- My Favorite Year
- by silversolitaire
- slash (House/Wilson) - ENG The clerk who rang up the sales gave Wilson a sizing glance, then asked for the I.D. as he punched in the price of the white wine. Wilson sliced House a quick glance and House flashed his driver’s license with a broad grin.
Outside, House just couldn’t stop himself anymore and he said, “Guess you should have checked with your mommy first.”
Wilson glowered at him. “Shut up. Usually they’re not like that. It must have been the glaring age difference between us that made me look that young.”
“Yeah, right, that has nothing to do with you being nineteen…” House stopped. “Hey! I’m only twenty-six! I’m not that old!”
“Oh really, must be the beard then,” Wilson commented dryly and continued walking.
- Deconstructing the Text
- by sockitup
- slash (House/Wilson) - ENG "Are you free tomorrow night?"
"On a Friday? With my scintillating social schedule? You know you need to book these things in advance." House leaned forward, then whispered conspiratorially, "Word of the spankings has gotten around. I've even been able to increase my rates."
"You know what, never mind. You're right," Wilson said, looking away in exasperation. "I am a masochist."
"Well, for an old friend, I'm sure I can free up some space and a paddle--"
Wilson rode over the end of that sentence ruthlessly. "I've got a party I want you to come with me to."
- Intellectual Properties
- by milkshake_b
- slash (House/Wilson) - ENG "One of these days," he told House, "I really am going to kill you. And by then you'll have done so much wrong you won't even know why."
"I'll probably die apologizing for the wrong thing," House agreed, nodding. "So what is it this time?"
"As if you didn't know," Wilson said, looking briefly heavenward.
"Humor me," House said, tipping his head to one side and relaxing enough, now that the prospect of yelling seemed greatly reduced, to risk a smile.
Wilson sighed, and gave him a look somewhere between exhausted and exasperated. "You sewed a 'Property of Greg House, Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital' label into my suit jacket."
- The Seduction of Jimmy Wilson
- by fauxpocky
- slash (House/Wilson) - ENG Theory - That James Wilson is in love with me, Greg House, but in denial about it.
Aim - To verify the accuracy of this theory.
In order to prove this theory I need to prove three points.
1 - James Wilson Is
Gay Insufficiently Straight
2 - James Wilson Cares About Me
3 - James Wilson is Attracted to Me
- The Beds We Make
- by nightdog_writes
- slash (House/Wilson) - ENG For all of House's vaunted powers of observation, it took him a week to realize that Wilson was living in his office. Every night when the lights went out next door and the heavy door clicked solidly shut, House had simply assumed Wilson had left for the day. It wasn't until later, when he put two and two together and got three that he remembered he'd never actually seen Wilson walk out the door.
- The First Lie
- by karaokegal
- slash (House/Wilson) - ENG “What were you doing when the pain started?”
“Golfing,” House managed to grunt, even though he wanted to throttle the idiot with the white coat and the stethoscope who was asking stupid questions instead of getting him relief.[...]
Nobody needed to know that he’d actually been in a motel room with Dr. James Wilson. They certainly didn’t need to know exactly what position he was in at the moment he first became aware of the pain.
- by daasgrrl
- slash (House/Wilson) - ENG “Sorry. I was just wondering if you could tell me where I am?” The boy looked slightly dazed.
Why Jimmy, you’ve been hiding things from me, House thought. He looked the boy over again. Nephew? Cousin? Or, the more disturbing thought… son? He was young enough that it was possible. Wilson obviously had some serious explaining to do. At the very least this might be nicely entertaining in the absence of any new and interesting cases.[...]
"It’s all right. I know someone who I’m sure will be able to explain everything.”
“Really?” His face brightened. “Is he… like God?”
This kid couldn’t be for real. “No, but he thinks he is. Come on.”
“Thank you, sir. What should I call you?”
“I‘d prefer you didn‘t,” House said, and then relented. He never knew when he might need the leverage over Wilson. “I’m Doctor House.”
The boy stuck out his hand, but pulled it back when House just glared at it.