Notes: Episode tag for 218, "Sleeping Dogs Lie." It will make more sense, if you've seen it, but it's not strictly necessary.
"You wouldn't give a piece of your liver to save my life?"
"No way. Also, it's Wednesday. Hand over the remote." Wilson held out his hand.
"This is how you handled your sex life with Julie too, isn't it? 'It's Friday so we'll start from behind and end in missionary. Next Tuesday I have you scheduled to be on top.' God, no wonder she went out and balled someone else. Anything to relieve the boredom."
Wilson's nostrils flared, but he kept his tone mild. "The fact that you see control of the television as analogous to sex is probably an indication of how long it's been since you actually had any." As he spoke Wilson reached over and grabbed the remote right out of House's hand.
House let him get away with it but warned, "Change it to AMC, and I'm telling the entire nursing staff you have genital warts. We'll see how often you get laid then."
Wilson rolled his eyes, but he flipped to the WB.
House confined himself to comments about the actresses' breasts and the stupidity of casting such a short, scrawny kid to play a jock until the commercial when he nudged Wilson with his cane and said, "I think you'd do it."
"I already told you I wouldn't."
"You'd do it for science. You know how valuable my brain is to the good of mankind."
Wilson flicked an annoyed glance in House's direction. "It is possible that I think I have something worthwhile to contribute to humanity too. Or that I just like living."
"No one who liked living would watch so many movies with so few explosions and naked women."
"Ha! I knew—"
Wilson held up a hand to check him. "All right, I'll reconsider, if you get me a beer."
"You'd give away your liver for a beer?"
"Right now? Yes."
"Hmm, but for every beer you drink your liver becomes less valuable to me."
"A minute ago you were begging for my liver. Now you're getting picky?"
House got up and fetched two beers from the fridge. When he came back Wilson had switched to a documentary about blue jays or the Gettysburg Address or something equally dull. House ignored it in favor of watching Wilson's throat work as he took the first long swallow of beer and kept on staring until finally Wilson said, "You're not getting my liver, House."
"Oh come on, I'd do it for you." He made his voice really whiny and earnest. He'd been studying Cameron's technique.
Wilson snorted. "You lie."
"I never lie."
"You lie all the time. You lied fifteen minutes ago when I asked if you'd picked up the dry cleaning."
"Fine. I didn't want your liver anyway." House crossed his arms and flopped back against the couch petulantly.
When Wilson muted the sound at the commercial House said, "You know you have other organs that I'm far more interested in."
Wilson turned to look at him intently.
"What I really want," House paused to enjoy the way Wilson's eyes became hooded and his lips parted slightly when he was focusing. He let the suspense build for another breath, "is your pancreas."
Wilson's shoulders relaxed and shook with laughter. "No, House, you cannot have my pancreas, my liver, either of my kidneys, my gallbladder or my spleen. Are we clear?"
House hid his satisfied grin behind a swig of beer. That list was far from comprehensive. All Wilson's best parts were still up for grabs.
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