Even Trade Part XI (final)

[geelady.livejournal.com]

EVEN TRADE
Part XI

By GeeLady

Pairing: H/OMC, W/OFC & H/W

Ratings: NC-17 Adult, SLASH, ANGSTY. (What else have you ever got from me??)

Warnings: Non-con, blackmail, mentions of addictions, drugs, self-harm.

Summary: House becomes the object of someone's dangerous obsession, but it's Wilson's freedom 

that hangs in the balance.

 

This Story: I started writing before I saw episode 6x10, and it acknowledges everything up to and

 including "Wilson", with the exception of Wilson and House going in together on the loft Cuddy 

didn't get. In my fic', they are not living together and it continues to deviate from there.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The life he intended to save was Wilson's and so, by default, his own.

House took the elevator to the floor just below the one where Nilu was hanging in his room, dead.

 He walked up the stairs one floor, arriving at Nilu's floor with only minimal extra leg cramping

 for his effort. He would leave the same way, and try to make sure he was seen (if anyone proved 

to be awake and wandering this early in the day) entering the elevator on the floor below the 

floor where Nilu had off-ed himself.

House entered the dead kid's hotel room once more, threw the bolt over on the door to keep out 

any stray human accidents, and spent the next few minutes considering his next actions.

He had to do this right. He had to think of everything. He could miss nothing. He'd had presence 

of mind to fish his old, old leather gloves, greasy from motor-engine oil-changes and road grime,

 from under the Honda's seat, and slipped them on before he had even entered the hotel. He

planned  to dispose of them many miles away in a gas station washroom garbage. Greasy leather

gloves would  not look out of place in an establishment where oil and dirt was the norm.

He'd also worn an old, none-descript base-ball cap and sunglasses, and would dispose of them with

 equal caution. the glasses he would smash apart, and the cap he'd leave lying on a neighborhood 

baseball park miles and miles away from the gloves and glasses. 

He'd also entered the hotel carrying his leather jacket over his arm, with his blue over-shirt 

buttoned up tightly. He planned to leave wearing only his T-shirt and a casual jacket borrowed 

from Nilu's hotel closet - or a sweater, if the kid didn't have any jackets. He would tuck his 

shirt under the seat of his Honda, and put it in the wash with his other clothes tomorrow, then 

throw it over his bedroom chair as usual.

His cane he could do nothing about regarding some sort of disguise for it, since he needed the 

damn thing just to walk, but that couldn't be helped. Thankfully, he'd been distracted enough to 

have put his plain, curved handled-cane into service for the last few days. A thought-free, lucky

 decision. No unusual markings on this one. It was a cane almost anyone might own.

House had planned all of this just in case those two camera's he'd seen inside the lobby 

yesterday were actually working. In a cheap dump like this one, he doubted it.
But precaution was in order, because he had to do this right.

House removed his leather gloves, carefully pulled the folded up tissue from his jeans's pocket, 

being extra, extra careful not to get his fingers or spit on the still sticky body fluid inside 

the fold. Royston's mark and plenty of it.

House walked up to the kid. "Sorry, kid." He muttered as he smeared a very small amount on the 

palm of the kid's right hand, correctly remembered that the kid had handled his coffee cup with 

his right hand. "You deserve better than to have this maggot's used slime all over you, but 

you're dead and Wilson isn't, so I'm sure you understand." House said under his breath. "It's not

 like you'll be using this hand again."

He also patted the toilet tissue on one corner of the kid's stiff, purple lips, feeling a little 

bad about that.

Finished with the corpse, House moved to the bed and, using just a thumb and finger pinched 

together, rumpled the covers up more than they'd been left the previous day, so it appeared Nilu 

had not slept in it alone. House then applied what remained of Royston's semen over the middle 

part of the sheeted mattress by patting the tissue in three or four places, all close together, 

being extra careful not to leave any tiny bits of tissue behind. He stuffed the incriminating 

tissue back in his pocket.

House carefully dressed himself as he had planned, in one of Nilu's sweaters, turned his hat so 

it was on backwards, put on his reading glasses, tucking his sun glasses in the back pocket of 

his jeans. Just before he left, he dialed Royston's office twice, each time hanging up without 

leaving a message, then dialed Royston's home, hanging up just before Royston would have been 

within a few feet of reaching the receiver. House indulged in a small smile of satisfaction that 

he had probably woken Royston up from a sound post-blow-job slumber, or had made him scramble wet

 and shivering from his morning shower.

