Just a wee drabble for my House fans while I am on a mad Supernatural rampage...sorry about that.
No ownership rights. As usual.
"Stacy."
"No. I'm Wilson."
They were sitting on House's sofa, Wilson finishing off his third beer and House half way down his bottle of whatever it was he had decided to break into that evening. They had switched the TV on as usual, but weren't really watching it.
"But I feel something I usually associate with Stacy." House mused.
"What you are feeling," Wilson said, with exasperation, "Is my leg." He pinched House's little finger between his thumb and forefinger and lifted the diagnostician's hand up before dropping it unceremoniously on the sofa between them.
House gripped the end of his cane, thoughtfully. "No, no – I conclude that although this is similar to Stacy, it is at the same time different; more intense."
"House, you're drunk." Wilson sighed, glancing across at the bottle on the table and waving his hand up and down in front of House's face.
House smirked at one of the three Wilson's in front of him. "I'm not drunk." He stated simply, and then downing another mouthful added, "I think I love you."
Wilson shook his head, barely disguising a grin. "Definitely drunk." He stood up with a slight wobble and dragged House to his feet. "Off to bed I think." He concluded, steering his friend in the direction of his bedroom.
House stopped just short of the door, turning round, his weight on his cane, eyebrows arched.
"Are you coming?"
"Funnily enough, no." Wilson answered.
House limped away into the room, yelling behind him, "Stacy always did."
The oncologist rolled his eyes and lay down on the sofa.
"Wilson!" House yelled again.
Wilson sighed as he hauled himself back off the sofa and headed towards the bedroom, a glint in his eye.
Arguing with House always was a waste of time.
