Title: Mm, Toblerone

Author: Cloak of Nettles

Warnings: Excessive use of chocolate as an aphrodisiac, makeout scene, lack of explicit sex. May cause hunger for chocolate not readily available in the US—in fact, I haven't had Coffee Crisp since I went camping in Algonquin Park and almost died (broke my arm in two places with the bone sticking out just after it got too dark to go back, sat in the canoe with Nurse Mom for three hours going up the Amable du Fond, car was stolen from parking lot, waited a day in the Visitor's Centre, arm became infected, was delirious and had high fever by the time I got to the hospital in Huntsville, nearly had to have arm amputated but didn't, thank deities…the story of why I hate camping.)

Other Stuff: Hello there! It's your happily homosexual writer here! waves This fic was inspired by my boyfriend's hatred of all American chocolate (the Toblerone prayer has been spoken many a time) and by my own love of the movie The Emperor's New Groove, which is a damn fine piece of work. WATCH IT. David Spade as an angry llama king—t3h b35+ 3v4h! Slash, of course, just to freak out my dad, who has been a little creeped around me since my goddamn sister Heather outed me on Christmas Eve (bitch be going down, fo' sho). Enjoy!

Wilson slammed open the door of his new depressing bachelor pad, turned on the stereo, and collapsed on his couch. He was exhausted, depressed, and frustrated. Also he had locked his keys in his car. Again.

Thank God, he put the right CD in this morning. The tension dissipated as his favorite non-classical music seeped through the room.

We might kiss

When we are alone

Nobody's watching

Can I take you—

"Jesus. This is where you live now? No wonder you were pissed today."

Wilson yelped, sprang off of the couch, and turned around to see House. The door was hanging open. Apparently he hadn't locked it. House was slumped on the La-Z-Boy chair, chin in hand. He tapped his lip in apparent imitation of a gorilla.

"And what are you listening to? I thought you had taste…this is so sissy white-boy."

"House," Wilson managed to choke out, "what are you doing here?"

House gave him a look that he usually reserved only for the stupidest patients. "I am here to cheer you up, idiot."

"What could possibly cheer me up? I've just been through a horrible and depressing divorce, I have three terminal patients, Julie still has most of my CDs—"

"I've got chocolate."

With super-human speed, Wilson was yanking change, lint, train tickets, empty condom wrappers, lollipop stubs, and—ah, and delicious imported chocolate out of House's pockets.

House raised an eyebrow, watching his friend unwrap the candy.

"O, mighty Toblerone. You are indeed the most awesome candy in the universe, what with your nougatty goodness and delicious expensive cacao that I didn't have to pay for." Wilson bit off a chunk of it. "Mmmm…Toblerone."

"Dude. Honestly."

"Shut up. Having chocolate-induced orgasm."

House watched him snarf it down. "What is it with you and chocolate? Whenever I get anything that's even approached a cacao bean you're on it like some suitably sexual metaphor."

"I grew up near the Canadian border," Wilson said dreamily. "We used to go to Toronto all the time. Mom hated American chocolate and kept trying to buy German, but the closest she could get was Swiss and British. So, I grew up on Aero bars and Toblerone and Cadbury Creams and Coffee Crisps and Smarties and Moose Droppings and lots of other foreign expensive chocolates that's hard to get so far away from the Peace Bridge. Hershey is thus the food of the uncultured, boorish, non-Canadian infidel."

"Moose Droppings?"

"Chocolate-covered mixed fruit and nuts. Delectable."

"You frighten me."

"Not as much as you frighten me."

"Give me some of that."

Wilson reluctantly broke off a piece and handed it to House.

House collapsed on the couch next to Wilson and gnawed on the Toblerone piece. "Mm. This stuff is good. Nougat, right?"

"That's what it says on the label. Now. You have brought forth chocolate. Have you also brought forth wine and beer and jizzed-on Girls Gone Wild videos and other such tasty things? I assume that you wanted to cheer me up and, you know, actually succeed."

"Your confession of a childhood obsession with imported chocolate has assured me that my Toblerone is good enough to distract you while I ply you with annoying questions about your failed relationship with Julie, also known as Até, the Greek embodiment of evil inherent."

Wilson stopped chewing. "House…please…Can we skip the horrible annoying questions?"

"And get down to what? The snarking?"

"Nooo…" Wilson considered. "The…jizzed-on Girls Gone Wild?"

"Didn't bring it. A nice Chardonnay, I brought that, but not the GGW. The tape in it broke."

"Oh, not again."

"Instead, I brought The Emperor's New Groove."

Wilson blinked. "Um…isn't that a kid's movie?"

"Indeed. A totally excellent one. About an emperor who gets turned into a llama."

Wilson blinked again. "A…llama?"

"Yeah." House began to rifle around the area of the La-Z-Boy, searching for the DVD.

"Why…why a llama?"

"It's set in the Aztec empire." House had found the case and was now struggling to pop it open. Failure of conventional means forced him to whack it against the wall.

"Why would anyone want to turn an emperor into a llama? A monkey, I'd understand, or a flea, or a small pile of flesh and stab wounds, but…"

House finally managed to snap open the DVD case, and discovered the reason he had been unable to open it eventually was due to the fact he was clawing at the wrong side.

"Shut up," he told the hysterical figure of his only friend.