House then re-traced his steps, making sure he had forgotten nothing. The last thing he did was 

remove the hotel room's Do Not Disturb sign from the outer door handle and stick it under the 

waist band of his jeans. He would burn it because he recalled that it had his finger prints on it

 from his previous visit when he had come knocking, not expecting to find the kid dead, and so

not  anticipating the importance of not leaving behind any mark that he had ever been there. 

House  took another Do Not Disturb sign from another door a few rooms down, turned it so the Make

Up  Room sign was facing out and, pausing inside the room only a moment more to make sure he had 

forgotten nothing, left for the hospital.

Maybe he could scare up a patient or two save.
-
-
Wilson found House at his desk with his head down, fast asleep. The airy, high pitched moan of 

his visitor's chair padded seat alerted House to his presence and he woke up, raising his face 

from the crook of his arms just enough to see who it was. "Must you squeak?"

"How long have you been here?"

"I dunno' - few hours. What time is it?"

"Eleven-twenty. Your team's down in the clinic, doing your hours."

"Very brown-nosing of them."

"I think they were bored. Plus you look like hell and, " Wilson paused for emphasis. "You have no

 case." He searched House's face, looking for the lie. "Why did you say you did?"

"I figured I would have by now. My last one went home two days ago."

"I know you're lying." Wilson swallowed his rising fear, hoping against hope that House had not 

gone against his word and had seen Royston last night, who by now would be back in town. "Where 

were you?"

House groaned, stretched and leaned back in his chair. "I went to see the kid again. I was hoping

 he'd changed his mind."

"Did he?"

"Nope."

"Then where'd you go?"

House turned his head aside, though his eyes never left Wilson's face. "Is this a portend of 

things to come? Are you going to question me every time I leave our apartment? Spy on me with 

your ex-wife's opera glasses? Bug my underwear?"

"No." Wilson was trying hard not to turn into a seething tree of suspicious, twitching, jealousy,

 but where House and Royston was concerned - where Royston was putting his hands and other organs

 on House was concerned -  it was pretty damn hard not to. Wilson felt some small comfort in that

 House had said "their apartment". That was a very, very good sign. It warmed Wilson inside, a 

little. It helped cool the burning envy that filled his heart and penis. "But I hate secrecy when

 I know you're in trouble."

"You're the one in trouble. I'm just your last hope before that trouble stops sending notices, 

and instead pays a nasty visit in person, so I really feel for you."

"What are we going to do, House?"

"We're going to wait."

"Wait? You want to just...wait?"

"Yes. It involves not doing anything. The beauty of it is, it doesn't require a manual."

"What are we waiting for?"

"For something to change."

"You can't treat something this serious like one of your puzzles."

"Sure I can. See?" House leaned back, twiddled his thumbs and looked at the ceiling as though 

lost in thought. He returned to his former slouch. "It's easy."

Wilson felt defeated. He felt sick. Everything was going to end, especially everything for him. 

He had just got House back in his life and now he was going to lose him again. It sucked so bad, 

he felt like crying. "I can't do that - wait around. It drives me crazy."

"Thus four ex-wives."

Wilson rubbed his eyes, his face, then dropped his hands uselessly to his lap. "I've got a 

patient in a few minutes."

"So you've got something to do. Go do it before you drive me crazy."

"I want to talk about this later."

"Wouldn't have doubted it for the world." With relief, House watched Wilson leave, though his 

friend paraded out of his office like he was bringing up the rear to his own funeral.

House was far less calm than he had let on to his nervous wreck of a friend. Under these 

circumstances, waiting for the phone to ring was its own kind of special funeral march. Who would

 it be on the other end? Lucas? Assuming Nilu had kept Lucas's business card and the police would

 no doubt find it - maybe. Lucas or the police. Not that House wanted the kid's death pinned on 

Lucas.

Why the hell had he not thought to check for Lucas's business card?

