From the Ward (last bit)
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house_wilson_ghcFrom the Ward (Part 5 of 5)
Author: alivehawk1701
Characters: Wilson, House
Warnings: M
Summary: Written during Series 3 during House's time detoxing/admitting himself to hospital after Christmas Eve. After taking a leap with his best friend, House must face a difficult choice and think, perhaps, about what the future may have in store . . .
****be sure to read the afterward by me, at the end of the fic.
I stashed the pill bottle in a sock. Very original, I know. Stashed them there and went out to the common room. It’s Thursday. That means an Adam Sandler film. The same one we’d seen every Thursday before. What have I ever done to deserve this? This was one of the seven circles of hell, right after one's penis transforms into a cucumber amidst a herd of guinea pigs.
Not adhering to any particular religion I’m reluctant to use such words as penance for my sins but maybe it was my deep belief in Santa Claus that kept me in that chair.
Not going in my room. Not going. My socks are in that room. And there are pills in those socks. So I’m staying here. Whatever ground I’d gained I wanted to keep. For as long as I can. For Wilson. Not for Dr. Fox though. Fuck her.
Pills. Pills. Pills. Pain. Pills. Pills. Pills.
Not that the movie is the only thing to watch. There’s clients. There’s a young girl.
Thin. Too thin. Hair dyed black with blonde roots showing. She is new. Her eyes are glazed. She is on heavy duty meds. I guess alcohol by the redness of her nose, swollen abdomen and tremor. An older man is laughing uproariously at the movie. He is bloated, swelling at the ankles, red cheeks and tapping feet. Coke? Do people do coke anymore? Maybe adderall mixed with good old fashioned weed.
“Dr. House?”
I turn and see a doctor I’d never seen. Probably the psychiatrist.
“Here,” I answered.
“Can I have a word?”
My eyes darted to my room. The pills. Fuck. Did he know? “I haven’t seen this movie before,” I said, “Could we pause it?”
“This can’t wait, I’m sorry,”
“No you’re not,” I grumbled, getting up, “It’s a classic.”
In the room I sat on the end of my bed, looking everywhere but at my dresser. God, Wilson will be so mad at me. Maybe I can explain to him.
“Is this about my meds? I know pain management is a dirty word around here but I’m in for real pain.”
“No,” he stood with my file under his arm, “I know this may be unexpected but you’ll be discharging sooner than expected.”
“Discharging? When?”
“This evening. Right now.”
“I don’t get it, I thought I had to complete my sentence. Besides, I'm still detoxing.”
“We’ve determined you are free from danger. And frankly you’re needed elsewhere.”
“Puerto Rico?”
“Under supervision you’re needed back in your department.”
“Huh,” I chewed on my lower lip, “Cuddy?”
“She put in a request.”
“Ok.”
“So, pack your stuff, this is your lucky day.” His entire attitude seemed in poor taste. That and his just for men dyed beard.
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled, “We know it wasn’t easy,” turning to leave, in an obvious hurry for some reservation somewhere that served shrimp cocktail, “Maria will do the paperwork,” at the door he knocked on the frame saying, “And House, I hope to never see you again.”
I took a taxi to be dramatic. I knew he’d be there. Stepping out of the hospital for the first time in a week I took a moment to look up into the sky, filling my lungs with the fresh air. I chewed off my wrist band as the taxi arrived and let it drop into the gutter.
Wilson was already asleep when I got home. In the dim bedroom, lit only by the nightlight in my bathroom and the streetlight outside I could see him curled up with both my pillows. Snoring slightly. I limped quietly to his bedside, careful to slide my socks across the floor rather than step, and grabbed his phone then went to the kitchen.
I opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. He must have gotten it. Rarely bought it. Always went bad. Love that Wilson drinks whole milk. I gulped down nearly half the carton and caught my breath before leaning against the island, holding up his phone. Flipping it open I searched for Cameron’s number, switching to a text message.
God I’m glad to be home. Smells like me. My books. My piano. I’m a person here. I scanned the quiet apartment and saw small signs that Wilson had been staying here. The blanket was neatly folded on the back of the couch. Magazines were sacked on the coffee table. He’d cleaned up the mess I’d made on Christmas.
Had he cooked anything? I finished with the phone and looked in the fridge again, both my stomach and my leg demanding attention.
“House?”
Popping my head over the door of the fridge I saw WIlson, sleepy, in a t-shirt, my t-shirt, and boxers, hair falling over his forehead, looking incredibly sexy and unprepared.
“Surprise.”
“Oh my god, how--” he rubbed at his eye, “Did you--?”
“No cuckoo's nest, no,” I closed the fridge, “The order came from on high.”
He looked confused as I limped forward a few steps, coming to rest a hand on his hip for balance. He seemed unphased by the sudden familiar contact, just shifted his weight to support me better, “Cuddy?”
“I’m needed.”
“Well, I--I’m glad, just--are you okay?”
“Yeh,” I nodded and half smiled, “Glad you’re here,” turned my eyes downward for a moment, “Makes it home.”
He smiled, brown eyes filling with warmth, “I would have made something, if I’d known,” he raised a hand to my lip, brushing it lightly with his thumb, “I did buy milk,”
I licked my lip clean, in case he’d missed any and raised an eyebrow, “You know I’m going to take advantage of you,” I leaned closer, inhaling deeply, enjoying his scent filling my nostrils, “It’s only a depraved pleasure being the one that held out and won the prize,” I brought my nose to his ear and inhaled the smell of his hair and the warmth of his skin from sleep.
“What are you an animal?”
In answer I pulled him to me with a low growl and rubbed my stubble against his cheek, “In a lot of ways,”
He raised his hands to my chest, settling them over the rise and fall of my breaths, “Tired?”
I was. I was drained. Still shaky, “Not the homecoming I was imagining,” I groaned and let my head fall back with a sigh.
“What were you imagining?” he moved his hands around to my back, leaning into me, lips finding the soft skin of my neck, kissing softly. It rose goosebumps.
My eyes shut, leaning my head to the side, “Saw it in a movie once. Hungry Cocks IV?”
“Never saw that one,” his teeth found my earlobe.
