House (looking at slash fan fiction): What! We do that?

Wilson (nodding): Yes.

House: As in we stick each other’s bits inside each other?

Wilson: Yep. Sometimes we even do it at work.

House: You don’t sound as icked out as you should be.

Wilson: I’m an oncologist remember. Your dick is not going to send me screaming for the hills.

House: It might?

Wilson: It isn’t that big House.

House: Do I like all this gay stuff.

Wilson: Generally yes. Sometimes we even have a kid. But we don’t follow your plan and eat it. We raise it. There is even something called a Churchverse because you named your demon spawn Christian.

House: That's like a Contractverse thing right - but without the whole me being horribly tortured every five minutes stuff.

Wilson: And more TEH HAWT man sex.

House: Actually - that's quite clever. Christian House - Church! I knew I was a clever bastard but it is nice to have validation.

Wilson: Don't swear. 

House (worriedly): But you are the mom right.

Wilson: Totally. And everyone calls me Jimmy. And everyone else complains this is a cliché.

House: I kinda like calling you Jimmy.

Wilson: See – this is what feeds the whole HoYAY subtext.

House: I like calling you other things too – like the total and utter caring twit who should be drowned in a small puddle.

Wilson: But that doesn’t inspire quite so much fan fiction.

House: Undiscerning bastards. Bet they are all girlie psych majors or something. And you know never to get involved with psych majors.

Wilson: Yes House – they turn out to be secret commandos. Enough with the thing about Riley from Buffy. I got it in 1999 you know. They had a thing going, but she was still getting over Angel and he was no match for Spike and it was always going to be doomed.

House: You’ve been watching it again haven’t you?

Wilson: Well I like it. 

House: Crap – you just like those episodes where Spike is tied up in Giles’ bathtub.

Wilson: I bought you the whole Angel box set.

House: As justification for ogling Spike. Face it – you just have a thing for Englishmen in bathtubs. No wonder people think you are gay.

House: So are we doing the nasty in this story?

Wilson: No, actually I don’t think there is any sex at all.

House: None? Pity I wanted to know how it was done… all this 'tube of lube' sounded interesting.

He liked Dream Jimmy.

House: So I have a thing for an imaginary version of you? I don’t even like the real you.

Even though he would try to curl up in a solitary ball, Dream Jimmy would uncurl him, draw him close and hold him just like the big nancy boy he was.

House: He he he - nancy boy.

Wilson: Just like you.

House: Am so not a nancy boy.

Wilson: You so are.

House: Am not.

Wilson: Nancy boy.

House: Stop, you’ll make me cry.

Wilson: Nancy.

Dream Jimmy didn’t mind if he cried a bit and made Dream Jimmy’s shirt wet. Dream Jimmy knew all about the leg.

House: Has this writer actually watched the show?

DIY Sheep: This was written before the whole manipulative bastard thing and we all sort of gathered Wilson realized a man missing large chunks of thigh muscle might be in some sort of pain not just faking it for the fun of it.

Wilson: Oh?

House (in a falsetto): It's all in your mind House. 

House: Large chunk of missing thigh muscle here Dream Boy.

But Dream Jimmy was a bastard too, just like the real one.

House (eyeing Wilson): Too right.

Dream Jimmy would shake the little bottle and look at him mournfully. Damn you Dream Jimmy! But he would still murmur an apology into Dream Jimmy’s chest and promise to be good.

House: Nevah! I would nevah promise to be good.

Wilson: You do you know. Admit it House. Somewhere under there you are human.

Dream Jimmy would sigh and he knew he had been forgiven when he would feel Dream Jimmy’s hand on his hair – stroking it gently.

House: I know you do that you know… you always think I am asleep.

Wilson: You have dandruff…

House: Way to kill a touching moment there Wilsie.

Then Dream Jimmy would hold him until he went back to sleep and all was well in the Dream Land of House.

Wilson: Why is your head in my lap? We are two tall heterosexual red blooded men. We don’t cuddle.

Wilson: Stop grinning at me.

Wilson: Go to sleep. I prefer it when you are unconscious anyway.

House: That's why I love ya Dream Jimmy.

Wilson: Shut up.

……

House was out for the count. He actually looked content. Wilson wondered what he was dreaming about.

House: Snore snort snuffle snort.

Wilson: I knew I should have taken that job in Florida.

Then he looked at his watch and carefully untangled himself from the sleeping man and left the office.

Return to Top

House (waking up): Return to Top?

Wilson: It’s an Internet thing House.

House: Pity – it sounded kinky.

House: How did we get this way? Guys should bond through killing animals and drinking lots of beer.

Wilson: Do I look like a beer fueled killing machine to you? I'm sorry but you are stuck with luck, chance, chemistry, kinky fan fiction and an oncologist.

House: Who's been putting on the pounds.

Wilson: Hey!

House: It's nice you know. Even if you are a bit pudgy.

Wilson: I know. Go back to sleep big boy.

House: Yes Mr Dream Jimmy.