A bad slip-up that House blamed on exhaustion. Lucas being charged with suspicion in Nilu's death

 would be completely wrong, not to mention unfair, but it would certainly get him kicked out of 

Cuddy and the munchkin's life.

Then House remembered what he had, or was about to again have, with Wilson and the thought of a 

little revenge vanished. But for a moment there, it had wet his appetite for working some sweet 

evil.

Would it be Royston? More probably, yes. Once the police gathered up the sufficient, but not too 

abundant, evidence of Royston's semen at the scene, and traced the calls that had been placed to 

and from the hotel room and Nilu's cellular (none of them being from him), even a pink-faced, 

scared little rookie ought to be able to string it together from there.
 
Lucas would make up a clever reason for his calls to Nilu, and Royston wouldn't be able to 

explain his semen on a dead guy, thus presto! No more asshole. Even if, at that point, Royston 

tried to persuade the cops that he was being set up, all the investigators had to do was look 

into his past and they'd find Nilu there, and Nilu's secret gay life, and Nilu's ex-wife dead by 

suicide 'cause Royston couldn't help but be a total prick (House secretly hoped the dead ex-wife 

had, before her death, told her mom, her sister, her BFF, and her hair dresser all about her gay 

bastard of an ex-husband's secret affair with another bastard named Albert). There was enough 

grief and death circling Royston that he would never be able to dodge the vultures this time.

Ring you goddamn phone!

House didn't really expect it to listen, except it did and trilled in its innocently shrill way 

for his full attention. House's heart hammered like a school girl on a first date.

Play it as usual, House. Be yourself. Be a jerk. "What?" He said into the phone. His boredom had 

just been interfered with, so he would indulge whoever it was for a moment, only to pass some 

time. Yeah, good. That first sharp word had been jerk-perfect.

"Greg." It was Royston. House raised his fist in the air. It was a knee jerk reaction of happy. 

Score one for home team! The home team being him and him alone. Touchdown. Dance.

"Greg..., Jesus.."

It was Royston's voice but not suffused with  his usual inflection of completely in control 

dick-head. "Yeah? What?" Perfect. Even ruder. Let him think I don't care what the fuck problem he

 wants to discuss. Easy because it was true. He wasn't going to bother pretending to be that 

bored.

"The police think I killed someone. They found this kid in a hotel room. Dead. Hung himself. I 

swear to God I didn't do it."

Yeah, I know. Weird. Royston was looking for his support for Christ's sake. The fucker actually 

thought his in-name-only boyfriend, whom he had abused and degraded for a year, was going to 

gladly render sympathy and support in his time of need. "Oh? Who was this former human being?" 

And how inconsiderate of him to interrupt your steak sandwich and Perrier with his repulsive 

death.

"They think I murdered him. Oh, Greg, baby, I know I can be a bit hard sometimes, but you know 

I'm incapable of that."

Holy man hung upon a fence post - Royston really wanted his help. His moral support. And, of 

course, his mouth on his stiff penis whenever possible. Can't forget that part of their tender 

love-affair. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I've already got a good lawyer, but would you mind coming down to the station? It'd be 

comforting to have you nearby."

He had to be fucking joking. "Um, let me think about that. How about - no?"

House heard the sharp inhale from the other end of the line. The phone they'd given him access to

 was probably one of those old-fashioned jobs hung on a wall with a twisted cord and blackened 

with the fingerprints of many other assholes who had passed through those halls before him. The 

room was probably cold, too, and the chair made of wood that would leave splinters in his pasty 

ass. House was ecstatic.

"But,...no?? Greg, I don't...understa - I love you. I know you feel something for me, too, and I 

want what we had together to continue."

"You mean the teeth marks on my back? The bloody noses? The violent rapes? Yeah, that was a real 

hoot for me, too." What they'd had?? They'd had some physical exchanges of sweat and other 

fluids. They'd had episodes of grinding against each other until they came. They'd had sex. 

That's it and nothing else. House felt dirty that he had ever allowed himself to feel the 

faintest thing for this man. He and Royston had shared shit. Not intimacy, not love-making, not 

even consensual sex. not even a kind word here and there.

House was rising out of an emotional pit of black, oily slime that he was itching to rise off. He

 wanted to feel clean again. And he could hardly wait to get Wilson alone.

"You know I never meant to hurt you."

