I think I've gotten back into writing mode now, but anyone who wants to know when/if something is going to be updated, or anything like that, this is my writing journal:kiwi-ficjournal dot livejournal dot comwhich contains things I have written, and of course will be updated as I write more, and gives me an oppertunity to let people know how progress is going. If you have questions about my writing, feel free to ask them over there, and also feel free to friend me is you're an LJ user. That out of the way, here is something I started as an excersise to get writing again but has, in my head, developed into quite a story. Spoilers for "Sex Kills" (Seaosn 2). Disclaimer: Do you see House pinning Wilson against a wall and smearing him with chocolate sauce? No? Ok, I guess I don't own the show then.
Enjoy this, and be safe in the knowledge that I have already started work on the second part of it!
"Have you ever?"
"Nope."
"Truth or dare?"
"Nope."
"Spin the bottle?"
Wilson grimaced, "I'm not that drunk." He took another swig of beer, before decisively setting it down.
House stared at him across the kitchen table, pizza box between them, and held his eyes. "My house, my rules." He declared. "And one of my top rules is when I'm bored, the guest has to entertain me."
"We could just watch a movie…" Wilson broke his gaze; all his energy for banter had run out.
"Nope." House grinned.
"Fine. Truth or dare. Without the dare part."
"So it's just truth? Jimmy, you should know I never lie anyway."
Wilson smiled inwardly at House calling him "Jimmy". He hated it really, from anyone else he always hated it, but House's accompanying smirk always made him warm up. "Then you'll probably win."
House went first. "Why did you decide to stay with me?"
"You know."
"Yeah, but I want you to say it."
"Because there is no one else I would want to stay with." House fixed him with a steely glare, and Wilson gave up all hope of getting out of tonight with his dignity…with what remained of his dignity after finding his wife had been cheating on him. "Because I doubt I would be welcomed by anyone else."
"How many friends do you have?" House asked, again fully knowing the answer.
"Hey, I answered one question, now it's your turn." He thought for a second, dramatising the process with "hmmm"s and "eerrrr"s. "Do you like Cameron? Wait, wait, let me rephrase – do you want Cameron?"
"My god, is this a slumber party? Just a second, let me get my pink jammies!" Wilson tapped his fingers on the table top. "No. Her technical aesthetics are flawless. She's too…perfect, to be sexy."
"K." Wilson shook his head and smiled a little.
"What?"
"'Too perfect to be sexy'? What the hell does that mean?"
House laughed. "She'd be boring…ok, she'd be fun for a limited time only. But when someone looks so perfect they get by on their appearance. They don't develop any skills."
Wilson laughed back. "Same as Chase."
"Oh I don't know…his oral fixation suggests a certain love for things being in his mouth. I bet he's got some real good techniques. Jesus, Wilson, you giggle like a little girl!"
"Well you sound like a creepy old man…did we really just discuss if Chase could give a good blowjob?"
"Just have some more to drink." House leant over the table and nudged Wilson's beer back to its owner. "My turn to ask a question…what is your worst memory?"
"Shit, House, you could get some real bad answers if you used that one irresponsibly. My worst memory is…when everyone in my second grade class followed me around calling me "freak" for 4 and a half days."
"Aww."
"Shut up."
"That's not your worst memory."
"It was horrible." Wilson protested.
"I'm sure, but it was not your worst memory. I know you; your worst memory is going to be something you feel guilty about."
"Fine. My worst memory is of one month ago next Tuesday, when I realised that there was no way my marriage with Julie would work, and I had put her, and myself, through it all for no reason."
"What made you realise that?"
"You'll have to wait your turn to ask that one. I answered your first question. What precisely did you mean by that kind of a friend and deeper errors?"
"What?" House looked closely, and saw Wilson's eyes were beginning to glaze over. He was leaving sober land. "I mean exactly what you think I meant." This is true, if you are in fact thinking what I think you are; which is probably what you are thinking if in fact it is your knee that has been pressed with more than casual closeness against mine all night. Or something to that effect. House shook his head with a soft grunt, in an effort to clear away the bad grammar and run on sentences.
"What did you realise?"
Wilson sighed. "I knew you were going to ask that."
"Well then you should have an answer all prepared."
"I realised…no. I'm not telling you. I guess I lose the game."
"My house, my rules." House repeated. "You aren't out of the game yet. Answer the question."
"Well I quit. Let's just watch a movie, relax or something." Wilson abruptly rose from the table and walked in the living room.
House braced himself, then followed, bringing two fresh beers with him. Two bottles were held between the fingers on his one spare hand, and he wondered for a second if he would be able to pick up the pretzel bowl as well, but decided against it. Picking up his cane from its resting place on the side counter, he could see Wilson through the door running a hand over his face, his shoulders shuddering briefly. They watched the movie – something about a volcano, or earthquake, or something like that – House wasn't really paying attention, in silence. He ran over thoughts in his head, processing information and always coming up with the same, vaguely disturbing answer. The fact that they were on a large couch but still sat in contact, that Wilson flinched when House reached across him for the remote and let out a shaky breath when he moved back fuelled House's theories. When the thought had crossed his mind earlier…it had been an idea, a whim, which had grown roots at Wilson's shocked reaction. His hurt reaction.
"Ok, what was it?" House poked Wilson in the arm.
"Hmm?"
"What did you realise?"
"House, will you just drop it?"
"No. And I'm not going to until you tell me. I'm also going to operate on my personal theory to see if I get any definite response."
"Meaning what?"
House brought his face in close to Wilson's, so their lips were almost touching, and looked into his eyes. "Oh I don't know…" He didn't move.
Wilson held his gaze.
House pushed his body closer.
Wilson sharply drew in a breath.
House winked.
"I realised…I realised I wanted to do this." Wilson closed the space between their lips.
