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Transference
by Kristina
Mike Tritter was confident his case was going to break soon, but he wasn't quite so sure which one of the doctors currently under his thumb was going to fold first. Maybe he'd affronted the girl so much she would finally decide to give up on her lost cause. Maybe Dr. Foreman would spend the night lying awake thinking about his brother and come to the conclusion that blood was thicker than water after all.
The last couple of hours though, he had become more convinced that it would be the simpering blonde sycophant who would come to him first. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed plausible. Dr. Chase would wait until after work, give him a phone call tomorrow afternoon, or the day after that, and say in a hushed voice that he needed to see him. Mike would agree and there would be coffee and signed affidavits afterwards.
Still, at this point the game was wide open. Guessing was part of the fun. As long as he got what he needed.
He had almost given up on Dr. Wilson when the door to his make-shift office opened.
The good doctor looked shaken but resolute, as if he had spent several sleepless nights agonizing over what he was about to do. He reminded Mike of the mutt they kept as a mascot at the station. Brave little trooper.
"I'm going to need thirty pieces of silver."
He felt his heart skip a beat and motioned the other man to sit down. He watched him run his hands up and down his legs for a few moments.
Mike had many years of experience watching people in situations like these and he knew how to play his part to perfection. He let his arms rest against the table comfortably.
"Can I help you?"
Wilson looked forlorn and rumpled, as if he had spent the last few nights in his car. Mike only knew it wasn't the case because he had taken his car away.
"I... I've come to give you what you want."
The other man seemed to break before his eyes. Mike's heart sang with joy. He chewed his gum. "Do you want some coffee?"
Wilson shook his head nervously. Mike unscrewed the lid of his thermos.
"I can't... I can't hurt him."
"You won't." He let the moment drag out as the scent of coffee spread through the room. "You'll probably save his life."
He took out his gum and flicked it into the trash can with perfect aim. "I've been a cop for twenty four years. Fifteen of those I've spent as a detective. You want to know what's going happen to you?"
He watched the other man tremble. He poured himself a cup.
"You're going to walk out of here with the knowledge that you've done the right thing. You'll sleep easier, breathe easier. In the end, you'll be grateful you had the balls to do this. You'll be proud of yourself."
"Is this your good cop routine?"
He shook his head. "Trust me, you'd notice."
Wilson was quiet for a moment. "Does he have to go to jail?"
"That was the original plan. But we can work something out."
The hopeful look on Wilson's face almost made him laugh. He tried to smile kindly.
"He's not well," he offered. "It's the drugs. He's an addict. Maybe..." He paused carefully. "Maybe he just needs some help."
"Like... rehab?"
Mike nodded slowly. "First conviction, mitigating circumstances... I think the judge could be convinced to consider a less... drastic solution."
The clock ticked on in the background. He knew he was getting there, and he was getting there in record time too. He counted silently to five before he saw Wilson's shoulders slump. It was almost disappointingly easy.
"So, how do we do this?"
"The judge will need an offence to base the conviction on. Forging the prescription will do."
He reached under the table and pulled out his briefcase. He found the form marked 'Wilson, James' and pushed it across the table carefully. "You might want to read this."
Wilson looked at him suspiciously. "You already wrote my confession?"
Mike shrugged. "I think ahead." He let the other man skim through the document. "We're very similar that way."
For a moment he thought it wasn't going to happen and he felt frustration well up inside him, but then Wilson accepted his pen like it was the keys to the kingdom.
Mike didn't exhale until Wilson had handed him the document back. He smiled. "Thank you."
Once he had locked the briefcase he sat back and let the feeling of elation wash over him. He'd done this more times than he could remember, and yet it always gave him the same satisfaction.
But the excitement soon dissipated as he eyed the other man thoughtfully. The nervousness was gone and Wilson looked hopeless again, fingering the edge of the table carefully.
Mike loved breaking his witnesses, but almost as much he enjoyed putting them back together again. He finished his coffee. "I'm going to give you a ride back to your hotel."
Wilson winced. "That's not -"
"You don't have your car. It's the least I can do."
