Title: O, Tannenbaum
Author: Dani (mystictwilight)
Pairings: H/W Established Relationship
Word Count: 670

Rating: PG for boy!kissing and implied kink

Timeline: None in particular. Just pretend Tritter never happened, or happened sometime in the semi-distant past.
Author's Notes: For Sadie, who asked for her Christmas gift to include House/Wilson, a happy Christmas Eve devoid of Tritter or his effects, and ties. Merry Christmas, Sadie!

O, Tannenbaum…

A week before Christmas Day, Wilson's favorite tie went missing from his closet- the bright blue one with the red stripes. Wilson was momentarily taken aback, but quickly chalked it up to his tendency to forget which clothes he brought to the drycleaner's.

When seven more disappeared over the next four days, he was completely at a loss. Conspiracy of the church, no doubt. Punishment from the Lord and Savior for murdering Him and not accepting Him into his heart. Clearly, that was the only logical explanation.

On Christmas Eve, he was eighteen ties short and forced to wear the green one- the one which always had House convinced he was having an affair.

He nearly stumbled into his office, rubbing his eyes in attempt to make them open wider. He'd come to expect this after years on the job, but expecting it didn't make him any less tired. One of the many burdens of being Jewish: having to work Christmas Eve and thus taking on double the workload.

He was vaguely surprised when something colorful flashed past his peripheral vision… something which also seemed to be exuding a faintly… pine-y scent.

What the hell?

He moved his hand from his eyes and turned to face the left wall of his office. Sure enough, standing there in all its evergreen, needled, ornamented, goyim glory… was a Christmas tree. Upon a startled second inspection, Wilson noted that the tree was not covered in twinkling lights, candy canes, or colored plastic balls.

Hanging merrily upon each nook and branch of the tree was, indeed, one of Wilson's missing ties. Though his first instinct was to hunt House down and strangle him with each tie, one by one, he had to admit… the array of colorful designs did make a flattering yuletide spectacle.

Despite himself, he allowed a small smile to grace his lips as his eyes wandered up the display. It broke into a full-out grin when he reached the top. There, settled upon the highest point where a star or angel should be, sat House's nicest silver cane.

"Beats the hell out of a partridge, I thought," came a sudden deep voice by his ear.

Wilson laughed lightly and leaned into House as the taller man's arms came around his waist. "You do recall that I'm Jewish."

"You'd have preferred your precious garments set aflame in a menorah, then?" House quipped, kissing Wilson's neck.

Wilson placed his hands on House's and linked their fingers. "I think I'd have preferred my garments in my nondenominational closet."

"Just thought I'd make the holidays a little more… 'us.'"

Wilson smirked. "Wow. That sounds… almost romantic."

"Don't get too flattered," House warned lightly, "I'd contemplated stealing Cuddy's bras and pulling the same stunt on her."

Wilson laughed and removed his hands from House's, swiftly turning in the embrace to kiss him thoroughly. "Thank you," he said softly as they pulled apart. He didn't really expect an answer; House wasn't good at the "mushy" stuff, a fact of which Wilson had been well aware when they'd first embarked on this relationship. The gesture itself spoke more volumes for Wilson than any verbal reply could have, anyway.

Wilson brought his hand softly across House's jaw line and asked, "Why'd you leave this one, anyway," he asked, looking down at his tie, "I'd have thought the green would go well with the holiday theme."

House grinned and ran over the tie with his fingers. "I told you already," he tugged on the article in question to bring Wilson in for another kiss, "It makes you look pretty."

"Merry Christmas, House," Wilson said with a laugh as they leaned in again.

In the back of his mind, he noted to himself that he'd have to send all the ties to the drycleaner's if he didn't want his closet to smell like pine needles until next Christmas.

But before he did that, there were plenty of far more entertaining uses he could get out of them first.

Merry Christmas indeed.