dr_robchase | Moonshine [Wilson, House]

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Moonshine [Wilson, House]

It didn't take long or much, but he eventually wound up with two of Jay's jugs of moonshine. He'd make it up to Jay later, he theorized to himself, after all, House asked and Chase really didn't take to refusing House's requests very often. He carried them on both thumbs, heading back down to the lab where he'd left Wilson and House last.

He made sure no one caught him along the way, that would have been bad enough, and lifted the bottles as he arrived. "Success," he announced, handing one to Wilson and one to House.

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Chase stared at the two of them, then to the jugs. It couldn't be that strong or fast. He sat down in one of the chairs, slightly stung by House's comment. Like he'd done this before. He snorted slightly. "Does he always get poetically maudlin when drunk?" he asked, gesturing to Wilson.

"Oh, you don't give him enough credit. My Jimmy is poetic and maudlin all the time."

Another drink. A heavy sigh.

Wilson rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. My Jimmy he liked the way that sounded.

"You could run back out there and ask Jay for his guitar. I can play, he can sing." Wilson raised a brow at Chase and gestured a thumb at House.

Chase took a drink at that -- the cup only filled half to the brim. "House sings?" he asked dubiously, arching an eyebrow.

"No!" House blurted, looking horrified. "I most certainly do not."

He looked down at his cup and realized that it was empty again. Huh.

"He does!" Wilson insisted. "Yo do! You sing Johnny Cash all the time." He gestured with hs cup, spilling a little, all that was left in the cup, all over his hand and onto his leg.

"Crap!" He muttered and licked his hand.

"I thought I'd met the world's cheapest drunk," Chase remarked, eyes on Wilson with surprise. "That's really all it takes to get him gone?" He shook his head and filled up his cup another half of the way, sipping slowly at it.

He'd have to test House on the Johnny Cash...later.

House's eyes lingered on Wilson for a moment as he licked his hand, then he blinked and looked back over at Chase. "He's always been a bit of a lightweight. He usually doesn't drink so much so fast anyway."

Neither did he, for that matter. His cup was empty again. Huh. Reached for the bottle.

"Whoa. You should slow down there, Ace." Wilson reached for the bottle, a failed attempt to snag it away from House.

House laughed and poured again, sloshing just a little over the side, then he handed the bottle to Wilson. "Like you're one to talk."

He eyed Chase suspiciously. "What, are you the designated driver?"

"I've already had a full drink, I'm just not trying to break any records like you two," Chase said incredulously, sipping at his first poured cup still and finished it off.

He reached over for both bottles. "Give me those," he mumbled, pouring a fresh drink for all of them.

Wilson took what was his fourth cup full, and drank it quickly. A little bit slid down his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Come on, Greg. I want you to sing for me. Please?" He stuck his lower lip out and made his eyes look pathetic.

Speaking of being a lightweight...

House was pretty sure his leg still hurt, but he didn't really care anymore.

He watched Wilson's puppydog look and sighed before taking another drink. "Fine. What do you want me to sing?"

Wilson clapped his hands. "I don't care. Something I can dance to."

House set down the glass, almost having forgotten that Chase was there too. He would so not do this sober.

"Hello," he said, lowering his voice a little. "I'm Johnny Cash."

Then he laughed, grabbed the cup again and held it up as a microphone. "I hear the train a'comin', it's rollin' 'round the bend, and I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when... I'm stuck in Fulsom Prison and time gets draggin' on... but that train keeps a'rollin on down to San Antone." He took a breath. "When I was just a baby, my momma told me son, always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns... but I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die... when I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry..."

With full control of the two bottles, Chase managed to pour himself a full glass, watching with horror as House sang Johnny Cash...and pretty well. But it was still a sight too surreal and he down a full cup, finishing his second.

Wilson was not the best dancer in the world. He didn't even dance as well as House sang. but he was drunk enough to not really care. To just move, and maybe even sing a long a little.

House didn't finish the whole song, because at some point he forgot to keep singing because he was staring at Wilson in horror. "Uh..." He cleared his throat. "Wow, Jimmy, that's terrible. You either need to drink more or less, I'm not sure which."

Chase let out a genuine laugh at Wilson's dancing. "God, that's horrible," he said, amused. He turned to House. "At least you can sing. Sort of makes up for it."

House smirked and held up his cup as if in toast. "Damn straight I do. I do everything well, haven't you figured that out yet?"

Chase poured half a cup into House's, withholding from Wilson. "Jury is out on whether you do everything well," he said with a smirk.

House knocked back the drink and then smirked again. "Everything. You'll just have to take my word for it."

He sighed happily and leaned back in his seat, looking positively content.

Chase's smirk just grew a little bit wider. "I think you're bluffing," he said, his voice lilting a bit teasingly, before he turned to Wilson. "Really, Wilson, in future, you should...stop with the drunk-dancing," he said. "For everyone's benefit."

Looking a bit defeated, Wilson dropping to the floor beside House's chair. "But you still love me, right?" He looked up, and brown eyes sought out blue. "And you know, I can tell him how damn good you are, but he won't know it unless you show him."

House laughed. "No, I think you should just tell him. He'll believe you. Won't you, Rob?"

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