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The Subtle Art	By : silverkitty000 Category: G through L > House Views: 2524 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Don't own House, don't profit from it, or this story or much of anything else I create.

Chapter List
- 1-The Subtle Art
- 1
It really was more fun
this way. The subtly. The manipulation. Fun, but almost too easy.

But then again, this
was Wilson. It was always deceptively easy. Perhaps it was that
enabling thing but far more likely was his friend toying back. House
supposed that's what he liked about him. Too nice, too perfect, and
just as manipulative as he was. Hell, sometimes he wondered if he
wasn't worse. Self-righteous manipulation was so... self-righteous.
And annoying.

“I choose to use
my powers for good, House,” Wilson spoke without looking
up from his files, “I know that concept must completely baffle
you. But it's true.”

“Pfft... It is so
not.” House replied with an exaggerated eye roll. “You
just tell yourself that to stop your self-righteousness from keeping
you up at night.”

“Believe what you
want, House,” Wilson waved him off, “You always do.”

Damn. Cop-out. That
means something is on his mind, something he's trying to hide,
something he's trying to hide from House... now that is
interesting. “And you're just trying to avoid the
conversation,” House announced triumphantly.

“Yes, because I'm
trying to work.” He dropped the file he had be reviewing
pointedly and looked directly at House. “Don't you have... I
don't know... fellows to terrorize or patients to assault? I'm busy
here.”

House opened his mouth
for an utterly brilliant retort only to have Kutner poke his head
though the door, “Need you.”

“Busy.”

“She's vomiting
blood and her kidneys are failing.”

“Is she dying?”
House shot back in annoyance.

“Uh... Yeah.”

“Within the next
five minutes...?” House ventured hopefully. The patient could
wait, he has the puzzle that is James Wilson to solve. Infinitely
more important and entertaining and far, far more interesting than
vomiting blood. God, these morons need to get more creative with
their symptoms.

“Maybe,”
Kutner shot an apologetic glance to Wilson. House rolled his eyes, he
should be getting the apologetic look, not Wilson.

Kutner fidgeted then
handed over some lab results in a last ditch effort to get House
interested. Pff, like that would work. All the lab work from this
patient had been so boring. House glanced over the results
with indifference. Now just to rattle off the cause and treatment and
get back to talking to--

Damn. The patient just
had to go and get interesting.

House swiped Wilson's
coffee and left.

-----

Finally. The moron
patient decided to stop dying. And before five too. That was
uncharacteristically considerate of them. House had been stuck at the
Hospital for three days straight, he had a lot of TiVo to catch up
on. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped into the
hallway.

“Wilson!”

“Not now, House,”
Wilson said without missing a step into the elevator.

House, as always,
followed, not about to let the conversation die over a little thing
like 'going home,' “You do not use your powers for good.
You're just as selfish as the rest of us! You manipulate under the
pretext of doing good but really all you're doing is making yourself
miserable.”

“Huh,”
Wilson pushed the down button then rocked back on his heels, “I
help others... to make myself miserable?”

“Nope. You
manipulate them into 'happiness' to make yourself miserable. What's
great about it is you make them think it was their idea. You've been
doing it to me for years.”

“To no effect, I
see.”

“Can't play a
player,” House shot back and flashed cocky smirk as the doors
opened.

Wilson stepped out of
the elevator, “How does this make me miserable, exactly?”

“Simple,”
House followed him through the lobby, falling temporarily silent
until they both stepped out into the biting cold, “You’re
so busy fixing everybody else’s life you ignore your own.”

Wilson made his way to
his car and unlocked the door, “And you’re bringing this
up now, because…?”

“Because you’re
avoiding the conversation,” House said as he limped his way to
the passenger side door.

“I am not! I was
busy! Working! You know… that thing they pay us for. Well,
actually, you wouldn’t know anything about--”
Wilson paused his argument when he noticed his friend getting in his
car. Wilson’s car. He sighed and climbed into the driver’s
seat, “You’re not coming home with me, House.”

House adjusted his leg
until comfortable, “That’s because we’re going to
my place.”

Wilson let out another
sigh. He put the keys in the ignition but made no effort turn it. He
glanced over at House and gestured for him to get out.

“It’s
cold,” House replied in his best pouty voice.

“It’s
winter.”

“Have you ever
ridden a motorcycle in these temperatures?” House put on his
most pathetic face he could manage, adding, “With a bum leg?”

