It really was more fun this way. The subtly. The manipulation. Fun, but almost too easy.

But then again, this was Wilson. It was always deceptively easy. Perhaps it was that enabling thing but far more likely was his friend toying back. House supposed that's what he liked about him. Too nice, too perfect, and just as manipulative as he was. Hell, sometimes he wondered if he wasn't worse. Self-righteous manipulation was so... self-righteous. And annoying.

“I choose to use my powers for good, House,” Wilson spoke without looking up from his files, “I know that concept must completely baffle you. But it's true.”

“Pfft... It is so not.” House replied with an exaggerated eye roll. “You just tell yourself that to stop your self-righteousness from keeping you up at night.”

“Believe what you want, House,” Wilson waved him off, “You always do.”

Damn. Cop-out. That means something is on his mind, something he's trying to hide, something he's trying to hide from House... now that is interesting. “And you're just trying to avoid the conversation,” House announced triumphantly.

“Yes, because I'm trying to work.” He dropped the file he had be reviewing pointedly and looked directly at House. “Don't you have... I don't know... fellows to terrorize or patients to assault? I'm busy here.”

House opened his mouth for an utterly brilliant retort only to have Kutner poke his head though the door, “Need you.”

“Busy.”

“She's vomiting blood and her kidneys are failing.”

“Is she dying?” House shot back in annoyance.

“Uh... Yeah.”

“Within the next five minutes...?” House ventured hopefully. The patient could wait, he has the puzzle that is James Wilson to solve. Infinitely more important and entertaining and far, far more interesting than vomiting blood. God, these morons need to get more creative with their symptoms.

“Maybe,” Kutner shot an apologetic glance to Wilson. House rolled his eyes, he should be getting the apologetic look, not Wilson.

Kutner fidgeted then handed over some lab results in a last ditch effort to get House interested. Pff, like that would work. All the lab work from this patient had been so boring. House glanced over the results with indifference. Now just to rattle off the cause and treatment and get back to talking to--

Damn. The patient just had to go and get interesting.

House swiped Wilson's coffee and left.

-----

Finally. The moron patient decided to stop dying. And before five too. That was uncharacteristically considerate of them. House had been stuck at the Hospital for three days straight, he had a lot of TiVo to catch up on. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped into the hallway.

“Wilson!”

“Not now, House,” Wilson said without missing a step into the elevator.

House, as always, followed, not about to let the conversation die over a little thing like 'going home,' “You do not use your powers for good. You're just as selfish as the rest of us! You manipulate under the pretext of doing good but really all you're doing is making yourself miserable.”

“Huh,” Wilson pushed the down button then rocked back on his heels, “I help others... to make myself miserable?”

“Nope. You manipulate them into 'happiness' to make yourself miserable. What's great about it is you make them think it was their idea. You've been doing it to me for years.”

“To no effect, I see.”

“Can't play a player,” House shot back and flashed cocky smirk as the doors opened.

Wilson stepped out of the elevator, “How does this make me miserable, exactly?”

“Simple,” House followed him through the lobby, falling temporarily silent until they both stepped out into the biting cold, “You’re so busy fixing everybody else’s life you ignore your own.”

Wilson made his way to his car and unlocked the door, “And you’re bringing this up now, because…?”

“Because you’re avoiding the conversation,” House said as he limped his way to the passenger side door.

“I am not! I was busy! Working! You know… that thing they pay us for. Well, actually, you wouldn’t know anything about--” Wilson paused his argument when he noticed his friend getting in his car. Wilson’s car. He sighed and climbed into the driver’s seat, “You’re not coming home with me, House.”

House adjusted his leg until comfortable, “That’s because we’re going to my place.”

Wilson let out another sigh. He put the keys in the ignition but made no effort turn it. He glanced over at House and gestured for him to get out.

“It’s cold,” House replied in his best pouty voice.

“It’s winter.”

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle in these temperatures?” House put on his most pathetic face he could manage, adding, “With a bum leg?”

“You rode your bike to work? In this weather? Are you insane?” Wilson turned his head toward his friend but did not seem swayed by the face, “Wait, don't answer that. You are insane. Or so pathetically lonely you manufacture reasons to bother me. Or both. I can’t decide which.” Another sigh and he started the car.

