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The Christmas Cliché
by Psyche
Christmas was as good a time as any to get wasted. Especially at a lame Christmas party like this one. House never really understood the idea of forcing people who had nothing but work in common to socialize. Surely those who had more than just work to talk about would figure out how to see each other off work all by themselves, without needing an excuse like a company party to cling to?
As House gulped down his fourth glass of champagne, he wondered if a company party counted as socializing at work or outside of work. Not that it really mattered - the hours spent at the hospital weren't exactly 9-5. What did it really matter that people wore tuxedos and fancy dresses instead of lab coats? Well, it probably mattered for those who were called away on a sudden emergency to check on a patient. They would be wearing a tux and a lab coat. Once again House congratulated himself on his choice of wardrobe. Jeans, jacket, and an old Woodstock tee. Worked every time.
As Christmas parties went, this one wasn't too bad actually. There was plenty of booze. There was plenty of food. There was tv. Okay, last one was a stretch, but no one had said he couldn't hang out in the department lounges when things got too boring. Except for Cuddy, but when did he ever listen to her anyway.
As House watched the crowd move about, two things caught his eye. A tray of champagne being offered around, and Chase, standing with his arms crossed and casting longing looks to the side. House caught a glass from the tray and slid up besides Chase, who acknowledged him with a nervous flick of his eyes.
"I know what you're gonna say," Chase said.
"And yet you continue to do it." House sipped his champagne - dry, just the way he liked it - and followed Chase's look. He appreciated the view of a beautiful woman, and Cameron was all that as she stood there in her deep burgundy dress, whipping her hair over her shoulder whenever an errand strand caught her attention. The attention that was currently directed at a young intern from cardiology.
"Don't worry. She'll get tired of pampering his butt soon enough. Then she can go back to pampering yours."
Chase shot House a sour look. "Thanks, that helps a lot."
"Glad to help." Chase shuffled his feet and glanced over at Cameron again.
"You know," House began, "A direct method might work even better than wistful looks."
"I already told her how I feel. Didn't help."
House made a face. "I don't mean that. I mean, show her you own her. Push away your competition, be competitive. Not aggressive, just enough so mark your territory."
Chase turned and gave his boss a long look. "Right."
House didn't miss the smile that crept onto his face and he frowned. "What?"
"You mean like you're always jealous whenever Wilson talks to someone who isn't you. I get it."
The frown on House's face grew into one of slight annoyance. "I'm not jealous, I'm protective. I do that for Wilson's own sake."
Chase grinned and nodded. "If you say so. So if Wilson is chatting up a woman, or a guy for that matter, you won't care?"
House looked at him from above the rim of his champagne glass, which he had just emptied. "Of course I will care. But I won't be jealous. Completely different."
"Not even if the woman has dark curly hair, is wearing a snug black thing with a killer cleavage...?"
House's expression changed from annoyance to confusion to disbelief to suspicion so fast Chase thought he had imagined it. Then House turned his head and looked in the direction Chase had been looking. It wasn't difficult to spot Wilson. The impeccable doctor with the blow dried hair and the ironed shirt and tailored suit stood near the entrance to the C wing. The woman he was talking to was a small thing, one of the doctors on the night shift he recognized, though he couldn't remember her area of work. Wilson, being Wilson, was probably just having a friendly conversation, but the woman, judging from her wiggling hands and excess of giggles was flirting heavily. House pressed his lips together and eyed the situation, considering his options.
Next to him Chase unfolded his arms, placed a daring hand on House's arm and leaned in to him. "If you really want Wilson, you should just tell him." His tone was low but light and so full of understanding House considered whacking him on the head.
Instead he shot Chase a sharp look. "If I wanted something pretty in my bed I would just hit on you," he said and left his glass in Chase's free hand before limping off towards Wilson and the unsuspecting female. Behind him Chase suppressed a grin and shook his head.
Christmas parties. Well, they were at least good for one thing. If he could just forget the fact that it was such a cliche it almost made House cringe.