“You rode your
bike to work? In this weather? Are you insane?” Wilson turned
his head toward his friend but did not seem swayed by the face,
“Wait, don't answer that. You are insane. Or so
pathetically lonely you manufacture reasons to bother me. Or both. I
can’t decide which.” Another sigh and he started the car.

House smirked, he had
him, almost too easy with Wilson, “Whichever makes you feel
warm and fuzzy inside.” Now to show off, “I ordered us
Chinese.”

“You couldn’t
have just asked me to come over—“ Wilson paused and gave
a sidelong glance to his friend, another sigh, “No, of course
you couldn’t.”

“It’s more
fun this way."

---

“You know what's
interesting?” House asked as his eyes never left the TV. He
twisted up a forkful of Lo Mein while stealing quick glance at Wilson
while he waited for a reply.

Wilson took a swig of
beer without sparing a glance. He replied after a hard swallow, “No,
but you're going to tell me anyway.”

House was used to
Wilson's predictable and fained disinterest. He enjoyed it actually.
It made their every conversation interesting. House got to prove how
interested Wilson really was with each interaction, in each
conversation, no matter how annoying. The proof was in his presence.
If he didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't put up with it.

House set aside the box
of noodles and fixed his gaze at the side of Wilson's face, “You
like being manipulated.”

Wilson's attention was
still fixed on the TV as he replied, “And you're a manipulative
jerk.”

“Exactly,”
House swiped Wilson's beer from his hand. He made sure to meet
Wilson's eyes as he took a big swig of his beer. “We're perfect
for each other.”

Wilson sighed and eyed
his beer. House continued to down the beer, seemingly not content
until he drank it all. Wilson shook his head and fixed his eyes back
on the screen. “You know, in some cultures drinking another
man's beer is the same as telling him you want to blow him. Frankly,
I'm flattered,” Wilson deadpanned.

House paused, eyebrow
quirked curiously. He slowly lowered the beer bottle and brought a
hand up to wipe his mouth. Well this is an interesting turn to their
conversation, “You're saying you want me to--”

Wilson raised a hand in
defense, “Hey, you're the one deep throating my beer.”

“First of all,
this is my beer, from my fridge,” House started.

“Beer that I
bought.”

House gave him a mild
glare then continued, “In my fridge. My beer. You
drank my beer. If anything, you want to blow me.”

Wilson made a grab for
the bottle, which House immediately held out of his reach. Wilson
shot him a glare, “Ah, but it's my beer in your
fridge.” An annoying smirk started to form on Wilson's face as
he continued, “You have to admit, that says something about our
relationship.”

“It says,”
House thrust the beer bottle back into Wilson's hand, “You just
buy the beer.”

“And all our
other meals,” Wilson added with a laugh, “I even paid for
the Chinese!”

“I didn't make
you.”

“No,”
Wilson cracked a new smirk, “You just made sure to be
conspicuously out of the room when it arrived.”

“You could have
just--”

Wilson raised a hand to
silence him, “Ah!” he brought his beer bottle to his lips
and finished off the swallow House had left behind. He swallowed hard
and gestured to him, “You're trying to deflect.”

House glowered, “I
do not want to blow you.” He ground out every word.

Wilson relaxed further
into the couch and fixed his eyes back on the TV, “Whatever you
say, House...” He casually put his feet up on the coffee table
and seemed content to let the subject drop there.

House never was good a
dropping subjects. But this subject had suddenly gotten more
complicated. It required further thought and caution. A challenge.
Challenges are never boring. A slight smirk played on his lips.

After a moment, Wilson
turned his head to glance over his friend again. He recognized the
look on his face, he's thinking, that can't be good. He sighed,
“What?”

House leaned forward
and casually wagged a finger at his friend, “You... want to do
me.”

“What? No. Oh,
no, no, no,” Wilson shook a finger back at him, “Don't
pin this on me. You... are a misanthropic ass. No one in their
right mind would ever want to 'do you.'”

“Oh come on!
That's unfair to hookers everywhere!”

“You paid
them. That's different.”

“It is not,”
House shot back, “Now who is deflecting?”

Wilson held up his
hands in defeat. He got up and shook his head, “Look, House, it
doesn't matter who wants to do who. We're both straight anyway.”
He covered his face with a hand, he shook his head again then started
for the kitchen, “Want another beer?”

