Innocence
 n. 
 1. The state, quality, or virtue of being innocent, as:
 a. Freedom from sin, moral wrong, or guilt through lack of knowledge of
evil.
 b. Guiltlessness of a specific legal crime or offense.
 c. Freedom from guile, cunning, or deceit; simplicity or artlessness.
 d. Lack of worldliness or sophistication; naivet.
 e. Lack of knowledge or understanding; ignorance.
 f. Freedom from harmfulness; inoffensiveness.
 2. One that is innocent.
 3. Botany. See blue-eyed Mary.

 House let his head loll back. The back of the chair tilted alarmingly,
but he ignored it. What a boring, boring day it had been. No medical
emergencies, no gruesome deaths. What was the point of becoming a doctor
if there were no gruesome deaths? Cameron would probably say it was to
save the lives of innocent people, but that was a lie. There were no
innocent people to save, because no one was innocent.

 House looked down from the ceiling. Wilson was standing in the doorway.
Watching him.

 "I was wondering how long it'd take you to see me," Wilson said, pacing
easily in. "A bit too much Vicodin today?" 

 "No," House stood slowly. "Not enough." 

 "You always take too much," Wilson said. 

 "Your mothering is making me inclined to want more," House said, rifling
through papers until he founds his keys. "I assume you want to stay at my
place tonight?" I hope so. 

 "Yeah," Wilson nodded, peering out of the office. "You've been in here
daydreaming for hours, you know." 

 "I know." 

 "You're usually the first one out the door." 

 "Come on, let's just go find my car." 

 They walked out of the building in silence. Outside it was dark, the
stars just beginning to come out. The parking lot was deserted, or at
least as deserted as a hospital parking lot ever got. House snuck a
sideways look at Wilson. A stray piece of hair hung in front of the other
man's right eye, and he had the sudden urge to brush it away. Or maybe
even lick it away. Both ideas sounded pleasurable. And really, it wasn't
the best subject to be thinking about at the moment, with Wilson so close.


 "Are you alright?" Wilson asked, frowning, and it was only then that
House realized he had been staring at his car for the past 30 seconds. 

 I have a hard-on, but otherwise... "I'm fine," House unlocked and opened
his door, pressing the button to unlock the passenger side and continuing
on sarcastically. "Just thinking about how best to separate my laundry.
Had a nasty episode last week when I mixed the reds and whites." 

 "You don't even do your laundry," Wilson retorted. "You just leave it
where it lies until you have nothing to wear at all." 

 Maybe I don't want to have anything to wear when you're there. "I do my
laundry when I need to. Now be quiet, I need to concentrate. If we crash,
we go back to the hospital. Work is like a yo-yo, it pulls you back
whenever it can. We can't let it win." 

 He could see Wilson eying him strangely from the other seat, but ignored
it. The drive to his place was so quiet he could hear the gravel crunching
beneath the car. It was a very calming noise, and it did wonders to calm
his nether regions. Wouldn't do for Wilson to see that.

 When they were finally in his living room, he dropped his keys on an
entry table and limped to the couch. He could feel Wilson's eyes on his
face as fished out his Vicodin--wonderful, blissful Vicodin--and
swallowed. Even after he had leaned back and turned on the TV, Wilson
continued standing. 

 "Are you going to sit down?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in Wilson's
direction. 

 "Yeah," Wilson nodded and made his way to the couch, sitting just to
House's left. 

 Wilson's tie, House noted, was still on. He gave into his urge (Just this
once, he promised himself) and reached over, loosening the tie. It was
soft and silky between his fingers. Wilson sucked in a quiet breath. He
loosened the tie a bit more, watching Wilson unseeing eyes stare at the
TV. He loosened the tie a bit more then lifted it off. 

 His hand stayed at Wilson's neck, and he couldn't bring himself to pull
away. Instead he caressed tiny circles with his fingertips, shivering as
Wilson shivered. He leaned forward and pressed a tiny open-mouthed kiss to
Wilson's neck. They shivered together. 

 And suddenly House was on his back on the couch and Wilson was on top. He
could feel warm soft lips traveling up and down his neck, tiny nibbles,
frantic licks. They crushed their lips together. Wilson pressed his hips
down and House pressed his hips up, ignoring the slight flare of pain in
his leg because it was drowned out by such immense pleasure that he was
sure nothing would ever feel the same again. 

 The lips and warm body broke away. House almost protested. Almost, but
was yanked easily up and dragged bodily into his bedroom. The bed, he
realized as he was settled onto it, was much bigger and more comfortable
than the couch. And then there was no room for thought because Wilson was
on him again and they were losing clothes very rapidly. 

 Afterwards, safely incased in a cocoon of blankets, warmth, and Wilson,
House almost felt as if maybe there was some innocence in this world.
Maybe lives were worth saving. Maybe it could be worth it to care about
someone, to trust someone. Maybe the world was worth living on. 

 The next day, when Wilson took a little blonde nurse out to dinner, House
realized that no, he had been right all along. There really was no
innocence in this world.