Cookie-aroma is hanging in the air, even outside his apartment. An aroma he knows well, it's one of his favorites during Christmas time. Although it is a tad unnerving to smell this aroma coming out of his apartment. Okay, it's their apartment, his and Wilson's to be precisely. He put Wilson's name on the papers shortly after they became an item and that is about three years ago. Not that Wilson knows about that; doesn't have to know everything. House rolls his eyes as he thinks about Wilson's presumable reaction after he tells him, “Guess what – you own this apartment with me, I put you on the papers too.” Geez, no, can't do that …

Cautiously he opens the front door, slipping in as quietly as possible. He dumps his backpack on the floor and sneaks closer to the kitchen, discovering the source of the delicious aroma. House smirks as he sees Wilson pushing a new baking tray into the oven. He then shuffles cooled down cookies from another tray to a Christmas box. House's mouth waters at the sight of his beloved Chocolate-Peanut-Cookies. His mouth waters further on at the enticing sight of Wilson in the kitchen. Not that this is an abnormal sight, it's just Wilson in casual clothes. He's wearing worn-out jeans and an old t-shirt, the outfit is completed with thick woolen socks. Also he's covered in flour and his hair seems to be powdered, appearing like snow.

House smiles. He's genuinely curious and stands still to watch Wilson who's currently putting new blobs of cookie-dough on a tray. So, that's what couldn't be delayed with the car … He frowns somewhat as he thinks of Wilson lying to him so smoothly and without batting an eye. If he's able to trick him like that … Then House should definitely keep an eye on him more closely.

House leaves his cane abandoned and limps over to Wilson who is still engrossed in the baking-thing. He grabs Wilson from behind and encircles him around the waist. Wilson yelps in fearful surprise; the tea-spoon clatters to the floor as he squeaks an indignant, “House! You scared the living hell out of me!”

House can feel Wilson's heart beat fast under his palm as he starts to nuzzle Wilson's neck. Wilson relaxes a bit and leans into House's embrace who is nibbling at an ear lobe.

“So, what did the mechanic say about the Volvo? Can you scrap it and buy a cooler car?”

Wilson groans low in his throat, getting caught with lying to House isn't such a good thing. He's speaking from experience there; he feels sorry for himself as he thinks of House stalking him even more than usual in the weeks to come.

“The Volvo is fine, thanks for your concern!”

“So … you decided to bake instead of going back to work,” House asks innocently.

Wilson drops his head and starts to wriggle out of House's embrace. Well, that's the intention but said man has a strong hold on him and he's trapped and squirming with embarrassment. He will never live this down, that's for sure!

“I, uh, I had already taken the day off so I thought I could come home,” Wilson is babbling while trying to pry House's hands open. The only reaction from this is House dragging him closer, almost knocking the breath out of him.

“Aren't these the cookies you're mother sends you every year around Christmas?”

Wilson wishes that House would release at least one of his hands, which are currently locked between his belly and House's hands, so that he could rub his neck till it's sore. Anything to let of steam. He settles on shuffling with his feet.

“Wil – son! Didn't your mother teach you that it is impolite to not answer a question?” House rumbles right in Wilson's ear.

“What was the question again?” Wilson tries to win time. Not that it would help anyway.

“You are trying to temporize, my dear.”

Oh no, please! Not the “my dear–thing”! Wilson is severely flustered and highly embarrassed.

“I … there's nothing wrong with baking!”

“You're right.”

“Huh?” Wilson asks confused, “I'm right? Did you just say that?”

“You're right that there is nothing wrong with baking. The wrong thing is that you lied to me.” House goes on and clarifies, “You even lied to me twice. You lied to me about having a problem with your car which you insisted must be taken care of immediately. And you lied to me about the cookies. Your mother didn't bake them the last years. You did.”

Wilson is defeated and he knows it. But hey, he was able to keep it a secret for the past three years and … Oh please, don't let House develop the same thought!

“That leads us directly to the question why you made them and hid it from me.”

“It only leads you to this question, not me,” Wilson mumbles. “You would have mocked me endlessly for baking Christmas cookies. You sure as hell will do that now.”

House is quiet for a short moment, then says, “There is more to it, isn't it? You wouldn't make such an effort to trick me and take a whole day off if it wasn't for something important to you.”

Wilson sighs, “Actually, my Mom really sends a box of cookies each year but you eat them so fast that her cookies only would last for two days.”

“And why is it so important that I have enough cookies for about three weeks?” House really wants to know why Wilson puts so much effort in this baking-thing.

Wilson squeezes his eyes shut before he blurts, “When you eat a lot of these cookies you always let me cuddle up to you for a long and ample period of time. You even don't complain about me using you as a teddy bear.”

House bursts out into laughter and spins Wilson around in his embrace. He cups Wilson's red face in his hands and kisses him before he announces, “By all means, feed me cookies!”

End