“Three was better,” I found the bare skin of his hips under his shirt, letting him support me, letting him kiss the sensitive skin below my ear, enjoying the shiver down my spine, the stirring of my cock, “I gotta say, you’re adjusting to the gayness pretty well.”
He pulled back, pupils dilated, “Well, bisexualness in a homeosexual relationship.”
“To be accurate.”
“And didn’t you mention the years of foreplay?”
“Verbal foreplay.”
He laughed “Mostly,” then shrugged, “It’s not a hard transition for me. I know you and I know your body.”
“Not in the sticky cum, sweaty ass kind of ways.”
“Not those excretions, no,” he searched my face, “But this feels . . . normal, I dunno, we already drive each other crazy, this is just . . .kind of a natural progression.”
He was right. At least here, alone together, we can just be ourselves, as we’ve always been around each other. Apart from the gay part. Which had been mostly under wraps. Mostly. Sort of. To some people’s surprise maybe. My mind wandered briefly to the a pool the nurses started whether or not we’d slept together. Boy would they be thrilled.
I let my head fall onto his shoulder, letting out a sigh, “My stupid roomate called me a faggot,”
“What?” he rubbed my back, “Who even uses that--what is this a John Hughes movie?”
“I kicked his ass,” I stood up straight, aware my eyes were suddenly feeling very heavy, ““Cuddy wants me in right away tomorrow.”
“What?” his arms dropped, “You’re serious?”
“As bubonic.”
“What is she thinking?”
“Probably a case,”
He exhaled in frustration, “God damn it. I can’t believe it.”
“I’ll be alright,”
“You're going to take it easy!”
“Hey don’t shout at me,”
“Im not, I’m just angry--does she know what you just went through?”
“Best to keep the illusion she has of me being infallible, you think?”
“A half day House,” he was tough Wilson now, “I mean it.”
“You’re so protective.”
“I am,” then after a thought he nodded, “I’m protective of you, I care about you,” he turned his head to the side, “It’s obvious Cuddy doesn’t”
“I’m a valuable piece of horseflesh,” I said, closing my eyes and rubbing my temple. I felt his hand reach for mine.
“Come on.”
I was drained, let him help me to the bedroom, leaning on him down the hallway, “Bad?” he asked.
“Bad.”
He helped me undress, put out a clean pair of boxers and a shirt, went to the kitchen and got me water. Such a sexy nurse maid. I kicked myself only slightly, knowing it was in his nature but wishing I wasn’t broken, at least for this moment.
With the water he had a pill bottle in his hand. From my bag? My heart skipped a beat then he said, “Tyelnol? Really?”
“It’s what they gave me.”
“Might as well take them,” he put them down on my nightstand along with the water as I stepped to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
From the bedroom I heard, “Uh. I can sleep on the couch if you need the space.”
From the bathroom I spat my toothpaste, “No.”
“Sure?”
“Wilson.”
I remember getting into bed, my head hitting the pillow and I remember Wilson sliding in close to me, one of his hands coming to rest on my chest and my eyes closed.
My alarm clock was broken. The light woke me up. Hadn’t pulled the blinds. I came slowly to awareness, eyes fluttering open, coming into focus. The window was open. Could hear the birds waking up. Mozart? How did they know? I inhaled deeply and felt a weight on my chest. Wilson. His arm was still on me. I turned my head to look at him and couldn't help smiling. His face was tucked into my shoulder. Probably smelled like sweat, his hair was over his eyes. I reached to brush it aside and when I did I felt his legs stretch and feet point to the end of the bed. His eyes opened and came to find mine. He didn’t say anything, just repositioned himself to lie more on my chest with a groan. I lifted my arm so it was around him and let my eyes close again.
He breathed softly and quietly for about ten seconds, then suddenly, “Wait, what time is it?”
“Sunrise was at . . . 7:02 today?” I was guessing.
“Oh good,” the initial panic was gone and he relaxed again, slightly, “Sleep okay?” he asked groggily.
“I did,” I sighed, “In my own bed,” I let my hand wander over his back, around his side, curious, enjoying the feel of my fingertips tracing patterns over his warm skin. My hand found the curve of his hip and pressed into the hipbone, stretching my fingers as his hips rose in response.
He groaned, stretching in a way that pressed his hips, his hardening cock into my side,
“Sorry,” he said quickly, as if he had to apologize, “Morning,” or explain.
I scoffed, “I am a boy you know. I know how it works”
His own hands were intent on moving over my chest, lowering to brush the elastic of my boxers. It had been a long time since anyone had taken real interest in my body. And or had a chance to do anything about it. Reminded me of my own favourite personal theory of why homosapiens evolved to be hairless; because skin on skin felt better and produced more happy brain chemicals, which would encourage bonding/mating, more than fur on fur.
And we were alone. Not stealing some rushed kiss in the back of a bar. He felt good. My body couldn’t help but react to the small movements of his body next to mine, the feel of his hands over my skin. He was here with me. After all we’d been through, said, done, regretted, he was here.
He kissed me lightly on my lips, his brown eyes open and starting into mine, then he ran trails of kisses down my cheek, to my neck, where he knew was sensitive.. He shifted so he was slightly on top of me, careful with my leg but sure to rest our hips together.
“Is this our first time sleeping together?”
“No,” I thought, hands sliding from his shoulder blades down his back, to his ass, tightening my fingers, “Technically we slept in your car that one time.”
“Oh yeh,” he pushed up my shirt to kiss my chest, slowly moving to a nipple, tongue encouraging the nipple to harden, “We were wearing more clothes then if I remember.”
“Yeh, circumstances were such that I did not have a hard on either,” I raised my hip into his so he could feel it. His breath hitched and eyes closed as we rocked into each other.
He rose from my chest to kiss me deeply again. His tongue slid into my mouth, wet and slow against mine, leaving my mouth to drop open breathlessly. He bit at my lower lip, pressing the weight of his hips into mine in a slow even rhythm, my cock growing harder by the moment as he kissed me.
He broke the kiss and my eyes fluttered open, feeling the wetness of the precum dripping from my cock against his stomach. This only prompted him to begin kissing my chest, stomach, hip bones, then eased my boxers from my hips, cold air suddenly against my cock. Fingertips traced up my stomach, pushing my shirt up, drawing lazy circles over my skin, making me shudder, biting back a moan as his tongue flicked out at the ticklish spot on the inside of my hip.
