Everybody Lies | By : clueless1der Category: G through L > House Views: 3646 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own House, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
The door clicking shut, a rattle of a burglar chain, and the
sound of a heater turning off were all disconcerting sounds at whatever-o’clock
in the morning, but jumbled all together, it was enough to wake anyone up.
House’s eyes snapped open at the soft click of the door shutting.
Damnit.
It wasn’t like he had never woken up by himself in a strange
place after spending the night with someone before. Similarly, he couldn’t say
that he had never woken up in a strange bed- by himself- either. He sat up, swinging
his legs to the floor on the side of the bed.
The floor had some ancient shag carpeting. He started at it, not really
processing what he was seeing. I suppose
I should be glad that there isn’t a
chalk outline, House thought as he listened-- half hoping that he was
mistaken; that Wilson hadn’t just left him without a word. But, no… a silent
room sounds just like a silent room. There was no sound of someone singing in
the shower, no brushy sound of someone cleaning their teeth.
He was alone. Again.
House stood up, testing his leg’s strength, and made his way
to the bathroom. He could see that Wilson had showered before he left. He could
smell the scent of the conditioner that the hotel provided. He touched one of the beads of water that
were left on the shower curtain. It was still warm. He tried to keep his mind
blank as he went through the automatic motions of stripping for his shower,
throwing his clothes in the general direction of the bed, while very carefully
not remembering the circumstances that caused him to be mostly dressed and
itchy. He made it as far as looking up
into the hot spray before he gave it up as a bad deal. Memories had a way of
wiggling into places that you don’t want them.
He bent his neck so that his forehead touched the tile. He turned the temperature as high as it would
go, so the hot water pulsated onto his back.
How fucking stupid could he be?
Did he really
think that everything would be “okay” if he could just prod Wilson into action?
Did he think that would work; that if he kept on pushing and poking t the
subject that everything would fall into place with all the hearts and rainbows?
Well, maybe he hadn’t done enough last night- enough to keep him wanting more
as the old song goes- but House hadn’t wanted to scare him off, either. Hell,
if he had done half the things he had
even partially fantasized about,
Wilson would have had to call into work sick for at least a week. Well
whatever, what he had done…or not done…had scared him off into the wild blue
yonder without even a good bye.
House bit his lip as
he soaped up the washcloth and made quick work of washing his body. His mind was warped; despite the thoughts
running through his head, he still was able to imagine Wilson in here a few
minutes earlier, washing himself with the same soap- smelling the same soapy
smell. Pathetic.
He stood under the spray for a bit longer, not wanting to leave this
little space. In here, nothing was reality. Just steam and
heat and the smell of soap. But not real. Not really. He could pretend otherwise… but
once he stepped out there, he couldn’t shove this in the back of his mind. He
would have to face the fact that Wilson left him alone. The
fact that he probably could no longer work with him, and ignore everything that
had happened. How could he? That would hurt too much. He didn’t want to acknowledge that- it was
way easier to shrug off any kind of emotional attachment saying that he didn’t
care… but no. Not with Wilson.
He just couldn’t.
Abruptly, he reached over and turned the spray to ice cold.
He grunted as the cold water hit him. It didn’t take long for the steam to
dissipate. There. No more fantasy- just cold, hard reality.
He didn’t have anything to brush his hair with, not to
mention shave (not that he would anyway) but he scrubbed his teeth with his
finger and some leftover Scope that Wilson had left on the sink. Shivering, he
left the fan on and limped out to lie down on the bed. He zoned out for a second, debating on
whether or not he could really be bothered to turn on the television- not
particularly wanting to expand the extra effort it would take to reach over for
the remote bolted to the table. The Vicodin though, that went without saying.
He popped one, thought about it…then popped another. The taste was bitter
against the minty flavor on his taste buds.
When House heard the door handle to the room jiggle he had
one instant of panic that brought him to his feet, looking for a weapon. All he
could find was the phonebook. He was testing its weight when the door opened
and Wilson stood there, outlined in the weak daylight.