His car was parked in the underground garage. If it unnerved Wilson to be seen walking with him, he didn't let it show. It was all going to be over soon anyway.
He waited until Wilson was buckled up before he spoke again. "You're staying at the same place, right?" Mike knew he wasn't, but he wanted to hear Wilson say it.
"Uh no, I... checked out some time ago. Apparently," Wilson's voice rose a pitch, "there was a problem with my credit."
Mike thought of Wilson in that lush hotel room. "But you're not homeless, right?"
The sight of Wilson's blushed ears made the corners of his mouth twitch. "I live at the Continental Inn."
The GPS mapped the route to the motel easily and he drove in silence. At his side, Wilson was staring quietly out the window. He looked more composed now, but the air of vulnerability was still present. Mike glanced at the LCD screen briefly. There was an exit coming up in half a mile. He tapped the steering wheel in anticipation.
"Do you do this a lot?" Wilson asked suddenly.
Mike sighed. He wasn't in the mood for random small talk. "GPS is standard in all department cars."
The sound of Wilson's laughter was so unexpected he had double check. "I meant convincing people to give up their loved ones."
Mike kept his eyes on the road. "Do you love him?"
"Is that any of your business?"
He shook his head. "Not anymore." From his appearance, Mike had gathered Wilson wasn't exclusively of the heterosexual persuasion. He just never expected the other man's stubborn loyalty to be explained by something as trivial as love.
"It's not requited, if that's what you're wondering."
He had half a mind to ask how long this had been going on but the look on Wilson's face told him everything he needed to know. He'd gotten pretty good at reading people over the years. "It all makes sense, in a way. Him screwing you over, you wanting to screw him."
"Shut up."
Mike cast another glance at the screen and made up his mind. "He's not going to forgive you, you know."
Wilson looked at him evenly. "You said I did the right thing."
"You did. You helped him. But he won't appreciate it. You'll save his life and he'll let you take the fall. You'll be better off for it."
Wilson laughed dryly. "Is psychoanalysis your part time hobby? It's not enough that you've ruined my practice, frozen my assets and taken away everything I had going for me?"
Mike let out a soft whistle. "Not everything."
Wilson twitched in his seat. His hands were clutched tightly. "Look, just....Where are you going?"
"To your hotel." He pulled to a full stop and turned off the ignition. "Eventually."
One of Wilson's hands had subtly slipped to the belt buckle. He probably thought he would be quick enough to reach the door handle.
Mike found this amusing. "Just take it easy, there."
"Why did you stop?"
He unbuckled himself. "I said I'd drive you home, and I will. I just want to talk to you for a while first."
"Why do I feel like I've landed in an episode of The Sopranos?"
Wilson was breathing in a way Mike knew well, the way you sound when you're nervous but trying to hide it. He put in another piece of gum and let his hands rest idly in his lap.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
"And I should believe you because...?"
"Because unlike Dr. House, I take my job very seriously."
A few moments passed, and then Wilson rubbed both hands over his eyes slowly.
"Fine, you want to analyze me for your pop psychology project? Go ahead. Ask me anything."
Mike had to only think for a second. "When was the first time you realized you were in love with House?"
"When he stopped me from jumping off the Titanic. Next question."
"Don't be a smart ass."
Wilson threw his hands out. "I don't know. I'm not a human palm pilot."
"But you can pinpoint a month, right? A week? A year?"
"1997. After Rosh Hashana but before Yom Kippur. Is that specific enough for you?"
"Is that the only reason you stay friends with him? Because you're in love with him?"
Wilson sighed loudly. "You're asking me if I base our friendship on the nonexistant hope that I might get laid some day? If I wanted an eternal and fruitless wait, I'd become a Jehova's Witness."
"You're a loyal man. Does he know?"
Wilson's bottom lip twitched. "I don't think he ever looks outside himself long enough to notice." He let out a deep breath and was quiet for a few moments. "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm in love with him?"
Mike shook his head softly. "When you've done my job as long as I have, that's the easy question. You like what he gives you, when it's good. He makes you laugh. He makes you feel useful. His emotional abuse, his jealousy... It just makes you feel special."