No interruptions this time. We’d wasted enough time already. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him. Wanted him close. Wanted him just for me and no one else.
“Let me,” he moved to push my boxers all the way down my legs, the covers thrown off us, he sat on his heels a moment, looking me over with a smile, earnest when he said, with a toothy, lopsided smile, “God, you’re beautiful.”
Whether or not James Wilson had ever sucked another guy's cock ran through my head, wondered if my own cock lived up to what he had imagined, curious about the shape and taste of his own. I sat up quickly to pull his shirt off, marveling briefly at what I’d only dreamed about, no shirt, no tie, and just the right amount of fur. He did the same for me. He shoved me back to the bed and my eyes closed as his hand, then mouth finally met my insistent cock, causing me to gasp and shudder under him. God Wilson. His tongue ran up my shaft, circling the head as I gasped and groaned. Felt so good. I dragged my fingers through his hair as he took all of me in his mouth, my cock engulfed in endless heat and wetness, my hips rising so I thrust deeper into his mouth, couldn’t stop myself. Wilson’s lips, with their perfect pout and lower lip creased right in the middle, a crease I’d tasted with my tongue—he was so perfect, and sweet and lovely I could barely stand it.
“Wilson . . .” his name escaped my lips in a drawn out moan, “Ngh, god . . .”
He squeezed the base of my cock and sucked hard, drew in deep what remained, my eyes snapped open and I stared down at him, glaze-eyed and slack-jawed. Wilson glanced up, mouth stretched and swollen, meeting my eyes as a hum rose in the back of his throat—oh god, it was perfect, so perfect, god I had no idea he could—I’d thought about this, dreamed about it, ached for it—my back arched. Gonna cum. Pumping in and out of his mouth, god, jerking uncontrollably, stiffened and I came hard down his throat, lost, utterly lost.
Gasping for breath I threw my arms over my head. Fuck Wilson. Fuck. And outloud, “Fuck.”
He seemed pleased. Before laying down next to me he pulled off his own boxers and though I’d not recovered nearly enough, body still twitching, I pushed him down into the mattress, enveloping his mouth in a kiss, enjoying my taste on his lips, setting my body over his. This was for all the shit I’d put him through. All the pain, all the disappointment, all the times he’d had to walk away, all the times we’d kissed and never talked about it again. I wanted him to know how much I’d always wanted him. How much I needed him. His body was both oddly familiar and new, spotting a mole to the left of his right nipple, which I fiercely nipped at, down the dark hair on his belly to his cock.
“God I’m already so close,” he moaned and when my hand wrapped around him his head rolled back, mouth open. The sound of him, the feel of his thundering pulse around me, the way we moved together, must have been from that same gravitational pull we’d always been caught in. I took him into my mouth and let the wet of my mouth fill in around the salty taste. Gripping him hard I licked my tongue around the head, feeling him shake, drawing him in and out of my mouth, feeling him thrust into me desperately,
“House, House,” he gasped, his hips jerked, loved how he shuddered, hands gripping my sheets, me, loved the feel of all of him inside me. Mine. I bore down, wanting to draw out every drop, feeling his cock swell, “God, oh god,” his cock exploded, pumping around my lips. I held on long enough to extend the swell, swallowing, then let him go.
We both collapsed next to each other, catching our breath. His head turned and he smiled at me. My brain was alight with oxytocin and dopamine, dripping with pleasure and satisfaction. I’d wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted more now even though we’d just finished. His cheeks and chest flushed, his half lidded eyes, in my bed, spent and dripping with sweat because of me, filled me with actual hope.
I smiled back, brushing a sweaty lock of hair from his face, leaning to kiss his swollen lips, “Ready for work?”
We acted like stupid high school kids. Trying to get ready for the work day after barely managing to get dressed, grabbing at eachothers bodies in the playful curiosity that only the young and stupid uphold. He’d pulled on a shirt, pants, and I’d buried my teeth in his neck, pressing our bodies together, not letting him tuck in his shirt, not wanting the feeling to end.
He, however, maintained his better judgment and, on his less gimpy legs, made it to the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth, and comb his hair and be an altogether responsible cleanly human being. I’d stood behind him and watched us in the mirror. We’d done all these things before, same boring clothes and toothpaste and is-this-yours-or-mine-coffee-mug morning routine, under a completely different context. As just roommates. Hold for the disbelieving eye roll.
He moved faster than me, obviously, and by the time I’d finished washing the sweat and Wilson juices from my hands he’d made coffee and toast. In the kitchen he was spreading jam on wheat and looking adorable.
“Half day,” he stated, through a mouthful of bread, then his eyes rolled closed, “Mugh! That tastes so good,” eye widened, “Hungry.”
“Not enough jizz this morning?”
“It wasn’t that much,” he jabbed.
I pretended hurt on my face, “It was a geyser.”
“It was plenty,” he chewed, “But still hungry,” not able to hide a smile, cocking his head, “You look incredibly pleased with yourself,”
“Like I said,” I took my own toast and tore it in half with my teeth, “You’re my prize.”
He laughed, “Better than a goldfish.”
I drank some coffee, thinking a moment as he moved around the kitchen. Sex haze aside, it need to be said, “I almost lost you,” he turned, “I don’t want that to happen again,” he put his plate in the sink and came to stand by me, grabbing the ends of the tie around his neck, “I have something to give you. At work,” he raised his eyebrows,
“After I check in with Cuddy we’ll meet in your office?”
He nodded, “Sure,” he looked down to his tie, tightening it quickly, “By the way, how do we . . . do this, do we, uh,” his hand went to my chest, over my heart, “Not touch each other at work or,” his hand gripped my shirt, “I don’t know, maybe HR,”
I rolled my eyes, “Not HR,”
“Then what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I leaned forward to kiss him, crumbs on his lip, “I’m not ashamed of this. Don’t need to hide.”
“You’ve never cared what people think.”
“It doesn’t matter what people think. What matters is this,” I put my hand over his heart too, “Let them talk.”
He smiled, looking slightly dubious but exhaled a deep sigh regardless, “House,” he turned his gaze upwards, eyes closing briefly, then back to mine, “I am--”
I stopped him, “Come on, we already sucked eachother off, what more can you say?”
