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In Retrospect
by l57371
In retrospect, House thought, he should have seen it coming.
* * *
House leaned on the conference table, staring at the list of symptoms that graced the whiteboard in seemingly random patterns, different colours grouping different words together in amoeba-like shapes that twisted around each other and reminded him of nothing more than a lava lamp. This particular set of symptoms had kept him here for two days already and showed no sign of resolving themselves into something he could fix any time soon. Vaguely he considered playing connect the dots with the words to see if that would yield any ideas. He tapped his cane on the floor in front of his feet, nibbling on a thumb nail.
Movement outside the glass walls of his conference room distracted his attention. Turning his head he caught sight, in between the blind slats, of Wilson in the corridor, leaning sideways against the opposite wall, hands in his lab coat pocket, smiling at someone House couldn't see. That man cuts a fine figure, the thought rose in his head. He squashed it down hard. He shifted slightly to see who Wilson was talking to. Oh, that figured, a petite nurse - blonde, cute, just Wilson's type. The nurse was gesticulating as she talked, presumably illustrating a funny story, given Wilson's expression of amusement. As he raised his chin and laughed a little, he caught sight of House's surveillance of him over the nurse's shoulder. He held House's gaze for a moment, then quirked one corner of his mouth up in a smirk and leaned forward a little, into the nurse's space. Her cheeks coloured and she appeared to lose her place in the story as her lips stopped moving and she awkwardly dropped her arms, looked away and smiled. Wilson leaned close and said something quietly into her ear and she turned around and started walking. Wilson followed, one hand resting lightly on the small of her back. He shot House another look as he passed, this one triumphant. Or maybe gloating, House couldn't be sure. He watched until they were around a corner and out of sight.
House backed away from the blinds and limped back to his whiteboard, staring vacantly at it but seeing nothing but the image of Wilson flirting with the nurse. Dammit, he'd been doing so well too, keeping Wilson away from the women. Or the women away from Wilson. And now, the one time his back was turned, the one time he was tied up with something else, out came the charm and the megawatt smile and Wilson was lost to him. Again.
He dragged his attention back to the words on the whiteboard and forcibly pushed Wilson from his mind. Right now he didn't need Wilson, he needed an answer. He could deal with the man later, after he figured this disease out.
* * *
After three days, four cardiac arrests, two seizures and a spiking temperature high enough to induce coma, he had it figured out. With a feral grin on his lips that didn't reach his eyes and a smug air of superiority, he delivered his diagnosis to the patient and his Fellows. Immediately afterward he turned and made for the parking lot. There was no way he wanted to spend any more time in the hospital than absolutely necessary now. Just the day before, he'd seen Wilson and that nurse in a cozy little tte--tte at a small, out of the way table in the cafeteria. He had just dropped by to pick up something quick to eat and then escape back to his office when he caught sight of them. He stood a little to the side and watched as the nurse giggled and picked at her small salad while Wilson regaled her with tales of who-knew-what, laughing and gesturing expansively. House's belly clenched at the sight of Wilson actively flirting with the young woman, and he felt ... well, a little betrayed. For so long the younger man's flirting was limited to House, even though House knew it would never go anywhere, it would never bear fruit no matter how much he may want it to. Even so, he still felt proprietary toward Wilson and his attentions.
The wave of -- was it jealousy? -- passed and House turned and headed for the door, intending to leave quietly, but as he looked back quickly at Wilson and the giggly nurse Wilson caught his eye over the woman's head. Wilson regarded House quietly, a small smirk on his lips. He quirked one eyebrow and tilted his head a little to the side, presenting a challenge to House. Would he interrupt with his unique brand of outrageousness or leave Wilson to his own devices? House wrinkled his nose and shook his head and then stumped his way out of the cafeteria, cane thumping on the floor with every step.
And now, a day after that little public spectacle, House had no desire whatsoever to see Wilson and his new little tart. He step-thumped quickly through the clinic to the front doors of the hospital and thought himself home free when Wilson snuck up behind him and cut off his escape.
'So are we still doing dinner tonight then?' Wilson asked nonchalantly.
House held his breath and screwed up his face, then exhaled slowly, composed his features into carefully not-veiled contempt and turned around. 'Oh, was that tonight?'
Wilson smirked slightly and started walking slowly away, waiting for House to turn and catch up without actually seeming like he was waiting. 'Good thing you solved your case in time, eh? Otherwise you'd be stuck with cafeteria food again.'
