House MD Fanfiction

In The Next Room

Hilson, pining, 2,732 words
By: tedspants

         “House, what’s that smell? Are you cooking…”

            Wilson entered House’s kitchen and noticed a cooling rack on the counter.

            “…brownies?”

            House peered over his back as he pulled another batch out of the oven.

            “Special brownies.” He said mischievously, waggling his eyebrows.

            Wilson smiled for a moment at the joke, then realized that the strong smell filling House’s apartment wasn’t exactly brownie-like…

            “You’re serious?!”

            House smirked. Wilson buried his face in his palms.

            “Jesus, House, the whole street can probably smell these! And why are you making so many? Planning to hand them out at tomorrow’s conference?”

            “Oh Wilson, you know I wouldn’t be caught dead at a conference.”

            Wilson took in the scene in front of him. House was wearing an apron and oven mitts, and he was actually smiling. Wilson sighed. If only House’s good mood was due to something other than drugs.

            “Well do you have a group of stoner college pals you forgot to mention?”

            “Nah bro, just one.” House said in an exaggerated surfer dude voice.

            It took Wilson a second to understand. “Wait, you don’t mean me?”

            “Obviously I mean you. In case you’ve forgotten, you are my one and only friend. And that title comes with some perks!” House opened the fridge and fished out two beers, handing one to Wilson. Then House offered him a brownie.       

            “No way.”

            “Why noooottttt” House whined.

            “Because I’m not eating pot brownies with you House!” Wilson whispered, looking around as though the room was bugged and cops would bust through the door any second.

            “Why not?” House challenged. “Afraid you might have fun?”

            “I don’t need drugs to have fun. I think you’re forgetting that what you’re doing here is illegal.”

            House rolled his eyes. “Oh c’mon, like you’re one to talk, Mr. I-roll-joints-for-patients.”

            Wilson hesitated. “That’s different.”

            “I think you’re just a big chicken. Little Jimmy, always afraid to break the rules.” House gave him a pointed look as he took a bite of one of the brownies. “You know you want to.”

            “You can’t peer pressure me into getting high with you!”

 

            It turned out House could peer pressure him into getting high. Very high. And very drunk. Reality seemed to be vibrating slightly and it felt amazing. Wilson was sprawled out on the kitchen floor, staring up at the ceiling in total satisfaction. He felt giddy and spaced out but in a pleasurable way, like he was floating.