“It’s not just sex, House,”
“I know that,” I said flatly, “I’ve always known that,” I shoved the rest of the toast in my mouth, “Just took you longer to figure it out.”
“Can’t I say--”
“Nope,” I kissed him quickly, turning to the door, “Onward, sweet checks, lives to save.”
I glanced back at him, seeing him slightly stunned and flushed. Perfect. We got in the car and drove to work, radio loud, windows open.
>>>>>
“And on the third day,” I announced, pushing past Cuddy’s office door, “The Lord doth reemerge to saveth all yee souls,” my cane thudded to a stop and she looked up from her desk, barely registering the celestial event.
Instead she focused a studious gaze on my heavenly form and said, “I didn’t think you’d show.”
“No one did,” I answered, “But I’d kept it vague, “and I will return etc, to judge humanity etc, at some point, etc..”
She barely laughed, “You seem back to your old self,” she closed the file she was reading and stood, “I hope you know this is a probationary period, for the sake of the case,” her hands met her hips, “And I can send you right back upstairs.”
“No laurels? A lamb?” she seemed unamused, “Ok. Nothing,” change tactics, “Well, ye of little faith, I am here. Ready to do my job. And yes, I will remain pious-ish.”
“Pious?” she scoffed, then her face softened, “I’m sorry House, this isn’t what I was hoping for.”
“I got out of rehab. Can’t think of a better outcome.”
“I wanted you to have the time you needed.”
“And I got it. I’m good. Better than good.”
She paused long enough to look me over, lips flattening to a line, “You do look good, healthy. Considering.”
“Yeh considering the hellish detox and threat to never again enjoy shoes with laces; I’m radioactive, but,” I stepped forward, “I know you put yourself on the line to get me out. And that we aren’t, necessarily, in the clear yet so,” I rapped my cane on the ground, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she came around the desk. For a moment she seemed concerned, sincere, confused even hearing me say sorry, the stress wearing on her face, “Here’ the file,” she handed it to me, pausing to meet my eyes, “Your team is waiting for you.”
I nodded, turning to leave.
“House,” she said, making me pause, “Did something. . . ?” she frowned, “You look . . . happy.”
“Something did,” I said at the door, opening it, “There may be a memo later,” I walked away with a smile.
I limped down the hall, to Wilson’s office. No one had laid out palms or anything. I was very disappointed. I didn’t knock, but found him at his desk, scribbling on some paper and drinking more coffee. Out of my mug.
He looked up as I walked across his office, “See Cuddy?”
“Yeppers,” I made a b-line for him, coming to sit on his desk next to his chair, flashing the file, “Looks like,” scanned it quickly, “Huh, kinda neat actually,” I closed it again, glancing at my watch and putting the file on his desk next to us, “Guys hair fell out. And a finger.”
“We have normal lives,” he said, leaning back.
Seeing him at work, where I’d normally see him, from the other side of the desk, trading jibes and jabs and not bodily fluids, meandering around the details of a case in the most hetersexual way possible, made me want to tear his clothes off. Have him right here on the desk. Or maybe the balcony. Dawn of a new era. It was a satisfying thought. He must have seen the look in my eyes because he gave a quick sideways smile and cleared his throat, “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like I’m a pork chop.”
“Or what?” I bit my lip and watched his eyes drop down my body, then to the door, readjusting in his chair.
“Or you’d have to lock the door.”
“Would rather not,” I said, then took a breath, “First things first though.”
He refocused, “Right, you had, something to give me?”
I reached in my pocket. Pulled out the pill bottle. The one the less than moral and virtuous nurse had given me. His eyes widened, brow knitted, and he looked like I’d just stabbed him through the heart.
“I paid someone to get me these while I was in rehab.”
“House,” he shook his head, looking down to his desk.
“I didn’t take any of them.”
He looked up, “What?”
“I meant to. Was going to. But didn’t. Not after . . .” I set the bottle on his desk, “Not after I saw you,” I rubbed at my scruff, staring at the bottle, then him, “I want to clean out the infection before I suture.”
He seemed speechless. Mostly because he wasn’t speaking. He shrugged both his shoulders, face contorting quickly with emotion, then he took a breath, “This might be better than the blowjob.”
“I’ll have to try harder next time.”
He stood up and moved to lean between my legs, “I mean it. This is . . . a lot,” he put his hands on my hip, running his hand around to my back, eyes wide with disbelief. Which is what I’d hope. Needed to show him I was serious. We both knew where the pills would end. Where they had almost ended. What future they could offer me and what future there was for us.
“Do what you want with them. I’m thinking of trying out for the hospital water polo team. And by that I mean water physio.”
He laughed, “You’re incredible.”
“Well I deserve some credit,” I said, dropping my cane and pulling him into me. I kissed him, feeling him melt into me, squeezing my thighs around him. He raised his hands to my face and pulled me close, tasting like coffee and sugar. His hands moved down to the front of my jeans, tongue sliding into my mouth as I grabbed his ass.
“Welcome back!!!!”
Right on time. Thanks Cameron. She'd gotten my text. From Wilson's phone. I wasn’t facing the door but heard all three duckling’s mouths drop open. Wilson jerked backward but I locked him in with my legs, twisting to see Cameron, Chase, and Forman in the doorway of his office. Cameron actually had balloons.
“Oh my god!” I said, “For me?”
Cameron had a hand to her mouth, the balloons went to the ceiling. Chase’s mouth was still open. Forman was shaking his head.
Wilson shot a shocked look at me, “Did you?”
I nodded, “I did. No hiding,” I let him go, standing and grabbing his hand and turned to look at the team.
“Is there cake?”
****Beep, beep, beep, boop, beep, flash! I must say that under no circumstance would I consider outing someone else acceptable, it is a personal choice for when you are ready. Do I beleive that House would do this to Wilson? Yes. Do I think it's right? No. But, regardless, it made sense to me, tell me if it doesn't to you, with the characters. I mean no offense, believe me, as part of the LGBT community myself, I understand the significance, so please, be understanding. Also since going back and finishing my fics I've been giving them happy, everything is great endings. I have no problem with this, I want them to be happy, but it is interesting . . . Bye bye and buy bonds;)
Author: alivehawk1701
Characters: Wilson, House
Warnings: M
Summary: Written during Series 3 during House's time detoxing/admitting himself to hospital after Christmas Eve. After taking a leap with his best friend, House must face a difficult choice and think, perhaps, about what the future may have in store . . .