House fell into step beside Wilson, passing through the doors and turning right to go to the parking lot. 'You seemed to like the cafeteria food well enough, last I saw.'
'It's okay, if the company is enough to compensate,' Wilson replied cryptically. 'So, pizza or Chinese? Or do you want to really live dangerously and go for Thai?'
'Indian. Curry. Bring the beer.' House shot the words out in a brisk staccato before veering off towards his bike, effectively cutting off any reply and all argument at the same time. Wilson chuckled and headed toward his own car.
* * *
A brief one-two knock sounded on House's apartment door before a brief silence and then the snick of a key sliding home in the lock. So, House thought, not requesting entrance, just warning that he was here. So that's how he wants to play it, fine. Wilson poked his head in the door and called a hello, quickly shucking his coat and dropping his briefcase and a case of beer by the door.
'I can't stay long, I have a date later on,' he said as he draped his suit jacket carefully over a hanger and adjusted his tie
'You have a date,' House stated rather than asked. 'Tonight.' He hoisted himself off the couch and turned to face the other man. 'If you have a date then why did you bother coming over?'
'Because you asked me,' Wilson replied, confusion apparent on his face. 'Why, should I have refused?'
'Just thought you'd rather be spending time with your new girlfriend is all. That's what you usually do when another wife presents herself.' He turned back around and fell gracelessly into the couch cushions. 'And then I get to start taking bets as to when the next divorce will be. Suppose I should start drawing up the squares for the betting chart?'
'I'm here because you asked me to have dinner with you. I want to have dinner with you. Why are you giving me such a hard time about doing what you wanted me to do?' Wilson came around the front of the couch and stood facing House, hands on hips, exasperated. Just as he finished speaking a sharp knock sounded at the front door announcing the arrival of dinner. Neither man moved a muscle.
Finally, House looked mildly up at the other man. 'You gonna get that?' Wilson squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, at the same time moving toward the door and pulling out his wallet. House smirked quietly and cleared room for the containers on the table in front of him and scrolled quickly through the TiVo menu to find suitable dinner accompaniment. Ah, wrestling. Two large, sweaty men man-handling each other and one pinning the other to the floor. Perfect.
* * *
They ate in silence punctuated only by the grunts and shouts of the match on the screen. Finally all that was left was empty cartons and beer bottles littering the table and floor and both men leaned back on the sofa in contented satisfaction. The silence reigned a few moments more and then House could take it no longer. He threw back a pill and glanced sideways.
'So what time is your date?'
Wilson closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the cushions. 'Whenever I get there I suppose. I told Katie it would be a while before I got there.'
'Katie?' House sneered. 'Let me guess: Ex-cheerleader? Likes puppies and bunnies and rainbows? Probably chews bubble gum too.'
Wilson exhaled forcefully through his nose. 'You don't get to make fun of her. Not until you've at least met her.'
'Why would I want to do that? If I don't meet her now, that saves me the trouble of having to forget I ever met her when you get divorced again.'
'Maybe I should just go now and save you the trouble of making fun of her too. She's not that bad, you know. Just ... young. A little exuberant maybe.'
'...Exuberant? From what I saw I think maybe flighty would be closer.' House saw the beginnings of a smile on Wilson's face. 'She looked like she was going to break into a cheer routine at any moment.'
'Heh, yeah, maybe,' Wilson said with a small laugh. 'But I like her, so I'm still going.'
'I think you should stay here and forget about this whole date-thing,' House said, turning back to the TV like the conversation was now closed.
'Why? Give me one good reason why I should stay here and let you insult me rather than go out with a hot young nurse?' Wilson asked as he rose to get his coat.
'I have beer.'
'You have my beer. And I can get more. And also, I said a GOOD reason.'
'Fine. You want a good reason?' House rose from the couch and stalked over to the door to face Wilson. 'How about, I'm saving you from yourself. You're going to go and propose to her and end up married again to yet another young twit with hero-worship in her eyes and then when you discover, yet AGAIN, that it's not enough to hold your interest, you're going to cheat, AGAIN, with another young twit and on and on it goes. How about, I'm trying to give you time to think with the head on top and not the one on the bottom and hoping you'll come to your senses before I have to buy another place setting. How about, she can't offer you what ... ' House cut himself off quickly when he realized what he was saying and snapped his mouth shut. He shifted his glance away as Wilson's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened.