House knew he must look stupid, standing there with the
towel slipping off his hips, holding the phonebook in front of him like a
Frisbee ready to be released, but seeing Wilson actually standing there was
quite a shock, to say the least. He
could hear his heart thudding in his chest.
“Hey there! Sorry if I woke you,
but I wanted to get to your place to get you a change of…. What?”
Wilson cocked his head to the side as he stepped into the
room and kicked the door shut with his left foot. He had a duffel bag slung
over his shoulder, two cups of something with a Starbucks label and a white
paper bag that was folded over and grease-stained. He had to set the food down before he dropped
it down the front of him.
“My place?” House’s voice was very
quiet. Almost a whisper.
Wilson looked embarrassed. “Well, yeah. I uh…”he looked down
at the floor where House had kicked his clothes, “I thought you might need
something to change into. And then, well I thought the least I could do after
falling asleep on you was to buy you breakfast. It’s just some coffee and some
Danish, but hey I figured that carbs would be
welcomed after our..er.. crazy day yesterday. You know- with the elevator.”
Oh god, did my voice
just squeak? Wilson’s hands were in his pockets- his standard body language
for when he was nervous or uncomfortable.
He knew he was babbling, but couldn’t seem to help the words that were
bubbling up from his mouth. House was
just standing there; looking like someone had come up behind him and smacked
him on the head with a board. Those damn eyes of his were just boring into his own. Not blinking.
Just staring.
Wilson shook himself free of the little trance, and grabbed
a coffee. “Here.” He almost pressed it into House’s
hand, which had come up automatically. “What, do you want me to put it on the
phone book?”
House took the coffee. His mind was … blessedly… blank.
Wilson didn’t leave. He was here. Throwing the phone book
onto the bed. He didn’t leave. He was… here. He raised it to his lips,
and started to take a drink.
“Um, House?”
House tried to speak around the ridiculously large lump in
his throat. Some absurd Saturday Night Live sketch involving Barbara Streisand
and feeling valkempt flashed through his head.
“You need to take off the tab.” He stepped closer to House,
with a tiny grin playing on his lips. House blinked once. Wilson stepped into
House’s body space, and looked at the little plastic coffee lid. They were so close that when Wilson’s lips
formed the word ‘tab’ a little puff of air blew onto House’s chin. He reached over and pulled the tab off. The
sweet smell of raspberry mocha filled the air.
Wilson looked up into House’s eyes. “Good morning.”
“Yeah?”
Wilson had never really had the opportunity to appreciate
how well they fit together. He just had to tilt his head back a teeny bit so
that he could kiss him. Wilson’s were
cold from being outside. House’s were a little dry, but blessedly warm. Their
mouths opened, explored, drew away. House pulled away for a moment and stood
there with his forehead resting against Wilson’s. They couldn’t get too close
without wearing coffee. The towel gave up its battle and dropped to the floor.
He kissed him again. For awhile, the only sound in the room was their breathing
and the sound of the bathroom fan whirring to itself behind the door.
“Hey Wilson?” House’s voice was
purposefully soft.
“Um-hm?”
“Do you know how extremely gay raspberry-mocha cappuccino is?” House took a sip of the drink,
and smiled with a freakishly toothy grin.
He could just barely make it out in the dim light in the
room. Wilson gave him the look… that adorable,
gee-House-you’re-such-a-tool-look that made House want to just kiss him until
he couldn’t think.
So he put down the coffee… and
did.
“You’re late.”
“Hm?” House ignored Cuddy as she stalked into his
office and stood there, hand on one hip- holding the blue patient file with the
other. His lips pursed as he went
through his email. ‘Musetta’s Waltz’ was probably not
meant to be whistled in such a jaunty way.
“I said… you’re late, House.”
House looked over at her for a second, then
focused back onto his computer.
“Look. If I can just have your attention for five minutes,
I’ll have Chase do your clinic hours for today.”
“A week.”
“Two days.”
“Deal. Go.” House looked at his
watch.
Cuddy rolled her eyes and seated herself. “Are you okay?
From the elevator, I mean. You were kind of zoned out of it for a while
there. No concussion, pain elsewhere?”
