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

[waffleishappy.livejournal.com]

(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. )

Comments

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

((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.

[jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com]

"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.