Okay, this is the challenge:
I set my mp3 on shuffle,
Using the title of the song as a prompt I write a drabble
I only have the length of the song in question to complete it…
Once again I claim ownership of nothing but a strange taste in music and insomnia.
Looking For The Time (Working Girl) – Nanci Griffith
Wilson was moving frantically around the bedroom, trying to knot his tie and pull on his socks simultaneously.
"House!" He yelled through to the living room, where House was sitting on the sofa, resting his legs on the coffee table, arms crossed with a frown on his face.
"What time is it?" Wilson added, now running a comb through his hair.
"Time you got a watch."
"Very funny, House, I'm sure. Now can you tell me the real time?" He was getting his jacket in a twist.
"House!" Wilson stumbled into the living room, pulling on his shoes.
"You'll have to get a take out."
He reached for the door handle.
"Don't go" House half pleaded.
Wilson whipped out his wallet –
"Here, I'll even pay for it."
- Before dumping the cash and exiting the apartment.
"That wasn't what I meant." House whispered as he listened to the sound of Wilson's car pulling away; taking him on yet another date.
Pretty In Pink – Psychedelic Furs
House couldn't help but grin as the blush ascended Wilson's face.
"Let me get this straight – the man who is obsessed with doing washing managed to throw in a bright red top with his whites?"
"No, the idiot I live with threw a bright red top in with my whites"
House grinned again, his eyes drawn to Wilson's once sparkling boxers. He pulled the younger doctor towards him and fingered the material before whispering into his mouth,
"Don't get me wrong; I think you look pretty in pink..."
But I Do Love You – Leann Rimes
House barged into Wilson's office, as predicted.
"House – I am busy. I have cancer patients dying."
"I'm sure they can die without your help." He returned, sitting down on the chair opposite the desk.
"So, are you buying me dinner?"
"No." Said Wilson, not looking up.
"But you always buy me dinner!"
"Only because you nick it off my plate!"
"And I thought it was because you loved me! Canteen, ten minutes!" House left the room.
"That's the problem House," Wilson murmured, "I do love you."
Pain – Three Days Grace
House was in pain. This wasn't exactly news, apart from the fact it wasn't the pain he was used to.
He could, to an extent, deal with the pain his infarction had caused, because he was at least accustomed to it.
This was new pain. This was excruciating in a way he had never felt before.
One minute he had dared to think he was living in euphoria, now he had been left in the pits of hell.
He glanced across at the empty side of the bed.
He should have known it was coming. He always pushed people away in the end, but he had truly never expected Wilson to leave him.
This was something Vicodin wouldn't cure.
Senses Working Overtime – XTC
Wilson could feel House's skin beneath his finger tips; rough and warm.
He could hear the moans and grunts House was making into his chest.
He could see the sweat drip down from House's brow as they moved in time together.
He could smell the scent of bodies and heat and sex.
But most of all he could taste House.
His mouth, his skin, his sweat, House's semen on his tongue.
There was no doubt about it; Wilson's senses were working overtime.
I Love The Way You Love Me – Boyzone
House lusted after Wilson's hips, his mouth, his touch.
He adored the way Wilson insisted in making breakfast, the taste of coffee on the oncologist's lips first thing in the morning.
He was fond of the way Wilson would cuddle into him when they slept; although he was never going to admit this.
But House completely and utterly loved – no matter what he did, or how many boundaries he pushed, lunches he stole or meetings he interrupted – he loved the way that still Wilson loved him.
I Drove All Night – Cyndi Lauper
As soon as House had called, Wilson had leapt out of the hotel bed and jumped in the car.
He tried to stop the tears from falling down his face.
How could House have been so stupid? It didn't matter how lonely or in pain he was; he knew not to go near the Vicodin.
Maybe it was Wilson's fault. It had been too soon after Mayfield to leave him. He should have said no to Cuddy. He should have stayed home that weekend and looked after House. Shared pizza over some DVD reruns and got ridiculously drunk on light beer.
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 3:06 am.
Damn it House! Don't touch that bottle! I'm coming, I'm coming...
It had just gone seven o'clock when he opened the door.
House was sitting curled up on the sofa, staring at the unopened tub of painkillers on the table.
"You're here." He said, not looking up.
Wilson sat down and pulled House towards him, kissing him gently on the forehead.
"I drove all night..."
I am ill. I am stuck in bed. I am putting off college work. If you have any plot suggestions please let me know and I will attempt to write on request :)