three, two, one. . .

@lazybakerart / lazybakerart.tumblr.com

🔞. harringrove. hilson. bucktommy. kurahi. nsfw. sometimes a writer. sometimes an artist. always a blob. | ao3: LazyBaker
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weird-an

"That's sexist!"

Wilson hears House yelling before she can see her. She walks out of Cuddy's office, her angry glare changing into something sweeter when she sees Wilson.

"They won't let me cut my patient's eye out," House pouts. She wears one of her band shirts that's a little too short, showing off the pale skin of her back. Wilson tries not to stare.

"Outrageous," Wilson shakes her head. "Cuddy protecting the patient from malpractice isn't sexist, you know? It's common sense."

"But for every HR complaint about me I have to file one back, that's how the games goes!" House rolls her eyes as if Wilson misses the obvious. "Also, it's important for the case."

"I don't think HR complaints are a game." Speaking of games. "Did you happen to know what happened to my bra? The teal, lacy one?"

It's been missing since House was over for dinner last week. It could be a coincidence, but neither House nor Wilson believe in those.

House gapes at Wilson in mock surprise. "You're missing your sex bra?"

She says it so loud, two nurses turn around to glare at them. Wilson lifts her hands to say sorry.

"That's not a thing," Wilson hisses at her. "So, you got it?"

"It totally is a thing. You only wear it when you go on a date and hope to get laid," House deflects. "You wear this bra and boom, you have sex, you get married to Mr. Wilson number 4 and I have yet to be the maid of honor again."

"Where is it?" Hopefully it's not dangling from the ceiling at some ward.

Wilson fights the blush on her face. House grins at her like a little kid at Christmas. "Buy me dinner and I'll release the hostage."

"I'm always paying," Wilson grumbles. She didn't want to go on that date anyway. The guy is sweet and kind and so boring. Husband material right there, House is right about it. She'd rather spend the evening with her.

House leans a little forward. "I like you better without a bra anyway."

It's a joke, Wilson tells herself. It doesn't explain why she's feeling hot all over.

"Just because you don't wear any," she retorts weakly.

"So, you have been looking. Interesting." House winks at her. "See you tonight!"

Wilson stares after her and wonders if she's missing something.

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He holds out his hand. "Tommy Kinard." Nearly dropping his plate and his beer, Josh quickly scrambles then dives for the handshake, forgetting in the brief moment where he'd been blinded by Tommy Kinard's dimples that his hand is sticky from everything.  "Josh-Josh Russo. Your hand is huge. Oh god. Oh my god. I'm so sorry, I don't know why I said that." It would be weird to run away. The backyard isn't that big.

Summary: "I'm sorry," Josh says, "You had a hot gay pilot in your back pocket this entire time?"

Potato Salad | AO3 | CH: 1/1 | W: 1.7k | R: G

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Terminally-offline Tommy is practically canon adjacent, he has so many real-world hobbies taking up his limited free time, and now a very hot and eager bf, you know that man is like “what the fuck is a subtweet?” But he listens to Evan trying to explain to him the intricacies of the Megan/Nicki/Cardi beef like it’s something that actually matters, because he just likes listening to Evan talk, even when it’s so completely out of his wheelhouse. And of course because we stan a balanced reciprocal couple, Evan is a very attentive student for all the things Tommy has to teach him. He wants to know everything. Except about basketball, please let’s not speak of it 😩.

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