'Can't offer me what ... what?' Wilson almost yelled as he brought his hands up to his hips.
House said nothing, turned and started back toward the sofa.
'House, wait.' Wilson grabbed his arm and forced him to stop, pulling back until he was facing the younger man again. 'Can't offer me what?'
House hesitated only a fraction of a second. 'Can't offer you what countless hookers could, and for much less money,' he shot back, turning away again.
'Bullshit. What were you going to say? The truth, House,' Wilson said quietly, taking a small step closer to him.
House's mouth opened and shut again, his arm burning where Wilson still had a hold of it, his mind racing at the nearness of the other man. Still he said nothing.
Wilson took the last step forward and pressed his lips lightly against House's, breaking away after only a couple of seconds but keeping his eyes closed. 'She can't offer me what you can. Was that what you were going to say?' he whispered quietly against House's lips.
'Shut up,' House growled, letting go of his cane and grabbing Wilson by the sides of his face instead. He pushed his lips back to Wilson's hungrily, mouth opening, tongue exploring, pushing impatiently into Wilson's mouth. The younger man grunted softly in surprise but readily opened his lips and pushed back, bringing his hands up to House's shoulders and holding on tightly while House kissed him possessively.
Finally he released Wilson and took a breath, and another, and blinked, trying to clear the fog from his brain. He'd just kissed Wilson. And what was more, Wilson kissed back. And was still kissing him back, trailing his lips along House's chin and down his throat, licking and sucking and kissing, pushing aside the collar of his shirt, until he got to the junction of shoulder and neck where he stopped and nibbled at the soft skin. House gasped a breath in at the sensation and his eyes slid shut again. His ruined thigh picked that inopportune moment to make itself known and he felt his knees starting to buckle. Wilson felt it too and caught House up in his arms.
'Couch!' House ground out from between clenched teeth, holding on to Wilson for dear life.
'Nuh-uh. Bed,' replied Wilson in a gravelly, throaty voice, his already deep brown eyes gone even darker as they bored into House's blues. He took a step backwards down the hall toward the bedroom and tugged at House's arms, not giving him any choice but to follow or fall. House swallowed hard and followed.
At the doorway to the bedroom Wilson stopped and pulled House closer again until their lips met in a slow, languorous kiss, lips catching between lips, tongues sliding together. He pushed House slightly until the older man was up against the bedroom wall, then pinned him there with his own body, mouth holding him captive. House slid his hands around Wilson's waist and pulled erratically at his shirt tails, finally freeing them from his pants. The first touch of House's hands to the hot skin of Wilson's back sent electric shocks up House's spine, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat which got a matching one from Wilson, who arched into the touch.
'Was this all it took?' Wilson panted against House's neck. 'For me to stop flirting with you and find someone else?'
'Shut up,' House growled back, searching out Wilson's lips again.
'No, I want to know,' Wilson said into House's skin. 'Would you have ever done anything if not for her?'
'Shut up! Stop talking,' House demanded, impatiently crushing his lips against Wilson's again.
Wilson's hands scrabbled at House's own shirt, pulling it up in handfuls until it bunched under his arms, pushing House's arms up and pulling it off. House grunted when Wilson's lips left his again, even though it was only for a second while the shirt came up and off. Then he was back, the heat and the lust tingling on House's tongue again. His own fingers fumbled with the buttons on Wilson's crisp Oxford shirt, finally managing to slide the top one free and moving to the next, following with his lips and teeth until he felt himself sliding down the wall and moved to catch himself. Wilson was quicker.
He caught House under the arms and pivoted, holding House's weight as he moved him to the bed and let him down to sit on the edge. House found himself at eye-level with the rest of the buttons on Wilson's shirt and went back to work revealing the pale skin and line of darker hair that ran from his chest down to his navel and under his belt. Wilson pulled the shirt off himself when the buttons were opened, and House took the opportunity to pull the other man towards him, wrapping his arms around him, and placing careful kisses on Wilson's chest and stomach, smiling when he felt the other man's breath shudder in his lungs.
'House, wait,' Wilson whispered breathlessly. 'Tell me, I have to know. Are you doing this just to keep me here?'
'You're an idiot,' House rasped as he tongued over Wilson's left nipple, 'And I said shut up. No talking.'
