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

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(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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[jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com]

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?"

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

House froze a little. Wait, had he actually just confirmed that a formal date might be a good thing? He was useless at formal dates, he just had no idea what to do and how to behave in a decent social manner. There was all those manners that you were supposed to use, and then there was the small talk, and oh god, he'd actually have to make an effort on his appearance. Wait, did he even have nice clothes? Good lord. It was sad that the thought of a date could halt even Gregory House's brain.

But Wilson seemed to take an interest in the idea, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. And come on, it was Wilson, that wouldn't make for an awkward date, right? They could diagnose the people around them and make subtle, insulting comments about the waitresses. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"Everybody knows that carnations are a flower for women," House dismissed. "Come on, I'd at least think you'd buy me a nice cactus, maybe - something with personality, at least." And after the hopefully not too excruciating period of having to behave over a dinner table, they could go back to their old beer, pizza and couch. "And I'm not going to be one of your regular dates, Pimp Master," House teased, waving a particularly odd smelling ingredient at Wilson to emphasize his point. "I don't put out on the first date. Well," he stopped, and looked contemplative, and then smirked, "Not unless you make it worth my while."

[jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com]

Yes, House HAD in fact suggested a formal date, and the concept of which... Wilson was still trying to wrap his brain around it, really, somewhere between his plotting as to what would be a... semi-appropriate thing that could count as a date for the two of them. Which... What was there to do around here anyway? He was really going to have to work to get something like this to work, wasn't he? Dammit. House. Instilling this idea into his brain.

"A cactus has personality?" Wilson asked incredulously, eyebrow still cocked in intrigue as he looked to House with a laugh. "Oh, damn it all. I'll just get you a venus flytrap and call it a day." No, really. It would fit him. After a pause, he let those full words sink in, about to question the nature of 'Pimp Master' when the putting out was mentioned. And. Holy crap, he had thought ahead, but somehow his mind had... temporarily forgotten... that. And automatically, he jumped to, 'who would TOP?', just for a moment, in a brief time of... purely unadultered curiosity.

He just reverted to lifting his eyebrows shortly, contemplatively, before he shrugged and leaned back against the table, trying not to think to that frothing potion as he glanced the other male over, halfway scandalously. "Guess I'll have to make it worth your while then?" he commented with a grin.

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

Whatever Wilson was planning - House could see it in his expression - House was going to leave it all up to him. Because good lord, a date planned by Greg House? Could only go very, very wrong. And Wilson had a hell of a lot more experience at this than he did, so he was quite content to indulge his laziness and not do any work.

"Of course a cactus has personality," House scoffed, "Hell of a lot more personality than flowers." There was reasoning behind his theory, something to do with cacti living a lot longer and flowers only lasting a day or two after removed from the plant, but it all sounded a little too weird to say out loud. Not to mention irrelevant. He had to smirk at the venus flytrap quip though. "Oh, how fitting," he rolled his eyes in amusement. "Get the grumpy intern-eating doctor a temperamental fly-eating plant. How romantic."

It had been a lie, really, when House had said he didn't put out on the first date. A huge lie. House would probably put out for a beer, or even if Wilson looked at him the right way. As it was, that once over that Wilson just gave him? Damn. Deciding he'd had quite enough of hanging around in this room, House left the cauldron behind and walked around the table, giving Wilson's ass a swift smack as he did. "Come on, Wonder Kid," he smirked, "You need to go find some restaurants and I need to shower and get this blue shit off me."

[jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com]

A date created by Greg House may or may not have been extremely horrendous. Possibly disastrous, and involving one of those cheap-ass movie theaters where they have to pull up the plywood boards to make the theater a widescreen view, and possibly an attempted handjob. Or maybe it wouldn't be all that horrific at all, considering how nice of a place he'd chosen when shudder he'd taken Cameron out, those few years ago, and that whole corsage thing. He might not have been too bad at the whole 'date' thing at all.

'Flowers have personality!' Wilson moved to retort, but in light of the fact that such an argument would have been... probably the most flamboyant thing he'd done, defending flowers, and this was coming from the guy who had blow-dried his hair daily and... Good God, he PAINTED his TOENAILS. "Venus flytraps could totally be romantic," he replied scoffingly instead, sounding almost indignant.