The woman looked up first when he approached. Wilson hadn't seen him yet. Just as well. It made doing this so much easier. House threw the brunette a hello smile before grabbing Wilson by the neck with one hand, his chin with the other, and tilting his face to get the best angle he pressed his open mouth to Wilson's, silencing him mid sentence. Wilson's surprise was so profound he didn't even think about closing his mouth and House took that as an invitation to explore Wilson's mouth with his tongue. The kiss couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but when House pulled back, Wilson looked like the world had turned on its axis without telling him. He was more or less frozen in the same position he had found him in, eyes wide and lips moist with saliva, everything cool and collected stolen from him.
"Don't you just love Christmas?" House quipped, giving Wilson a self satisfactory smile. He gave the brunette an upwards nod before leaving them to themselves. He could practically feel their eyes on his back and he grinned to himself.
The brunette crossed her arms and took pity on the man next to her who clearly didn't know what to do with himself.
"Above you," she said, and Wilson looked up, spotting a branch of mistletoe hanging innocently over him. "Oh," he said, the mix of relief and dejection in his voice so perfect that she couldn't tell which he had meant it to be.
"Possessive, isn't he?" she said. Not so much a question as it was a statement.
Wilson brought his hand up to rub his neck in what she could tell was a much used gesture. "You have no idea," he answered.
It had felt good to throw the boy wonder oncologist. When he returned to a gaping Chase, his smugness would reach no end.
"That's how you do it," he told the Aussie.
"Yeah, that's gonna convince Cameron I'm not in love but just looking out for her best interest," he said, cocking an eyebrow at House. "Explain to me again how there is a difference between protective and jealous? The line seemed a bit blurry to me."
"Don't be dumb," House answered. "If I were really jealous I would have punched her in the face."
Chase gave House a dubious look. "Ri-ight."
"And you should stop drinking if things are getting blurry." He snatched Chase's glass of champagne from him and took off before the other could protest.
The oncology lounge was predictably empty when House pushed the doors open with and elbow and hobbled inside, glass in one hand and cane in the other. A few nurses were checking on patients, silently scurrying around in the hall. Not enough to interfere with the silence in the lounge, though. House leaned his cane against the back of the couch and found the remote on the nearby coffee table. He sprawled on the soft cushions and turned on the tv, pressing mute before any sound could disrupt the blessed silence.
The buzz in his head was more noticeable now in the silence of the room, and House rubbed his temple. He watched the screen without seeing anything. In his mind, though, he pictured Wilson and that brunette. He wondered what they were doing now. Wilson had probably offered her some stupid apology on behalf of his erratic friend. She had probably been all understanding. Maybe she had even kissed him out of pity. He was standing under a mistletoe. What would stop her? What would stop Wilson from leading her away from the others, maybe finding an empty exam rooms - god knows there were plenty - pressing her body against his, trailing his lips (god they had been soft!) down her pale throat. Maybe a hand in her panties while she moaned and clung to him.
Staring blindly at the screen in front of him House barely felt it when his pulse rose or when his breath came a little heavier. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, gripping the remote a little too hard as his mind raced. He thought of brown eyes unfocused with desire, and failed to notice the door swing open and the figure standing in the doorway, hands on hips.
"There you are," Wilson said, and House jumped, almost spilling the drink on himself.
"Jesus, way to give a guy a heart attack." The annoyance wasn't so much from being disturbed as it was from realizing he was hard in his pants. Without being too obvious about he turned and gave Wilson a look he hoped said get the hell out.
If Wilson could decode the look he was unfazed. "Message from Cuddy: No hiding in lounges, exam rooms or with Mr. Henderson."
"Who?"
"Coma Guy."
"Oh." Turning around, House set the glass on the table and found it safe enough to get up.
"So where's mrs Wilson the Fourth?"
Wilson shot him a dismayed look. "Angie. She went home, which I can't imagine is a surprise to you." He went further into the room and picked up a pile of papers from the coffee table. It was only now that House noticed Wilson had donned his coat.
"There will be other chances of getting laid," he said. When that barely earned him a grunt he asked, "You're leaving?"
Wilson looked up from the papers. "Yeah. Got a lot of things to go over before vacation."
As he rifled through the papers, picking some out and leaving others, House let his chin fall to his chest and observed him with a slight pout. "So... Wanna get wasted and watch old horror flicks at my place?"