Wilson snorted, but it came out weaker than he must have intended. "Yes, nothing says I love you like being forced to shut down your practice."
"Sometimes he goes too far, even for you. In the past you've tolerated it, because you thought the good times you had made up for it. But eventually the scales started tipping. Either you didn't notice, or you just ignored it. You probably thought that if you stuck around long enough, one day they would tip back, and it would all be worth it. Here's the kicker: it never will."
He half expected Wilson to say something snappy in return, but the other man remained silent. Mike didn't push. Silence never made him feel uncomfortable. He tapped against the steering wheel to pass the time.
On the other side of the windshield, the autumn wind was blowing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Wilson rub his eyes frantically.
"Guess... guess it was a good thing you stopped. Oh God..."
He waited until the other man's breath became fast and erratic before he placed his right hand on Wilson's arm. It was a light, soft touch just above the elbow. Nothing conspicuous.
"Take it easy. Just breathe."
For a minute, the sound of Wilson's hitched breath and his own soft murmurs were the only sounds that could be heard. Mike felt a tug in his stomach. Eventually, Wilson's breath slowed down.
"It's your job to tell people they're going to die. Have you ever had a patient break down on you?"
"Sometimes." Wilson wiped his face with his hand. His skin seemed flush. "I'm sorry, I...."
His next words were muffled by Mike's mouth. Mike hadn't kissed a man in over six months, and the fullness of the lips and the lack of facial hair was almost enough to fool him that he was kissing a woman. Not that he wanted to be fooled.
Wilson was stiff and unresponsive. Mike pulled back.
"Some co-operation would be nice."
"Detective Tritter..."
"You know what? Let's drop the titles for now. "
Wilson opened his mouth to say something and Mike took that opportunity to kiss him again. This time Wilson responded. He was not a talented kisser, or maybe he was just nervous, but it was enough. Mike brought his other hand up to Wilson's neck and rubbed the tense muscles slowly.
A few moments passed when nothing was heard but the sound of wet kissing and Wilson's soft whimpers. For a moment, Mike had been worried he wouldn't be able to get into it, but the sounds and the sight of Wilson's red eyes were enough to get his dick hard.
"Mike..." Wilson was moaning softly when he pulled away.
Bingo.
He kept the left hand firmly where it was and used the other to part the brown suede jacket. He could feel the remnants of pecs and abs cushioned by middle age and a love for cooking.
For a moment he thought about telling the doctor to remove his shirt, but the car's heating was out of whack, and he wasn't that much of an asshole.
His hand travelled lower and found the other man's cock straining against the fabric of his pants. He was impressed when Wilson only pulled away slightly.
"Look, I...."
"You ever comfort-fucked a patient, Dr. Wilson?"
Wilson eyes darted to the side nervously. '"I thought you took your job seriously."
Mike shrugged. "I'm off this week. And you're not a suspect."
His fingers were cold and it took some flexing before they could pull down the zipper. Front seat sex was always unpractical, but what he had in mind didn't require a lot of acrobatics.
There was the feeling of white cotton fabric and then his fingers found flesh. Suddenly, they felt much warmer.
Wilson remained still as he was stroked into full erection, his neck held tightly by Mike's unyielding grip. It only took a minute.
Mike removed the hand from Wilson's neck and reached for the glove compartment. "I don't keep my gun in here, in case you're wondering."
He expected a grin or a snappy comeback but found only a faint smile on the other man's face. He sighed inwardly and tore the wrapping of the condom. He didn't like the taste of latex, but he wasn't stupid enough to go without.
He worked the condom onto Wilson's erection and scooted as far back as the space would allow. All the while, Wilson just looked at him with that stupid, dog-eyed expression. Mike found it endearing and annoying at the same time.
"Keep your hands to yourself, or I'm stopping. In fact, keep your hands to yourself in any case. Want me to stop, you just have to say the word."
He could see Wilson nod slightly, that nervous expression back on his face. He didn't think Wilson would be asking him to stop, but with this much repressed desire, you never knew.
