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crack_van2007-02-09 09:23 am
gardendoor.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-02-09 09:23 am
Functioning by Gena Fisher (NC-17)
Fandom: HOUSE
Pairing: House/Wilson/Cameron
Author Website: Story found on The House Fanfiction Archive
Why this must be read:
I admit it, much as I love House/Wilson, there's something about a well-written threesome that cleanses the palate, especially since they're so rare in this fandom. Here, Wilson and Cameron track House down at a bar, and it takes both of them to make House get out of his own way and take what he wants.
Cameron had just opened her mouth to ask what in the world they were doing there when her attention was caught by the haunting notes of a piano. She turned back to Wilson, confusion written all over her face but he nodded towards the small area beyond the bar. House sat there, pale blue smoke ringing his head from the dangling cigarette between his lips, his hands moved over the keys as if the instrument was a lover. "But he hates people," she whispered.
"He's still drawn to them," Wilson said. They took a seat at one of the tables, towards the back but where they could still see House. Cameron sat mesmerized, House played beautifully. The lines in his face had smoothed out, he looked younger, unencumbered by anything but the limits of his own talent. As he played, the other patrons fell silent, even the desperately lonely ones abandoned their struggle for comfort just to listen to him. Music, raw and plaintive, washed over them, filling the room as House began to sing in a weathered baritone.
Functioning
Pairing: House/Wilson/Cameron
Author Website: Story found on The House Fanfiction Archive
Why this must be read:
I admit it, much as I love House/Wilson, there's something about a well-written threesome that cleanses the palate, especially since they're so rare in this fandom. Here, Wilson and Cameron track House down at a bar, and it takes both of them to make House get out of his own way and take what he wants.
Cameron had just opened her mouth to ask what in the world they were doing there when her attention was caught by the haunting notes of a piano. She turned back to Wilson, confusion written all over her face but he nodded towards the small area beyond the bar. House sat there, pale blue smoke ringing his head from the dangling cigarette between his lips, his hands moved over the keys as if the instrument was a lover. "But he hates people," she whispered.
"He's still drawn to them," Wilson said. They took a seat at one of the tables, towards the back but where they could still see House. Cameron sat mesmerized, House played beautifully. The lines in his face had smoothed out, he looked younger, unencumbered by anything but the limits of his own talent. As he played, the other patrons fell silent, even the desperately lonely ones abandoned their struggle for comfort just to listen to him. Music, raw and plaintive, washed over them, filling the room as House began to sing in a weathered baritone.
Functioning