Brain Is A Buzzing
Dec. 17th, 2009 05:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moose_mcmooseI'll probably be a bit too drunk to post these tonight so here they are now. My brain is in overdrive at the moment. @_@
Title: Housework
Rating: Nc-17 (strong language and slash)
Characters: House/Wilson
Words: 458
Summary: Wilson asked House to do three things while he was at work. Four drabbles. All from Wilson's POV (2nd person)
.
Dishes
Sometimes you wonder why you fucking bother. You eye up the sticky note you had left on the cupboard next to the sink for House to read. Won't be home till late. Please wash the plates. There's a big black cross marked through your writing, replaced by a giant red scrawl reading NO!. You admire the fact he sticks to his word, but as you glance in the sink to find the grubby dishes piled high in dirty, cold water, you can't help but feel a little pissed off. Begrudgingly, you get out the cloth from beneath the sink, run some fresh water from the tap and begin to scrub the stagnant dishes.
Clothes
You outwardly growl as you notice that he hasn't even emptied the washing machine. You fling open the door and pull out the damp pile of shirts and socks, all of which now have the old water smell running through their fibres. Then you find your white checked shirt, now a hazy blue hue after being mixed with his t-shirts. Now you really don't why you bother. Don't mix the coloured clothes with the white clothes you tell him. But does he ever listen? Does he hell. You fling the now ruined shirt aside onto the floor while you carry the rest of the clothes into the bedroom.
Sheets
Now you're really pissed. He hasn't even bothered to make the bed. It's nine the evening and the whole thing has been unmade all day. It does occur to you that you sound freakishly like your mother but you really don't care. You dump the clothes aggressively on the floor in a fit of despair before taking your anger out on the sheets that twist and curl their way onto the bedroom floor. You yank the bottom sheet up over the mattress, spreading out the creases in the material before tucking it underneath at the corners. You're just about torture the duvet in the same fashion when you feel two hands slip around your waist.
A breathy voice whispers in your ear. "I wouldn't bother doing that."
A Ruse
He's looking at you with that smug, self-satisfied look on his face. And then you realise this whole damn thing was deliberate. He knew you get pissed about the dishes. He knew you would notice the clothes. He knew that your hissy fit would lead you to the bedroom where you would find the unmade bed. Oh he played you like a charm. The crafty bastard. One part of you wants to hit him while the other part wants to fuck him senseless.
"Evening." He smiles before before pulling your close and planting a kiss firmly on your lips.
Fuck him senseless it is then.
Title: Housework
Rating: Nc-17 (strong language and slash)
Characters: House/Wilson
Words: 458
Summary: Wilson asked House to do three things while he was at work. Four drabbles. All from Wilson's POV (2nd person)
.
Dishes
Sometimes you wonder why you fucking bother. You eye up the sticky note you had left on the cupboard next to the sink for House to read. Won't be home till late. Please wash the plates. There's a big black cross marked through your writing, replaced by a giant red scrawl reading NO!. You admire the fact he sticks to his word, but as you glance in the sink to find the grubby dishes piled high in dirty, cold water, you can't help but feel a little pissed off. Begrudgingly, you get out the cloth from beneath the sink, run some fresh water from the tap and begin to scrub the stagnant dishes.
Clothes
You outwardly growl as you notice that he hasn't even emptied the washing machine. You fling open the door and pull out the damp pile of shirts and socks, all of which now have the old water smell running through their fibres. Then you find your white checked shirt, now a hazy blue hue after being mixed with his t-shirts. Now you really don't why you bother. Don't mix the coloured clothes with the white clothes you tell him. But does he ever listen? Does he hell. You fling the now ruined shirt aside onto the floor while you carry the rest of the clothes into the bedroom.
Sheets
Now you're really pissed. He hasn't even bothered to make the bed. It's nine the evening and the whole thing has been unmade all day. It does occur to you that you sound freakishly like your mother but you really don't care. You dump the clothes aggressively on the floor in a fit of despair before taking your anger out on the sheets that twist and curl their way onto the bedroom floor. You yank the bottom sheet up over the mattress, spreading out the creases in the material before tucking it underneath at the corners. You're just about torture the duvet in the same fashion when you feel two hands slip around your waist.
A breathy voice whispers in your ear. "I wouldn't bother doing that."
A Ruse
He's looking at you with that smug, self-satisfied look on his face. And then you realise this whole damn thing was deliberate. He knew you get pissed about the dishes. He knew you would notice the clothes. He knew that your hissy fit would lead you to the bedroom where you would find the unmade bed. Oh he played you like a charm. The crafty bastard. One part of you wants to hit him while the other part wants to fuck him senseless.
"Evening." He smiles before before pulling your close and planting a kiss firmly on your lips.
Fuck him senseless it is then.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re: That damn House...
Date: 19/12/2009 08:33 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed them. Cheers for reading and commenting XD