
"Free burgers for life." Duh.
Those brown eyes narrowed. "You're kidding."
"No."
"You're kidding."
"No. Go through my wallet if you don't believe me."
"Then why the hell did you always make me pay when we went through the drive-through?"
House snorted. "Tradition."
Looking as cross and petulant as a three-year-old sans nap, Wilson settled back in his chair.
"You're going to dance on my grave," House said.
"No doubt," Wilson sighed.
"You're going to dance on my grave."
"If you want me to." Wilson shifted in his seat, trying to pull his jacket out from under his rear.
House snorted. "You're such a moron."
"Uh huh," Wilson replied, still fidgeting with his jacket. "Got the framed certificate to prove it. Signed by a G. House, MD, FACS, BKCCH. I never got what that last abbreviation was." His head tilted and his lips quirked in what was probably a smirk, the damn bastard. "But then again, I'm a moron."
"Burger King Crown Card Holder."
Wilson's eyebrows went up and his eyes crossed a little. They'd been doing that more and more in the past few years, but he refused to get glasses to correct it. Vanity, thy name is James Evan Wilson. Huh. Wilson's initials spelled out JEW. House wondered why he hadn't ever teased Wilson about that.
"How come I --"
Wilson interrupted him blithely. "What the hell is a Burger King Crown Card?"
"Free burgers for life." Duh.
Those brown eyes narrowed. "You're kidding."
"No."
"You're kidding."
"No. Go through my wallet if you don't believe me."
"Then why the hell did you always make me pay when we went through the drive-through?"
House snorted. "Tradition."
Looking as cross and petulant as a three-year-old sans nap, Wilson settled back in his chair.
"You're going to dance on my grave," House said.
"No doubt," Wilson sighed.