hh_mirror | Lorelai and Wilson: Sockpuppeting! And also, an owl.

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Lorelai and Wilson: Sockpuppeting! And also, an owl.

(Warning: tl;dr-ness and excessive use of the phrase 'Chunky Monkey'.)

( Whatever makes you happy // Whatever you want // You're so f*ckin' special // I wish I was special )

( Owl to House, not at all warded, although the owl looks a bit weirded out for some reason. )

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That look was so damn fixed, so hardened that for a minute, Wilson couldn't have looked away if he tried. He paused a moment, as if to try to understand the full weight of his words that he'd just spoken. He'd said something about cheese. Some stuff about Cheesewiz (although if he'd known about Stacy's metaphor, he probably wouldn't have compared House to cheese - that was a bit... strange) and... Good Lord, he'd said he would give Cheesewiz a try, hadn't he? He swallowed a bit, opening and shutting his mouth a few times and managing to look like a fish out of water along the way. Great, so now on top of stammering and horrible dairy metaphors, he had embarrassing loss of control of his muscles to add insult to injury.

"I... know," he finally answered instead, lowly, and glanced away again, to the floor, hands moving to that familiar position on his hips that he had grown so accustomed to. There was no backing out of this now. He had gone from sticking a toe into the water to just cannonballing inside and... Ah. Crap. "It's just... Cheesewiz can be... kind of unpredictable," he added lowly, his voice moving onto a sort of nervous, breathless tone. "And... you know." He really needed to quit this metaphor.

Throwing caution to the wind, House decided to fuck that whole uncertainty thing, he was going for directness. Planting his hands on the table, he leaned forward closer to Wilson with a rather intent look. "So, you're saying I'm unpredictable," he let a slow, very nearly wicked smirk come to life, "And you're sitting there looking like a guppy struck dumb because you have no idea what to do, because you don't know how I'll react, and because you're not even sure if you'll even like it."

As if he were on the same brain-wave, House decided that they really did need to quit the metaphor, because he was sick of being compared to cheese in a can. "We've known each other for ten years, Jimmy, we're hardly blind to our faults. I'm unpredictable and moody and apparently annoying, and you have a rather long history of cheating and fussing over the needy." There wasn't any accusation his voice right then, just honesty and fact, because it needed to be said eventually. "Guess what? I still want this anyway, if you do. Despite how much we piss each other off sometimes, if we've been together for this long, we can make anything work."

Well, that had certainly been a lot more than he'd spoken in the last few days combined, really. And House didn't care if he sounded hopeful or too honest or anything like that. He'd had quite enough of pussy-footing around with metaphors and half-sentences.

...Well, there it was. Out in the open. Dragged, bound and kicking and screaming into the open, really, and Wilson couldn't help but remain slightly frozen, eyes fixed onto House. Because, honestly, while the cheese metaphor had been going on, he had been able to babble. ...About cheese, yeah, but at least he'd been speaking. With the metaphor tossed into the trash can, conversation stripped down to honesty and fact and nothing but the truth. "Yeah, that's what I'm saying," he admitted lowly, rubbing slowly at his arm and nodding once.

He couldn't remember seeing House so open about anything since... God, nearly forever now. Okay, definitely not forever - at least a few months, though, maybe a little longer. Since Stacy had left? He didn't exactly keep track - that would be a bit cruel. Even though he was at that same stage again, that sort of opening and closing of his mouth as he attempted to gather any sort of words, never mind just right ones. Lorelai's words kept sticking in his head, though, even as he felt those last nerves start to make him try to back away. That he wouldn't be so torn over this is he didn't care, somewhat.

"Yeah," he replied finally, and damned the stupid exploding potion, he crossed in, closer, towards the table. And not to make this all chick flick-y or something, but he couldn't help but offer House a half-smile, a halfway paranoid one. House was the one instigating this in the first place, at any rate, and it was a bit... well, stupid, for Wilson to say something along the lines of 'if you're willing' or something. It was awkward enough.

Moving straight from 'Nobody Would Ever Love Me' right to 'Rather Forward', House narrowed his eyes slightly in thought, the pleased smirk staying firmly in place. Wilson still looked incredibly nervous, fidgeting with anything, but was smiling and stepping closer. He knew it was probably rather odd to Wilson, that he was being open for once and telling it like it was, but House persisted. Because Wilson was the kind of guy that appreciated honesty, and House had to force himself to do that, then he would.

"I quit the drugs for you, you know." Huh, that... hadn't been on the list of things to say, actually. It was true, though - yeah, House couldn't refuse any sort of bet, but there had been other reasons. "I thought it might make you happy," he continued, unintentionally speaking more softly than usual. And in hindsight, that sounded a little weird, logically, but he'd thought that since his drug addiction seemed to cause Wilson so much stress, maybe it might be a good thing if he tried out the pills Lily made for him.

Despite his casual confidence, House felt the bare hint of uncertainty reach up and grab him. It was all fine and good that Wilson was agreeing and making the appearance that he was willing, but House couldn't ignore how utterly paranoid the guy looked.

Okay, he couldn't help the paranoia. That wasn't his fault. Much. After three failed marriages, the last of which still fresh on his mind, having only occurred maybe... What, a year ago? Not even? He couldn't even keep track of time anymore, could he? All he could remember was Julie standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing that look of guilt, the same one she'd had when she'd hung up on House for the first time, or when she'd forgotten his last birthday. She hadn't even looked upset. Just... guilty, to have her hand caught in the cookie jar. He remembered a few days on House's couch, that ... prank war, but he couldn't remember a timeline.

