| |
Clinic Duty
by Nemesis
House's tongue slid over the lollipop, assessing exactly how much longer he could make it last. Five minutes at the most, he decided, turning the page of his magazine.
He glanced up at the clock on the wall and smiled in satisfaction. Five minutes at the most was also how long before Wilson burst into the room in apopletic rage.
Four minutes... three... two...
The door slammed open as the last traces of lollipop dissolved on House's tongue.
"There you are!" screamed Wilson accusingly. "I've scoured the entire hospital for you."
"Later than I would have expected," House lied. "Nurse station take you too long? Searched each nurse thoroughly to make sure I wasn't there?"
Wilson scowled and slammed the door shut, advancing further into the room. "How did you know I was looking for you?"
House pulled the empty lollipop stick out of his mouth and smiled. "When Mommy's not home, who else would the kids run to?"
***
About forty-five minutes earlier:
"Okay... you've done the LP, the MRI, the MRA, the PET scan, the CT, and any other set of initials I've conveniently forgotten, and now you come and tell me that 2 and 2 don't make 14, 18, 21, 3, 17, or, in fact, anything at all really."
He stared at the white board of symptoms and grinned. It was a foolproof plan. With Cuddy gone until noon and it only being 10 am, Cameron or Foreman would run to Wilson, Wilson would freak and find him, and...
"Do a brain biopsy."
"What?!" Cameron, very predictably, screamed. "A brain biopsy?"
"Well, if you think you can find what you want from her liver, feel free to biopsy that first. But I think the best bet for a brain infection is a brain biopsy. I dunno... it's just this weird feeling I have."
"You can't do a brain biopsy on her!" Cameron again. Interesting that the other two didn't bother arguing ethics with him anymore. They probably just went straight to Cuddy or Wilson to stop him.
"I'm not going to. You are."
"But..."
"Do a brain biopsy. Come find me when you've finished."
House grabbed his cane and limped out of his office, heading towards the Clinic.
He gave Wilson forty minutes to an hour. He reached into his pocket, bypassed the bottle of Vicodin, and pulled out a lollipop.
***
Chase left the office first. Cameron watched as he turned... not towards Wilson's office. She strode out of the office and grabbed Chase's arm. Foreman swept out of the office and caught up with them.
"Where are you going?" Cameron demanded.
"To do the brain biopsy."
"We can't do this!"
"Look, if you want to go about defying House, that's your problem. But I value my job."
"And I value this patient's life!"
"Go tell Cuddy," Foreman suggested.
"Won't be in until noon. A meeting across town."
"So tell Wilson."
***
"You can't do a brain biopsy on a two-year-old!" Wilson yelled.
"Oh, okay then. I'll wait until she gets older. I thought maybe we should see what's wrong with her brain so that she actually does get older, but maybe her infection will wait. Doesn't happen often, of course, but hey, let's hope." House shrugged and turned his attention to his magazine.
"Put that stupid thing down! You can't do this!"
"Jesus, Wilson, you sound like Cuddy," House grumbled. He looked up from his magazine with a speculative gleam in his eye. "Does that mean you have the same cleavage?"
"Oh, grow up. And return to the point. I hate being your conscience, you know. Always running after you and making sure you don't do anything stupid or illegal - or both. Like this brain biopsy."
"Oh, calm down. I'm not doing a brain biopsy on her."
Wilson gaped. "Then why did you tell your pets to do one?"
"Because I knew they'd tell you, since Cuddy's not here."
Wilson shook his head. "I don't get it!" he said finally. "Why would you want them to tell me that you told them to do a brain biopsy when you don't want them to do a brain biopsy?"
"Because you're too noble and ethical to let that one slip, and I knew you'd tell them not to do it. And I knew that you'd come running after me like the good little lapdog you are."
"And all this knowledge gets you where exactly?"
"What, you don't think that wasting your time is a noble enough aspiration?"
"House, I don't have time for this! I have patients, paperwork..."
"Prescriptions? Pornography?" House suggested. "No, they're not suggestions. I'm looking for more p-words to finish your alliteration."
Wilson glared. "I'm leaving... And no brain biopsy!"
"I already said I didn't want one. But, hey, if you ask around, maybe someone here does. Maybe Cuddy wants one. You should ask her when she gets back."
"I don't know why I do this! Why do I let you waste my time?"
"'Cause I am that good in bed?" House grinned.
"Well, yes, but..." Wilson trailed off, glaring at House. "Is that the reason for this whole... whole act? To get me here to... to..." He didn't complete the sentence, just left it hanging between them.
"Don't like them very much. Wouldn't look good on you, anyway," House answered.
Wilson frowned, puzzled by the non sequiter. "What wouldn't?"
"A tutu. Your legs are way too hairy to wear one."
"Where do tutus and my legs come into this? Never mind. House, we're at work."
"Of course we are. I wouldn't let this many sick people into my flat - although you might, Dr. Helpful."
"Exactly! Work is where we make sick people healthy. Your flat, that's where we have sex."
"Your car, too. And sometimes the parking garage... and there was that time in your bathroom while Julie thought we were washing our hands, and of course, there was that..."
"Yes, yes, but we've never actually done it at work."