House smirked, he had him, almost too easy with Wilson, “Whichever makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.” Now to show off, “I ordered us Chinese.”

“You couldn’t have just asked me to come over—“ Wilson paused and gave a sidelong glance to his friend, another sigh, “No, of course you couldn’t.”

“It’s more fun this way."

---

“You know what's interesting?” House asked as his eyes never left the TV. He twisted up a forkful of Lo Mein while stealing quick glance at Wilson while he waited for a reply.

Wilson took a swig of beer without sparing a glance. He replied after a hard swallow, “No, but you're going to tell me anyway.”

House was used to Wilson's predictable and fained disinterest. He enjoyed it actually. It made their every conversation interesting. House got to prove how interested Wilson really was with each interaction, in each conversation, no matter how annoying. The proof was in his presence. If he didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't put up with it.

House set aside the box of noodles and fixed his gaze at the side of Wilson's face, “You like being manipulated.”

Wilson's attention was still fixed on the TV as he replied, “And you're a manipulative jerk.”

“Exactly,” House swiped Wilson's beer from his hand. He made sure to meet Wilson's eyes as he took a big swig of his beer. “We're perfect for each other.”

Wilson sighed and eyed his beer. House continued to down the beer, seemingly not content until he drank it all. Wilson shook his head and fixed his eyes back on the screen. “You know, in some cultures drinking another man's beer is the same as telling him you want to blow him. Frankly, I'm flattered,” Wilson deadpanned.

House paused, eyebrow quirked curiously. He slowly lowered the beer bottle and brought a hand up to wipe his mouth. Well this is an interesting turn to their conversation, “You're saying you want me to--”

Wilson raised a hand in defense, “Hey, you're the one deep throating my beer.”

“First of all, this is my beer, from my fridge,” House started.

“Beer that I bought.”

House gave him a mild glare then continued, “In my fridge. My beer. You drank my beer. If anything, you want to blow me.”

Wilson made a grab for the bottle, which House immediately held out of his reach. Wilson shot him a glare, “Ah, but it's my beer in your fridge.” An annoying smirk started to form on Wilson's face as he continued, “You have to admit, that says something about our relationship.”

“It says,” House thrust the beer bottle back into Wilson's hand, “You just buy the beer.”

“And all our other meals,” Wilson added with a laugh, “I even paid for the Chinese!”

“I didn't make you.”

“No,” Wilson cracked a new smirk, “You just made sure to be conspicuously out of the room when it arrived.”

“You could have just--”

Wilson raised a hand to silence him, “Ah!” he brought his beer bottle to his lips and finished off the swallow House had left behind. He swallowed hard and gestured to him, “You're trying to deflect.”

House glowered, “I do not want to blow you.” He ground out every word.

Wilson relaxed further into the couch and fixed his eyes back on the TV, “Whatever you say, House...” He casually put his feet up on the coffee table and seemed content to let the subject drop there.

House never was good a dropping subjects. But this subject had suddenly gotten more complicated. It required further thought and caution. A challenge. Challenges are never boring. A slight smirk played on his lips.

After a moment, Wilson turned his head to glance over his friend again. He recognized the look on his face, he's thinking, that can't be good. He sighed, “What?”

House leaned forward and casually wagged a finger at his friend, “You... want to do me.”

“What? No. Oh, no, no, no,” Wilson shook a finger back at him, “Don't pin this on me. You... are a misanthropic ass. No one in their right mind would ever want to 'do you.'”

“Oh come on! That's unfair to hookers everywhere!”

“You paid them. That's different.”

“It is not,” House shot back, “Now who is deflecting?”

Wilson held up his hands in defeat. He got up and shook his head, “Look, House, it doesn't matter who wants to do who. We're both straight anyway.” He covered his face with a hand, he shook his head again then started for the kitchen, “Want another beer?”

Oh, this really is too fun. Annoying Wilson is very high on his things-to-do list, right up there with sexually harassing Cuddy. Both never fail as amusement and entertainment and just plain fun. House's mind raced with all the possibilities opened up for annoying Wilson. He'll never be out of ammo for teasing him. He leaned back into the couch, crossing both his legs and arms and putting on quite the smug face, “Didn't say we weren't straight, I said you want to have sex with me. Huge difference.”

