Fic: House vs. God's Country - Ch. 1/4
Title: House vs. God's Country
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13
Words: 900, this chapter
Summary: House and Wilson take off for their Amish honeymoon. What could possibly go wrong? Sequel to All You Have To Bring
A/N: Written for the fandomaid benefit for the Philippines. This one's for menolly_au, who said she likes sequels.
“So. Did you really have to bring up your parking ticket from 2009?” Wilson asked as he pulled out of the courthouse parking lot.
House freed himself from his stupid red tie and tossed it in the backseat. “We were in front of a judge. How could I pass up a chance to rail against The Man?”
“Well,” Wilson said, with that particularly irritating inflection he saved for the word well. “I’d say your timing left something to be desired. Since most people say ‘I do’ at that point in the ceremony.”
“That ticket was so bogus,” House barreled on, reclining his seat slightly for maximum bitch-session comfort. “People with canes should be able to park anywhere they please.”
“On the sidewalk?”
“It was the closest available space. Princeton was at fault for its lack of accommodations for cripples.”
“Which is what I calmly pointed out to the cops,” Wilson cut in, with a sassy head tilt. “Ergo, the run-of-the-mill parking ticket instead of the hefty fine. But you just couldn’t be satisfied with that, could you?”
“It does take a lot to satisfy me,” House agreed, then leered. “As you’ll find out tonight.”
“Hmm.” Wilson’s attention shifted toward the Friday-afternoon traffic heading out of center city. Which simply wouldn’t do.
“First,” House said, dropping his voice an octave, “I’m gonna slowly remove that ridiculous pocket square and shove it in your mouth.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then I’ll slip off your silver, sparkly tie.”
Wilson glanced down and frowned. “It’s not sparkly.”
House detected the barest hint of uncertainty, and it made him smile. “It is totally sparkly. In the gayest of ways.”
Wilson huffed. “It is not sparkly. It’s…completely masculine.”
“Yeah. It’s from the Clint Eastwood tie collection.”
Wilson’s jaw clenched. “It just has a nice sheen.”
“You look like you have a tie-shaped disco ball around your neck.”
“Oh-kay,” Wilson sing-songed. “Enough about my disco tie.”
“But I haven’t told you what I’m gonna do with it, Donna.”
“I can wait. We’ll be there in an hour-and-a-half.” Wilson flashed him a phony smile. “Why don’t you take a nap until then?”
House bobbed his head side-to-side. “Maybe,” he said off-handedly. “I will be up all night with the dancing queen, so-”
He stopped short, suddenly remembering a vital detail he’d forgotten in all the parking ticket/wedding excitement.
“Wait. Why are you driving?” he demanded. “I’m supposed to be driving.”
Wilson briefly lifted his hand from the two-o’clock position on the wheel. “It’s better this way. I know how to get there, and I acknowledge the existence of traffic laws. We have a much better chance of actually arriving.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem,” House informed him. “We’re gonna actually arrive in Amish country.”
Wilson rolled his eyes.
“Where exactly are we staying?”
Wilson sighed. “I told you-Don’t you ever listen?”
House made a duh face, and Wilson held up a hand in acknowledgement of his error.
“It’s a bed-and-breakfast in a town right in the middle of the action…so to speak.”
House gazed at Wilson’s profile, noting the tension returning to his jaw.
Huh. “And what’s the name of this town?” he inquired.
Hesitation. “Why do you wanna know?”
“I’m curious.”
Wilson bit his lip and appeared to be on the verge of stalling. But then he shook his head slightly and blew out a breath. “Intercourse.”
“Absolutely. Pull over.”
“No, no. That’s the name.”
“Intercourse?”
“Yes.”
“You slut. Pull over.”
“House. The name of the town is Intercourse.”
House grinned. What a gift. “See, now why would you keep this information from me? Why didn’t you just say, ‘House, can we spend the weekend in Intercourse?’ What do you think my response would’ve been?”
“I can only imagine the wit you’d display.”
House leaned back in his seat. “I’m way too excited for a nap now. We’re going to Intercourse to have intercourse.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And by the way, I had no idea the Amish were so kinky. We may need to get a summer home in this town.”
“Yes. We’ll meet with a realtor.”
“In between all the intercourse?”
“That’s right.” Wilson dutifully hit his blinker as they glided into the lane for Route 206.
House smirked. “I may owe you an apology, Mrs. House. You’re better at this honeymoon thing than I thought. Of course, few people have as much experience as you. You’re like the Liz Taylor of medicine.”
Wilson nodded. “Apology accepted.”
House felt a genuine smile threatening, so he looked out the passenger window and feigned a sudden interest in the strip malls flying by. A moment later, though, something made him glance down at his left hand, and the gold band on his ring finger.
It wasn’t new; he’d had it since the civil-union ceremony. And, much to Wilson’s delight, he’d even remembered to wear it when he wasn’t at the hospital. But somehow, House realized, the band felt heavier now. Not necessarily in a bad way. It was just different.
He looked out the window again. I’m going to Amish country with my husband. The absurdity of that statement, even in his head, was striking. And he honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
But he wasn’t ready to jump out of the car, which had to be a positive sign.
He angled his head toward Wilson. “You realize you’re buying me an ‘I heart Intercourse’ t-shirt, right?”
Wilson smiled, just a little. “Of course.”
“Good.” House settled back and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to see where they were going.
Chapter 2
Note: Intercourse, PA, is real. My friends went to this inn for a 'romantic weekend.' I think House and Wilson should stay in the 'Thomas Suite,' since it's clearly the manliest.