Wilson didn't have too much time to act reproving. His eyes leapt open and he jumped at the slap, glancing incredulously to House. Good GOD, he had just slapped his ASS. "Getting FRISKY in your old age," he commented with a grin, glancing after House and wondering vaguely as to the use of 'Wonder Kid'. That just... no. Strange. "Okay. So. Restaurants." He could do that. ...If they existed around here. Did they? God, he'd have to research this or something.

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

If Wilson had mentioned any of that out loud, House would have acted very insulted. Acted being the key word, here, because he wasn't going to try defending his dating tactics. Dating just wasn't his thing. Plus, cheap places tended to make you focus more on the other person and not the oh-so-fantastic food that more expensive places tended to dish out. The few times he tried actually being romantic, he just got called cheesy, so... yeah, not his thing. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad with Wilson.

"Oh, stop defending flowers," House grouched. "Want to run around in a rainbow flag next? I'm sure everybody in the hallways will love you." Again, his sarcasm wasn't terribly pointed, he was just having fun. Because he'd spent the last few days drunk or not talking, so he needed to make up in bitching time. But venus flytraps, romantic? "Since when did carnivorous plants become romantic? Because that's totally the kind of romantic I could go for," he winked lasciviously.

He snorted lightly at Wilson's reaction to the ass slap, and restrained himself from doing it again just to see if Wilson would jump even more. "Well, lucky for you if I am," he over exaggerated a pointed leer, which... really didn't need to exaggerated all that much, really. "I don't care what restaurant you pick, just book a table and meet me outside the castle tomorrow. I have transport." Which, yes, was his motorbike, and House wondered exactly how much cajoling it was going to take to get Wilson to ride on the 'death trap'.

[jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com]

Dating not being House's 'thing' was probably one of the largest understatements of this century, actually. Someone so socially... inept? Socially retarded? Something. Yes, Wilson couldn't imagine House's dates being anything but awkward. Even when he'd been with Stacy, he'd never spoke much of dates - they hadn't gone on too many, at any rate. Hell, they'd met in a bar, which wasn't exactly the spitting image of class. Although cheesy, Wilson had no problem with, really. Hell, Wilson kind of liked cheesy. Not that he'd ever admit it.

"I'm not defending flowers," he responded indignantly, sounding slightly defensive, even though... he very much was. Again, though, with the arguing towards his masculinity. Speaking of masculinity. Or lack thereof. "In just a rainbow flag?" he prompted back instead, suggestively. "Could get interesting." ...Dear lord, what was he saying? He was NOT running around in a rainbow flag. Ever. ...It was bad enough that he had mentioned the skirt thing before, and look what had come of that. Fantastic. House was going to try to fill him up with tequila again, wasn't he?

And... oh, dear, he was even leering and... that was halfway between disturbing and extremely... hot? Maybe not hot. Maybe just disturbing. And extremely so, coming out of House, although Wilson just grinned a bit towards the reaction. "All right, all right," he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck and nodding. "But if my 'transport', you mean that screaming metal death trap... no." It was almost like he was reading the man's mind.

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

"You say you're not defending them, but that defensive body language doesn't lie," House declared. But good lord, the image of Wilson running around in nothing but a rainbow flag? Okay, so the rainbow flag was fairly ridiculous, but take that away, and... he probably shouldn't be thinking about that right now, however fun the idea might be. House glanced downwards briefly. Down, boy. "Do not talk like that," he complained, "I woke up on the floor of a bar this morning, I'm not up to particularly vigorous thinking right now."

Rubbing a hand over his face, uncaring that he was smudging the blue liquid around and making it worse, House glared at the cauldron. He couldn't be bothered cleaning it up. Ah well, he'd just leave it here and hope it didn't randomly explode. Somebody else would clean it up later.

"Yes, yes, we all know you hate my motorbike," House rolled his eyes, beginning to make his way to the doorway and just automatically assuming that Wilson would follow him. It was neither a denial or a confirmation, though, and House left it at that. They sure as hell weren't going to be walking anywhere on this date, if House had any say in it.

[jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com]

...He didn't have defensive body language. ...Did he? Wilson glanced down to himself, folded arms and minutely hunched shoulders and all, and nearly had to hold back a laugh. Well, if that didn't scream defensive, honestly, he didn't know what did. ...Damn. Okay, whatever. Fine. Moving off the topic of flowers, and the fact that Wilson was defending them. He knitted his brow a bit instead, concernedly, trying (and trying pretty hard, actually, to rid his features of that ridiculous, scrunchy-faced, worried grandmother that he always seemed to don whenever House had done something horrid. "You woke up on the floor of a bar?"

The grin was present, twisting up the corners of his mouth before he could stop it as House scrubbed at his face. That blue gunk smudged all across his nose, his cheek, and Wilson had to suppress a wild gig manly, manly laugh giggle. He looked so ridiculous right now and just... really didn't care. It was just so the House that everyone knew and lo... Well, Wilson loved.

Heh. 'Love'. He was going to have to be careful around that word.

"I don't hate it," Wilson replied, sounding mildly defensive again as he followed after House, debating this whole 'transportation' thing. "I just... very much dislike the idea of having to go on it." Only... Wilson didn't have his car here (and even if he did, he wasn't sure it would work on the grounds. Although if House's motorbike was working...), he didn't know how to magically induce any form of magical transportation, Floo powder completely escaped him, walking was totally out of the question. ...Well, shit. They might be needing to use it, wouldn't they?

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

((Since House is going to be abrupt and bugger off to nurse his hangover, and I've had nothing to do for the last few hours and typed up the date post, shall I post it? :D))

Glancing quickly across at Wilson, House rolled his eyes and shrugged minutely. It was probably a good thing that he'd left out the part where he'd woken up next to a zombie that wanted to eat his brains, who knew how Wilson would have reacted then. "If it's one thing you learn off my mistakes, Jimmy, it's that you should never accept the dare of multiple shots of Wizarding alcohol you don't know the name of," he replied flippantly, giving no clue as to why he'd been at the bar in the first place. Hell, Wilson didn't need to know that he'd been pining emo drinking his problems away.

Ugh, he really needed to shower. And take maybe a dozen aspirin or something to kill his hangover, and then sleep for a very long time. "Aw, you doubt my driving abilities?" He whined mockingly, pulling a sad face. He was getting Wilson on that motorcycle.

Once they were outside in the hallway, House tapped his cane on the floor and frowned a little. "Meet me outside at 6pm tomorrow?" It sounded like a question, but it was really more of a statement. For a moment, House dithered slightly, wondering exactly what the proper goodbye was, and then deciding he didn't care. So he simply began walking off in the opposite direction to the Slytherin common room, tossing a smirk and a "Don't get up too too much trouble while I'm not around," over his shoulder at Wilson.

[jewboy-wonder.livejournal.com]

Yes, if Wilson had known zombies were involved, he probably WOULD have gone Jewish grandmother on his ass. At that point, it just would have been unavoidable. As it was, he still had that anxious look pulling together his eyebrows a bit, and he cleared his throat and forcefully rid of it before it DID move into full-fledged horror mode. "I think I've learned that one without having physical prove of its disastrous tendencies, yes," he commented weakly, glancing to House and hmm. In a bar all day? His mind kept whining, 'why?', but he didn't prod any further. He had more important issues. Like finding a damned restaurant.

"I..." Wilson started to say, and, well, there was no use bullshitting him. "Yes, yes I do. Only because I saw you in that Corvette and you're... dangerous." Goddamn, he was still going to have to ride it, wasn't he?

Ah, yes, proper goodbyes, who needed THOSE anymore? Wilson smiled a bit, even though inside he was... roughly the equivalent of running in circles, flailing his arms. Tomorrow? At six? Oh, lord. "Sure," he said with a nod, hands shoved into his pockets to hide just how fidgety they had just become, and watched House stalk off, with a shake of his head. He needed to go to his own room. Find some way of communicating, talk to people to see if restaurants existed other than the bloody Hog's Head and... well.

...He had a lot of work to do.

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((Posted! XD (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1203563.html)))

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