House MD Fanfiction

180 Degrees

Hilson, smut, medium

By: Michelle Christian

Accelerate.

House hated Wilson at that moment. There he was, sprawled on the other side of the couch watching this stupid horror movie, relaxed, drunk, and more appealing than anyone had a right to be. House intensely wished he were the kind of person who would take advantage of a drunken friend. In fact, he'd always thought he was that kind of person. More than a few of his fantasies involved a happily--or even morosely, and occasionally angrily--drunk Wilson. He would be pliable and sweet and utterly at House's mercy. He would also be able to get into positions the laws of man and God would not normally allow.

"Who watches videotapes anymore, anyway?" Wilson asked, as the closet door opened on someone scared to death.

"Teenagers in the Pacific Northwest, apparently," House said, not moving away from the feet nudging against his leg. If he ignored them, maybe they wouldn't go away.

"You'd think they'd have brought their GameCubes instead."

"I would have. Of course, it's difficult to make out while you're trying to get Lara Croft to jump off a cliff."

"True. Sometimes the classics are best."

Wilson had been staying with him for four days. He'd looked through the real estate section of the paper every morning, talked about the kind of place he'd need, but seemed oddly reluctant to do anything about it.

They got up in the morning together, went to work together, and went home together. A few times, they had also had lunch together. House suspected this much togetherness was going to kill one of them, and he knew who he was betting on. Anyone else but Wilson he probably would have shot already, but it being Wilson was part of the problem: Even he was finding it difficult to fantasize about his best friend when said best friend was sleeping on the couch in the next room.

"So, is that what you're trying to do?" Wilson asked, smiling at him.

Most people thought James Wilson was a nice guy. Sweet, charming, good and true. Everyone's favorite cancer-fighting boy scout, ready to help little old ladies across the street or slay malignant growths as needed. House, however, knew him better than that, and didn't trust that smile. He didn't trust what it did to him, either. "No, I've already made Lara jump off plenty of cliffs," he said.

"Here we sit, watching horror movies. And you just said watching horror movies made it easier to get laid." Wilson trailed off, smile deepening, eyes twinkling like Tinkerbell on speed.

"Why would I bother?" House asked casually. Attempted casual. Fought for it like housewives fought for the last Kathy Lee Gifford top at Wal-Mart. He made himself turn back to the screen. "You're a cheap date as it is. Plus, you don't have the legs for my favorite cheerleading outfit, so what would be the point?" House felt a sock-clad foot nudge his thigh again.

"I don't think you have the legs for it, either, but I wouldn't stop you if you wanted to model it."

"I don't wear it for anyone who won't put out," House said, playing with fire and enjoying the slightly singed feeling and rush of panic.

Another nudge.

"Get me drunk enough and you might be surprised."

"Oh, I think you're well on your way, Captain Morgan," House pointed out, trying to take deep breaths without calling attention to the fact that he was taking deep breaths.

Then he had two socked feet in his lap. When he looked at Wilson, he was treated to a nonchalant shrug and Wilson in profile as he appeared to watch the TV intently.