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13
Words: 900, this chapter
Summary: House and Wilson take off for their Amish honeymoon. What could possibly go wrong? Sequel to All You Have To Bring
A/N: Written for the fandomaid benefit for the Philippines. This one's for menolly_au, who said she likes sequels.
“So. Did you really have to bring up your parking ticket from 2009?” Wilson asked as he pulled out of the courthouse parking lot.
House freed himself from his stupid red tie and tossed it in the backseat. “We were in front of a judge. How could I pass up a chance to rail against The Man?”
“Well,” Wilson said, with that particularly irritating inflection he saved for the word well. “I’d say your timing left something to be desired. Since most people say ‘I do’ at that point in the ceremony.”
“That ticket was so bogus,” House barreled on, reclining his seat slightly for maximum bitch-session comfort. “People with canes should be able to park anywhere they please.”
“On the sidewalk?”
“It was the closest available space. Princeton was at fault for its lack of accommodations for cripples.”
“Which is what I calmly pointed out to the cops,” Wilson cut in, with a sassy head tilt. “Ergo, the run-of-the-mill parking ticket instead of the hefty fine. But you just couldn’t be satisfied with that, could you?”
“It does take a lot to satisfy me,” House agreed, then leered. “As you’ll find out tonight.”
“Hmm.” Wilson’s attention shifted toward the Friday-afternoon traffic heading out of center city. Which simply wouldn’t do.
“First,” House said, dropping his voice an octave, “I’m gonna slowly remove that ridiculous pocket square and shove it in your mouth.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then I’ll slip off your silver, sparkly tie.”
Wilson glanced down and frowned. “It’s not sparkly.”
House detected the barest hint of uncertainty, and it made him smile. “It is totally sparkly. In the gayest of ways.”
Wilson huffed. “It is not sparkly. It’s…completely masculine.”
“Yeah. It’s from the Clint Eastwood tie collection.”
Wilson’s jaw clenched. “It just has a nice sheen.”
“You look like you have a tie-shaped disco ball around your neck.”
“Oh-kay,” Wilson sing-songed. “Enough about my disco tie.”
“But I haven’t told you what I’m gonna do with it, Donna.”
“I can wait. We’ll be there in an hour-and-a-half.” Wilson flashed him a phony smile. “Why don’t you take a nap until then?”
House bobbed his head side-to-side. “Maybe,” he said off-handedly. “I will be up all night with the dancing queen, so-”
He stopped short, suddenly remembering a vital detail he’d forgotten in all the parking ticket/wedding excitement.
“Wait. Why are you driving?” he demanded. “I’m supposed to be driving.”
Wilson briefly lifted his hand from the two-o’clock position on the wheel. “It’s better this way. I know how to get there, and I acknowledge the existence of traffic laws. We have a much better chance of actually arriving.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem,” House informed him. “We’re gonna actually arrive in Amish country.”
Wilson rolled his eyes.
“Where exactly are we staying?”
Wilson sighed. “I told you-Don’t you ever listen?”
House made a duh face, and Wilson held up a hand in acknowledgement of his error.
“It’s a bed-and-breakfast in a town right in the middle of the action…so to speak.”
House gazed at Wilson’s profile, noting the tension returning to his jaw.
Huh. “And what’s the name of this town?” he inquired.
Hesitation. “Why do you wanna know?”
“I’m curious.”
Wilson bit his lip and appeared to be on the verge of stalling. But then he shook his head slightly and blew out a breath. “Intercourse.”
“Absolutely. Pull over.”
“No, no. That’s the name.”
“Intercourse?”
“Yes.”
“You slut. Pull over.”
“House. The name of the town is Intercourse.”
House grinned. What a gift. “See, now why would you keep this information from me? Why didn’t you just say, ‘House, can we spend the weekend in Intercourse?’ What do you think my response would’ve been?”
“I can only imagine the wit you’d display.”
House leaned back in his seat. “I’m way too excited for a nap now. We’re going to Intercourse to have intercourse.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And by the way, I had no idea the Amish were so kinky. We may need to get a summer home in this town.”
“Yes. We’ll meet with a realtor.”
“In between all the intercourse?”
“That’s right.” Wilson dutifully hit his blinker as they glided into the lane for Route 206.
House smirked. “I may owe you an apology, Mrs. House. You’re better at this honeymoon thing than I thought. Of course, few people have as much experience as you. You’re like the Liz Taylor of medicine.”
Wilson nodded. “Apology accepted.”
House felt a genuine smile threatening, so he looked out the passenger window and feigned a sudden interest in the strip malls flying by. A moment later, though, something made him glance down at his left hand, and the gold band on his ring finger.
It wasn’t new; he’d had it since the civil-union ceremony. And, much to Wilson’s delight, he’d even remembered to wear it when he wasn’t at the hospital. But somehow, House realized, the band felt heavier now. Not necessarily in a bad way. It was just different.
He looked out the window again. I’m going to Amish country with my husband. The absurdity of that statement, even in his head, was striking. And he honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
But he wasn’t ready to jump out of the car, which had to be a positive sign.
He angled his head toward Wilson. “You realize you’re buying me an ‘I heart Intercourse’ t-shirt, right?”
Wilson smiled, just a little. “Of course.”
“Good.” House settled back and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to see where they were going.
Chapter 2
Note: Intercourse, PA, is real. My friends went to this inn for a 'romantic weekend.' I think House and Wilson should stay in the 'Thomas Suite,' since it's clearly the manliest.