Wilson returned with two open beer bottles. Still standing, he took a swig of his own and held out the other beer to House. When House made a grab for it, Wilson jerked it back out of his reach.

“Hey,” House shot him a warning glare. He pointedly held his hand out for the beer.

Wilson started to sit, but still held the beer teasingly out of the other man's reach. House shot him another glare, “Don't tease the cripple.”

Wilson lowered the beer within his reach.

“Tha--” House grabbed for the bottle only to have Wilson flip it upside down and empty the contents onto House's lap. House cried out and hopped off the couch onto one leg a lot faster than his friend thought he could move, “Wilson! What the hell--”

Wilson sank back into the couch, just barely able to hide a grin behind a justifiable but subtle fear of instant retaliation, “You... started it.”

House looked down to his now soaked t-shirt and jeans then back to Wilson. He fell into silence to process the situation. It was a bold and childish move, like all their games. Not as much forethought as filing half way through his cane but House could still appreciate it. “You know...” House said while tugging at the bottom of his shirt, “There are easier ways to get my clothes off. Less cliché ways.”

Wilson shrugged and brought his own beer to his lips, “I wouldn't do that.”

House rolled his eyes and sat back down without doing anything about his beer soaked clothing. He effortlessly snatched Wilson's beer away. He took a swig of it then placed it pointedly between his own legs for safe keeping.

Wilson raised an eyebrow, “Subtle.”

“Thank you.”

Wilson sat in silence as he continued to watch TV. After about ten minutes he finally spoke again, “You're not going to change your clothes, are you?”

“Nope, ” House turned his head with a lopsided grin, “Better get used to the sweet, sweet smell of stale beer stink.” He brought the beer bottle to his lips and pointedly downed half of it, “And it's my beer.”

“Hm,” Wilson crossed his arms lazily over his chest and sank further into the couch.

“That's it?” House shifted to the side to get a better look at his friend, his eyes slightly narrowing. “Just 'hmm'?” he added with an exaggerated 'hm' expression.

“I'm not going to argue with you over this.”

“Pft,” House gave an eye roll “Yes, you are.”

“No, I'm not.”

House raised the beer bottle to his lips but smirked instead of drinking. He casted a glance to his friend, his smirk broadening. In a smooth motion he held the bottle out in front of Wilson, as if offering it to him. Less than a second later, he tipped the contents into his lap. With an expression of fained innocence he looked over, “Oops.”

“House!” Wilson jerked in his seat but didn't jump up from the shock. Really, it wasn't that shocking – this was House, after all. Wilson glanced down at himself with a groan, “Very mature.”

“You started it,” House flashed a smile in return.

Wilson covered his face with a hand and let out a heavy sigh What seemed like several minutes passed before he took his hand away from his face. With another sigh he tugged his tie from his neck, “Well, unlike you, I don't want to smell like stale beer all night.”

House slowly raised a questioning brow.

Wilson pulled his tie off over his head then started to unbutton his shirt. He noticed House giving him a strange look. He paused and raised his brows, “What?”

“You're stripping.”

“You're staring,” Wilson countered as he tugged his shirt from his shoulders, “According to you, I'm the one that wants to do you, not the other way around. Besides, you've seen me naked before.”

“No, I'm not,” House shot back, “And you're the one getting naked on my couch.” He tilted his head and let his eyes wander over his friend's now bare chest and neck briefly.

“Because you spilled beer on me,” Wilson pointed out with a raised finger.

“You spilled beer on me first, you don't see me getting naked.”

“If you want to smell like the floor of a bar, that's your problem,” Wilson dropped his hands to his fly to unbutton it, “You don't mind if I use your shower,” Said as a statement and not a question, harder to say no to; not that that ever stopped House.

“Of course I mind, you take... what? Three hours in there?” House made an open-handed gesture toward the bathroom, “And who the hell blow-drys their hair for twenty minutes? Who the hell blow-dries their hair?”

Wilson rolled his eyes and simply ignored the jabs. He raised his hips in prelude to removing his pants. House, in turn, seemed annoyed at the lack of response. Frankly, House seemed annoyed in general. Well, more so than usual. Wilson smirked inwardly.