"I know this is a horribly cliched thing to say, but there really is a first time for everything."
"Here? In the clinic?"
"Why not? Everyone will assume I'm with a patient, and unless we take hours, no one's gonna check up on us."
"But..."
"Actually, I think the clinic's probably the way to go. I don't have any rubbers on me, or with me, for that matter... Although, I don't doubt you do, given that you pursue everything on two feet."
"Which doesn't explain why I have sex with you, since you have three feet."
"Ah, but you know what my cane can do. Do you have any rubbers with you?"
"No, I left those in my other pants."
"'Course you did." House grabbed his cane and stood up, searching through the drawers for the free condoms they gave out to idiot teenagers who came by looking for something `relatively safe' and `not a pill.'
Wilson strode over to him and put a hand on House's arm. "House... we are not..."
"Found one," House grinned, holding up a foil packet. "Strawberry flavored. I like licorice better, myself. Although, probably to save ourselves cleaning up, we should use two... There should be another here, unless Cuddy neglected to tell the nurses to check the supplies..."
"Right, because strawberry flavored condoms are high on the list of things absolutely necessary to keep in the clinic exam rooms."
"Well, of course they are. I'm not about to do you bareback."
"Oh, wait, now who says you get to top?"
"Oh, come on, there's no way you're topping. Anyway, it was my idea to have sex in here."
"Ah, but you can't top unless we're on a bed properly, and there isn't one here."
House pointed to the long white bed-like thing in the middle of the room and said, "That, there. What is that?"
"Too narrow and uncomfortable."
"I'm not gonna sleep on it; I'm gonna fuck you through it."
"Your leg can't handle that."
House scowled. "And yet it could handle you fucking me?"
"Point."
House and Wilson considered the dilemma before them. A grin spread across their faces at the same time. "Blow job," they said in unison.
"Can't do each other at the same time, though, not here," House added. He plopped down on the stool and lowered it a bit, until Wilson's crotch was eye-level. "C'mere."
"You're doing me first? Very unlike you."
"Actually, it's very me. You don't give decent head when you're achingly hard, but judging by the sounds you make when I suck you, I do. Enlightened self-interest, nothing more."
House handed Wilson the condom. "Put it on."
Wilson raised an eyebrow, but unzipped his pants and put the condom on his already hard cock.
House grabbed Wilson's hips and held him in place.
He opened his mouth and took just the head in, sucking lightly. He knew this would have to be a real quickie - no finesse - they were at work, after all. He stretched his jaw and took Wilson's cock in further, swirling his tongue around the shaft, almost slipping on the latex. Artificial strawberry flavoring burst on his tongue, and House rolled his eyes. He really liked licorice better. Or cherry, if he had to pick a red flavor.
Wilson's hands carded through House's hair, not guiding him, just encouraging him.
House took one of the hands on Wilson's hip and slid it in between Wilson's legs. Judging by the sounds Wilson was making now, if he... House pressed firmly on Wilson's perineum while sucking hard.
Wilson bit his lip to keep from crying out and came. House released his cock and looked extremely smug.
While Wilson removed and disposed of the condom, House slid one onto his own cock. At least Wilson liked strawberry. It was an age-old argument between them.
"Make the chair slightly higher," Wilson demanded as he zipped up his pants.
House did so and rolled to the counter. He leaned back on it, firmly planting his feet on the ground to keep from rolling.
Wilson kneeled between House's legs and grinned up at him. He licked House's erection rather like a lollipop. House threw his head back and bit down on the inside of his cheek hard. Times like this, his leg barely bothered him. He smiled crookedly at the thought. Clearly Wilson needed to blow him more often.
Wilson took just the tip in, sucking lightly, teasingly.
"Hurry up," House demanded. "This isn't the Stamina Marathon."
House felt Wilson's lips curl into a smile around his erection at the same time the sucking got much stronger. His fingers scrambled for purchase on the smooth counter. His hips thrust slightly, impaired by the rolling chair and the awkward position he was in and, of course, Wilson's hands on his hips, holding him down.
His balls drew up towards his body and he was coming, coming into... a strawberry-flavored condom.
The door burst open again and a high-pitched, shrill female voice screeched, "How dare you order a brain biopsy on a toddler?"
Cuddy stopped in her tracks as she took in the scene in front of her: House, his head thrown back and hands clenching and unclenching on the counter, legs spread, and Wilson, on his knees, House's cock in his mouth.
Cuddy's jaw dropped. She slammed the door shut behind her. "Gentlemen, I was under the impression that this is a hospital! And Wilson, I know that House has the mentality of a teenager, but I expected more from you!"
House's hand flew to Wilson's head. Wilson blushed, and only House's hand on his head prevented him from letting House's dick go.
"Do me a favor," House began, and Cuddy turned around.
House let Wilson's head go and quickly cleaned himself up. "All ready for a second go," House grinned.
Cuddy turned hesitantly, worried that House really meant it, but House was sitting with his pants done up properly. Wilson was propped up against the counter, still tomato-red.
"What do you think you were doing? "
"Well, Cuddy, if you don't know that by now, there really is no hope for you. He was..."
"Convincing House not to do a brain biopsy," Wilson offered.
Please post a comment on this story.
Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
|
|
|