House shook his head.
“Well they traced the cause of the accident. Apparently some
idiot had slammed the elevator’s emergency stop button, and the release had
never been reprogrammed. It’s all computerized you know. And you weren’t really
never in any danger.” She smiled brightly.
House smirked. “I decline to sue the hospital for any
possible negligence. You can check with Wilson to be sure, but I highly doubt
he will either. And I’m no mechanical expert, but it does seem to me that an
elevator cable snapping was somewhat
dangerous.”
Cuddy’s
smile wilted. “It didn’t snap. It just…. was stressed. Just one of those random things.”
“Two min---utes.”
House sang in a sing-song voice.
“New case. Patient exhibiting every possible symptom of Adrenocortical carcinoma there is,
except for anything resembling a tumor.” She passed the file over his desk.
“Will,… you be able to work with Wilson? I know things
are pretty strained between the two of you.”
She couldn’t quite identify the look that passed over
House’s face- something between devilish amusement and his normal cantankerous
self.
“Oh… I think so.” The look on his face changed,
fractionally.
Cuddy sat there. There had been a brief look of something on
his features that was so intense that she could tell she was blushing. She got up.
“Toodles.”
House began whistling again as she left his office.
Toodles? She stopped for a moment, decided that she
really didn’t want to ask, and quit the room. She had known Gregory House for a
number of years. That look on his face was nothing that she had ever seen
before…. Even with their history together. It was predatory. Knowing.... Intensely private… Sexual.
It was hot as hell.
She fanned herself as she took
the stairs to her office.
Wilson and House were sitting together for an early lunch in
the cafeteria. House was munching his way through Wilson’s fries while Wilson
looked over the patient’s case history.
House was being exceptionally annoying; he made certain that his knee
was touching Wilson’s- rubbing in little circles under the table.
Wilson was resolutely ignoring him, except for the slight
color of his cheeks. House found that intriguing, and wanted to make Making
Wilson Blush … not a life’s mission exactly, but definitely high on his
personal ‘to-do list’. He leaned back
and looked around the cafeteria. There were all sorts of people there, from all
over the place. Doctors, Nurses, Patients, Visitors…. And none of them knew
what he knew. He found himself whistling again as he unwrapped a lollipop and
stuck it in his mouth.
Wilson found that incredibly distracting. It came out of his
mouth before he even thought about it. “What, do you have some sort of oral
fixation lately?” When he realized what he said, he turned about twelve shades
of pink before settling on a nice, healthy red.
House gave a small smile. He kept eye contact and did
something with his tongue to the lollipop that Wilson was quite certain was
illegal in the state of New Jersey.
He tried not to drool, and shut his mouth with a little
‘pop’.
Wilson knew that this was House’s way of being… well… House. And he didn’t
really mind. It was certainly no more and no less then they had ever ‘flirted’
before. (And he felt rather proud of himself at being able to admit that he had
been, for years, flirting with his best friend. What’s more, he still couldn’t
believe how … overwhelming…. it was that his best friend had been, for years,
flirting back!) He managed to get himself under control, mumbled something
about having a day full of patents and made his escape.
He half wished that he had stayed for his attentions,
because a bored House was a dangerous House.
The man must have kept a lexicon of sexual innuendos, because it seemed as
though every time Wilson saw House during work there was something said that
made him curse his fair skin. For
Christ’s sake, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. How ridiculous was that? It had
been two days of this. And, if House found the opportunity to say something in
front of someone, he would give himself “points.” Wilson had lost count of how
many points he actually had, although House had taken to sending him updates in
his email.
In those two days Wilson hadn’t
been able to see House outside of work. They had had one really hot moment in a
handy janitor’s closet, but nothing too satisfying. Neither of them felt
comfortable being quite that obvious at work.
Something that House had said in passing to Julie had made her watch him
like a hawk- so he hadn’t been able to do too much after work. Lately, Wilson
had found himself having to peek around the corner to see if House was coming
his way with something guaranteed to make him say a little prayer that he had a
long, very bulky lab coat to walk around in? It was time for a little …
reciprocation.
