Title: Bad Leg Day
Chapter: Pill Three
Author: hang_monet 
Pairing: House/Wilson
Word count: 1000
Rating:  R
Warnings: Language, Timmy / sexual content
Spoilers: Season 5
Summary: Ever wondered what goes through House’s head as he waits for the vicodin to kick in?
Chapter Summary:  Jimmy finall shows up, and proposes a rather unorthodox challenge.
Previous Chapters: 1, 2
 

House watched, his pubis beginning to grow cold, as Wilson finally re-entered his office in obvious frantic worry, his ear attached to his cell phone. He was speaking into it. Although, seeing as House could hear him through the glass, ‘shouting in despair’ were probably words better chosen.

“House? House, where the hell are you, and who the hell has stolen your office chair – this better not be a prank, you know how much that cost me?!” Wilson hysterically screamed he paced his office just as hysterically (so, like a girl), spinning on his heel just before he reached the point where he would’ve been able to see his friend. “Full lumbar support, and I had to buy two after you stole mine!” Wilson paused both rant and step, so all House could see was the back of his head.

He wondered if he would be cunning about this, or better yet, become so angry it leaked out of every pore.

Silence followed, and for a moment House wondered if he’d seen him after all, and had silently left his office in punishment.

His voice dropped considerably lower. “Where are you? I haven’t seen you since Friday. Please be OK. I don’t want to have to bring you back to kill you...God, House.” Shaking fingers closed the phone and buried it back in his pocket. That Wilson would say such things was proof of what he thought had happened. He thought House would never hear him.

House suddenly wished he had more time to plan a better action than this. The only way to get over that would be to joke around, but something sexual now seemed somehow unfair. When Wilson said things like that he couldn’t help but wonder, become lost in dream. He found a pill running down his oesophagus before he’d even noted the gut reaction of taking it.

The glass door slid open. “What are you doing?”

“Relaxing, Jimmy.” In what he knew was for show, he lifted his pill jar and offered it to Wilson. “They’re good!” He charmed with a wink, pretending to take one as Wilson stared at him. He knew taking a pill would antagonise Wilson and make him forget the embarrassment which was surely flowing through his system now. Pretend to take a pill, change a conversation. It was a good way of helping people.

Wilson was hardly paying attention, however, his eyes glued to House’s evident erection. House joined him in the new-found activity, more than a little disturbed by self-provoked semi-hardness jumping to attention the moment Wilson shows up.

He remained silent, allowing Wilson the time to absorb what he’d meant by relaxation. Sometimes Wilson could be slow, but after almost a minute he found himself beginning to hope something else had taken over the shock. He’d found a third reason why this was a completely false and hopelessly pathetic thought when Wilson finally spoke again.

“I have paperwork. Enjoy your erection.”

As customary, he went to mock to disguise the hurt. “Really? Can I? Thanks Mom! By the way, I need a ride to soccer practice tonight because Stacy’s Mom has too much going on.” He waited.

He wasn’t disappointed as the hands flew to the hips. “What happened to your bike?”

“Stacy’s Mom’s admirer had a little accident. The poor girl needs time to recover.”

Wilson pulled a face. “I’ve met Stacy’s Mom, and I have to say, I never knew you cared for dementia-ridden octogenarians.”

House gestured to his free hand with his cane. “Cripple’s get it where they can.”

“Of course. Well...enjoy.” He turned and went back in, leaving the door open as he settled himself at his desk and began to browse through a file.

House couldn’t resist a short-lived grin. Wilson had set him a challenge and he knew it. Screwing with the personal PI was good, but in terms of the game this beat even Cuddy’s revelation. The master well and truly had his puppy back.

So, just how carefree and stubborn was he? Could he jerk off knowing his best friend was watching? In a decade of friendship they’d masturbated in the same apartment (different rooms) a handful of times following drunken nights watching pornos, also known as House’s usual birthday gift.

He wasn’t fanciful – he knew this wasn’t a hint that Wilson would burst in on him half way through, sit on his lap, and reveal that he was a bad, bad girl that demanded to be punished. There was no hidden motive, it was just the game. Part of him was thankful it was – Wilson coming on to him would be scary. He had to do things his way or no way, always. He also needed to never fall asleep watching Hairspray again.

Could he do this? He could talk it, he could limp it, so did that mean it was ok to stumble every once in awhile? The idea of Wilson watching was fucking appealing, but something stood in his way where Wilson usually would. There was something undeniably wrong about thinking about your best friend as he watched you masturbating as part of an utterly un-sexual game, while he had no idea you were actually thinking about him. Damn, he was good at lying to himself.

Every sexual encounter he had had in the past few years, including those on his own and shamefully a few with Stacy, had ended with him crying out Wilson’s name, if not necessarily a climax. Not that it was another reason for using hookers, or anything as simple as that. He didn’t do simple, simple was boring. Simple was Cameron without the dearly departed husband, election polices, the English Wife Swap. Boring.

“House? I think I have a case.”

So that was Kutner’s use. He was beginning to wonder.

A/N: Pill Four

Tags: bad leg day, hilson