He managed to get the DVD into the slot without any further incident, fiddled with the menu, and finally got the video to start.

To his surprise, Dr. Wilson actually enjoyed it, and resolved to begin calling Cuddy Yzma and her little Rutgers secretary Kronk. He also realized that many of the sly little insults that House constantly used were plucked directly from this weird little cartoon. For a blessed hour and fifteen minutes, his mind was completely taken off the ridiculous parody of life that his existence had become.

When it ended, he snatched the disc from the player and held it possessively. "I'm stealing this. It shall be in my possession eternally. Mine. Grr. I'll un-steal it next week."

House's eyebrows shot up. Under them, two bright blue eyes crackled with some untold plot. "Ho-kay then."

He struggled to his feet and grabbed his cane. "Are you sufficiently cheered?"

"You're leaving so early?" Wilson was quite disappointed with this change of events. His good mood began to flicker.

"Judging by your whiny tone, I think that you were fine before I asked the question. I have to…" He grimaced. "Sulfur and brimstone. I have to pay my bills. Rather important, because I forgot last week. Bye-bye."

It was amazing how fast he managed to hobble out.

Wilson looked at the closed door, at the emptiness of the apartment, at the two empty tinfoil packages that once held Toblerone.

He inexplicably began to giggle.


It was a week later. House had been out of work for that time with a Mysterious Ailment that Cuddy had decided to turn into spent vacation time. He would be royally pissed when he got back to work. Hee.

Ding. Ding. Dingdingdingdingdingdingding.

Wilson was in the shower. He heard the doorbell, swore, squeezed most of the Aussie Shampoo With Kangaroo Paw Flower for Dry/Damaged Hair out of his moist locks, put on the closest bathrobe, and sprinted to the door.

House was standing there, with his trademark go-back-two-centimeters-and-raise-them-eyebrows look. He was carrying a brown paper bag marked NIAGARA-ON-THE-LAKE CHOCOLATIER COMPANY and a very small stuffed llama that had probably come out of a Happy Meal.

"Nice bathrobe," he managed to say, before the paroxysms of laughter caught him and he sagged to the floor, snorting in amusement.

Wilson looked at the bathrobe he had thrown on. It was white and had a nice flowery pattern on it, and was also knee-length, and had Julie Wilson embroidered on the breast pocket.

"I was in the shower," he protested pathetically.

House continued to laugh.

"Close the damn door and I'll put something on," Wilson muttered, striding off towards the bedroom. He heard the slight clunk sound as the door was pushed shut with House's cane.

Most of his clothes were unpacked and sorted, testimony to the good doctor's nearly obsessive attention to neatness. He pulled out a very old sleep shirt and another equally old pair of boxers that were frayed around the hemlines, and had managed to put on the boxers before House ambled in.

"Man. You've lived here, what, two weeks, and you've already got your clothes organized by color and fabric type. Mlaah."

"Go away," Wilson mumbled, pulling the shirt over his head. He balled up the robe and tossed it into a corner of the room, where it would collect dust for about half an hour before he picked it up and put it in the laundry and then burned it or something.

"Your hair is bubbly," House pointed out, in the voice of a five-year-old.

"I wonder why," Wilson responded sarcastically. He suddenly saw the label of the little brown bag and snatched it, pouring the contents out onto his perfectly made bed.

Moose Droppings. Cadbury Cream Eggs. Mint Aero. Dark Aero. Coffee Crisp. Ricola, for some reason. Smarties. Wine gums. More Toblerone than you could shake a stick at.

"I demand to know where you got these," Wilson whispered reverentially, picking up a large Cadbury Cream Egg and turning it over in his hands.

"Niagara-on-the-Lake," House said proudly, pointing to the bag. "Canadian side of the border. I drove up there after our little llama-watching session and got you a fair amount."

"A fair amount?"

"Let's just say this is less than ten percent of your bounty." He produced another package from behind his back. This one had a clear top and was filled with little chocolates in the shape of wine bottles. "Chockies for alkies."

"I love you more now than at any other moment of our long and twisted relationship," Wilson said breathlessly, beginning to unwrap the egg. As he was just about to pop it into his mouth, House grabbed it.


"Nah nah," House cooed, spinning the egg deftly between his fingers. Wilson tried to retrieve it but was foiled miserably.

"Gimme the egg."





House gave his most evil grin and popped the treat into his mouth.

Chocolate seems to overrule all things, such as a sense of right and wrong. In a last-ditch attempt to retrieve the rare treasure, Wilson slammed his face into House's.

The very sweet cream foundering on Wilson's tongue was only noticed afterwards. House tasted a lot better than chocolate, even delicious Canadian chocolate.

House didn't look surprised at all. When Wilson finally broke off, he grinned, swept the candy off of the bed, and kissed the guy back, much more fiercely, putting his hands around Wilson's waist.

Wilson let out a half-moan, half-gasp. His legs folded and they tumbled to the bed together. The springs squeaked.

"This happened a lot faster than I had hoped!" House evil-ed, sliding a hand down Wilson's chest.

Wilson immediately understood. "You—"

"Once you told me you like imported chocolate, I realized it was the easiest way to seduce you."

"You seduce well."

"Great praise from the skirt-chaser."

"I'm not—"

House's mouth crashed into his again, smothering the automatic rebuttal.

Wilson gave in and wrapped his arms around House.