Oh,
this really is too fun. Annoying Wilson is very high on his
things-to-do list, right up there with sexually harassing Cuddy. Both
never fail as amusement and entertainment and just plain fun.
House's mind raced with all the possibilities opened up for annoying
Wilson. He'll never be out of ammo for teasing him. He leaned back
into the couch, crossing both his legs and arms and putting on quite
the smug face, “Didn't say we weren't straight, I said you want
to have sex with me. Huge difference.”

Wilson returned with
two open beer bottles. Still standing, he took a swig of his own and
held out the other beer to House. When House made a grab for it,
Wilson jerked it back out of his reach.

“Hey,”
House shot him a warning glare. He pointedly held his hand out for
the beer.

Wilson started to sit,
but still held the beer teasingly out of the other man's reach. House
shot him another glare, “Don't tease the cripple.”

Wilson lowered the beer
within his reach.

“Tha--”
House grabbed for the bottle only to have Wilson flip it upside down
and empty the contents onto House's lap. House cried out and hopped
off the couch onto one leg a lot faster than his friend thought he
could move, “Wilson! What the hell--”

Wilson sank back into
the couch, just barely able to hide a grin behind a justifiable but
subtle fear of instant retaliation, “You... started it.”

House looked down to
his now soaked t-shirt and jeans then back to Wilson. He fell into
silence to process the situation. It was a bold and childish move,
like all their games. Not as much forethought as filing half way
through his cane but House could still appreciate it. “You
know...” House said while tugging at the bottom of his shirt,
“There are easier ways to get my clothes off. Less cliché
ways.”

Wilson shrugged and
brought his own beer to his lips, “I wouldn't do that.”

House rolled his eyes
and sat back down without doing anything about his beer soaked
clothing. He effortlessly snatched Wilson's beer away. He took a swig
of it then placed it pointedly between his own legs for safe keeping.

Wilson raised an
eyebrow, “Subtle.”

“Thank you.”

Wilson sat in silence
as he continued to watch TV. After about ten minutes he finally spoke
again, “You're not going to change your clothes, are you?”

“Nope, ”
House turned his head with a lopsided grin, “Better get used to
the sweet, sweet smell of stale beer stink.” He brought the
beer bottle to his lips and pointedly downed half of it, “And
it's my beer.”

“Hm,”
Wilson crossed his arms lazily over his chest and sank further into
the couch.

“That's it?”
House shifted to the side to get a better look at his friend, his
eyes slightly narrowing. “Just 'hmm'?” he added
with an exaggerated 'hm' expression.

“I'm not going to
argue with you over this.”

“Pft,”
House gave an eye roll “Yes, you are.”

“No, I'm not.”

House raised the beer
bottle to his lips but smirked instead of drinking. He casted a
glance to his friend, his smirk broadening. In a smooth motion he
held the bottle out in front of Wilson, as if offering it to him.
Less than a second later, he tipped the contents into his lap. With
an expression of fained innocence he looked over, “Oops.”

“House!”
Wilson jerked in his seat but didn't jump up from the shock. Really,
it wasn't that shocking – this was House, after all.
Wilson glanced down at himself with a groan, “Very mature.”

“You started it,”
House flashed a smile in return.

Wilson covered his face
with a hand and let out a heavy sigh What seemed like several minutes
passed before he took his hand away from his face. With another sigh
he tugged his tie from his neck, “Well, unlike you, I don't
want to smell like stale beer all night.”

House slowly raised a
questioning brow.

Wilson pulled his tie
off over his head then started to unbutton his shirt. He noticed
House giving him a strange look. He paused and raised his brows,
“What?”

“You're
stripping.”

“You're staring,”
Wilson countered as he tugged his shirt from his shoulders,
“According to you, I'm the one that wants to do you, not the
other way around. Besides, you've seen me naked before.”

“No, I'm not,”
House shot back, “And you're the one getting naked on my
couch.” He tilted his head and let his eyes wander over his
friend's now bare chest and neck briefly.

“Because you
spilled beer on me,” Wilson pointed out with a raised finger.

“You spilled beer
on me first, you don't see me getting naked.”

“If you want to
smell like the floor of a bar, that's your problem,” Wilson
dropped his hands to his fly to unbutton it, “You don't mind if
I use your shower,” Said as a statement and not a question,
harder to say no to; not that that ever stopped House.

“Of course I
mind, you take... what? Three hours in there?” House
made an open-handed gesture toward the bathroom, “And who the
hell blow-drys their hair for twenty minutes? Who the hell
blow-dries their hair?”

Wilson rolled his eyes
and simply ignored the jabs. He raised his hips in prelude to
removing his pants. House, in turn, seemed annoyed at the lack of
response. Frankly, House seemed annoyed in general. Well, more so
than usual. Wilson smirked inwardly.

House groaned in
irritation, “Oh, come on, Wilson, this isn't a
strip-tease. Just take your damn pants off.”

Wilson paused with his
fingers tracing his zipper. He leaned back a little further and
glanced over at House with a smirk. No come backs and no sign of
continuing. God, Wilson could be infuriating sometimes. It was that
knowing smirk too. House hated that. He hated that his pants
suddenly got too tight in response.

House glared back at
him, his eyes darted to his friend's partially undone fly then back
to his face. He raised his eye-brows expectantly but Wilson didn't
move. House's eyes narrowed.

After a look of
contemplation House made a decision. Careful of his bad leg, he
shifted to sit sideways on the couch. He ran his hand over his bad
leg as it complained about the position. With his other hand he
popped a vicodin. Finally, his attention turned back onto Wilson, who
hadn't moved an inch.

His leg settled, House
rolled his eyes at Wilson, “You idiot.”

This only produced a
broader smile from Wilson. House faintly noted that Wilson was no
longer looking at him in the face. It produced another eye roll from
House, “Oh, be quiet.” Wilson was starting
too look entirely too proud of himself for House's liking. He'll make
sure to rectify that.

House knocked Wilson's
hands away from his crotch. With a small grunt he leaned forward, one
hand went to Wilson's chest to hold him down against the couch, with
the added bonus of allowing his long fingers access to one of his
nipples. House's head lowered, he breathed heavily over the damp
cloth of his crotch, causing Wilson to shiver in reply. He held that
position until he felt Wilson start to squirm.

With a small smirk
House gripped the tab of the zipper between his teeth. Wilson's head
rolled back against the couch as he let out a barely audible, “Oh
God...”

House slowly tugged the
zipper down fully. Releasing it, he let out a heavy breath on his
friend's crotch. It really was too good to resist, he lifted his head
enough to look up, “I'm flattered but I'm really not one for
pet-names.”

Wilson groaned, it
figures House would find a way to talk through this. He brought a
hand up to cover his eyes while his other hand pushed House's head
back down, “Oh, shut up.”

House chuckled lightly
into Wilson's crotch. He brought his hands down to tug Wilson's pants
down over his hips. Wilson helpfully lifted his hips to ease the
process. House's fingers curled around the elastic band of Wilson's
briefs, and again, House couldn't resist, “pfft...Briefs?
Who the hell wears briefs?”

“House,”
Wilson lifted his head enough to shot him a warning glance.

“They're too
constricting,” House continued, though his attention was fixed
on peeling the underwear from Wilson's hips. “They disrupt the
blood flow to the groin,” House said in a surprisingly soft
voice as the head of Wilson's cock emerged from the undergarment. He
tugged them clear and lowered his head for another heavy breath.
Wilson's cock twitched in response.

Wilson grunted,
“House...” He lifted his head, his face and part of his
chest flushed pink. His ability to think already compromised but he
managed, “Are you... trying to get in trouble?”

House replied with a
lick to the length of Wilson's cock. Wilson's head collapsed back
against the couch with a groan. “Of course not,” House
lifted his head enough to show off an eye roll, “I'm making
sure blood flow to your groin hasn't been compromised. Duh.”

“Oh, well... it's
purely medical interest then,” Wilson breathlessly managed a
reply.

“Absolutely,”
House lightly traced his lips along his length.

Wilson let out a shaky
breath. He barely had time to fully register what was happening
before he felt warm tightness close around his tip. Some voice in the
corner of his mind told him to keep quiet or he'd never live it down.
Regardless, his lips parted and sound passed between them.

That sound seemed to
only encourage House. Carefully he drew him further into his mouth.
It was more tricky than he thought it would be. Probably due to the
angle, the detached side of his mind reasoned. His bad leg ruled out
crouching in front of the couch. That didn't rule out moving Wilson
though.

House raised his head
with a parting lick, “Move.” He put a hand on Wilson's
hip to guide him to sit lengthwise on the couch. Wilson raised his
head lazily, his mind was slow to catch up on what was wanted of him.
House snorted in impatience, he raised his eyebrows and gave his best
you're-an-idiot look, “Cripple.”

