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Sunday, June 25th, 2006 03:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
evila_elfTitle: My Guy
Rating: Pg-13/R
Pairing: H/W
Wordcount: 1128
Summary: Wilson is lonely and bored while House is gone.
Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daasgrrl's birthday. She wanted a fic where Wilson sings and/or dances.
My Guy
Wilson sighed and switched off the TV. He was bored. It was his day off. House’s too, but there had been some patient emergency and he had to run—figuratively speaking, that is. He sighed again, annoyed. There had to be some other form of entertainment besides House. He wasn’t that pathetic. Was he?
He stood and scanned the apartment. His eyes lingered on the kitchen and he wrinkled his nose. Dishes. Lots of dishes. Maybe now that he had some peace and quiet he could get them done. It was impossible to get things cleaned up when House was insistent on watching TV or…other activities. Wilson had to smile. Dishes! he reminded himself. Even when House wasn’t there, House managed to distract him!
With the TV off, it was quiet. Too quiet. Wilson was tempted to switch the noise box back on. To give himself some company, like owners do in an attempt to keep their pets from getting lonely while they are away. House’s pet…maybe he should buy himself a leash...Dishes!
One foot in front of the other and he found himself standing before the full sink. He wrinkled his nose again, this time at the smell. He spied a radio in the corner and went to turn it on. Some hard rock song blasted from the speakers and Wilson quickly turned the volume down, then flicked through the stations to find something that wouldn’t make his ears bleed. He settled on an oldies station, the song Teen Angel soothing him as he turned back toward the dishes.
Wilson spread an old dishtowel down next to the sink and started moving the dishes onto it, telling himself the whole time that the critters running away from the light were all just in his imagination. He started humming along to the old songs in an attempt to distract himself from what his hands were touching.
I can’t see love in nobody but you
for all my life.
When I’m with you,
Baby the sky will be blue
for all my life...
Wilson mumbled along to the song by the Turtles as he concentrated on chipping away leftovers from the bottom of a pot. He frowned at it in a feeble hope that he would scare the pot into shaking itself clean. Yeah, feeble. Very. Maybe he could go out and buy new pots. But it was too late to head out and buy new kitchenware, and the whole point of doing the dishes was to take his mind off of House’s absence.
Wilson was just in the process of drying a large serving spoon when a new song began:
Nothing you could say
Can tear me away from my guy
Nothing you could do
Cause I'm stuck like glue to my guy
Wilson started to smile...
***
House entered his apartment and slammed the door to announce his arrival. He shouldn’t have bothered. The music that was blaring from the kitchen was enough to make even the clumsiest of burglars a stealthy success. He followed the music to the doorway, a reprimand about loud music being his shtick on his lips. Whatever he was about to say fled his mind with little chance of return…Wilson’s sleeves were rolled up, delicious forearms exposed. His fingers were wrapped around the thin handle of a spoon, the spoon near his mouth. His mouth...was singing. Wilson was singing. Falsetto.
“As a matter of opinion
I think he's tops.
My opinion is he's the
cream of the crop.
As a matter of taste to be exact,
He's my ideal as a matter of fact.”
House bit his lip. House put a hand across his mouth. Two hands. Then laughter exploded from between the fingers.
Wilson yelped like a dog that had been whapped on the end of the nose with a rolled up newspaper, then dropped the spoon with a splash into the water—drowning the evidence, perhaps. He whirled around, eyes wide, face red. Yep, full panic mode, frozen in place by terror...or at least by abject humiliation.
The song continued, way too happy and pleased sounding:
He may not be a movie star
But when it comes to be happy,
we are.
There's not a man today who
could take me away from my guy
House approached and placed a hand on the edge of the counter on either side of Wilson’s waist. He was grinning at his silly lover. He moved in closer, closing the bit of space between their bodies. Wilson was so hot when he was flustered.
The singing oncologist was afraid to look House in the eyes. It was only a matter of time before the jokes started, now that he had hesitated too long and it was too late to flee.