****be sure to read the afterward by me, at the end of the fic.
I stashed the pill bottle in a sock. Very original, I know. Stashed them there and went out to the common room. It’s Thursday. That means an Adam Sandler film. The same one we’d seen every Thursday before. What have I ever done to deserve this? This was one of the seven circles of hell, right after one's penis transforms into a cucumber amidst a herd of guinea pigs.
Not adhering to any particular religion I’m reluctant to use such words as penance for my sins but maybe it was my deep belief in Santa Claus that kept me in that chair.
Not going in my room. Not going. My socks are in that room. And there are pills in those socks. So I’m staying here. Whatever ground I’d gained I wanted to keep. For as long as I can. For Wilson. Not for Dr. Fox though. Fuck her.
Pills. Pills. Pills. Pain. Pills. Pills. Pills.
Not that the movie is the only thing to watch. There’s clients. There’s a young girl.
Thin. Too thin. Hair dyed black with blonde roots showing. She is new. Her eyes are glazed. She is on heavy duty meds. I guess alcohol by the redness of her nose, swollen abdomen and tremor. An older man is laughing uproariously at the movie. He is bloated, swelling at the ankles, red cheeks and tapping feet. Coke? Do people do coke anymore? Maybe adderall mixed with good old fashioned weed.
“Dr. House?”
I turn and see a doctor I’d never seen. Probably the psychiatrist.
“Here,” I answered.
“Can I have a word?”
My eyes darted to my room. The pills. Fuck. Did he know? “I haven’t seen this movie before,” I said, “Could we pause it?”
“This can’t wait, I’m sorry,”
“No you’re not,” I grumbled, getting up, “It’s a classic.”
In the room I sat on the end of my bed, looking everywhere but at my dresser. God, Wilson will be so mad at me. Maybe I can explain to him.
“Is this about my meds? I know pain management is a dirty word around here but I’m in for real pain.”
“No,” he stood with my file under his arm, “I know this may be unexpected but you’ll be discharging sooner than expected.”
“Discharging? When?”
“This evening. Right now.”
“I don’t get it, I thought I had to complete my sentence. Besides, I'm still detoxing.”
“We’ve determined you are free from danger. And frankly you’re needed elsewhere.”
“Puerto Rico?”
“Under supervision you’re needed back in your department.”
“Huh,” I chewed on my lower lip, “Cuddy?”
“She put in a request.”
“Ok.”
“So, pack your stuff, this is your lucky day.” His entire attitude seemed in poor taste. That and his just for men dyed beard.
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled, “We know it wasn’t easy,” turning to leave, in an obvious hurry for some reservation somewhere that served shrimp cocktail, “Maria will do the paperwork,” at the door he knocked on the frame saying, “And House, I hope to never see you again.”
I took a taxi to be dramatic. I knew he’d be there. Stepping out of the hospital for the first time in a week I took a moment to look up into the sky, filling my lungs with the fresh air. I chewed off my wrist band as the taxi arrived and let it drop into the gutter.
Wilson was already asleep when I got home. In the dim bedroom, lit only by the nightlight in my bathroom and the streetlight outside I could see him curled up with both my pillows. Snoring slightly. I limped quietly to his bedside, careful to slide my socks across the floor rather than step, and grabbed his phone then went to the kitchen.
I opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. He must have gotten it. Rarely bought it. Always went bad. Love that Wilson drinks whole milk. I gulped down nearly half the carton and caught my breath before leaning against the island, holding up his phone. Flipping it open I searched for Cameron’s number, switching to a text message.
God I’m glad to be home. Smells like me. My books. My piano. I’m a person here. I scanned the quiet apartment and saw small signs that Wilson had been staying here. The blanket was neatly folded on the back of the couch. Magazines were sacked on the coffee table. He’d cleaned up the mess I’d made on Christmas.
Had he cooked anything? I finished with the phone and looked in the fridge again, both my stomach and my leg demanding attention.
“House?”
Popping my head over the door of the fridge I saw WIlson, sleepy, in a t-shirt, my t-shirt, and boxers, hair falling over his forehead, looking incredibly sexy and unprepared.
“Surprise.”
“Oh my god, how--” he rubbed at his eye, “Did you--?”
“No cuckoo's nest, no,” I closed the fridge, “The order came from on high.”
He looked confused as I limped forward a few steps, coming to rest a hand on his hip for balance. He seemed unphased by the sudden familiar contact, just shifted his weight to support me better, “Cuddy?”
“I’m needed.”
“Well, I--I’m glad, just--are you okay?”
“Yeh,” I nodded and half smiled, “Glad you’re here,” turned my eyes downward for a moment, “Makes it home.”
He smiled, brown eyes filling with warmth, “I would have made something, if I’d known,” he raised a hand to my lip, brushing it lightly with his thumb, “I did buy milk,”
I licked my lip clean, in case he’d missed any and raised an eyebrow, “You know I’m going to take advantage of you,” I leaned closer, inhaling deeply, enjoying his scent filling my nostrils, “It’s only a depraved pleasure being the one that held out and won the prize,” I brought my nose to his ear and inhaled the smell of his hair and the warmth of his skin from sleep.
“What are you an animal?”
In answer I pulled him to me with a low growl and rubbed my stubble against his cheek, “In a lot of ways,”
He raised his hands to my chest, settling them over the rise and fall of my breaths, “Tired?”
I was. I was drained. Still shaky, “Not the homecoming I was imagining,” I groaned and let my head fall back with a sigh.
“What were you imagining?” he moved his hands around to my back, leaning into me, lips finding the soft skin of my neck, kissing softly. It rose goosebumps.
My eyes shut, leaning my head to the side, “Saw it in a movie once. Hungry Cocks IV?”
“Never saw that one,” his teeth found my earlobe.
“Three was better,” I found the bare skin of his hips under his shirt, letting him support me, letting him kiss the sensitive skin below my ear, enjoying the shiver down my spine, the stirring of my cock, “I gotta say, you’re adjusting to the gayness pretty well.”