Wilson barely looked up. "Sure. And since you blew my chances of getting laid, I expect you to put out."
"Okay."
That made Wilson look up. "Next I suppose you're offering to pay for the cab."
House took a few careful steps forward. "Nope, that would be against my principles. But a hand job I can do."
Wilson had gone completely still. His mouth hung slightly open and his eyebrows were practically trying to crawl right off of his forehead. House would have laughed at his incredulous look, if those lips weren't such a fucking turn on. Christ, I must be drunk, House thought.
"You... You're just trying to shock me."
"Obviously it's working."
Wilson seemed to reach some kind of decision. He placed the papers back on the table, shrugged his coat off and threw it on the back of the couch on top of House's cane. Then he unbuckled his belt and pulled pants and boxers down till mid-thigh, unwavering eyes challenging House. Only his blush betrayed any discomfort he felt about the situation.
House reciprocated the stare. And then, our of curiosity, he glanced down. Wilson's neatly ironed shirt was crumbled from where it had been tugged into his pants, but it was nonetheless still long enough to cover him. From the outline of the shirt, nothing much seemed to be happening in that department either. Yet.
He could either laugh it off now as a joke, and Wilson would win this. Or he could rise to the bait and get his friend off, and he would win. Except for the whole getting off part, which made it feel an awful lot like Wilson also winning that way. But House knew, just as Wilson knew, that if nothing else, his curiosity would get the better of him in the end.
It was with some detached level of satisfaction that House watched a flicker of uncertainly cross Wilson's face as he took those final steps towards him. Involuntarily Wilson backed up until House had him against the wall. He didn't touch him, not yet, but put an arm on either side of Wilson's face and leaned in close.
"Open your shirt," House breathed. Wilson swallowed, but House mentally gave him points for not averting his eyes. There was plenty of time for that. Wilson's hands had fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, which now hung open, exposing a line of naked chest, stomach, and, as House noted when he glanced down again, a half erect penis protruding from dark brown curls.
"I'd have thought you'd be more enthusiastic by now," House said. He trailed his fingers down the path of hair going from Wilson's belly button and down to his groin, making Wilson jump. He was watching House's movements intensely. House could practically feel the heat coming off Wilson. His face burned; whether it was from embarrassment or arousal House couldn't tell. He guessed a little of both.
"Then I guess you better work for it," Wilson replied, his voice only a little raw. After a pause he added, "If you think you can." House looked up to study Wilson's face but he wouldn't look at him. There was something incredibly erotic about someone as anal as Wilson saying something that teasing. House let his fingers dip into Wilson's pubic hair before withdrawing to shrug off his own jacket. He wasn't going to start something only to pass out from a heat stroke in the middle of it.
Jacket on the floor, House leaned his weight on his left arm, standing a little to the side to get a better angle. They both watched as House ran his fingers across the penis, trailing its length only to dip lower and grip Wilson's balls. Hard.
"Jesus House!" Wilson tried to scoot out of the way, his left hand clamping down on House's wrist, but House held on.
"You really think I'd hurt you?" he asked into Wilson's ear. Wilson stared at him with wide eyes, but then gradually relaxed into House's grip.
"N-no."
"Good. Then take your hand off me and place your palms against the wall."
House marveled at Wilson's compliance as he did what he was told. He knew he was a pushover, but he hadn't imagined he would have this much control over him in this situation. Actually he had never imagined this situation at all, but now he wished he had. It was turning him on like nothing he had ever experienced.
He slowly rolled Wilson's scrotum in his hand. Warm and soft against his palm. He pulled lightly, provoking a whimper from the other man. He looked up to gauge the reaction from his face, and judging from the closed eyes and the slack jaw it was definitely not a whimper of pain. Wilson's erection was now pointing straight outwards. House took pity and let his hand slide up and down the length of him. His fingers teased the head, catching the precum and spreading it to make friction smoother. Then he closed his fingers into a fist and pumped steadily up and down.
"What.. if someone comes," Wilson said between breaths.
"Well I guess you will just have to stop making so many noises, or we will attract attention."
