H/W Flashfic

[rubberbutton]

H/W Flashfic for darling asynca, whose life story I stole
Rating: PG-13ish, I guess
Warnings: zero, zip, zilch—just a broken toilet and some smoochies

The top of the toilet cistern was off and propped against the side of the tub, leaving the toilet looking rather naked—inasmuch as toilets are able to look naked. Wilson cast a critical eye between the removed lid and the toilet he needed to use rather badly with growing dismay. “House,” Wilson called. “Your toilet isn’t working. The cistern doesn’t have any water.”

“I know,” House shouted back from the living room. “There’s a bucket in the tub.”

There was a long pause while Wilson synthesized this. “Okay. You cannot possibly expect me to—”

“Fill the bucket with water from the tub, fill the tank, and flush?” House appeared in the doorway, shrugging slightly and leaning against the frame. “However did you make it through medical school?”

“Oh,” Wilson said with a relieved expression. “I guess it’s a step up that you’re not asking me to piss in a bucket. Why don’t you call a plumber?”

House looked at him as though Wilson had suggested he paint the bathroom coral pink with sea foam accents and install a bidet. “Why bring in some guy with ass-cleavage to fiddle around with it for ten minutes and then charge me $400?”

“You don’t blink at spending a fortune for owners’ tickets to the Four-Wheel Jamboree Nationals but are too cheap to get your toilet fixed?” Wilson stared unhappily at the toilet, as if it would fix itself in the face of his displeasure. “I think your priorities may be out of whack.”

House was unmoved by this argument. “There’s a greater return on the monster truck tickets. I don’t actually care if the toilet is perfect. My system works.”

”Your system is a bucket.”

”And it works.”

”I cannot believe you sometimes.” Wilson threw up his hands to better express the extent of his disbelief.

“Oh, don’t be so fussy.”

“Insisting on working plumbing is not fussy.”

“Real men don’t need your fancy schmancy plumbing.”

“Very mature—insult my manhood.” Wilson rolled his eyes, fighting against the seductive current of the argument. “I’m calling the plumber.” He tried to exit, but House made use of his greater height, blocking his way. Wilson made a token effort to get past, but House braced his arm across the doorway and they both knew that Wilson wouldn’t push through and risk bumping House’s leg.

“Do you really want to bring in some fat guy in overalls right now? We wouldn’t be able to get up to anything.” House leaned in, smiling widely, his voice thick with innuendo, “And I had other plans for the afternoon.”

Wilson returned the smile despite himself, liking where this was going and quirked an eyebrow in a manner that he really hoped was seductive. “Oh really? What kind of plans?”

Leaving the cane against the sink, House closed the distance between them. “Oh, I don’t know.” He let his lips brush Wilson’s in the most teasing of kisses. “Just some things I wanted to do.” Wilson’s hand snaked around the back of House’s neck, pulling him in for a more satisfying kiss. “Some people, as well,” House concluded when the kiss ended. “But if you want to call the plumber, by all means…”

Wilson swallowed hard and licked his lips. “Don’t get hasty—I think you’ve convinced me.”

“I knew you’d come around,” House said smugly and stole another kiss.

“House,” Wilson said after a moment; the protest muffled by the press of House’s lips. He pulled back, “House. I really have to—”

“Right,” House scowled, “Fine. I’ll be waiting.” He gave Wilson one last lingering look, collected his cane and left. Wilson sighed heavily and reached over to turn on the bathtub faucet.

He’d call the plumber tomorrow.