He pulled back, pupils dilated, “Well, bisexualness in a homeosexual relationship.”
“To be accurate.”
“And didn’t you mention the years of foreplay?”
“Verbal foreplay.”
He laughed “Mostly,” then shrugged, “It’s not a hard transition for me. I know you and I know your body.”
“Not in the sticky cum, sweaty ass kind of ways.”
“Not those excretions, no,” he searched my face, “But this feels . . . normal, I dunno, we already drive each other crazy, this is just . . .kind of a natural progression.”
He was right. At least here, alone together, we can just be ourselves, as we’ve always been around each other. Apart from the gay part. Which had been mostly under wraps. Mostly. Sort of. To some people’s surprise maybe. My mind wandered briefly to the a pool the nurses started whether or not we’d slept together. Boy would they be thrilled.
I let my head fall onto his shoulder, letting out a sigh, “My stupid roomate called me a faggot,”
“What?” he rubbed my back, “Who even uses that--what is this a John Hughes movie?”
“I kicked his ass,” I stood up straight, aware my eyes were suddenly feeling very heavy, ““Cuddy wants me in right away tomorrow.”
“What?” his arms dropped, “You’re serious?”
“As bubonic.”
“What is she thinking?”
“Probably a case,”
He exhaled in frustration, “God damn it. I can’t believe it.”
“I’ll be alright,”
“You're going to take it easy!”
“Hey don’t shout at me,”
“Im not, I’m just angry--does she know what you just went through?”
“Best to keep the illusion she has of me being infallible, you think?”
“A half day House,” he was tough Wilson now, “I mean it.”
“You’re so protective.”
“I am,” then after a thought he nodded, “I’m protective of you, I care about you,” he turned his head to the side, “It’s obvious Cuddy doesn’t”
“I’m a valuable piece of horseflesh,” I said, closing my eyes and rubbing my temple. I felt his hand reach for mine.
“Come on.”
I was drained, let him help me to the bedroom, leaning on him down the hallway, “Bad?” he asked.
“Bad.”
He helped me undress, put out a clean pair of boxers and a shirt, went to the kitchen and got me water. Such a sexy nurse maid. I kicked myself only slightly, knowing it was in his nature but wishing I wasn’t broken, at least for this moment.
With the water he had a pill bottle in his hand. From my bag? My heart skipped a beat then he said, “Tyelnol? Really?”
“It’s what they gave me.”
“Might as well take them,” he put them down on my nightstand along with the water as I stepped to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
From the bedroom I heard, “Uh. I can sleep on the couch if you need the space.”
From the bathroom I spat my toothpaste, “No.”
“Sure?”
“Wilson.”
I remember getting into bed, my head hitting the pillow and I remember Wilson sliding in close to me, one of his hands coming to rest on my chest and my eyes closed.
My alarm clock was broken. The light woke me up. Hadn’t pulled the blinds. I came slowly to awareness, eyes fluttering open, coming into focus. The window was open. Could hear the birds waking up. Mozart? How did they know? I inhaled deeply and felt a weight on my chest. Wilson. His arm was still on me. I turned my head to look at him and couldn't help smiling. His face was tucked into my shoulder. Probably smelled like sweat, his hair was over his eyes. I reached to brush it aside and when I did I felt his legs stretch and feet point to the end of the bed. His eyes opened and came to find mine. He didn’t say anything, just repositioned himself to lie more on my chest with a groan. I lifted my arm so it was around him and let my eyes close again.
He breathed softly and quietly for about ten seconds, then suddenly, “Wait, what time is it?”
“Sunrise was at . . . 7:02 today?” I was guessing.
“Oh good,” the initial panic was gone and he relaxed again, slightly, “Sleep okay?” he asked groggily.
“I did,” I sighed, “In my own bed,” I let my hand wander over his back, around his side, curious, enjoying the feel of my fingertips tracing patterns over his warm skin. My hand found the curve of his hip and pressed into the hipbone, stretching my fingers as his hips rose in response.
He groaned, stretching in a way that pressed his hips, his hardening cock into my side,
“Sorry,” he said quickly, as if he had to apologize, “Morning,” or explain.
I scoffed, “I am a boy you know. I know how it works”
His own hands were intent on moving over my chest, lowering to brush the elastic of my boxers. It had been a long time since anyone had taken real interest in my body. And or had a chance to do anything about it. Reminded me of my own favourite personal theory of why homosapiens evolved to be hairless; because skin on skin felt better and produced more happy brain chemicals, which would encourage bonding/mating, more than fur on fur.
And we were alone. Not stealing some rushed kiss in the back of a bar. He felt good. My body couldn’t help but react to the small movements of his body next to mine, the feel of his hands over my skin. He was here with me. After all we’d been through, said, done, regretted, he was here.
He kissed me lightly on my lips, his brown eyes open and starting into mine, then he ran trails of kisses down my cheek, to my neck, where he knew was sensitive.. He shifted so he was slightly on top of me, careful with my leg but sure to rest our hips together.
“Is this our first time sleeping together?”
“No,” I thought, hands sliding from his shoulder blades down his back, to his ass, tightening my fingers, “Technically we slept in your car that one time.”
“Oh yeh,” he pushed up my shirt to kiss my chest, slowly moving to a nipple, tongue encouraging the nipple to harden, “We were wearing more clothes then if I remember.”
“Yeh, circumstances were such that I did not have a hard on either,” I raised my hip into his so he could feel it. His breath hitched and eyes closed as we rocked into each other.
He rose from my chest to kiss me deeply again. His tongue slid into my mouth, wet and slow against mine, leaving my mouth to drop open breathlessly. He bit at my lower lip, pressing the weight of his hips into mine in a slow even rhythm, my cock growing harder by the moment as he kissed me.
He broke the kiss and my eyes fluttered open, feeling the wetness of the precum dripping from my cock against his stomach. This only prompted him to begin kissing my chest, stomach, hip bones, then eased my boxers from my hips, cold air suddenly against my cock. Fingertips traced up my stomach, pushing my shirt up, drawing lazy circles over my skin, making me shudder, biting back a moan as his tongue flicked out at the ticklish spot on the inside of my hip.