He grabbed Wilson's hips with both hands before leaning forward and taking the head of his erection into his mouth. If it had been six months since he last kissed a guy, it had to have been a year since he sucked another guy off. Luckily, it was the sort of exercise that was stored into your long term memory.
He counted to five and calmly pushed more of it down his throat. He gagged slightly when it hit the back, but he remembered enough to keep himself from pulling away. He breathed deeply through his nose and worked on relaxing his jaw and throat. After only a few moments he felt himself relax.
Victory.
He could hear Wilson breathe heavily above him. He was obediently clutching the edge of his seat with both hands. Mike could tell since he felt Wilson's arm brush against his shoulder as he moved.
He pulled back slightly, keeping his tongue pressed against the underside of Wilson's dick all the way. When he had withdrawn almost completely, he dared a glance upwards. He felt his ego swell about two sizes.
Wilson was taut as a bow string, his head turned and his eyes closed. The window was foggy from his harsh panting.
He repeated the maneuver of pulling back a few times. He had to admit to himself, he was enjoying the blowjob. He really should get around to doing it more often.
Still, after a few minutes he realized that it had been going on a bit too long for comfort. His neck was aching, and he wasn't about to hurt himself sucking this guy off.
When he had done this in the past, the guy had usually finished by now. But from the feel of Wilson's body beneath him, that didn't seem to be happening any time soon.
Mike could guess what the problem was. He pulled back enough for the head of Wilson's cock to rest on his tongue.
'Come on,' he begged silently. 'Just let the asshole go.'
His right arm was busy holding himself up, but he easily move the left a little without falling forward.
He found Wilson's hand under the edge of the seat. He could probably have torn it from its grip by force, but he felt strangely reluctant to do so. Instead he rubbed his thumb over the hand soothingly. Wilson let out a surprised gasp.
The soft flesh of his dick twitched beneath the latex of the condom. From there, it only took a few moments. Mike sucked down hard and stroked Wilson's hand firmly. There was a choked cry and a gasp and then Wilson's whole body tensed. With the condom, there was nothing to swallow so Mike just kept up the suction for courtesy's sake until the twitching had stopped. He pulled back triumphantly, Wilson's hand slipping from his grasp. He discarded the condom on the floor once he was done tying it up.
The other man was leaning back against his seat now, face flushed and his breathing ragged. Mike kissed him once more. He found himself enjoying it even more this time, with Wilson's body boneless and compliant beneath him. He had worked up an excess of saliva during the blowjob which worked wonders against Wilson's dry mouth. He suddenly felt very comfortable.
He kept kissing him until he felt the other man stir to life again, coming down from the high of his orgasm. It gave Mike a kick to know that he could make the little mutt feel that way. He pulled away, but kept one arm casually slung over Wilson's body.
"I'm going to presume that was to your satisfaction."
Wilson threw his head back and sighed. "Oh yeah. Thanks... Thanks a lot. "
Mike just nodded. For a second he thought of saying something lame and flattering like 'Jesus, you blew a big load' but it seemed stupid. He realized suddenly that he had accidentally swallowed his nicotine gum sometime during the blowjob. He groaned. Oh well, it was too late to worry about that now.
He sat back comfortably to wait for what was going to happen next. People like Wilson didn't like being in debt.
Wilson coughed slightly and nodded his head in the direction of Mike's crotch. "I guess it's your turn now."
"You don't have to," Mike offered graciously. "It's all right if you just give me a handjob. I don't mind."
"No." Wilson shook his head like predicted. "I want to suck you off." He didn't seem too thrilled about the idea.
Mike looked at him carefully. There was one more thing he wanted to know. "Ever done it before?"
Wilson's eyes darted to the side. He seemed to try to shrug as casually as possible. "Sure."
Mike hadn't seen that kind of body language since the last time he arrested a burglar with jewelry stuffed down his pants. It seemed Dr. Wilson had been doing some waiting after all.
Over the next few moments, he debated with himself whether he should continue the charade of arguing or not. But he figured if Wilson was ready he shouldn't stand in his way. Besides, he had the distinct feeling a little bit of reluctance would only make it sweeter.
He rubbed Wilson's thigh gently. "Get another condom."
