House MD Fanfiction

Defensive Strategies (pt.2)

Hilson, smut, 7089 words
By: milkshake butterfly

The bathroom was small, as restaurant bathrooms went--just two stalls, a urinal, and a sink. House was at the sink when Wilson walked in, but the place was otherwise deserted. Perfect.

There was a knack to wedging a bathroom door shut. Most people never learned it; Wilson had perfected his technique before he was even twenty-one. He should probably feel bad about that, or at least worried about the potential consequences of blocking off the men's room in a crowded restaurant, but mostly what he felt was desperately horny and tired of waiting. He blamed the cake.

House, who had flicked him a vaguely interested look in the bathroom mirror when he entered, watched the door-blocking spectacle with a bemused expression on his face, almost absently drying his hands with a paper towel before crumpling it and tossing it expertly into the trash can. "You know," he commented, with a lightness that seemed totally genuine but struck Wilson as false, somehow, "I knew you weren't fine with it."

"I'm not--" Wilson began, and then hesitated, because he wasn't exactly sure how to finish that, or for that matter, what to do next. The reality of being alone and theoretically uninterrupted in a bathroom with House hadn't exactly hit until this moment. Adrenaline, shock, and a lot of rationalization had gotten him this far, and suddenly Wilson found that tide of that receding, leaving him beached in a very strange place indeed. "It's...." he tried again, and ended up just staring at House, swallowing after a moment.

House tilted his head and gave a small, almost privately bitter smile. "Well, this is going to be fun. We could try charades. Or maybe you could write it on a note and pass it to me. You know, this was the reason I was going to wait until we got to your apartment...."

Thoughts of House in Wilson's apartment led to thoughts of House in Wilson's bed, which brought back some of that impelling horniness, at least. Wilson licked his lips awkwardly, and House glanced away from him for a moment, that small bitter smile increasing. "I'm not sure I'd have managed the car ride home," Wilson admitted, his voice coming out strangely atonal. 

You had to know House fairly well to be able to read how he took that: no reaction but a slight widening of his eyes, and that total lack of response was the most telling. Wilson's own eyes widened and he found himself doing a very fast, very desperate mental reevaluation, because there was no way that statement should have gotten that pained a response out of House.

House still wasn't meeting his eyes as he limped for the door. "Well, we can call a cab," he began, but didn't get any further as Wilson's brain finally caught up to the fact that House had managed to interpret everything completely the wrong way, and was stuck on the idea that Wilson really was bothered by it. That Wilson had a serious problem with what had happened, in an 'I don't know how to be friends with you anymore' kind of way.

He was fairly certain that grabbing House, pushing him into the wall beside the door, and kissing him hard settled that, at least. House's lips were as nice as he remembered, and his tongue every bit as friendly, once the initial moment of stunned shock passed. Now that they weren't both perched on stools Wilson could lean into him, pressing House back against the wall and himself into House, taking care to make sure his weight landed on House's good leg and hip and not the bad one. House made a small sound as Wilson rubbed against him, tongue darting little flicks into House's mouth, and his left arm came up to wrap around Wilson's back. Wilson made a happy sound of his own at that, and rubbed a little harder, enjoying the pressure of House's hip and thigh against his groin, and the fact that for the moment, at least, he didn't have to talk himself out of this fourth erection.

He let go of the handfuls of House's jacket he'd grabbed and ran his hands down House's chest, enjoying the noise House made in response. He knew House took somewhat better care of himself than it often at first seemed, but it was still almost a surprise to feel the density of muscle underneath his clothing; Wilson couldn't resist skimming his fingers down to the hem of House's t-shirt and then sliding up underneath it, skin on skin and the muscles of House's stomach and ribcage trembling under his touch. House jerked out of their latest liplock with a gasp, and Wilson took the moment to steal a few panting breaths of his own before attacking House's mouth again. He realized, now that the initial rush of sensation had faded a bit, that he could taste the chocolate cake, and barely held off a laugh, because it seemed he had gotten some of it somehow, with the bonus of an added flavoring of House. Quivering House, very nearly whimpering House, 'is that a stethoscope in your pocket or are you just happy to see me' House, and Wilson was wondering if House could feel his grin in the kiss the way Wilson had been able to feel House's smile earlier.