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whiterabbit1613 ([personal profile] whiterabbit1613) wrote2010-10-22 12:06 am

Oct13: The Art of Seduction

The October 13: Day 3
Fandom: House, M.D.
Prompt: ghosts
Humor; PG

Disclaimer: House, M.D. and its associated characters are the intellectual property of FOX.


   “Yes, well,  excuse me if I don’t find ghosts all that funny,” Wilson snapped, slamming his armful of manila folders down on the desk. House shot out his cane to keep from getting whacked by the office door.

     He smirked. “You’re just embarrassed because I scared the living crap out of you,” he said, limping over to the sofa and taking a seat. House set his cane beside him and bent to massage his leg. “Honestly, Wilson, I’ve never seen you leap so high.”

     Wilson flopped into his desk chair, huffing out a breath that ruffled the hair falling forward onto his forehead. He knew House was completely immune to his patented exasperated look, but he tried it none the less. “What, you have no pity on me? No empathy?”

     “Nope,” House replied with relish. “Come on, you know me better than that.”

     “Hope springs eternal,” Wilson said wistfully. He ran his hands through his hair, mussing it beyond all recall, and stood, walking around the desk with what could almost have been called a saunter. He smiled a little half-smile, one eyebrow tilted in an open invitation. “You’ve had your fun; why don’t you just let me delete the video file?”

     House leaned back into the sofa, and a corner of his mouth twitched. “Why, Wilson, I’d think you were trying to seduce me, if I didn’t know your track record with women. Actually, now that I think about it, said record is pretty miserable –“

     “Besides which,” Wilson said airily, drawing ever closer, “we both know I’ve got a bit of a track record with everyone.”

     House laughed. “You slut.” Wilson sat beside him on the sofa, moving the cane to the other end so it was out of his friend’s reach. He shrugged, as if in resigned consent, and placed one hand on House’s hip pocket, where he generally kept his phone.

     “As much as I hate to interrupt your train of thought,” House said, and stopped as his own was completely derailed; Wilson, finding the pocket empty, had slid his hand across the front of House’s jeans, and House inhaled sharply as he leaned closer still.

     Wilson looked at him from beneath his eyelashes. House realized they were close enough for him to distinguish the several shades of blue and gray in Wilson’s eyes and became slightly alarmed. “I’m pathetically easy,” Wilson whispered, his breath against House’s cheek. “Just give me the video and I’ll give you anything you want.”

     “Yes, well,” House said, his voice cracking embarrassingly on the first syllable. “Unfortunately, I’ve already sent it to all of Oncology.”

     Wilson looked momentarily irate, but soon just slumped against his shoulder in despair.

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