House groaned in irritation, “Oh, come on, Wilson, this isn't a strip-tease. Just take your damn pants off.”

Wilson paused with his fingers tracing his zipper. He leaned back a little further and glanced over at House with a smirk. No come backs and no sign of continuing. God, Wilson could be infuriating sometimes. It was that knowing smirk too. House hated that. He hated that his pants suddenly got too tight in response.

House glared back at him, his eyes darted to his friend's partially undone fly then back to his face. He raised his eye-brows expectantly but Wilson didn't move. House's eyes narrowed.

After a look of contemplation House made a decision. Careful of his bad leg, he shifted to sit sideways on the couch. He ran his hand over his bad leg as it complained about the position. With his other hand he popped a vicodin. Finally, his attention turned back onto Wilson, who hadn't moved an inch.

His leg settled, House rolled his eyes at Wilson, “You idiot.”

This only produced a broader smile from Wilson. House faintly noted that Wilson was no longer looking at him in the face. It produced another eye roll from House, “Oh, be quiet.” Wilson was starting too look entirely too proud of himself for House's liking. He'll make sure to rectify that.

House knocked Wilson's hands away from his crotch. With a small grunt he leaned forward, one hand went to Wilson's chest to hold him down against the couch, with the added bonus of allowing his long fingers access to one of his nipples. House's head lowered, he breathed heavily over the damp cloth of his crotch, causing Wilson to shiver in reply. He held that position until he felt Wilson start to squirm.

With a small smirk House gripped the tab of the zipper between his teeth. Wilson's head rolled back against the couch as he let out a barely audible, “Oh God...”

House slowly tugged the zipper down fully. Releasing it, he let out a heavy breath on his friend's crotch. It really was too good to resist, he lifted his head enough to look up, “I'm flattered but I'm really not one for pet-names.”

Wilson groaned, it figures House would find a way to talk through this. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes while his other hand pushed House's head back down, “Oh, shut up.”

House chuckled lightly into Wilson's crotch. He brought his hands down to tug Wilson's pants down over his hips. Wilson helpfully lifted his hips to ease the process. House's fingers curled around the elastic band of Wilson's briefs, and again, House couldn't resist, “pfft...Briefs? Who the hell wears briefs?”

“House,” Wilson lifted his head enough to shot him a warning glance.

“They're too constricting,” House continued, though his attention was fixed on peeling the underwear from Wilson's hips. “They disrupt the blood flow to the groin,” House said in a surprisingly soft voice as the head of Wilson's cock emerged from the undergarment. He tugged them clear and lowered his head for another heavy breath. Wilson's cock twitched in response.

Wilson grunted, “House...” He lifted his head, his face and part of his chest flushed pink. His ability to think already compromised but he managed, “Are you... trying to get in trouble?”

House replied with a lick to the length of Wilson's cock. Wilson's head collapsed back against the couch with a groan. “Of course not,” House lifted his head enough to show off an eye roll, “I'm making sure blood flow to your groin hasn't been compromised. Duh.”

“Oh, well... it's purely medical interest then,” Wilson breathlessly managed a reply.

“Absolutely,” House lightly traced his lips along his length.

Wilson let out a shaky breath. He barely had time to fully register what was happening before he felt warm tightness close around his tip. Some voice in the corner of his mind told him to keep quiet or he'd never live it down. Regardless, his lips parted and sound passed between them.

That sound seemed to only encourage House. Carefully he drew him further into his mouth. It was more tricky than he thought it would be. Probably due to the angle, the detached side of his mind reasoned. His bad leg ruled out crouching in front of the couch. That didn't rule out moving Wilson though.

House raised his head with a parting lick, “Move.” He put a hand on Wilson's hip to guide him to sit lengthwise on the couch. Wilson raised his head lazily, his mind was slow to catch up on what was wanted of him. House snorted in impatience, he raised his eyebrows and gave his best you're-an-idiot look, “Cripple.”

“Oh--” A look of embarrassment flashed across Wilson's face, “Right...” He pivoted carefully on the couch. Careful to avoid bumping House's bad leg. He settled his own legs on either side of his friend, his mind finally catching up on just what they are doing, “We really shouldn't be doing this.”