No interruptions this time. We’d wasted enough time already. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him. Wanted him close. Wanted him just for me and no one else.
“Let me,” he moved to push my boxers all the way down my legs, the covers thrown off us, he sat on his heels a moment, looking me over with a smile, earnest when he said, with a toothy, lopsided smile, “God, you’re beautiful.”
Whether or not James Wilson had ever sucked another guy's cock ran through my head, wondered if my own cock lived up to what he had imagined, curious about the shape and taste of his own. I sat up quickly to pull his shirt off, marveling briefly at what I’d only dreamed about, no shirt, no tie, and just the right amount of fur. He did the same for me. He shoved me back to the bed and my eyes closed as his hand, then mouth finally met my insistent cock, causing me to gasp and shudder under him. God Wilson. His tongue ran up my shaft, circling the head as I gasped and groaned. Felt so good. I dragged my fingers through his hair as he took all of me in his mouth, my cock engulfed in endless heat and wetness, my hips rising so I thrust deeper into his mouth, couldn’t stop myself. Wilson’s lips, with their perfect pout and lower lip creased right in the middle, a crease I’d tasted with my tongue—he was so perfect, and sweet and lovely I could barely stand it.
“Wilson . . .” his name escaped my lips in a drawn out moan, “Ngh, god . . .”
He squeezed the base of my cock and sucked hard, drew in deep what remained, my eyes snapped open and I stared down at him, glaze-eyed and slack-jawed. Wilson glanced up, mouth stretched and swollen, meeting my eyes as a hum rose in the back of his throat—oh god, it was perfect, so perfect, god I had no idea he could—I’d thought about this, dreamed about it, ached for it—my back arched. Gonna cum. Pumping in and out of his mouth, god, jerking uncontrollably, stiffened and I came hard down his throat, lost, utterly lost.
Gasping for breath I threw my arms over my head. Fuck Wilson. Fuck. And outloud, “Fuck.”
He seemed pleased. Before laying down next to me he pulled off his own boxers and though I’d not recovered nearly enough, body still twitching, I pushed him down into the mattress, enveloping his mouth in a kiss, enjoying my taste on his lips, setting my body over his. This was for all the shit I’d put him through. All the pain, all the disappointment, all the times he’d had to walk away, all the times we’d kissed and never talked about it again. I wanted him to know how much I’d always wanted him. How much I needed him. His body was both oddly familiar and new, spotting a mole to the left of his right nipple, which I fiercely nipped at, down the dark hair on his belly to his cock.
“God I’m already so close,” he moaned and when my hand wrapped around him his head rolled back, mouth open. The sound of him, the feel of his thundering pulse around me, the way we moved together, must have been from that same gravitational pull we’d always been caught in. I took him into my mouth and let the wet of my mouth fill in around the salty taste. Gripping him hard I licked my tongue around the head, feeling him shake, drawing him in and out of my mouth, feeling him thrust into me desperately,
“House, House,” he gasped, his hips jerked, loved how he shuddered, hands gripping my sheets, me, loved the feel of all of him inside me. Mine. I bore down, wanting to draw out every drop, feeling his cock swell, “God, oh god,” his cock exploded, pumping around my lips. I held on long enough to extend the swell, swallowing, then let him go.
We both collapsed next to each other, catching our breath. His head turned and he smiled at me. My brain was alight with oxytocin and dopamine, dripping with pleasure and satisfaction. I’d wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted more now even though we’d just finished. His cheeks and chest flushed, his half lidded eyes, in my bed, spent and dripping with sweat because of me, filled me with actual hope.
I smiled back, brushing a sweaty lock of hair from his face, leaning to kiss his swollen lips, “Ready for work?”
We acted like stupid high school kids. Trying to get ready for the work day after barely managing to get dressed, grabbing at eachothers bodies in the playful curiosity that only the young and stupid uphold. He’d pulled on a shirt, pants, and I’d buried my teeth in his neck, pressing our bodies together, not letting him tuck in his shirt, not wanting the feeling to end.
He, however, maintained his better judgment and, on his less gimpy legs, made it to the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth, and comb his hair and be an altogether responsible cleanly human being. I’d stood behind him and watched us in the mirror. We’d done all these things before, same boring clothes and toothpaste and is-this-yours-or-mine-coffee-mug morning routine, under a completely different context. As just roommates. Hold for the disbelieving eye roll.
He moved faster than me, obviously, and by the time I’d finished washing the sweat and Wilson juices from my hands he’d made coffee and toast. In the kitchen he was spreading jam on wheat and looking adorable.
“Half day,” he stated, through a mouthful of bread, then his eyes rolled closed, “Mugh! That tastes so good,” eye widened, “Hungry.”
“Not enough jizz this morning?”
“It wasn’t that much,” he jabbed.
I pretended hurt on my face, “It was a geyser.”
“It was plenty,” he chewed, “But still hungry,” not able to hide a smile, cocking his head, “You look incredibly pleased with yourself,”
“Like I said,” I took my own toast and tore it in half with my teeth, “You’re my prize.”
He laughed, “Better than a goldfish.”
I drank some coffee, thinking a moment as he moved around the kitchen. Sex haze aside, it need to be said, “I almost lost you,” he turned, “I don’t want that to happen again,” he put his plate in the sink and came to stand by me, grabbing the ends of the tie around his neck, “I have something to give you. At work,” he raised his eyebrows,
“After I check in with Cuddy we’ll meet in your office?”
He nodded, “Sure,” he looked down to his tie, tightening it quickly, “By the way, how do we . . . do this, do we, uh,” his hand went to my chest, over my heart, “Not touch each other at work or,” his hand gripped my shirt, “I don’t know, maybe HR,”
I rolled my eyes, “Not HR,”
“Then what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I leaned forward to kiss him, crumbs on his lip, “I’m not ashamed of this. Don’t need to hide.”
“You’ve never cared what people think.”
“It doesn’t matter what people think. What matters is this,” I put my hand over his heart too, “Let them talk.”
He smiled, looking slightly dubious but exhaled a deep sigh regardless, “House,” he turned his gaze upwards, eyes closing briefly, then back to mine, “I am--”
I stopped him, “Come on, we already sucked eachother off, what more can you say?”