House leaned forward and kissed the blush lines on Wilson’s neck, then his even redder cheek. The song came to an end and neither seemed to notice.
Wilson finally looked at House as he pulled back, still leery. House rubbed against him and his anxiety started to melt away lips and tongue found his just as a new song started to play:
I Henry the 8th I am
Henry the 8th I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door,
She’s been married seven times before...
They turned as one to look at the radio. Then House started to laugh. “Looks like this is going to be our song now!”
Wilson groaned and cast a helpless gaze ceilingward.
House took the opportunity to kiss the exposed neck, a smile upon his face. He pulled away and motioned for Wilson to follow. Towards the bedroom.
Once again, House was distracting him from the dishes. And, once again, he didn’t mind one bit as he was willingly dragged towards the bedroom, clothes seeming to disappear with each step. House sat on the edge of the bed and Wilson helped tug his jeans off before shoving him backwards and climbing on top, aligning both their naked bodies.
Wilson ran his fingers over House’s sides and kissed the stubble along his jaw, feeling House’s lips against the side of his cheek. Then he felt the lips curl up into a smile.
“Your hands are all pruney,” House whispered.
Wilson dropped his head down to House’s shoulder and sighed. “And it starts,” he mumbled against the skin.
House lifted Wilson’s head with a finger under his chin, giving him a soft kiss. “Very talented mouth. Maybe you could show off some of its hidden talents for me?”
Wilson narrowed his eyes at his lover. Then he slid downwards, planting kisses against House’s neck, chest, stomach. He paused. “How about an oldie but a goodie?” He smiled but didn’t give House a chance to reply.
So Happy Together—Turtles:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/sp88lu
My Guy:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/9zd9kk
Henry the VIII
http://www.sendspace.com/file/65urzr
Rating: Pg-13/R
Pairing: H/W
Wordcount: 1128
Summary: Wilson is lonely and bored while House is gone.
Note: Written for
daasgrrl's birthday. She wanted a fic where Wilson sings and/or dances.My Guy
Wilson sighed and switched off the TV. He was bored. It was his day off. House’s too, but there had been some patient emergency and he had to run—figuratively speaking, that is. He sighed again, annoyed. There had to be some other form of entertainment besides House. He wasn’t that pathetic. Was he?
He stood and scanned the apartment. His eyes lingered on the kitchen and he wrinkled his nose. Dishes. Lots of dishes. Maybe now that he had some peace and quiet he could get them done. It was impossible to get things cleaned up when House was insistent on watching TV or…other activities. Wilson had to smile. Dishes! he reminded himself. Even when House wasn’t there, House managed to distract him!
With the TV off, it was quiet. Too quiet. Wilson was tempted to switch the noise box back on. To give himself some company, like owners do in an attempt to keep their pets from getting lonely while they are away. House’s pet…maybe he should buy himself a leash...Dishes!
One foot in front of the other and he found himself standing before the full sink. He wrinkled his nose again, this time at the smell. He spied a radio in the corner and went to turn it on. Some hard rock song blasted from the speakers and Wilson quickly turned the volume down, then flicked through the stations to find something that wouldn’t make his ears bleed. He settled on an oldies station, the song Teen Angel soothing him as he turned back toward the dishes.
Wilson spread an old dishtowel down next to the sink and started moving the dishes onto it, telling himself the whole time that the critters running away from the light were all just in his imagination. He started humming along to the old songs in an attempt to distract himself from what his hands were touching.
I can’t see love in nobody but you
for all my life.
When I’m with you,
Baby the sky will be blue
for all my life...
Wilson mumbled along to the song by the Turtles as he concentrated on chipping away leftovers from the bottom of a pot. He frowned at it in a feeble hope that he would scare the pot into shaking itself clean. Yeah, feeble. Very. Maybe he could go out and buy new pots. But it was too late to head out and buy new kitchenware, and the whole point of doing the dishes was to take his mind off of House’s absence.
