Pride Month Challenge H/W ficlet

[triedunture]

Wilson glanced around at the crowd of people. Every shade of red was there: candy apple red, fire engine red, brick red, cranberry, maroon, and even the subtler lightish red (pink).

He looked down at his own shirt, red as his face, and sighed.

“House,” he said, looking up at his best friend, “you tricked me.”

House smirked and straightened his own shirt, a red Pink Floyd concert tee. “I did not,” he countered.

“You brought me to Disney,” Wilson deadpanned, “on Gay Day.”

House shrugged. “It’s the best time of year to come.” He cocked his head at the elegant Cruella Deville as she passed, waving her long cigarette holder. “I love your work!” he called after her.

Wilson covered his face with his hands as a small crowd of men from Boston (their homemade shirts proclaimed more than brotherly love for the Red Sox) joined in with hoots and hollers. One guy gave House a high-five as the strolled by.

“See?” House said. “Everyone’s friendlier. They’re better dressed and stand in line more patiently. All around, a classy time of year.”

A two young men skipped past them, arms linked, singing the chorus to It’s Raining Men.

“Still classier than normal,” House assured.

“And what could possibly be your logic for dressing us in red as well?” Wilson hissed, afraid to be overheard by the happy vacationers. “’Wear this shirt, Wilson,’” he whined in a mocking imitation of House’s voice. “’If we get split up, it’ll be easier to find you in a crowd.’ Bullshit!”

House consulted the free park map with a frown. “I bet the lines will be hell at the Peter Pan ride. What about the Haunted Mansion? That doesn’t sound very gay.”

“This is ridiculous,” Wilson moaned. He jumped and stood ramrod straight. “I think someone just pinched my ass.”

House rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to report him,” he drawled, pointing down to the small Asian boy standing at their knees, looking around in confusion. His two mothers soon came and swept him off towards the castle.

“Come on,” House said with a jerk of his chin. “We should get to the Pirates line early. That robot Depp is going to draw quite the following, I’m sure.” He limped off down Main Street, and Wilson had no choice but to follow.

“You didn’t want me flirting with any women, right?” Wilson grumbled, still tugging at his red shirt. “On the off chance that some straight women came with their gay friends, you didn’t want me having any fun.”

House rolled his eyes, trying to step over the hordes of red-clad children that kept escaping from their same-sex sets of parents. “Now you’re just being parano—Mmmm, turkey leg,” he moaned at the sight of a huge drumstick in a passerby’s hand.

“We are not eating turkey legs,” Wilson scolded. “Do you have any idea how much salt they put in those things?”

House turned to retort and nearly tripped over a hula hoop someone had left in the middle of the walkway. Wilson leapt forward to place a steadying arm around his waist. “You okay?” he asked.

House took advantage of his position by wrapping his arm around Wilson’s shoulder. “Just fine, honey. Though I could use a turkey leg.”

“That is so adorable,” a teenage girl squealed from a park bench.

“I hope we’re like you guys when we get old,” another girl said, lacing her fingers with her girlfriend’s.

“Thanks,” Wilson stuttered. “Uh. Stay in school.”

He helped House hobble down the path with their arms still around each other. “This is weird,” he muttered once out of hearing range. “Those kids are, like, fifteen. How the hell do they know…?”

House snorted. “Some kids grow faster than others.” He patted the top of Wilson’s head. “You’ll get there someday.”

Wilson sputtered. “Hey!”

“Can’t argue. Parade’s starting,” House pointed out. Wilson turned and, sure enough, the midday parade was in full swing.

Wilson felt a childish surge of excitement. He’d never tell House, but he hoped to catch a glimpse of his favorite character, Bambi. From her feather-covered float, Cruella blew House a kiss.

“I guess the shirt can’t overcome my natural manliness,” House said with a smug look, pretending to catch the kiss in the air. “And that chick can be pretty aggressive. You should really show her who’s boss.” House puckered his lips like a fish a made squishy noises at Wilson.

“Attractive,” he said dryly. To the almost gone Cruella, he yelled, “You can have him!”

“Come on, Jimmy.” House smiled. “Do it for the kids.”

Tinkerbell’s float appeared then to understandably loud cheers. Over some hidden loudspeakers, the theme from her movie played over and over.

“You can fly, you can fly, you can fly, you can fly, you can fly,” the crowd sang along.

Tink threw a fistful of glitter in their direction, and everyone ooh-ed and ahh-ed as the shiny gold dust fell over them. Wilson blinked through the haze of sparkly bits and realized he was smiling too.

“Fine,” he said, and leaned over to kiss House, his eyes fluttering shut. The man seemed suitably shocked into silence, and Wilson thought for a moment that he’d won the little game. But then House kissed him back, and he realized it wasn’t a game.

He didn’t notice when the Bambi float came by, or any other for that matter.



fin.