"Fuck you, A-l-l-l-bert." House spit into the mouth piece. Even the man's name made him feel 

unclean now. A-l-l-l, like a groan of pain. 'Bert, like a spurt of venom. Fucking snake. "Why do 

they think it's you, anyway?"

"They said they found my sperm on his bed a-and on him. But that's impossible, there's no way - "

House heard the silence crash down in Royston's sudden pause, and felt the black electric strike 

of understanding that passed through him at the other end of the phone in the dirty police 

station holding room. Albert was slow on the uptake today. Probably the horrible thought of going

 to jail for the rest of his life.

"You...did this?"

House loved the fury mixed with fear that was choking the son-of-a-bitch's voice box. "I have no 

idea what you're talking about, Royston, but you always were a little screwy."

Gasps of rage and desperation were all the man had left as the terrible truth washed over and 

through him. House made sure his final words to his ex-bastard consisted of copious layers of 

smirk. "Don't bend over for the soap. Oh, wait, come to think of it, you probably will." House 

hung up the phone.

If the police come to question him, and they for certain would, all he needed to do was play 

ignorant. Since Royston had been so dead-keen on keeping their relationship secret, no one but 

Wilson knew of it, and there was nothing to tie him to Royston in any capacity other than an 

employee.
-
-
"Unless he decides to reveal your relationship with him." Wilson pointed out later as they 

discussed the days titillating events over some excellent coffee in the local Java-Cafe. The 

gossip mill around the hospital had been busy grinding out the shocking news of their Dean's 

arrest under suspicion of murder!

"Why would he? That just makes it obvious that he likes fucking men and beating them up, too. If 

it comes to that, I'll happily show them my scars courtesy of ass-pimp."

"What if he talks about Naomi?"

"Who's gonna believe him now?" House asked reasonably. "Worst case scenario, if he brings it up, 

then he has to bring it all up. They would then question him on why he kept such information to 

himself. Especially the interesting fact that he threatened to ruin you if I didn't have sex with

 him. And then I'd casually mention that he had mentioned to me about "doing this all before" in 

so many carefully chosen words, with a young male nurse out west, and that would swing the 

conversation right back to Nilu, and the inconvenient and indisputable fact that Royston's sperm 

was found in the dead kid's hotel room."

Wilson appeared unconvinced. "This is incredible - and wonderful in a horrible, stomach-turning 

way." Still in a sweat for the future - "But Royston still has leverage."

"We have more." House answered. "Settle down, Jimmy. Wait and see."

"I don't know how you can always do that." Wilson complained.

House played with his keys on the small table. Jinging and jingling.  "You need me to show you 

again?"

Shaking his head, Wilson tried to calm himself. House noticed Wilson's coffee cup was empty and 

waved for the waitress. Wilson did not fail to notice House's notice. Small gestures. House was 

good with those kinds of things. Always, very good at conveying what he felt in small, genuine, 

sometimes even sweet, ways. He loved that about House. He wouldn't mention it. That would ruin it

 for sure. "I can't believe Royston took up with Nilu again. It seems incredibly stupid of him.

Or  just outstandingly egotistical."

House swirled the grainy dregs of his own cup. "Wasn't it?"

Wilson heard the wisp of sarcasm in the question. He narrowed his eyes. What was he missing here?

 Some small point. "How else could they have found his semen in the room? And why kill the kid 

afterward? It doesn't make sense."

"There are only three things in the world Royston loves: sex, power and violence. Trust me, it 

makes sense."

House was staring into his cup, and Wilson wondered what he was really looking at. Or what it was

 he himself was failing to see. "House, what did you do?" When House didn't answer right away, 

Wilson said "I know you did something. You insisted that we should wait for something to change, 

but you don't believe in sitting back and letting Karma run the show. You don't believe in Karma 

at all - or the universe unfolding as it should. You believe in action. So what act am I missing 

here?"

"Trust me, it wasn't me. It was all Nilu. He's the hero. I was just his side-kick."

"So you did something "at his side". What?"

If they were to be together, stay together, things ought to at least start off in the right 

place. Wilson was worth all acts, so he had to do this right. "Nilu killed himself. He was dead 

when I got there."

"No, Royston murdered him. they found his semen at the scene. That much at least does make 

sense."

