i'm struggling to even put into words how i feel about these two scenes.
i honestly wonder how much of house's facial expressions in these moments were hugh laurie's choice and maybe weren't necessarily scripted, because the episode doesn't really offer any kind of conclusion on how jealous and, more importantly, how deeply fucking sad house looks after realizing wilson has been talking to amber.
first off - this happens a lot in this show, but this is one of those huge instances of "oh, how differently this situation would look if one of these characters was a woman." if that were the case, this whole thing would really be quite simple. if house was a proper Opposite Sex Love Interest, him standing at the door hearing the proof that his unrequited crush isn't over his last girlfriend...well, that would make perfect sense. The level of hurt and jealousy house seems to feel about wilson still being in love with amber is. well. it's Something.
so anyway - house gets that genuinely hurt look at three separate points: #1 is when he realizes wilson is talking to amber (and this moment is especially fascinating bc house's main emotion should arguably be relief at the knowledge he hasn't been hallucinating...but that appears to be taking a backseat to his jealousy for a woman who isn't even alive anymore)
#2 is when wilson tells amber that he wasn't able to go for a run tonight because house is having issues. now, this speaks to the broader problem that - even though house knows wilson feeds off neediness - house is still worried about being a burden to wilson and that eventually wilson will not want him anymore.
Then #3 - when wilson says to house's face that talking to amber makes him feel better when he misses her, and house doesn't. This moment is so painful and interesting to me because house inviting wilson to confide in him feels like a pretty big step in terms of growth! So for wilson to say he'd rather talk to his dead girlfriend than house...well, judging by house's face, the remark cuts pretty deep. (disclaimer: ofc wilson is completely valid for talking to amber; it just also makes sense that house would be hurt by this, especially in the context of him already feeling like a burden and trying so hard to be a better person)
anyway idk where else to go with this . . . i just feel like the episode sort of started to delve into this issue and then never really went deep enough or concluded this aspect - hence my theory that house's level of hurt may not have been scripted and it was just hugh laurie choosing to Do That with his face.
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Gossip 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
rick grimes x fem!reader
part two here
a/n: i based this fic on this post here! i might make a part 2 because i have some ideas in the back of my head of how i think this story could end up going eventually, but idk if i will write it yet. we'll see! also i made up the two random alexandrians in this story :)
summary: rick overhears you and some alexandrian women gossiping, and he decides to confront you.
warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption (reader gets drunk).
wc: 1.5k
MDNI
“Spencer does not like me, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You scoffed, taking another sip of the pinot. This was your second glass, and your head was starting to buzz.
Two Alexandrian women became well acquainted with you, offering you a bottle of wine and some dinner after your first week in Alexandria. You decided “why the hell not.” You never really had great friends before the apocalypse and the only ones you had were the group you came in with, so it wouldn’t harm you to make more.
“Oh honey, did you not notice the way he was ogling you at Deanna’s party?” One of them asked — her name was Shannon. The other woman, Vivian, slightly chuckled, taking one last swig from her glass. She nodded, muttering something in agreement.
You sighed. “Even if he was checking me out, it’s not like I care anyway...”
The two women paused simultaneously, looking up at you with ‘bitch, HUH?’ written on their faces. “Y/n, Spencer is a beautiful man! He’s tall, handsome, and he’s around your age I believe,” Vivian gushed. You scowled, displeased at the comment.
You took another gulp from your glass, emptying the contents down your gullet and then setting it on the kitchen island. After licking your lips clean, you said, “Well, frankly, I don't really care if I’m being quite honest.” Your mind swirled with inebriated thoughts; you sort of had a love-hate relationship when it came to alcohol — it either made you perfectly giddy and sociable or very angsty and erratic. But that’s what it did to most people, anyway. Right now, it was making you angsty. “I have someone else on my mind.”
“Oh, my! Okay, who is it?” Shannon asked, her and Vivian both on the edge of their chairs anticipating what you were about to say — well, what they expected you to tell them, that is.
You thought for a moment; should you tell them? It seemed like they lived for that kind of gossip. But that could mean that they might spill your secret, and you weren't exactly ready for that. “I’ll tell you another time. I’m tired, gonna head to bed,” you stated, yawning as you got up from the stool you were seated on. The two women groaned in disappointment, like children who failed to convince their parents to take them to disney world.
After your friends left you strutted out of the kitchen, about to head upstairs when you heard a door open and shut. Instinctively you ran back to the kitchen to grab a knife to defend yourself from a possible intruder or walker, but before you could your body collided with something, or rather someone.
You cursed and looked up at the culprit; it was none other than Rick Grimes. “Rick, what the fuck! I could have stabbed you!” You scolded him, picking up the knife that clattered on the ground.
