Fandom Oneshots [Mainly Marvel, Sherlock, and Good Omens, and House MD]

House MD: (Hilson) "Like a Meteor, Like a Kiss"

Too much fluff to the point where you need to brush your teeth, perhaps.

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It had been an epiphany. One causal thought that he had spiraled out of control and snowballed into a large meteor that crashed right into his little house of oblivion.

"Oh my fucking god," House had murmured into the air. His eyes widened just a bit as he stared at his desk. Pale blue eyes widened in shock in the dim room that was covered in the blanket of dusk, looking almost like a lantern in the middle of the night.

Chase, Cameron, and Foreman barged into the room, almost stumbling on each other, as per usual. They updated him on the patient who was well on the road to recovery. He shooed them home, not wanting any more human interaction for the day.

After the three had surely left the building, House fell back on his chair with little grace. Slamming his back into the backrest, his mind just cranked itself into the void.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," He continued to mutter to himself.

He didn't remember what thought exactly triggered all of this, but it had happened a bit after Wilson had come in with his little smug expression and quirked eyebrows; his stupid thick, dorky eyebrows.

Wilson had crossed his arms and tilted his head... and then he had said something. It wasn't clear anymore. All House knew was that he had a thought about how smug Wilson looked and how it didn't infuriate him anymore. Rather, it made him swell up with joy, knowing a smug Wilson meant a happy and well-rested Wilson; that was a Wilson that wasn't always there.

It tumbled into him entering the section in his brain that was just for Wilson's expressions and House had just sat there, admiring the expressiveness of his best friend. He admired for so long... just those stupid... stupidly cute and dorky expressions.

And now, he was here. He was stuck in his office, not sure what to do. He grumbled and whined to himself as he slammed his cane to the ground. What was he going to do?

So, House sat there all night, trying to avoid the pictures of Wilson that popped up once in a while. There was one where they had gone snowboarding before the infarction and Wilson was laughing with snow in his hair, there was one of Wilson beaming at him in front of the clinic doors, there was one of him cheering as he won a game of pool. House wanted to shove them away but instead, he grabbed onto them, feeling the warmth in his chest as he looked at them again and again.

House's lips twisted into an irritated expression as he sat there.

"House?" A voice asked. House nearly jumped from his chair, if it wasn't for the fact his leg was holding him back. The voice was luckily not Wilson's, rather, a woman's voice... that unluckily belonged to Cuddy. "Your patient's healed, your employees are gone, Wilson's home, why aren't you?" She asked as a friend, House could tell by the way her head tilted in curiosity and she lost that authoritative posture she usually had when walking around as the Dean of Medicine.

"Just do some paperwork! Like a good employee!" House said with fake enthusiasm and smiled sarcastically. "You know me, work before everything else!"

"Actually, seeing as you don't really have much going for you outside of work, I'd say the last sentence is correct," Cuddy teased House, "Although, the lack of paper in front of you makes me believe your first sentence isn't true."
"Dog ate it just a second ago, if you run fast enough, you can catch up to it," House pointed at the hallway.

"House," Cuddy said as she entered the office, "You've been sitting there for the past hour, mulling something over. Are you okay?"

"Woah-ho, Doctor! Haven't you heard of not stalking me? I know our sexual tension is heavy but, man, you gotta be less obvious," House deflected.