“It’s not just sex, House,”
“I know that,” I said flatly, “I’ve always known that,” I shoved the rest of the toast in my mouth, “Just took you longer to figure it out.”
“Can’t I say--”
“Nope,” I kissed him quickly, turning to the door, “Onward, sweet checks, lives to save.”
I glanced back at him, seeing him slightly stunned and flushed. Perfect. We got in the car and drove to work, radio loud, windows open.
>>>>>
“And on the third day,” I announced, pushing past Cuddy’s office door, “The Lord doth reemerge to saveth all yee souls,” my cane thudded to a stop and she looked up from her desk, barely registering the celestial event.
Instead she focused a studious gaze on my heavenly form and said, “I didn’t think you’d show.”
“No one did,” I answered, “But I’d kept it vague, “and I will return etc, to judge humanity etc, at some point, etc..”
She barely laughed, “You seem back to your old self,” she closed the file she was reading and stood, “I hope you know this is a probationary period, for the sake of the case,” her hands met her hips, “And I can send you right back upstairs.”
“No laurels? A lamb?” she seemed unamused, “Ok. Nothing,” change tactics, “Well, ye of little faith, I am here. Ready to do my job. And yes, I will remain pious-ish.”
“Pious?” she scoffed, then her face softened, “I’m sorry House, this isn’t what I was hoping for.”
“I got out of rehab. Can’t think of a better outcome.”
“I wanted you to have the time you needed.”
“And I got it. I’m good. Better than good.”
She paused long enough to look me over, lips flattening to a line, “You do look good, healthy. Considering.”
“Yeh considering the hellish detox and threat to never again enjoy shoes with laces; I’m radioactive, but,” I stepped forward, “I know you put yourself on the line to get me out. And that we aren’t, necessarily, in the clear yet so,” I rapped my cane on the ground, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she came around the desk. For a moment she seemed concerned, sincere, confused even hearing me say sorry, the stress wearing on her face, “Here’ the file,” she handed it to me, pausing to meet my eyes, “Your team is waiting for you.”
I nodded, turning to leave.
“House,” she said, making me pause, “Did something. . . ?” she frowned, “You look . . . happy.”
“Something did,” I said at the door, opening it, “There may be a memo later,” I walked away with a smile.
I limped down the hall, to Wilson’s office. No one had laid out palms or anything. I was very disappointed. I didn’t knock, but found him at his desk, scribbling on some paper and drinking more coffee. Out of my mug.
He looked up as I walked across his office, “See Cuddy?”
“Yeppers,” I made a b-line for him, coming to sit on his desk next to his chair, flashing the file, “Looks like,” scanned it quickly, “Huh, kinda neat actually,” I closed it again, glancing at my watch and putting the file on his desk next to us, “Guys hair fell out. And a finger.”
“We have normal lives,” he said, leaning back.
Seeing him at work, where I’d normally see him, from the other side of the desk, trading jibes and jabs and not bodily fluids, meandering around the details of a case in the most hetersexual way possible, made me want to tear his clothes off. Have him right here on the desk. Or maybe the balcony. Dawn of a new era. It was a satisfying thought. He must have seen the look in my eyes because he gave a quick sideways smile and cleared his throat, “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like I’m a pork chop.”
“Or what?” I bit my lip and watched his eyes drop down my body, then to the door, readjusting in his chair.
“Or you’d have to lock the door.”
“Would rather not,” I said, then took a breath, “First things first though.”
He refocused, “Right, you had, something to give me?”
I reached in my pocket. Pulled out the pill bottle. The one the less than moral and virtuous nurse had given me. His eyes widened, brow knitted, and he looked like I’d just stabbed him through the heart.
“I paid someone to get me these while I was in rehab.”
“House,” he shook his head, looking down to his desk.
“I didn’t take any of them.”
He looked up, “What?”
“I meant to. Was going to. But didn’t. Not after . . .” I set the bottle on his desk, “Not after I saw you,” I rubbed at my scruff, staring at the bottle, then him, “I want to clean out the infection before I suture.”
He seemed speechless. Mostly because he wasn’t speaking. He shrugged both his shoulders, face contorting quickly with emotion, then he took a breath, “This might be better than the blowjob.”
“I’ll have to try harder next time.”
He stood up and moved to lean between my legs, “I mean it. This is . . . a lot,” he put his hands on my hip, running his hand around to my back, eyes wide with disbelief. Which is what I’d hope. Needed to show him I was serious. We both knew where the pills would end. Where they had almost ended. What future they could offer me and what future there was for us.
“Do what you want with them. I’m thinking of trying out for the hospital water polo team. And by that I mean water physio.”
He laughed, “You’re incredible.”
“Well I deserve some credit,” I said, dropping my cane and pulling him into me. I kissed him, feeling him melt into me, squeezing my thighs around him. He raised his hands to my face and pulled me close, tasting like coffee and sugar. His hands moved down to the front of my jeans, tongue sliding into my mouth as I grabbed his ass.
“Welcome back!!!!”
Right on time. Thanks Cameron. She'd gotten my text. From Wilson's phone. I wasn’t facing the door but heard all three duckling’s mouths drop open. Wilson jerked backward but I locked him in with my legs, twisting to see Cameron, Chase, and Forman in the doorway of his office. Cameron actually had balloons.
“Oh my god!” I said, “For me?”
Cameron had a hand to her mouth, the balloons went to the ceiling. Chase’s mouth was still open. Forman was shaking his head.
Wilson shot a shocked look at me, “Did you?”
I nodded, “I did. No hiding,” I let him go, standing and grabbing his hand and turned to look at the team.
“Is there cake?”
****Beep, beep, beep, boop, beep, flash! I must say that under no circumstance would I consider outing someone else acceptable, it is a personal choice for when you are ready. Do I beleive that House would do this to Wilson? Yes. Do I think it's right? No. But, regardless, it made sense to me, tell me if it doesn't to you, with the characters. I mean no offense, believe me, as part of the LGBT community myself, I understand the significance, so please, be understanding. Also since going back and finishing my fics I've been giving them happy, everything is great endings. I have no problem with this, I want them to be happy, but it is interesting . . . Bye bye and buy bonds;)
