Title: The Secret Santa
Author: Simply Kelp
Rating: pg
Pairing: House/Kutner
Summary: He had spent hours (well, not literally, more figuratively) thinking what that gift could be.
Warning: slash
Disclaimer: Don't own House, MD… damn!
Note: Just thought last weeks episode with the Secret Santa scandal was so cute, and had such a delightful House/Kutner twist to it. I just had to write something. It's very fluffy, and not at all like me. I think I might be ill. O, and this is my silly explanation for why Kutner bought House a watch of all things.

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"Gifts allow us to show just how little we know each other." -House

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When Kutner drew House's name out of the Santa hat, he was more than excited. Now all that was in order was finding the perfect gift. He had spent hours (well, not literally, more figuratively) thinking what that gift could be. At random intervals thoughts such as whipped cream, and handcuffs entered his mind causing the poor guy to erupt in spastic giggles. (One time this, embarrassingly enough, happened while treating a patient in the clinic. Needless to say the man looked at him like he was nuts, and requesting a new doctor. Kutner had a hell of a time trying to explain his mortifying fit to Thirteen who replaced him.)

After serious thought though (and Kutner is occasionally capable of such a frightening thing), he decided a watch would be the perfect gift for House. Very subtle, and perfectly describing whatever it was they had.

Kutner couldn't exactly describe what they had, but he liked it. It wasn't a relationship because House didn't do relationships, but it was essentially that in all but name. Kutner was pretty sure House recognised that fact. And (despite the rumour circulating the hospital that House wasn't afraid of anything) he was pretty sure that scared House.

On nights they were supposed to meet at House's apartment, Kutner would let himself in (House had been very impressed when Kutner stole, copied, and replaced his key all without his noticing), and wait. House would always stroll in an hour later with a self-satisfied smirk. He always seemed surprised, though, when Kutner was there waiting for him. Like he should have gotten tired, and left forty minutes ago. (He wondered if all House's previous things ended that way.)

As Kutner sat in House's apartment, he watched the clock tick. Almost midnight. What on earth was House doing? He hadn't even gone to the Christmas party. Probably, he was at some bar. Waiting for Kutner to get tired of waiting, and leave. But Kutner wouldn't leave. He still had enough faith in Christmas miracles.

The watch was more than just a hint to House to be on time, damn it!, but also that Kutner would still be waiting for him.

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A cab dropped House of at his apartment. There were no cars there, but that didn't mean anything because Kutner usually walked. He remembered the first time Kutner broke into his apartment. (Technically, using House's own logic, it wouldn't be breaking in because he had a key.) He had decorated the entire apartment until it looked like a winter wonderland, according to Kutner. House thought it looked more like Santa threw up all over. There was even a tree. And stockings. Two stockings. Kutner wasn't very subtle.

Just like with the watch. House knew why he gave him a watch. House was always late for everything. Purposefully. The watch, to House, was just a dare. Like tonight, House had spent four hours at the bar just to spite him. (Stupid Wilson would psychoanalyse him about how he was pushing people away.)

Opening the door, House looked around. It seemed to him as if there was more Christmas stuff than when he left this morning. Like it was breeding. And to top it all off, there was an obscenely dressed Kutner asleep on the couch. And not the obscene dress that House preferred (like nothing), but footy pyjamas! Red with reindeer footy pyjamas!

He limped into the living room, and glared down at Kutner. There was something about a grown (or almost grown) man asleep on the couch in footy pyjamas, waiting for Santa that was particularly endearing. House hated endearing. Still, he couldn't bring himself to wake the kid up.