Actually, Wilson was pretty sure that PSPs were dating back to elementary school a bit, which maybe evened out a bit with the high school somewhat to make an... upper middle-schooler to a freshman in high school. Somewhere. Still, he hadn't had a hickey in... years, not since he'd first been with Julie - very first been with Julie, mind you - and it was going to be odd to be in a position where he wasn't m... well, he probably was still going to be mocked mercilessly for wearing a turtleneck to cover it later, actually. That was probably inevitable.
House pulled away, that evil, evil grin still dotting at his face, and Wilson couldn't help but clasp a hand, mildly self-consciously, against the spot, as if he could feel how red it was probably blossoming at the moment. Heh. He felt randomly scandalous, which he probably shouldn't have been with something as simple as a hickey, but, hey, he hadn't done this whole guy on guy thing since college. Long story. Lots of vodka involved.
"A date?" he repeated blankly, as if he'd forgotten the meaning of the word for a moment. "A date." ...Okay, that... he could do. That, he was an expert at, usually. Knew all the ways to make a girl melt, to get her to open up (er, in more ways than one), where to go... Wilson was a manwhore, basically. Only House wasn't just any woman, wasn't just a date that he could pawn off at a fancy French place or something. Or was he? Er. ... No, he very much wasn't. He'd have to think about that, if they were going to. Although, hell, half of the times they'd hung out had nearly been dates. Six pack, a pizza and a few old movies or something. It was crude, yes, but good times. "Yeah," he finally said with a small laugh, cocking an eyebrow right back at him. "We could do that." And, added jokingly, "How do you feel about carnations again?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-03-08 12:36 am (UTC)Actually, Wilson was pretty sure that PSPs were dating back to elementary school a bit, which maybe evened out a bit with the high school somewhat to make an... upper middle-schooler to a freshman in high school. Somewhere. Still, he hadn't had a hickey in... years, not since he'd first been with Julie - very first been with Julie, mind you - and it was going to be odd to be in a position where he wasn't m... well, he probably was still going to be mocked mercilessly for wearing a turtleneck to cover it later, actually. That was probably inevitable.
House pulled away, that evil, evil grin still dotting at his face, and Wilson couldn't help but clasp a hand, mildly self-consciously, against the spot, as if he could feel how red it was probably blossoming at the moment. Heh. He felt randomly scandalous, which he probably shouldn't have been with something as simple as a hickey, but, hey, he hadn't done this whole guy on guy thing since college. Long story. Lots of vodka involved.
"A date?" he repeated blankly, as if he'd forgotten the meaning of the word for a moment. "A date." ...Okay, that... he could do. That, he was an expert at, usually. Knew all the ways to make a girl melt, to get her to open up (er, in more ways than one), where to go... Wilson was a manwhore, basically. Only House wasn't just any woman, wasn't just a date that he could pawn off at a fancy French place or something. Or was he? Er. ... No, he very much wasn't. He'd have to think about that, if they were going to. Although, hell, half of the times they'd hung out had nearly been dates. Six pack, a pizza and a few old movies or something. It was crude, yes, but good times. "Yeah," he finally said with a small laugh, cocking an eyebrow right back at him. "We could do that." And, added jokingly, "How do you feel about carnations again?"