“Your lips say 'No' but your cock--” House dropped his head to draw the head of his cock into his mouth for a firm suck then letting it fall free again, “--say 'Oh, hell yes.'”

Wilson found himself gasping at the sensation. He tried to manage a reply but that mouth had closed over his length again. This time he felt his cock slide fully into his mouth. Whatever reservations he had dissolved in the warmth. House was surprisingly good at this. His tongue paying special attention to his glans at every opportunity, and his mouth drawing him in further than he thought possible. Wilson found himself moaning when he realized his friend barely had a gag reflex.

Wilson's hands wandered down and into House's hair. His fingers curling and gripping the short strands of hair but never pulling. He didn't try to guide him, just held on like the sensations would stop if he let go. “Oh, God... House...” he breathed out in a moan. He was greeted with firm suction in reply. A steady rhythm between his legs starting to build.

Once House found a rhythm, his hands started to wander. They drew up the insides of Wilson's legs and slowly pushed them further apart. He let one hand slip teasingly below his balls, feeling their weight. His other hand, Wilson managed to notice through the haze of pleasure, had slipped to his own thigh.

Wilson released the grip he had on his hair. The realization that this could be causing House pain overrode his own need for release, “House--” his voice laced with more concern than pleasure.

House grunted in annoyance. Leave it to Wilson to care too much to get off. House wasn't going to let that happen.

“... if your leg h--,” Wilson tried to argue, he weakly tried to pull him back. House hummed hard against him in response. Once he's set on something, House will get his way. He upped the suction and suddenly pressed hard at a his perineum.

Seconds later Wilson let out a choked cry. Reflexively his hands gripped House's shoulders, his upper body lurched forward as he came hard, “Aah-! House!”

House had mercilessly continued to move his head as Wilson came. He noted that he barely tasted at thing, the logical part of his mind reasoned that Wilson's diet contained more vegetable matter than proteins. He was absently pleased to detect no signs of infections in the taste either. He slowly drew back, letting his tongue continue to stroke over the now hypersensitive penis. This won him a deep groan from Wilson.

Finally he drew his head back entirely. He locked eyes with Wilson and smirked, “I was right. You do want to do me,” he announced triumphantly.

Wilson groaned again. He let his body go limp against the couch. His own reply didn't come as quick as he wanted, “And... you wanted to blow me.”

“Nope, I wanted to prove my point,” House rocked back and disentangled himself. Resettled himself on the couch. He began to rub over his right thigh with a slow exhale.

“Of course... no ulterior motives at all, ” Wilson began to shift back into his former position, not bothering with his clothing. His eyes fell on House's leg with a frown. He also noticed something else between his legs that gave him a renewed swell of pride. But his concern out weighted the pride.

House noticed it with irritation, “I'm fine.” He snatched up a nearby vicodin bottle, shook it and found no reassuring rattle of pills. He let out a sigh. He grabbed his cane and got to his feet. He limped off toward the hall and presumably where another pill bottle was stashed.

Wilson remained where he was for a moment. He watched his still clothed friend disappear into his bedroom. He got up soon after and followed him.

When he reached the bedroom, House stood with his back to him by his nightstand. His head tossed back as he downed some pills. Wilson took the opportunity to pad silently up behind him. He slipped his arms around his waist and shamelessly groped the front of House's still wet jeans.

House jerked in surprise, “Wilson! What are--” His mind processed the situation and his body responded with a mind numbing rush of blood to his groin. He let out a quick breath and grabbed the edge of his headboard for support.

Wilson pressed in closer. House could feel the outline of a half hard erection against him. He was suddenly very aware of Wilson's nudity. Wilson's hands felt over the hardness they found through the wet denim. Though Wilson was shorter, he tucked his head in against his neck to whisper, “You want me to do you...”

House drew in a sharp breath in response. He turned his head and did his best to return to his normal expression, “Pfft... I do not.”

Wilson let a small smirk slip onto his face. He slowly curled his fingers around the hardness and squeezed, “Uh-huh.” A shaky breath left House in response.

