House MD Fanfiction

Finished

Hilson, smut, 5,965 words
By: l57371

“I’m done.”

Wilson stood at the midway point between the glass door to House’s office and the desk. He had just strode in, without a knock or an invitation, planted his feet and crossed his arms and made his pronouncement, a fierce look of determination on his face. His lips pressed thin as he stared down at the slightly startled House.

House paused his typing, his eyebrows raised, and blinked. “Okay, good,” he replied, turning away from his computer and leaning back in his chair. He laced his fingers over his stomach and peered down his nose at the other man. “Are you going to make me ask?”

“You don’t even know, do you?” Wilson asked, an incredulous half-smile gracing his lips as he shook his head slightly. He turned and paced toward the door for a few steps then turned and paced back until he stood directly in front of the desk. House watched him closely, tracking the movement of his expensive shoes. Suddenly Wilson turned and leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms and his ankles, and looked down at the floor. “I had a revelation,” he said casually, not looking up. Weather, baseball, epiphanies, all the same.

“Okay,” House repeated. This was startling. Random Wilson was a Wilson close to the edge, but he had no idea what that edge was or why he was there. Carefully, he watched the rise and fall of Wilson’s shoulders and chest as he breathed, slowly, evenly. Not distressed, not even excited, really. He leaned forward again in his chair and placed his elbows on the desk, steepled his fingers and placed his lips against the pointers. He glanced sideways, trying to see into Wilson’s face. Pink and dry, no distress there either. “So either tell me or get out. I’m in the middle of a virtual three-way with underage Korean twins.” He made as if to turn back to his computer.

Wilson snorted. “No. You’re not,” he said, enunciating carefully. He looked sideways at House. “And I know why.”

House paused, his hands hovering over his keyboard, and raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to think that the depths of your depravity know no bounds, but I know exactly where those boundaries are.” Wilson said, his face breaking into a smile. “I know you, and I also know what you’re hiding. And that’s why I’m done.” He turned and leaned forward on House’s desk, his hands planted wide on the top, leaning forward.

House’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. He closed and opened his mouth one more time, but still no words came. His mind had immediately gone blank at Wilson’s words, and then in a rush caromed in a hundred different directions at once. Of course Wilson know the depths of his depravity, mostly Wilson had gone there with him. A few times Wilson had even been leading. How well Wilson knew him had always been something of a discomfort. It meant that he was there, under House’s skin, along with him, but House had never really been sure if Wilson had wormed his way there without House’s invitation or approval, or if House had actually let him in, and then let him stay. But the really worrisome thing was which secret did Wilson think he knew? House’s mind scrambled for answers.

“Alright, you’ve caught me: I’m a closet accordion player,” House said. Misdirection and absurdity were always good as a standby. “You can stop pretending you don’t see the squeezebox in the hallway now.” He turned his attention back to the screen and lowered his fingers to the keyboard.

Suddenly he was spinning back toward Wilson again, his shirt bunching in Wilson’s fists as the other man lifted him bodily from the chair and pulled him over the desk towards him. House put his arms out and leaned heavily on the top of the desk, his face mere centimeters away from Wilson’s. The surge of adrenalin that had started at the first spin was making itself known in other areas of the body, making his knees shake and a tingle go up the back of his scalp. He could feel Wilson’s breath on his lips and he tried to pull himself out of the other man’s grasp to no avail.