'But...'
'No!' House pulled back and looked up and Wilson. 'If that's what you think than you're dumber than she is.' He latched his lips back onto the nipple and was rewarded with a satisfying gasp from above.
Wilson's hands landed heavily on House's shoulders, at the same time pulling him closer and pushing him backwards onto the bed with his own body. House lay back and scooted himself further up the bed, bringing himself back into alignment with Wilson, who was crawling up after him, and meeting his lips again in a kiss that left no doubt whatsoever as to how the evening was going to end. House's hands wandered down Wilson's back, tracing ribs and vertebrae, fingers making random patterns on his skin, until they finally dipped below the waistband of Wilson's pants and House could feel the beginning of the swell of Wilson's ass. He groaned at the sensation, frustrated when his fingers could go no further.
Wilson pushed himself up a little, lifting his weight off of House's chest, and let his hand wander down House's side, thumb flicking his nipple on the way past, smiling and chuckling into the kiss when House jumped. Wilson's hand found his own belt and within seconds had it undone and his pants gaping open, displaying a rather impressive erection under the form-fitting boxer briefs, then went to work on House's own jeans, popping the button and working down the zipper. A distant part of House's mind admired the technique and the swiftness with which he operated, thinking that maybe the reputation he had worked so hard to create for Wilson was actually more deserved than he'd originally thought.
Now that there was more room to move, House pushed his hands further down Wilson's back and worked the pants off of his ass, caressing and cupping the supple flesh as he did, pulling him closer to his own straining erection. Finally he got the elastic down far enough to expose Wilson's hard, flushed cock, and he broke the kiss to look down, taking in the sight of Wilson's leaking, throbbing shaft so close to his own. Wilson took the opportunity to start shoving at House's jeans, trying to get them down too. Finally he levered himself upwards, moving to the side of House's legs and kneeling. House's eyes widened and he grasped at Wilson's retreating form, gasping, 'No, wait,' as the man got further and further away.
Wilson chuckled softly. 'I'm not going anywhere, House, I just want to ... get these ... ' he punctuated his words with tugs on the blue jeans, which had become bunched around House's hips and nearly impossible to get off.
House lifted his hips and shoved at the contrary material savagely, scraping them along his hips and thighs, hissing when the denim rasped against his scarred leg. Instantly Wilson backed off and brought his hands back. 'Okay?' he asked, concern in his eyes. 'Fine! I'm fine, just come here ... ' House growled, reaching again for Wilson's body as he fell back on the bed again. Wilson came willingly, running his hands back up House's torso, again tweaking nipples to watch him gasp and jump. He lay on his side and pulled House over onto his side as well, facing each other on the bed, bodies aligned perfectly, lips to lips, chest to chest, cock against cock.
Wilson lazily rocked his hips forward a little and watched the reaction he got from House, which was to throw his head back a little and gasp, hands clutching at Wilson's shoulders and pulling him tightly against himself. House hips twitched forward and Wilson moaned at the sensation as well.
'Oh god, House,' Wilson gasped, rocking his hips again, harder this time.
'Don't ... don't talk,' House growled. 'Just .. ' he trailed off as he thrust his hips upwards against Wilson's again.
'But ...' Wilson started again. House silenced him with his lips and tongue, mashing them against Wilson's, stopping the words from escaping. Wilson still made small noises in his throat, trying to speak, but House would let no words pass.
Eventually Wilson gave up trying to talk and simply reached his hand down between the two of them, pressing his and House's cocks together against his own belly with the palm of his hand, stroking lightly as he thrust against House's and House thrust back against both Wilson's cock and his hand. House's hand stroked down Wilson's back again to his ass, grabbing it firmly, cupping the buttock in his large palm and squeezing, pulling Wilson's pelvis hard against his own. He revelled in the feel of Wilson's ass muscles tightening and releasing with each thrust, connecting the feel of the clenching muscle and the lovely friction against his leaking cock.
Finally House could feel his balls tightening and a growing heat radiating from his groin and knew his orgasm was imminent. He wondered idly how to warn Wilson that he was going to come but from the noises the other man was making House guessed he wasn't far behind. With every thrust against House's cock and his own hand, Wilson grunted a small noise deep in his throat. House swallowed each moan into himself and thrust as hard as he could, increasing the friction against both their cocks until finally he had to break away from Wilson's wonderful lips, stilling for a brief few seconds as he threw his head back and clenched his eyes shut and then crying out wordlessly with each shot as he came against Wilson's hand and belly.