Not that a timeline particularly mattered, right now. He'd always used to keep track of things, but he assumed that in a situation like now... well, yeah, an exact date didn't matter. At all. He actually managed to revert back to his previous stupidity again, looking flabbergasted as his eyes locked back onto House at the mention of the drugs. He... Seriously? Quit because of Wilson? When Wilson had spent those few long days cursing Lily for suggesting such a stupid bet? ...Damn. He blinked again, leaning against the table.

"Really?" he replied in a moment of idiocy, looking slightly less tense with the situation, if not just for a moment. Because, really, the lack of drugs? Would... really be a load off his shoulders. Was. A load off his shoulders. House had been struggling with that damned addiction, the Vicodin, his leg, for what seemed like forever now, and then Lily came along with her pain pills and... It was weird. Pain relief without the dependency, or the side effects. Or... detoxing or something.

((*is unspeakably jealous, so she occupies herself until the torrent comes up with tagging and watching hawt Finnish guitarists ala CoB*))

"No, I just like telling huge lies and hearing myself talk," House rolled his eyes, but there was no real barb behind his sarcasm. Wilson would know the mocking denial was just a lot of hot air, just House being House and saying something in effort to clear up the tension. Because as fun as watching Wilson be totally flabbergasted was, it wasn't exactly the look he'd wanted to see resulting in this whole conversation.

He knew what had to be running through Wilson's head right now. It hadn't been that long since Julie had left, hell, it hadn't been that long since he had pushed Stacy away for a second time himself. And he understood the paranoia, he did, because they were both coming off fairly horrendous love lives and history like that couldn't exactly be ignored.

Still. Although House hated taking chances in some things, in other things it was just what he did, how he operated and how he got past all the little annoying things like regrets and hesitation. And Wilson was just looking too goddamn inviting not too, all flustered and half-smiling. "I guess you'd probably go into cardiac arrest if I kissed you right now," House smiled, unable to keep the slight sadness out of his voice, because he was right, Wilson probably would.

At least it was nice to know he hadn't changed any. At least one of them wasn't babbling like a prepubescent boy trying to work past pulling his crush's hair on the playground to show his affection. Honestly. "Well," he commented lightly, raising both eyebrows shortly and giving House a half-grin. "Long as nothing's changed, and the narcissism's still intact." Because, of all things, if they were really doing this... good God, he especially didn't want to lose that aspect of their interaction. That mindless teasing and the sarcasm and... Yes. He'd miss that.

House's words automatically set him slightly taken aback, just because it was so un-House. He actually laughed a bit, albeit nervously, because... Well, yeah, if he had done that out of the blue, without warning? Of course he would have gone into cardiac arrest. Prompted by overexertion or... general disbelief and shock. Something. But that tone to his voice when he spoke, the one that made him--

No. He was not comparing Greg House to a puppy. He didn't care how woeful that voice got.

"I..." he started to say, and grinned again, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I wouldn't know." His eyes jumped to House, then, half tentative and half... expectant? He didn't even know, anymore, at this juncture. Maybe he was just functioning on autopilot.

((ANOTHER THREE WEEKS OH GOD. *goes insane* He can't help it, he's... something approaching happy :P))

"I'm incapable of change, you know that," House matched Wilson's half-grin with a smirk. "Even when I'm ninety years old I'll still be insulting everyone, and hey, I even got the cane early." He would have liked to say something along the lines of 'And hopefully we'll still be in each others lives', but House wasn't entirely sure if that was romantic or not, or even if he should be attempting romantic when he had no clue how to do it. So he'd settle for continuing the mindless teasing and sarcasm, which worked for him.

His grin grew a little when Wilson went from surprised and unsure to... something that House couldn't quite pin down, but he knew it wasn't a refusal. "That is so an invitation," House replied, apparently flippantly but looking far too intent to be so casual.

Thankfully the table in between them was only about a foot wide, so it wasn't far to lean, even if House's bad leg was pressed against the edge and currently very fucking uncomfortable. But he didn't care right now, so House reached across and twined his fingers into Wilson's collar, pulling him forward gently until they were barely an inch apart. "Gonna have a heart attack now?" He murmured, really hoping Wilson didn't back out suddenly because honestly, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself.

"Yes, except when you're ninety you'll be using weirder insults. Like... 'whippersnapper' or something." Even though Wilson was fairly sure that the elderly didn't use worse like 'whippersnapper' anymore. Or if they even had in the first place. Who the hell came up with that word anyway? It didn't even sound real. "Beating small children with your cane and all that. The parents will love you. Not that they don't already, of course."

Oh, this was getting a bit easier. More comfortable, even, and there was about a square mile's worth of room more in this class, out of nowhere. It wasn't so tense and... lots of 'so', 'so?', 'so...' or something equally articulate.

And, better yet, no more cheese metaphors.

However, there was House's hand, curling around his sweater top, tugging him in close and, "Holy sh--", he went to say, and gave up on the word completely, letting his gaze jump up to meet House's. This close, he could make out every inch of that sharp blue, those damned analytical eyes that he'd never really noticed until now, when they baring down at him, almost predatory. "I... I might," he admitted in a low voice, just automatically submitting to the tug and resisting the strange urge to pull the guy back in.

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Lorelai and Wilson: Sockpuppeting! And also, an owl.

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