To: ghouse@pprinston.org
From: jwilson@pprinston.org
H-
Have an idea. Meet me at my house around 8:30. I’ll make
dinner.
Jimmy
To: jwilson@pprinston.org
From: ghouse@pprinston.org
Jimmy, now you know that I don’t
do threesomes….. thanks.
To: ghouse@pprinston.org
From: jwilson@pprinston.org
You moron.
Just a twosome. Girls night
out.
To: jwilson@pplainsboro.org
From: ghouse@pplainsboro.org
Snugglemuffin,
8:30 it is.
-Me.
House hit the doorbell with his cane. He was in an extremely
jovial mood. He had
diagnosed the case Cuddy presented him in only a few days, had
the opportunity to wave at Chase doing his slave labor in the clinic for him,
and had rather high expectations for tonight’s … activities.
Wilson opened the door, flashing him a quick grin. “Hi there.”
House reached up and grabbed a hold of Wilson’s tie. He gave
a good yank, and devoured Wilson’s mouth, kissing him with all the pent up
frustration that two busy people who have no chance to see each other have to
deal with. Wilson made a little sound of surprise, but kissed him back. House
felt Wilson’s arm come around his waist, up under his coat. He walked forward,
pushing Wilson back against the foyer wall, moving so that their mouths didn’t
separate. Wilson tasted like something sweet, and House craved it like a drug.
He did have the presence of mind to nudge the door shut – the -18 degree wind
chill was very persuasive- but it was automatic. He could feel Wilson’s hand on
his ass, over his jeans, pulling him closer so that all he could feel was the
younger man’s heat against his stomach.
Wilson broke the kiss and looked up at him with his eyes
half-closed, pupils a little too dilated
“You don’t want food?” He was breathing a little heavy as he
stripped House’s overcoat off of him.
“Not particularly.” House stripped off his shirt and leaned
down a little to whisper in Wilson’s ear.
“I want you to take me to that impeccably decorated bedroom
of yours and do every…little…” House lowered his voice so that it was sexier,
more intense. “…thing that you’ve thought about doing to me. Every
touch. Every taste. And I want you to remember
me in there, under you, inside you… around you every time she climbs into that
same bed with you.” House bit down on his earlobe, then flicked his tongue down
the column of his neck.
Wilson’s eyes had gotten wider with whispered phrase. At the feel of House’s tongue, his eyes
rolled back and his eyelids fluttered shut. Jesus.
He gulped. He wanted to take more control of this; wanted to show House that he
wasn’t just a willing participant, but an instigator as well. That whatever
hang-ups he might have- well… they didn’t really matter when they were
together.
“Come with me,” he said simply.
Wilson’s bedroom was exactly what House had imagined. Very
tasteful, very refined…. Not too feminine, but Julie’s touch was definitely
there. Wilson stood by the door, eyes nervously darting to the bag on the
nightstand. There were candles lit already. He had a very horrible image in his
head of House laughing at the mood he had been trying to set. He had a sudden urge to hide everything- to
act like this wasn’t a huge deal. But it was.
He swallowed again.
House ‘s gaze followed Wilson’s to
the nightstand. He noticed the candles, of course, and was strangely touched at
the nervousness on Wilson’s face. It was rather adorable, actually. He limped
over to the side of the bed that faced the nightstand, and hung his cane on it,
next to the bag. He picked it up, peeked inside, then
looked up at Wilson. He reached over and dumped the contents onto the
bedspread. His lips twitched; he couldn’t help it. There had to be 15 different
kinds of lube on the bed.
“I… uh… wasn’t… sure. You know. Um, what to..”
“My goodness. Who gets to be the
bottom? I think we can go about three hundred rounds with all of this.” House’s
amused eyes met Wilson’s. “I am a
cripple, you know.”
Wilson, took the teasing without blushing himself into
oblivion. While still meeting House’s
gaze, he undid his tie and tossed it over the chair. He unbuttoned his shirt, and stripped it off. He
walked towards House, and sat down besides him on the
bed.
“I feel like I should have Barry White playing or
something.”
