Disclaimer: I own neither the show or the character House. I also don't own Wilson, much as I'd love to say that I do (so that I could take him home and squish him to my heart's desire).

The tub sat innocuously on the kitchen bench. Its lid was nowhere to be seen, thus revealing the tantalising contents within. The location of the container also conveniently placed it in a perfect position to tempt wayward individuals into sampling the richness that lay inside.

"Chocolate chip, my favourite."

House placed his cane on the bench, digging through the drawers for a spoon. Having procured one, he picked up the tub and helped himself to a generous scoop.


He closed his eyes as he savoured the deliciously rich ice cream sliding over his tongue and trickling down his throat.

"Oi, that's mine!"

The blissful first bite was interrupted by another voice. House looked up just in time to see a second pair of hands reaching towards the tub. With a swiftness that belied his disability, he pivoted and deftly swung the ice cream out of reach.

"Will you ever get sick of stealing my food?"

Wilson sighed, shaking his head as he eyed the tub of ice cream which was now nestled comfortably in his friend's arms.

"Not stealing."

The defensive retort was somewhat muffled by the spoon that was dangling out of the speaker's mouth. A pair of rolled eyes betrayed Wilson's exasperation.

"I don't know about you, but where I come from, taking something that belongs to someone else without permission is called stealing."

"Oh, you love it when I take your stuff."

"Do I now?"

"Gives you an excuse to talk to me, and I know how much you enjoy our little chats."

"Couldn't live without them. Where would I be without these conversations?"

Choosing to ignore the blatant sarcasm underlying his friend's statement, House dipped the spoon into the tub once more. He scooped out another dollop of ice cream and waved it in front of Wilson's face.

"Check out the size of those chocolate chips."

Keeping his deep blue eyes fixed on the brown ones before him, he daintily flicked his tongue out to pick off one of the round pieces of chocolate.

"And the velvety texture of the ice cream."

Once again, House's tongue darted out, this time to clean the spoon of its contents in one smooth motion.


Unconsciously, Wilson licked his lips as he stammered in protest.

"Want some?"

A fresh spoonful of the rich dessert was raised tauntingly close to Wilson's face. He nodded, reaching for the scoop hovering before him. It was snatched away just as he touched the spoon.

"Too bad."

This scoop of ice cream also found its home in the mouth of one Gregory House. Wilson crossed his arms in irritation.

"Isn't it about time you gave me my tub of ice cream and handed over my spoon so that I can eat some of my food in my kitchen?"

House considered this request as he ate another bite. He allowed the ice cream to sink in his mouth, savouring its rich creaminess with obvious relish.

"How badly do you want it?"

"Just give it here."

Wilson's voice was snappy as he reached fruitlessly for the tub once more. House snickered, managing to scoop more ice cream into the spoon whilst simultaneously swinging the container away from the clutches of his friend.

"If you want it, you'd better come and get it yourself."

There was a pause as Wilson glared at the man standing opposite him.

"Is that a challenge?"

"You bet."

House raised the spoon to his mouth, gently swirling his tongue around the ice cream, allowing the creamy white substance to coat his lips.


Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"Fine. Have it your way."

It took less than a second for Wilson to close the gap between them. Ready for the assault, House pushed the tub across the bench. It slid easily across the smooth granite surface, placing itself out of his friend's reach.

What House was not prepared for, however, was the man tilting towards him to lick the ice cream off his mouth.

Half tentative, half daring, Wilson sucked lightly on the upper lip before him, flicking his tongue over the soft skin to rid it of its burden. Only when the ice cream was completely disposed of did he break away.

Slightly dazed, House stared down at his friend with an unreadable expression on his face.

"What the hell are you doing?"

His voice was barely a whisper, but the words easily travelled across the inch that separated their lips.

"Getting my ice cream back."

Wilson's eyes flickered back to his friend's mouth, before tracing their way up the angles of the well known face to gaze intently into its eyes. He could feel his heart racing in nervousness - or was it anticipation that was making his pulse beat so erratically?

A tense silence settled over the pair, arising from the curious mixture of intimacy and awkwardness that now seized the room. It was only broken by the release of a long held breath and a shaky murmur.

"I think you missed a spot."

There was another pause as both men contemplated the implications of this simple sentence.

Then, allowing himself a contented smirk, Wilson leaned forward to once again claim House's lips with his own.

Behind them, the half full tub of ice cream lay forgotten on the kitchen bench.