“You forget we live together?” He teased, taking a step back to get a good look at you. Your eyes were glassy and eyelids heavy — a telltale sign that you were drunk. Rick had experience pulling over a few drunkards back in his day as a cop, so he knew immediately without even having to smell the alcohol oozing from your breath that you weren’t sober.
You pushed a strand of hair out of your face, swallowing the excess saliva forming in your mouth. You mentally scolded yourself for drooling over a man, but this one was just too beautiful to not gawk at. The sound of Rick clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and brought you back to reality. “No, no. I didn’t forget. I just…”
“You’re just drunk, right?” He chuckled, turning his head to look at the empty bottle of wine sitting on the dining room table. You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of your lip while trying to think of a plausible excuse.
“Look, I only had two glasses. Shannon and Vivian from a few houses down brought us a casserole and some pinot. Girls’ night. Sue me, Rick.” You slipped past him and headed to the kitchen, Rick hot on your tail. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, if you or Carl want any,” You said without turning around. When you got to the kitchen sink you started washing the dishes, but you frowned slightly, looking back up at Rick with worrying eyes.
“Shit. Did I wake the kids? Is that why you’re down here?” You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands hastily on a dry towel.
Rick shook his head. “No. Only I heard you. But you weren’t very quiet, and when I heard them leave that’s when I came down here,” he explained, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Your heart picked up its pace. ‘How much did he hear?’ You wondered. You pursed your lips and your eyes floated around the room, quite obviously avoiding his intense stare. He made you nervous. That sheriff always made you nervous, and part of the reason was because you were so utterly attracted to him.
Finally you brought your eyes back to his icy ones, which were studying your body. You blushed and bit your lip again — it was a nervous habit you could never seem to break. “You got a stain–” Rick pointed to the red stain on your shirt, just below your breasts, “Right there.”
You looked down at the stain, it was wine — dark red wine, at that. And you were wearing a white tank top. How convenient.
You looked back up at him, snorting in slight amusement. “Guess I shouldn’t have worn white, huh?”
He let out a low chuckle, showcasing his pearly smile. God, he was pretty. “Thought you knew better than that, Y/n,” he joked, standing back up fully to make his way over to you. Okay, now your heart was really beating fast.
When he was finally in front of you, face to face, you gulped. He smelled like the forest after a rainshower, and somehow he always did; it engulfed you like a tsunami. You berated yourself for getting so worked up over the smell of him, and just him in general. He was your leader, your friend. And he asked you to live with him and his children because he trusted you. Why were you acting like a cat in heat? ‘It’s the alcohol’, you convinced your mind, it had to be…
The silence was too loud. You had no idea what Rick was thinking right now; frankly, you never did. His poker face was always unreadable. But your tipsy brain gained a few confidence points, letting smugness wash over you.
“Whatcha thinking about, Grimes?” You shifted your weight to one leg and batted your lashes at the man in front of you. He only grinned, then glanced away momentarily only to stare back into your eyes.
“Y’know, I overheard the conversation,” Rick started, his chest steadily moving up and down as he breathed. One of his hands gripped the counter while the other was glued to his hip. Your eyes trailed up and down his tanned veiny arms, taking in his manliness.
“Mhm. And?” You kept your composure, not wanting to let Rick taunt you; you knew you talked pretty loud when you were tipsy or drunk but it’s not like you said anything negative about him or anyone.
“You girls like to gossip, huh?”
“Well, yeah. We’re women,” you joked, cracking a smile and trying to ease the tension a bit. “What are you trying to get at?” Rick never bothered to indulge in any girl gossip you, Rosita, and Maggie used to partake in, so why was he so invested now?
Little did you know, he was always invested in literally anything you had to say.
Rick licked his lips and exhaled through his nose. “Heard you talking about liking someone. Is it anyone I know?”
He smirked when he noticed how red you turned. Your face would have matched the stain on your shirt if it was a few shades darker. “I– I don’t…” Of course now was the time to choke on your words, right when you were using every fiber of your being to keep your poise in check. But goddamnit, Rick just had to be a sly and cocky bastard.
“I don’t remember even saying anything about that, Rick.”
His smirk never faded. You wanted to slap it off his face, then kiss the hell out of him.
He tilted his head to the side a bit, furrowing his brows as if to challenge your statement. “Really?”
You nodded and crossed your arms right over the stain. ‘Deny, deny, deny,’ You repeated in your head.
But he didn’t buy your bullshit. He brought his hand to your cheek, fingers barely grazing your skin as if he was afraid he’d scare you away. Your breath hitched in your throat and subsequently dropped your arms to your sides, separating your lips to say something. However, nothing came out.
“Well, I think I know your secret, Y/n. Answer seems pretty clear to me.” His voice almost came out as a growl from how low and raspy it was. Goosebumps awakened all across the surface of your body. You were tongue tied.
“I’m the one on your mind, aren’t I?”
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