House smiled. He was
feeling ridiculously affectionate. He reached out and touched Wilson’s
collarbone, trailing his finger down his sternum to the button of his
pants. He could feel his tummy muscles
flutter. Just as he was flicking open the button, Wilson’s hand came down on
top of his to still its movement.
He shifted his hand so that he was holding House’s hand. He
moved reached over, and lightly ghosted his hand over House’s shoulders, down
his chest, and on further to his thigh. “You’ll tell me if..”
House just smiled that smirky
smile at him.
Wilson pushed at him a little so that he would lie down onto
the pillow. There’s a
certain anticipation when you’re with a new lover and have never really
explored them before. Wilson’s mouth went dry as House’s lanky frame was
stretched out before him. The jeans were baggy, and he idly recognized them as
the ones House let him borrow at the airport. He helped him strip and when
House just lay there, with his bum leg stretched out in front of him, and his
other sort of kicked up, Wilson was glad that he did indeed have a grasp of the
English language…. Although every word he knew fled his brain. He trailed his
fingers up his calf muscle, onto his scarred thigh. He kneeded
it a bit, then when he saw House’s cock give a little twitch, he shuffled over,
and went down on him all at once.
No point in wasting time, really.
Listening to House’s throaty, “Oh, Fuck!” made him smile… or would have if
his mouth wasn’t busy. He had been
thinking about this for years, it seemed. Now that he had his chance, he wanted
to make it memorable. It was a little awkward, and he felt all shades of weird,
but he knew what would feel good. It was just a matter of figuring out what
would drive House crazy, and doing it.
He moved his mouth back, so that the tip almost popped out,
before going down again. He sucked, mouthed, licked.. when he heard House cry out, he would change the intensity
of his pressure, or flick his tongue along the base… really anything that would
make him keep making those little moans.
House was particularly sensitive around the ridge on the tip and when
Wilson pursed his lips and applied suction, House almost came up off of the
bed. House was speaking in halting gasps... unintelligible, but when he yanked
on Wilson’s hair, Wilson pursed his lips, moving his mouth up and down, and…
Well okay. It defiantly didn’t taste like chocolate. But
being able to look up the line of House’s body while he came was so incredible
that he barely noticed. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face and
chest. Wilson wanted to lick it.
House was a little surprised at the change of roles…. For whatever reason he had never really seen Wilson as a dominant
person. But whatever. He just wanted this to go
on.
Wilson explored everything on
House’s body that he could. It was like he hadn’t eaten in years and had a
buffet in front of him. When House turned over, Wilson paused. But he was
pretty sure he could figure out the specifics. He stripped the rest of the way
and reached for one of the tubes.
Later, there were no confessions of undying love. Things
were too unsettled. They both enjoyed
just being together, curled into each other so that they could exchange sleepy
kisses, or just talk about silly things. Nothing serious. Nothing permanent…. They fell asleep almost
at the same time., legs entangled under the sheets.
Even Later, when Julie came home,(earlier than
expected) unlocked the door, and stepped over the overcoat lying on the floor to put her purse
on the foyer table, she closed her eyes at the realization of what her husband
had been doing that evening. If his
coat was here, then he had to still be here.
Him… that strange son-of-a-bitch that had practically
shooed her out the door fifteen minutes after she had first set eyes on him.
Julie listened, and didn’t hear anything. Just the sound of someone moving in the bedroom. She waited
for the punch of pain… the sick taste in her mouth. But there was just a smile.
It was bright and cheerful. She didn’t have to be the one to start yet another
fight. It was one thing to tell him that she had been thinking about seeing
someone else, but now….. She picked up her purse, and left just as quietly as
she had come. She told herself that it didn’t matter… that Wilson would never
leave her… that this was just another affair…..
The smile slipped; turned brittle.
… she told herself that….
but everybody lies.
FIN
If you want to hear what Musetta’s
Waltz sounds like… here’s a kinda cheesy version.
http://www.dfsheetmusic.com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderfiles/puccinimusettaswaltzww4standplayback.mid
While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.
Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!
Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo