![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carriesagunTitle:- Emotional Warfare
Author:-![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
celuthea
Fandom:- House
Characters/Pairing:- House/Wilson
Rating:- Eh... PG.
Genre:- Fluff. Sarcastic fluff, of course.
Spoilers:- None.
Warnings:- See 'Genre' section.
Word Count:- 462
Summary:- It's House's birthday, and whether he likes it or not, he's going to have a good time.
Disclaimer:- I don't own either of these two. If I did, neither would leave the house and birthday celebrations would be compulsory, not optional.
Notes:- For the very lovelyyuki_buffy, who's made of win and celebrated her birthday yesterday. PARTY IN THE COMMENTS, PEOPLE! PAAAAARTYYYY!
“What have you done to our apartment?” House stopped in the doorway, hand still holding his keys where he'd pushed the door open. He took in the scene; smirk on Wilson's face, apartment looking like a birthday card and a Christmas card's offspring, and a cake.
“It should be obvious. It's your birthday, so I decorated.” Wilson was beginning to feel somewhat deflated by House's lack of enthusiasm regarding the decorations and cake. A cake he fully intended to take the credit for, but actually came from Lil' Mama's Bakery, was the main part of the decoration, and he was pleased as punch to have thought of it. It was chocolate sponge, white icing and an icing stethoscope finished the look off. House had limped his way over to the work counter and was peering at the cake with the air of someone who was expecting to be mauled by the article they were looking at.
House was poking said cake with disdain on his face. “I don't like birthdays.”
“I do.”
“But it's not your birthday to like,” House replied, turning his attention to the banner. It was large, stretched between the furthest walls over the fireplace, and bore red letters proclaiming 'Happy Birthday Greg!' He frowned. “You only call me Greg when you want something. Is it female? I'm not trading clinic hours for sexual favours again. You cheat.”
“What?” Wilson jumped forwards to stand almost defensively in front of his banner. He liked it – screw what House thought. “Firstly, no, I don't want anything female. Secondly I don't cheat – you're just an appallingly bad poker player. Thirdly, it's your birthday – I thought having Greg on the poster would be more-”
“Personal?” House laughed and Wilson began to feel about an inch tall. Though he'd never say it, that little dejected pout of Wilson's – James' – was unbelievably cute. House wondered when the word 'cute' had entered his mental vocabulary. “Don't do that.”
“What?”
“That pouty 'I'm so sweet how could you be so cruel?' face. Makes me feel like I've run Hector over.” Wilson risked a smile.
“I don't know what you mean.” House positively scowled; we'd gone from the kicked-puppy look to a smug smile. He was infuriating at the best of times, but now he was hamming it up to a new level. “I'll stop it if you at least pretend to enjoy your birthday.”
“What does 'enjoying my birthday' entail? I don't want to wear a hat.”
“No hats.”
“No singing of anything.”
“Not even 'Happy Birthday'?” The withering look Wilson received in response to his suggestion stopped him from continuing that train of thought. “No singing.”
“And no card games.”
“Of course. What about birthday kissing?” Wilson sidled a little closer while House considered this option.
“Fine. But only one and make it good.”
Author:-
celuthea Fandom:- House
Characters/Pairing:- House/Wilson
Rating:- Eh... PG.
Genre:- Fluff. Sarcastic fluff, of course.
Spoilers:- None.
Warnings:- See 'Genre' section.
Word Count:- 462
Summary:- It's House's birthday, and whether he likes it or not, he's going to have a good time.
Disclaimer:- I don't own either of these two. If I did, neither would leave the house and birthday celebrations would be compulsory, not optional.
Notes:- For the very lovely
yuki_buffy, who's made of win and celebrated her birthday yesterday. PARTY IN THE COMMENTS, PEOPLE! PAAAAARTYYYY!“What have you done to our apartment?” House stopped in the doorway, hand still holding his keys where he'd pushed the door open. He took in the scene; smirk on Wilson's face, apartment looking like a birthday card and a Christmas card's offspring, and a cake.
“It should be obvious. It's your birthday, so I decorated.” Wilson was beginning to feel somewhat deflated by House's lack of enthusiasm regarding the decorations and cake. A cake he fully intended to take the credit for, but actually came from Lil' Mama's Bakery, was the main part of the decoration, and he was pleased as punch to have thought of it. It was chocolate sponge, white icing and an icing stethoscope finished the look off. House had limped his way over to the work counter and was peering at the cake with the air of someone who was expecting to be mauled by the article they were looking at.
House was poking said cake with disdain on his face. “I don't like birthdays.”
“I do.”
“But it's not your birthday to like,” House replied, turning his attention to the banner. It was large, stretched between the furthest walls over the fireplace, and bore red letters proclaiming 'Happy Birthday Greg!' He frowned. “You only call me Greg when you want something. Is it female? I'm not trading clinic hours for sexual favours again. You cheat.”
“What?” Wilson jumped forwards to stand almost defensively in front of his banner. He liked it – screw what House thought. “Firstly, no, I don't want anything female. Secondly I don't cheat – you're just an appallingly bad poker player. Thirdly, it's your birthday – I thought having Greg on the poster would be more-”
“Personal?” House laughed and Wilson began to feel about an inch tall. Though he'd never say it, that little dejected pout of Wilson's – James' – was unbelievably cute. House wondered when the word 'cute' had entered his mental vocabulary. “Don't do that.”
“What?”
“That pouty 'I'm so sweet how could you be so cruel?' face. Makes me feel like I've run Hector over.” Wilson risked a smile.
“I don't know what you mean.” House positively scowled; we'd gone from the kicked-puppy look to a smug smile. He was infuriating at the best of times, but now he was hamming it up to a new level. “I'll stop it if you at least pretend to enjoy your birthday.”
“What does 'enjoying my birthday' entail? I don't want to wear a hat.”
“No hats.”
“No singing of anything.”
“Not even 'Happy Birthday'?” The withering look Wilson received in response to his suggestion stopped him from continuing that train of thought. “No singing.”
“And no card games.”
“Of course. What about birthday kissing?” Wilson sidled a little closer while House considered this option.
“Fine. But only one and make it good.”