He unzipped himself while Wilson opened the glove compartment. He had decided to wear briefs that morning and had some hassle pulling them down enough to expose his erection, but eventually he was out and ready.
"Here," Wilson handed him a condom. Mike could see him put the wrapper in the pocket of his jacket. "Do you want to do it?"
He shrugged. "You're the doc."
It felt strangely comforting to lean back into his seat and watch Wilson roll the condom down over his erection. When it was on, Wilson's fingers brushed over his scrotum briefly and it was enough to make his cock twitch. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he kept them idly by his side, thinking maybe Wilson felt the same way about being touched during the act as he did.
Then there was the movement of Wilson scooting backwards, and the feeling of warm hands digging into his thighs and the soft sounds of labored breathing as Wilson worked his mouth down over him.
He wasn't very good at it, but the soft warmth of his mouth was enough, and Mike had always liked enthusiasm.
His pace was slow but his jaw was far too tense, and it only took a few moments before Wilson was tearing up and the sounds of coughing and obstructed breathing could be heard.
Deciding to break his resolve, Mike ran his hands up and down Wilson's back. "It's okay. You're doing good. Just breathe." He rubbed the muscles in his neck and shoulders soothingly until the other man seemed to relax.
After a few moments of getting his breath back, Wilson started working him again, making soft sucking noises that reverberated through Mike's brain.
Wilson didn't take him very far, and he didn't move much, but he kept using his tongue.
Mike believed in awarding bravery. "Oh yeah," he groaned and stroked the soft curls of Wilson's hair. "Fuck, that's good."
It was over within two minutes.
He removed his cock from Wilson mouth and discarded the condom quickly. When he was done he found the other man sitting back up with a delightfully smug expression on his face.
This time Wilson kissed him. It was soft but enthusiastic and Mike could taste the latex. He found himself yearning desperately for a cigarette.
When he pulled away, Wilson looked a bit more composed.
Mike put in another gum. "I'm going to drive you home now."
If he thought the other man looked a little wistful, the expression was gone when he turned back from buckling up and starting the ignition. Back in his jacket and seat belt, looking just a little bit comfort-fucked, no one would be able to guess there had ever been anything wrong with Wilson.
They drove in silence.
As they pulled up to the parking lot of the motel, Mike reached for his briefcase. "Here." He produced a piece of paper and handed it to Wilson. "Show this at the DMV, and the guy at the desk will give you your car back. You'll find your accounts un-frozen within 36 hours. The DEA license will take a bit longer, but you'll be able to tell Dr. Cuddy you're back in business."
He had expected Wilson to look somehow angry, as if he had suddenly been reminded of a fight he had forgotten, but he just accepted the document with a look of gratitude on his face. It was almost disturbing.
"I'm not going to apologize." Mike said softly. "This is how I do my job."
Wilson nodded. "I know."
He would be back doing his own job soon, fixing those patients he could, making the end bearable for those he couldn't. It suddenly occurred to Mike how much Wilson must enjoy doing what he did. Work was probably the only thing he had left. They were similar that way, and only that way. Mike only liked fixing people he had broken himself.
He let his hand brush against the back of Wilson's arm. "It's such a shame House put you through all this. But at least something good came out of it, don't you think?"
Wilson's face lit up in small smile. For a moment Mike felt as if he wasn't even there.
"I'll call the judge in the morning and work out a deal for Dr. House. You'd better get to bed now."
Wilson just nodded, clutching the DMV form like it was a precious missive. "Will I see you again?"
Mike made a show of unlocking the doors of the car with a push of a button. "Sure."
As Wilson walked away, Mike took a long hard look and thought how nice it would be to fuck that ass sometime.
He turned on the radio, and drove home with The Beatles blasting through his speakers. He had a signed confession in his possession and another case ready to ship off to the DA's office. When he swallowed, he could still feel the weight of Dr. Wilson's cock. Having one up on House was always a good thing.
He started whistling.
It was true that in the end it didn't matter how Mike Tritter got what he wanted. But he had to admit, he was glad that it happened like this.
The End
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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.
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