Wilson was indeed only a second or two behind, coming hard as House watched his face, glancing down at his cock and then back up to his face, still holding him around the shoulders and ass. His face was the picture of bliss and House found himself getting lost in the expression. He's so beautiful, he thought, too beautiful for me.
Wilson rested his forehead against House's shoulder as he came down, shudders rippling through his belly and back, and House slowly stroked his hand up and down Wilson's back, waiting for coherency. Eventually Wilson tipped his head back a little and took a breath.
'Don't talk,' House ordered, his voice low and broken. 'Just don't say a word.'
Wilson pressed his lips together and swallowed. 'Why not? And that's two words.'
'Because I don't want to talk. Your words in matters like this are almost worthless anyway. You've used all the rights words on too many women to have them mean anything any more. I don't want to hear them.'
'Ah,' Wilson said, nodding. 'That makes no sense at all.'
'It makes perfect sense,' House protested.
'No, it doesn't,' Wilson said, rolling over onto his back and laying his forearm over his eyes. 'But what I was going to say was, I need to make a phone call.'
'After all that, you want to use the phone?'
'I have to cancel a date. Remember?' Wilson turned his head back and raised an eyebrow.
'Right. Forgot about that.'
'Be right back,' said Wilson as he heaved himself upright and started searching the clothes on the floor for his cellphone, then hitched his pants up and walked a few steps out of the room, dialling as he went.
House used the absence to pull up his boxers and finally shed his jeans altogether. He pulled himself up the bed and turned around so that he was facing in the right direction and waited for Wilson to come back.
Finally, he wandered back into the room, phone clutched in his hand, looking a little shame-faced. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to House's legs.
'So what did you tell her?' House finally prodded.
'I told her ... I said something came up,' Wilson said, head hanging. He snorted a puff of laughter.
'Well that's ... true after a fashion,' House conceded.
'I'm going to tell her it's over in the morning,' Wilson continued. 'But I need to ... we need to discuss...'
'We don't need to discuss anything,' House cut him off.
'That's not even close to true,' Wilson countered
'Things don't turn out well when we talk, you know that.' House looked up at Wilson from under his eyebrows, his fingers fiddling with the blankets beside him. 'Don't talk, just do. Do you honestly think this would have turned out any better if we'd talked about it?'
'It might have been easier with less arguing. It might have come sooner if you'd just told me what you wanted.'
'And it might have gone horribly wrong. It might still. Talking about it would in all likelihood just make it worse. When we talk seriously, we fight.'
'Well then, what do you want me to do?' Wilson asked, granting House his point.
House was silent for a long moment. 'Come back to bed?' he finally said.
Wilson shut his eyes as a slow smile crept across his face, then stood and let his pants drop to the floor once more, stepped out of them and crawled up beside House on the bed. He pushed and poked at House until he was lying on his left side and Wilson spooned up behind him, one arm under his head, the other draped across House's waist, holding tight. He pulled the older man close and pressed his lips to the back of House's neck, whispering quietly, 'Fine, I won't talk, I'll just do.' He flicked his tongue out and licked and kissed House's neck until he heard a quiet gasp, then stroked his hand up House's chest to tickle his fingers over a nipple. 'And I'll keep doing until you talk.'
'Like that's a ... uh! ... a threat...' House said, panting again at the touch. He felt Wilson's smile on his neck and thought he could maybe get used to it. He thought that maybe this was what he needed. He thought that maybe this was all he needed. Food, water, Vicodin, it was all extraneous. What he needed, was this, was Wilson. Then he thought nothing much at all for the rest of the night
* * *
Months later, after fights over the remote control and discussions about patient care over breakfast, after working out a system of who spits first when brushing their teeth and who gets to scrub the kitchen sink and which brand of orange juice to buy, it would be comfortable, familiar. Easy, even. Months later there would be quiet evenings in front of the TV that didn't even require speaking.
There would be nights like this one still, nights spent holding each other and carefully not saying how they felt.
And other nights there would be Wilson, kneeling behind House, one arm around his waist and the other hand leaning against the headboard, and there would be House, resting his forehead on one hand and rocking into Wilson's thrusts, until they were both sweating and trembling and spent.
But for now, there was this, and this was all he needed. For now.
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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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