Moran_go
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"What do you want, Chase?" House growled loudly, looking Wilson in the eye, rolling his eyes at the end, which made Wilson giggle. House smiled tenderly, watching him.
"Uh... You're not alone?" the boy's voice now sounded surprised.
"What do you want?" the diagnostician asked louder, a little more irritated.
When Chase started to say something about how quickly he'd run out of the room and how worried they were, House grabbed his cane and headed for the door.
"What's wrong with the patient?" he asked, sticking only his head out the crack so Chase wouldn't see Wilson still sitting silently on his desk. He was clearly enjoying this rare spectacle.
"Uh..." the boy was taken aback, looking fearfully at his disheveled boss. "We've confirmed the diagnosis." He's fine, the treatment is working, he's stable, and..."
"Great." House glanced at the rest of the team, "Now get lost."
After these words, the door slammed shut with a distinctive click, followed by the sound of a cane hitting the floor. They exchanged puzzled glances, shrugged, and ran off to do their own thing.(Or when House suddenly has a panic attack at work, he calls his husband for help.)
Bookmarked by Moran_go
21 Feb 2026
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House and Wilson's friendship didn't magically transform into a relationship overnight. It changed bit by bit until they forgot it had never been like this.
Bookmarked by Moran_go
21 Feb 2026
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House keeps catching Wilson kissing nurses behind closed doors. He's almost used to it - until he walks in on Wilson kissing a male nurse, and suddenly his jealousy isn't so easy to control anymore.
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To be fair, Will’s costume is great, now that Mike knows what it is. And, okay, wait-
“Oh, this is so good. This is so good.” Max points at Mike, wheezing. “Because you’re dressed as-”
Will’s still looking straight up at the sky. The length of his neck is very, very flushed. Mike can feel his entire face going redder than Vader’s lightsaber. He clenches his hands into tiny little fists, and says, around a groan: “I’m not Han Solo, guys.”
In which Lucas has a thing for Bowie, Will has a thing for Han Solo, Mike has a thing for Will, and El should never be allowed to watch Star Wars again.
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“That’s not my favorite.”
“Oh.” Will blinks. “What is?”
Mike’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “O negative.” Will feels a flush move across his entire body. His magic hums inside of him, excited. His fingers twitch against the carton. Maybe Will was wrong, maybe this is different than having a favorite kind of pizza. More personal. O negative sits differently in Will’s head than double black olives with extra cheese does. More intimate.
“Oh.” Will blinks again. And maybe O negative sits differently in Will’s head, because it also flows through his veins. He feels obligated to tell Mike. “I’m O negative.”
Mike’s pupils widen again. “I know.” His voice is low, gravelly.
Will’s breath hitches again. “You know?” He flinches when Mike’s fingers graze his, peeling the carton out of Will’s hand.
Mike takes a deep breath. “I can smell it.”
Or, five times that Will offered Mike his blood and the one time that Mike accepted.