Wilson was just in the process of drying a large serving spoon when a new song began:
Nothing you could say
Can tear me away from my guy
Nothing you could do
Cause I'm stuck like glue to my guy
Wilson started to smile...
***
House entered his apartment and slammed the door to announce his arrival. He shouldn’t have bothered. The music that was blaring from the kitchen was enough to make even the clumsiest of burglars a stealthy success. He followed the music to the doorway, a reprimand about loud music being his shtick on his lips. Whatever he was about to say fled his mind with little chance of return…Wilson’s sleeves were rolled up, delicious forearms exposed. His fingers were wrapped around the thin handle of a spoon, the spoon near his mouth. His mouth...was singing. Wilson was singing. Falsetto.
“As a matter of opinion
I think he's tops.
My opinion is he's the
cream of the crop.
As a matter of taste to be exact,
He's my ideal as a matter of fact.”
House bit his lip. House put a hand across his mouth. Two hands. Then laughter exploded from between the fingers.
Wilson yelped like a dog that had been whapped on the end of the nose with a rolled up newspaper, then dropped the spoon with a splash into the water—drowning the evidence, perhaps. He whirled around, eyes wide, face red. Yep, full panic mode, frozen in place by terror...or at least by abject humiliation.
The song continued, way too happy and pleased sounding:
He may not be a movie star
But when it comes to be happy,
we are.
There's not a man today who
could take me away from my guy
House approached and placed a hand on the edge of the counter on either side of Wilson’s waist. He was grinning at his silly lover. He moved in closer, closing the bit of space between their bodies. Wilson was so hot when he was flustered.
The singing oncologist was afraid to look House in the eyes. It was only a matter of time before the jokes started, now that he had hesitated too long and it was too late to flee.
House leaned forward and kissed the blush lines on Wilson’s neck, then his even redder cheek. The song came to an end and neither seemed to notice.
Wilson finally looked at House as he pulled back, still leery. House rubbed against him and his anxiety started to melt away lips and tongue found his just as a new song started to play:
I Henry the 8th I am
Henry the 8th I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door,
She’s been married seven times before...
They turned as one to look at the radio. Then House started to laugh. “Looks like this is going to be our song now!”
Wilson groaned and cast a helpless gaze ceilingward.
House took the opportunity to kiss the exposed neck, a smile upon his face. He pulled away and motioned for Wilson to follow. Towards the bedroom.
Once again, House was distracting him from the dishes. And, once again, he didn’t mind one bit as he was willingly dragged towards the bedroom, clothes seeming to disappear with each step. House sat on the edge of the bed and Wilson helped tug his jeans off before shoving him backwards and climbing on top, aligning both their naked bodies.
Wilson ran his fingers over House’s sides and kissed the stubble along his jaw, feeling House’s lips against the side of his cheek. Then he felt the lips curl up into a smile.
“Your hands are all pruney,” House whispered.
Wilson dropped his head down to House’s shoulder and sighed. “And it starts,” he mumbled against the skin.
House lifted Wilson’s head with a finger under his chin, giving him a soft kiss. “Very talented mouth. Maybe you could show off some of its hidden talents for me?”
Wilson narrowed his eyes at his lover. Then he slid downwards, planting kisses against House’s neck, chest, stomach. He paused. “How about an oldie but a goodie?” He smiled but didn’t give House a chance to reply.
So Happy Together—Turtles:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/sp88lu
My Guy:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/9zd9kk
Henry the VIII
http://www.sendspace.com/file/65urzr
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-27 02:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-27 02:14 pm (UTC)Henry the VIII is just excellent! :)
*amazed once again by just how wonderful the internet is*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-27 08:08 pm (UTC)Back when I was writing it, I was tring to decide what songs to use, so I switched on to the Oldies for a little inspiration and the first three songs that played were the ones I used, they fit so well.
*huggles*