“Wet jeans can't be comfortable, House,” Wilson pulled back and broke contact, “You might want to change.” With that Wilson turned to return to the living room as if nothing had happened. As if he wasn't still half naked.

House turned his head enough to watch his return to the living room. Once he was out of sight, his hand immediately went to cup himself. God, he could feel himself throbbing through the denim. This would be a hard one to get down. And Wilson just—wait a second...

“You're trying to manipulate me into sleeping with you!” House announced when he came back into the living room. With his clothes still unchanged and clothes still smelling strongly of beer.

“Oh, no, no. I wouldn't do that,” Wilson replied without bothering to look away from the TV. He'd put his pants back on but neglected to button them.

“Ha! Yes, you would you--”

Wilson raised a hand to silence him, “Unless I'm mistaken...” he pointed without a direct glance, “...you are still hard. Thus proving my point.”

House gave an exaggerated eye roll as he limped closer, “No, it doesn't. It's a biological response to stimulus. It proves that I--”

“Want to have sex--”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Don't you think it's a little strange you chose sucking me off to prove your point in the first place?” Wilson turned his head to look at him as he spoke, “There are dozens of different ways prove your point without actually...” He gestured toward his crotch.

“Ha! So you admit it! You do want to do me,” House said with his typical triumphant tone.

Wilson rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the couch, “You're deflecting.” He took a few steps closer. For some odd reason, Wilson seemed more naked now that he did without his pants on.

House found himself suddenly reminded of the uncharacteristically stubborn and traitorous erection that strained against his jeans. For a brief second he struggled to remember his own argument. In the time it was took for him to sort his thoughts, Wilson had taken the opportunity unbutton House's jeans. House's mouth gaped like a fish out of water.

“You wouldn't let me do this if you didn't have even the tiniest interest,” Wilson offered helpfully. He pushed House's dampened jeans down then settled his hands on his friend's hips. “In fact, I think--” He applied some pressure to his hips to urge him to sit back down.

For once, House had stopped verbally protesting. He seemed more intrigued by where this was going than how it all started. He glanced to the side then decided to roll with it, “Well, you are cheaper than a hooker... but at least hookers know how to use the bed.”

Wilson tilted his head, “Do you want to use the bed?”

House shrugged in response, “Doesn't matter to me...” He glanced down to note the state of his erection, and duly noting Wilson was still keeping his hands on hips. Bastard. He found himself with a good view of his friend's reawakening erection that just barely peeked out from his unbuttoned pants, “...just saying--”

“You're still trying to deflect...” Wilson pointed out while he gently urged him back toward the bedroom.

He gave a faint shake of the head, “No. Nothing to deflect. No reason to deflect.”

Wilson gave him a disbelieving look as he continued to edge him back into the bedroom.

“Just pointing out--” House cut himself off as the back of his legs hit the bed. Huh. He'd barely noticed their movement to the bedroom. He was more distracted than he realized. Wilson gave little push to get him on the bed. “Hey! Easy on the cripple!”

“Shut up, House.”

House opened his mouth but words failed him. He found Wilson on top of him. Infuriatingly close but not letting their skin touch and took special care to avoid anything touching the far more sensitive parts of House's anatomy. God, he could feel the heat that came from him.

Wilson pushed up House's t-shirt enough to get at the skin of his chest. It took House's mind an embarrassingly slow second to realize where Wilson planned to go with this. A wave of nervousness hit when he felt tongue touch flesh. House pushed himself up on his elbows, “Wait – Wilson...”

Wilson paused then drew back on his knees. He looked at House expectantly, either to be told off or told to continue since there rarely was a middle ground with House involved. But instead of either possibility, House fell silent.

Wilson raised his eyebrows expectantly, “Well?”

House's breath was heavy, it was clear that, at very least, his penis hadn't lost interest. After a second, his eyes flashed up to meet his friend's, “You told me to shut up.”

Wilson shot him a strange look in return, “Uh... Yeah. So?”

“And I didn't shut up,” House pointed out helpfully.

Wilson gave him a blank look in response.

He gave Wilson a hurry-up-and-follow-my-train-of-thought-you-moron look in return.

A look of recognition crossed Wilson's face, “Oh, well... That does explain a few things.”

“Just a few?”

“Shut up, House.”

---