Icicles and Irish Coffee
A tall, thin man with a pronounced limp and large, intense blue eyes entered the ski lodge bar. The bartender nodded towards the cane he was carrying. "Get that on the slopes?"
The man scowled. "No, I had an infarction. I don't do this masochistic battle against gravity you think is a sport, but I happened to marry someone who loves it, plus I think anyone who successfully beat what was thought to be terminal cancer deserves to have some fun. Irish coffee."
"On the house, guy, here's to beating cancer."
The man smiled. "To beating cancer and to inadvertent puns."
"My name is...Dr. Bertie Mycroft."
Just then, another man entered the bar who had clearly just gotten in off the slopes, his high cheekbones rosy from the cold and flicking snow off of his down jacket, removing his gloves and goggles, his brown eyes twinkling boyishly. "Hi, um, Bertie!"
"Hi, Wilson, you look like you had a good time hurtling yourself around!" He gave a "so what, yes, we're two guys who got married, you got a problem with that?" glance at the bartender, who answered back with a "it doesn't bother me at all so calm down" look. "Wanna join me, this is a really good Irish coffee."
"I'm more of a hot buttered rum man myself." Wilson reached for his wallet.
Tom held his palm up. "It's free, pal, I was just told you beat cancer."
"Well, thank you, let me at least tip you for putting up with his grumpy highness over here."
Later, they went back to their cabin and sat down on the couch to relax and watch TV, Wilson flipped channels with the remote until settling on "The Wizard of Oz".
"Oh, come on, Wilson, isn't 'Sherlock' at least on? This movie is for kids!"
"Well, it happens to be one of my favorites, let me at least watch the Scarecrow do his dance!"
"What the fuck is a dingaderry?!"
After more "Wizard of Oz" House grumbled, "Well, Judy Garland did more pill-popping than me, I'm gonna go take a bath."
The hot water made House feel wonderfully relaxed as his skin felt more sensitive and yet more comfortable at the same time, and he closed his eyes blissfully and sighed.
The bathroom door opened and Wilson walked in. House opened his eyes. "Get tired of Oz?"
"It's not like I don't know how it ends." Wilson started to undress. "Mind if I get in there and give you a good scrub?"
"Sure. Then you can fuck me silly."
"House, you smooth talker, you."