"No."

"Then I'm lost. What does...?"

House sat back, putting distance between himself and the anger he figured was coming. "Royston's 

sperm got a little ride."

Brown eyes went from wary but curious to enlightened and in shock. "You mean, you planted 

evidence?"

House looked around at the few patrons nearby. "Maybe you could say that a little louder, so the 

people at the end of the counter can hear, too?"

Wilson lowered his voice. "How, wha - House - how in the world?  How could you have possibly 

managed it? I mean, did you save some from one of your previous dates?"

"Yup."

Shaking his head in disbelief and confusion. "But why would you do that? Why would anyone do 

that? How could you have known that Nilu was going to hang himself?"

"I didn't. I told you, I found him dead."

"So then, naturally, the dangerously insane idea hit you of setting an innocent man up for 

murder."

house's face darkened. "He wasn't innocent of anything."

The rest of the previously trickling truth suddenly rushed in to fill the blank in Wilson's 

thoughts. "Which means you...after promising me,..after swearing to me,  you went to Royston that

 same night and,...and..."

House abandoned his empty cup to the side of the table. He nodded once. "And."

Wilson was about to deluge his traitorous boyfriend with all manner of reproachful censure, but 

he stopped when he saw House's expression was not one of smugness at saving the day, but a 

withered look of shame. Of personal desecration. Wilson bit his tongue at the remote grief House 

was trying to hide. He had broken his promise the same night he had made it, but not for any 

selfish physical appetites. Only to save the one thing he had left in his life that was worth 

humiliating himself for.

House stared at his hands, and then at Wilson. "So how mad are you. Are we through?"

Wilson didn't care who saw. He took House's rough hand in his own and held onto those calloused 

fingers for dear life. "No,..no."  Miraculously House didn't pull his hand away. Wilson wanted to

 kiss him, but that would be pushing his luck. "Jesus, House, no." Never-fucking-ever!  "I love 

you, remember?"

Still it was the small, integral things with House. Tiny, honorable, abundant gestures. Always.

Once in a while, though, they were staggering!

XXXXX

END.

Thanks from Genie. :)

Look for Rational Principle, Part II -  this week also!

questbooks.webs.com

blackheroines.ning.com

 

Comments

[chickloveslotr.livejournal.com]

MUAHAHAH hells yeah!

Wait...that's the end?!?
D8

Will there be a sequel?

[(Anonymous)]

I don't see a sequel in the future, but if you're into hurting House like me, there'll be lots of it in Rational Principle.
8^)

Genie

[sara-tsuzuki.livejournal.com]

Amazing! The way that House put the pieces in his place and win his freedom; because Royston it's gonna be in jail, for sure!!! I like the end, is obvious that House and Wilson will be togheter. I love your fic, thanks so much for sharing this, and I'll be waiting for Rational Principle!

[hockypocky.livejournal.com]

Eat that Royston !!!! >:D
This is so unpredictable.... I never thought that House will pay him back illegally like that XDD...

Sad to know this story has ended, but I'm glad you wrapped it up nicely like this :DDD

[julefontane.livejournal.com]

Oh, House got his revenge and Wilson! I'm a little sad to see this end - but what a satisfying ending!! And I'm glad you started Rational Principle, so I won't be detoxing from your writing!

I'm curious: There were some more House stories in progress mentioned at your ffnet profile, but aren't any more now -like the one where House has a secret lover. I was wondering what happened to them and if you were planning on posting them after all? I thought they sounded interesting (the Zombie one as well!)
<3

[(Anonymous)]

The secret lover & zombie stories will, eventually be done, I just thought it wasn't fair to "tease" reader's anymore about them until I got some more significant work done on them.
They'll be fiddled with once I've done some re-thinking on them.
Thanks for reviewing Evev Trade - there may a short epilogue later.
:)
Genie

[brindlewolf.livejournal.com]

Ah sweet revenge. Love it. All the loose ends all tied up. Looking forward to more Rational Principle. Thanks for sharing these! <3

[bmax67.livejournal.com]

Loved the revenge factor here!

Great job setting up Royston!

Thanks for this. :)

[jcthefigcurser.livejournal.com]

Please write an epilogue! :) (even if it's short!)