Warnings: Slashie! -muhahahaha-
Summary: What happens when House has too many drinks and shows up to work?
Disclaimer: I don't own them sobs
Note: I've found several things that I have posted over at my livejournal account that I forgot to dump up here! Shame on me!
Wilson is met at the door to House's office by three worried mother ducklings. "How bad is he?"
None of the trio answer, they just step aside and allow Wilson to enter. And enter he does. To the sound of giggling. Wilson's eyes widen.
"Jimmy!" House calls out, three times too loud.
The ducklings wince and stand off to the side, watching nervously. This is a side of their boss they had never seen before.
Wilson takes in the empty beer bottles with a glance before looking at House. "What is wrong with you?" he asks with barely controlled anger.
"Isn't he cute when he is asking the obvious?" House queries with a lopsided grin.
"Come on. You're going home before Cuddy catches you."
"Your bed or mine?"
Pink colors Wilson's cheeks as he steps forward to yank House from his chair.
House attempts to take a step and they both almost fall to the ground because House seems to have forgotten he needs his cane to walk.
Wilson glares at Chase until the other man comes to stand by House's side and lever him off. "Please tell me you guys didn't watch him get drunk?" Wilson asks the room.
"Of course not!" Cameron huffs.
"He was like this when we came in." Chase feels something brush his ass and takes a big step away, praying that House will be able to stand without his further assistance.
House has his head resting on Wilson's shoulder and is breathing hot air against his collar. "House," Wilson warns, squirming. He sighs in defeat. "If Cuddy asks," he says to the leaderless team," tell her I took him home. If she doesn't ask, don't tell her."
Wilson is able to get House out to the car with minimal embarrassment. "Come on, you're going home," he informs House once he shoves the older man into the passenger seat.
"Your place or mine?" House flirts.
"Since Julie would have a cow--"
"That could be fun--"
"But that isn't fun," House pouts. Yes, pouts.
They drive in semi-silence for a bit, House occasionally humming a few songs that he can't seem to find the ending to. Suddenly, he grabs Wilson's crotch and the oncologist almost rear-ends a truck at the stoplight. He turns, wide-eyed, to House. "What the Hell are you doing?"
"I thought that was obvious," he replies with a dopey grin, rubbing his thin fingers back and forth.
Wilson swallows and removes House's hand from his lap. "Do that again and I will tie your arms behind your back!" A car horn sounds and Wilson hurries through the green light.
"Would you?" House asks eagerly.
Wilson sighs and ignores him.
The hand is back less than a minute later.
"I'm driving; you're drunk."
"You're enjoying it." Two can play the state-the-obvious game.
"Stop it." Once again he pries the hand away. He quickly pulls into one of the parking places in front of House's and bolts from the car just as House is making another grab for his lap.
House opens the car door and pulls himself out. Of the car.
"How's the leg?"
"Can't feel a thing." House goes to take a step and almost trips over his cane.
Wilson signs, rolls his eyes heavenward, and helps House haul his ass into his apartment.
House sways when Wilson leaves his side to close the door, then tips forward. Wilson has no choice but to wrap his arms around the doctor to keep him from falling on his lovely nose.
"House, let go of me."
"Never," he speaks against the skin of Wilson's neck, making the small hairs stand up on end.
"Come on, I need to get back to the hospital."
"Say you were putting me to bed." He places two kisses against Wilson's throat.
Frantic now, Wilson pries himself away and steps back.
House catches himself with his cane before he falls over. Somehow he doesn't think that Wilson would have caught him that time. "Come on, Jimmy. It wouldn't be the first time you've kissed me before."
"But it was supposed to be the last time. Goodbye." He hurries past House for the door. He doesn't make it. Suddenly, House is on him like a three-limbed octopus, spinning him around.
House presses his lips against Wilson's, not asking permission before he thrusts his tongue into his best friend's mouth.
Well, they say that the best offense is a good defense, so Wilson kisses back. The protesting in the back of his mind is too far away to be heard any more.
"Just like we never stopped," House mumbles against the lips.
Wilson takes the opportunity to turn his head away, only to have his ear nibbled on.
House takes a step backwards, dragging Jimmy along. Then another. He tightens his hold, sure that his friend is going to bolt at any second.
Did Wilson want to bolt?
They both fall onto the bed with a clash of squeaking box springs and several groans. Happy groans. Clothes are removed and are tossed in all directions until it is just skin upon skin upon skin.
Wilson doesn't care anymore and attacks the older man laying on top of him with lips, tongue, and teeth.
House rests his head against Wilson's shoulder…and promptly falls asleep. He snores.
"Greg?" Wilson prods at him with a finger: He is out cold. Wilson tries to wiggle out from underneath, but House seems to still be related to the octopus family, even in sleep. And he is drooling.
Peachy. Just peachy.