Fandom: House, M.D.
Characters: Wilson, House (Gen)
Summary: Roomates, rogues… rivals.
Author's Notes: For firefly124, who wanted House, Wilson, and bad coffee.
House picked up the coffee pot and smelled the contents. "Did you make this?"
Wilson stopped buttering his toast. "Is there someone else living here you've forgotten to mention? Of course I made it. Why?"
"I detect a certain bouquet of self-loathing and apology."
"I think that's just last night's takeout. So, does that mean you're not going to drink it?"
"Ehhh…" House said.
"Because I never get more than a single cup, and I’m the one who does all the work."
"It's probably not that bad." House filled a mug with coffee. "Mmm," he said drily, "yummy." He took a sip, and then spat it into the sink. "God, that is awful. It tastes like boiled mice."
"Maybe it is." Wilson finished his toast and re-folded the newspaper. When he left for work, House was making a new pot of coffee.
The next day, House complained that the coffee was gritty and stale, and the day after that he compared it to cough syrup. They went through double pots of the stuff every morning, with House throwing out the first batch and making his own.
On Friday, House was woken up a half-hour early by an excruciating leg cramp. He heard rustling in the kitchen, and decided he might as well get out of bed. The smell of fresh coffee flooded the apartment, a familiar lie.
He was about to step into the kitchen when he saw Wilson, hovering over the newly-made pot of coffee. Wilson poured coffee into his own mug, and then added something to the pot.
It looked like salad dressing.
Bastard! House jerked back around the corner, out of sight. He thought about the past week of Wilson pranking him into re-making coffee every morning, and exactly how vinaigrette-flavored coffee might have tasted.
This, he decided, means war.
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