"Easy for you... to say." Wilson leaned his head against the wall behind him and bit his lower lip. House wished he was the one biting it. He wanted to put his lips to Wilson's again, the memory of how that had felt only too vivid in his mind. He was achingly hard himself and almost on his own account his free hand went to the front of his jeans to rub gently.
Damn it, he thought to himself, this isn't gonna work. This isn't supposed to happen. He wanted to be angry at Wilson for affecting him like this. Wilson, oblivious to House's internal struggles, started thrusting a little against House's ministrations. House stepped in front of him and put his left hand on Wilson's hip.
"Don't move. I set the pace." His right hand briefly left its task so he could spit in it. Ah yes, much better. From this angle, House's thumb grazed the underside of Wilson's penis repeatedly, and House loosened his grip a little to counterpoint the direct stimulation.
"Spread your legs a little. And keep your hips in place." Wilson obligingly did as he was told. With his left hand House now took to massaging Wilson's balls again, tugging playfully, all the while keeping an eye on the reactions it provoked. Sweat glistened on Wilson's chest, is forehead and on his lip. His head was bowed forward and he was obviously making an effort of keeping quiet. It pleased House that he could make Wilson lose control like this. His own little revenge for affecting him the way he did.
He placed his lips by Wilson's ear and whispered, "Are you gonna come soon?"
He only got a nod in response.
"Good." He tightened his right hand and picked up the speed. Then, out of Wilson's sight, he sucked his middle finger into his mouth and wetted it thoroughly. When he returned the hand to Wilson's groin he reached further back behind his balls where he pressed along the perineum and Wilson's breath caught in little hisses.
"I- House.."
House kept jerking his fist around the head of Wilson's penis to maximize the pleasure. And like an assassin sneaking up to its victim, House's slickened finger traveled further backwards, pressed against the tight opening and slipped past the ring muscles with ease. Wilson's eyes flew open and his whole body tensed, and - "Oh god...!" Wilson gasped - it only took a few rubs right there before he spurted warm come into House's hand in two, three hard pulses. His whole body shook from the orgasm until the spasms slowly subsided and House withdrew his hands.
While Wilson sagged against the wall, House went to wash his hands in the sink at the small kitchen table. He grabbed a cloth and wrung it a few times under the warm water before bringing it over to Wilson.
"One almost suspects you have done this before," Wilson panted, accepting the cloth.
House limped over to the couch, avoiding putting too much pressure on his leg, which was currently not very cooperative. "Hey, just because you're a prude doesn't mean other people haven't been around."
"I'm standing in a public hospital with my pants down to my knees and post coital written all over me. I hardly think I'm a prude."
"Yeah about that, have you caught your breath yet? Cause we might have to leave before someone comes and check up on what's going on. You're pretty bad at being quiet, you know." He winced as he rummaged around in the pockets of his jacket for his pills. In the heat of the moment it was easy to forget that your leg wasn't happy about standing in the same position for long. He downed a couple and sat back against the back of the sofa, rubbing at his thigh as discreetly as possible, but knowing Wilson knew.
Pulling up his pants and getting everything in order, Wilson dumped the cloth in the waste basket. "Well, you could have prepared me for your stealth operation."
"Where would the surprise be in that?"
Wilson walked up to him and sighed. "Do you need help with that?"
"No."
"I don't mean your thigh."
House looked up to meet Wilson's brown eyes, searching. He found no pity as he had expected. There was affection, though, and something else... amusement?
"You said something about bad horror flicks. I think we can combine that with...some kind of exchange favor. Somewhere where you can lie down. And.. not be quiet."
House tried to sound neutral but knew he wasn't doing too good a job. "Why doctor Wilson. I didn't know zombies turned you on."
Wilson smirked and picked up his coat and handed House his jacket. "Let's go then."
Grabbing his cane, they made for the door.
"Wait," House said, "Aren't you forgetting your papers?"
Wilson gave a light shrug. "I didn't really need them." His face was a mask of innocence, but House had long ago learned to see behind that.
"Oh, you're good," he said. And then he leaned in and caught Wilson's lips with his. They were just as soft as he remembered.
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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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