“Oh--” A
look of embarrassment flashed across Wilson's face, “Right...”
He pivoted carefully on the couch. Careful to avoid bumping House's
bad leg. He settled his own legs on either side of his friend, his
mind finally catching up on just what they are doing, “We
really shouldn't be doing this.”

“Your lips say
'No' but your cock--” House dropped his head to draw the
head of his cock into his mouth for a firm suck then letting it fall
free again, “--say 'Oh, hell yes.'”

Wilson found himself
gasping at the sensation. He tried to manage a reply but that mouth
had closed over his length again. This time he felt his cock slide
fully into his mouth. Whatever reservations he had dissolved in the
warmth. House was surprisingly good at this. His tongue paying
special attention to his glans at every opportunity, and his mouth
drawing him in further than he thought possible. Wilson found himself
moaning when he realized his friend barely had a gag reflex.

Wilson's hands wandered
down and into House's hair. His fingers curling and gripping the
short strands of hair but never pulling. He didn't try to guide him,
just held on like the sensations would stop if he let go. “Oh,
God... House...” he breathed out in a moan. He was
greeted with firm suction in reply. A steady rhythm between his legs
starting to build.

Once House found a
rhythm, his hands started to wander. They drew up the insides of
Wilson's legs and slowly pushed them further apart. He let one hand
slip teasingly below his balls, feeling their weight. His other hand,
Wilson managed to notice through the haze of pleasure, had slipped to
his own thigh.

Wilson released the
grip he had on his hair. The realization that this could be causing
House pain overrode his own need for release, “House--”
his voice laced with more concern than pleasure.

House grunted in
annoyance. Leave it to Wilson to care too much to get off. House
wasn't going to let that happen.

“... if your leg
h--,” Wilson tried to argue, he weakly tried to pull him back.
House hummed hard against him in response. Once he's set on
something, House will get his way. He upped the suction and suddenly
pressed hard at a his perineum.

Seconds later Wilson
let out a choked cry. Reflexively his hands gripped House's
shoulders, his upper body lurched forward as he came hard, “Aah-!
House!”

House had mercilessly
continued to move his head as Wilson came. He noted that he barely
tasted at thing, the logical part of his mind reasoned that Wilson's
diet contained more vegetable matter than proteins. He was absently
pleased to detect no signs of infections in the taste either. He
slowly drew back, letting his tongue continue to stroke over the now
hypersensitive penis. This won him a deep groan from Wilson.

Finally he drew his
head back entirely. He locked eyes with Wilson and smirked, “I
was right. You do want to do me,” he announced
triumphantly.

Wilson groaned again.
He let his body go limp against the couch. His own reply didn't come
as quick as he wanted, “And... you wanted to blow me.”

“Nope, I wanted
to prove my point,” House rocked back and disentangled himself.
Resettled himself on the couch. He began to rub over his right thigh
with a slow exhale.

“Of course... no
ulterior motives at all, ” Wilson began to shift back into his
former position, not bothering with his clothing. His eyes fell on
House's leg with a frown. He also noticed something else between his
legs that gave him a renewed swell of pride. But his concern out
weighted the pride.

House noticed it with
irritation, “I'm fine.” He snatched up a nearby vicodin
bottle, shook it and found no reassuring rattle of pills. He let out
a sigh. He grabbed his cane and got to his feet. He limped off toward
the hall and presumably where another pill bottle was stashed.

Wilson remained where
he was for a moment. He watched his still clothed friend disappear
into his bedroom. He got up soon after and followed him.

When he reached the
bedroom, House stood with his back to him by his nightstand. His head
tossed back as he downed some pills. Wilson took the opportunity to
pad silently up behind him. He slipped his arms around his waist and
shamelessly groped the front of House's still wet jeans.

House jerked in
surprise, “Wilson! What are--” His mind processed the
situation and his body responded with a mind numbing rush of blood to
his groin. He let out a quick breath and grabbed the edge of his
headboard for support.

Wilson pressed in
closer. House could feel the outline of a half hard erection against
him. He was suddenly very aware of Wilson's nudity. Wilson's hands
felt over the hardness they found through the wet denim. Though
Wilson was shorter, he tucked his head in against his neck to
whisper, “You want me to do you...”

House drew in a sharp
breath in response. He turned his head and did his best to return to
his normal expression, “Pfft... I do not.”

Wilson let a small
smirk slip onto his face. He slowly curled his fingers around the
hardness and squeezed, “Uh-huh.” A shaky breath left
House in response.

