FIC/MIX: "baby, how blue can you get" (House MD, House/Wilson)

[d_generate_girl]

Title: baby, how blue can you get?
Author: Drea (bluerosefairy/d_generate_girlRating: NC-17, for adults making with the content and Greg House’s inability to keep his language clean

Comments

[shi_nii]

ohhh this is so precious... I loved it! Really, their relationship is just perfect and the way you portrait it... I don't have words enough to say how much I liked it.
Totally adding to mems (if a can find a way to, that is)

♥
Bye!

[bluerosefairy]

Ohhh, thank you so much! I'm so glad you liked!

[genagirl]

I loved it. Loved Wilson in this one so much.

[bluerosefairy]

Wilson is totally one of my most favorite characters in the history of ever. I'm so glad you liked him - he's so tough to pin down, and every time I felt like I might have gotten a handle on him, he'd go and say something I didn't expect. At least with House, you KNOW he's going to do the most difficult thing. You're prepared!

Argh, anyway, thank you so much for commenting!

[tourmaline1973]

I love this. I love how it's aching with lust and longing and bursting with desperately hot music ♥

*dashes off to add to my blues collection*

[bluerosefairy]

*shrieks and flails very quietly*

You give some of the best feedback! Thank you so much.

And yay for blues collections - mine's getting ever so steadily bigger since I bought Howlin' Wolf's double-CD and Ray's Genius Loves Company. :P

[niicelaady]

How do I love this fic? If it were a person, I'd have sex with it. I'd marry it.

House remembers watching Wilson’s fingers press the keys gently and inexpertly. Remembers the rolling chords coming out too sharp, the notes jangling together, and Wilson's voice far too jagged. House slid onto the bench next to him, covering Wilson's hands to move them down a half-step. Picking up the pace to give Wilson the rhythm the song needed.

No such thing as a voice "far too jagged" when one is singing Dylan! :-)

Okay, yes, it was under the influence of post-electrocution haziness and a ton of drugs, but he’d said it. It counted. And while Wilson had just shook his head in the hospital room, he’d ambushed House about a week later, right after “Sixth Sense” girl’s spleen had started necrotizing. House had just sent the candidates off on a little late-night gravedigging expedition, and Wilson had locked the door, yanked the blinds mostly-closed, and dropped to his knees to give House what probably qualified as another near-death experience.Yum. (

[bluerosefairy]

Honestly, I do not blame you. I want this fic to be a person, too. I'd give it hugs and play it some Janis and let it cry on my shoulder, for everything I put it through.

No such thing as a voice "far too jagged" when one is singing Dylan!

At least I didn't say "nasal" - which is what you have to attach to Dylan regardless, and if you've ever heard RSL do "Promising", or anything else from Chelsea Walls, he sounds just like Dylan.

Don't the French call orgasm "le petit mort"?

They do. I narrowly stopped myself from having Wilson walk out whistling "Every Day a Little Death" from A Little Night Music, but it would've been a little too much, I think.

Do you have more?

Shhhh. Don't tell anyone, but this is my first Housefic. I've been writing for a while, but didn't get into House until this season. I've got some stuff in the works for wilson_fest, though. :)

[camatie]

Oh my God, that was amazing!

I seriously cannot stop squeeing and being all "AWWW!!!!!" to this story.

Holy crap, I seriously love it. IT MAKES ME HAPPY. ♥!!!

[bluerosefairy]

Bweeee. I'm so glad you liked the story - and left me such lovely comments! And seeing as comments make ME happy, I think we're even. :P