“Wet jeans can't
be comfortable, House,” Wilson pulled back and broke contact,
“You might want to change.” With that Wilson turned to
return to the living room as if nothing had happened. As if he wasn't
still half naked.

House turned his head
enough to watch his return to the living room. Once he was out of
sight, his hand immediately went to cup himself. God, he could feel
himself throbbing through the denim. This would be a hard one to get
down. And Wilson just—wait a second...

“You're trying to
manipulate me into sleeping with you!” House announced when he
came back into the living room. With his clothes still unchanged and
clothes still smelling strongly of beer.

“Oh, no, no. I
wouldn't do that,” Wilson replied without bothering to look
away from the TV. He'd put his pants back on but neglected to button
them.

“Ha! Yes, you
would you--”

Wilson raised a hand to
silence him, “Unless I'm mistaken...” he pointed without
a direct glance, “...you are still hard. Thus
proving my point.”

House gave an
exaggerated eye roll as he limped closer, “No, it doesn't. It's
a biological response to stimulus. It proves that I--”

“Want to have
sex--”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Don't you think
it's a little strange you chose sucking me off to prove your point in
the first place?” Wilson turned his head to look at him as he
spoke, “There are dozens of different ways prove your point
without actually...” He gestured toward his crotch.

“Ha! So you admit
it! You do want to do me,” House said with his typical
triumphant tone.

Wilson rolled his eyes
and pushed himself up off the couch, “You're deflecting.”
He took a few steps closer. For some odd reason, Wilson seemed more
naked now that he did without his pants on.

House found himself
suddenly reminded of the uncharacteristically stubborn and traitorous
erection that strained against his jeans. For a brief second he
struggled to remember his own argument. In the time it was took for
him to sort his thoughts, Wilson had taken the opportunity unbutton
House's jeans. House's mouth gaped like a fish out of water.

“You wouldn't let
me do this if you didn't have even the tiniest interest,”
Wilson offered helpfully. He pushed House's dampened jeans down then
settled his hands on his friend's hips. “In fact, I think--”
He applied some pressure to his hips to urge him to sit back down.

For once, House had
stopped verbally protesting. He seemed more intrigued by where this
was going than how it all started. He glanced to the side then
decided to roll with it, “Well, you are cheaper than a
hooker... but at least hookers know how to use the bed.”

Wilson tilted his head,
“Do you want to use the bed?”

House shrugged in
response, “Doesn't matter to me...” He glanced down to
note the state of his erection, and duly noting Wilson was still
keeping his hands on hips. Bastard. He found himself with a good view
of his friend's reawakening erection that just barely peeked out from
his unbuttoned pants, “...just saying--”

“You're still
trying to deflect...” Wilson pointed out while he gently urged
him back toward the bedroom.

He gave a faint shake
of the head, “No. Nothing to deflect. No reason to
deflect.”

Wilson gave him a
disbelieving look as he continued to edge him back into the bedroom.

“Just pointing
out--” House cut himself off as the back of his legs hit the
bed. Huh. He'd barely noticed their movement to the bedroom. He was
more distracted than he realized. Wilson gave little push to get him
on the bed. “Hey! Easy on the cripple!”

“Shut up, House.”

House opened his mouth
but words failed him. He found Wilson on top of him. Infuriatingly
close but not letting their skin touch and took special care to avoid
anything touching the far more sensitive parts of House's anatomy.
God, he could feel the heat that came from him.

Wilson pushed up
House's t-shirt enough to get at the skin of his chest. It took
House's mind an embarrassingly slow second to realize where Wilson
planned to go with this. A wave of nervousness hit when he felt
tongue touch flesh. House pushed himself up on his elbows, “Wait
– Wilson...”

Wilson paused then drew
back on his knees. He looked at House expectantly, either to be told
off or told to continue since there rarely was a middle ground with
House involved. But instead of either possibility, House fell silent.

Wilson raised his
eyebrows expectantly, “Well?”

House's breath was
heavy, it was clear that, at very least, his penis hadn't lost
interest. After a second, his eyes flashed up to meet his friend's,
“You told me to shut up.”

Wilson shot him a
strange look in return, “Uh... Yeah. So?”

“And I didn't
shut up,” House pointed out helpfully.

Wilson gave him a blank
look in response.

He gave Wilson a
hurry-up-and-follow-my-train-of-thought-you-moron look in return.

A look of recognition
crossed Wilson's face, “Oh, well... That does explain a few
things.”

“Just a few?”

“Shut up, House.”

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The Subtle Art