Title: See Through
Author: julefontane
Pairing: House/Wilson
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy
Words: ~1,100
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for 6x10 "Wilson"
Disclaimer: I become a transparent eyeball; I own nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me - yeah. House belongs to David Shore, lucky guy, David, not House.
A/N: Cuddy's perspective, but in third person.
Summary: Cuddy wants to find out what's going on with House and Wilson
Excerpt: "She had to find Wilson and squeeze it out of him. They had done something involving her, and she was sure it was House's doing, dragging Wilson along."

See Through

Something had been going on with House and Wilson in the last weeks since Wilson's liver surgery. They somehow seemed closer than ever and there was a definite smug quality to both of their demeanors. They exchanged secret, conspiring smiles, not directly in front of her, but she could see it from the corner of her eye, when she turned away. House had been avoiding her almost completely since he'd offered her the tickets to that petting zoo; no stalking at the hospital, no breaking into Lucas' apartment, no pranks, nothing. He seemed to have accepted her decision to stay with Lucas and she was sure thanks to Wilson he already knew about her moving plans. On top of that he had been too busy nursing Wilson after the surgery. She'd seen them several times when she walked by Wilson's room, laughing together or House sitting vigil with his best friend. She had smiled at that, she actually was happy for them, having each other, having that intimacy similar to that between siblings, or spouses. She sometimes envied them. No, she envied Wilson, wishing there was a possibility to be that close to House but without the fallout. But there was something else going on, they had to be hiding something from her. And when her assistant mentioned that Wilson had changed his and House's address to a P.O. Box her suspicion spiked. She had to find Wilson and squeeze it out of him. They had done something involving her, something to get back at her for what she had supposedly done, most likely her Thanksgiving prank on House, and she was sure it was House's doing, dragging Wilson along.

She went up to the fourth floor, but both her departments heads weren't in their offices. House's fellows, though, were doing a perfect House impression by lounging around, surfing, sleeping and juggling. Chase told her that he'd left only a minute ago but hadn't taken his coat. She decided to look in House's hiding places, after all House and Wilson have been almost inseparable in the last few days. Where there's a House there's a Wilson – and vice versa. Might as well find them both, maybe even catch them in flagrante.

After a quick check of cafeteria, clinic and coma patient rooms, she went down to the morgue. It was deserted, but there was light coming from one of the autopsy units. Triumphant she strode over and glanced through the window in one of the doors, ready to burst into the room. What encountered her stopped her dead in her tracks, making her feel like ice water was being poured down her chest.

They were right there in the room, House sitting on one of the tables, Wilson standing between his spread thighs, their groins flush together. House had to look up at Wilson slightly from his position. His head was tilted back and they looked into each other's eyes, mere inches away. Wilson lifted both hands to gently cradle House's nape and the back of his head in them, stroking the short hair. House closed his eyes slowly, his face beautiful, soft, a delicate smile tinting his features. Wilson brought their noses together, sliding further until he's nuzzling House's cheek. Before he tenderly sealed their lips he smiled against them, taking in House's indulgence. They immediately deepened the kiss, opening their mouths, moving slowly and luxuriously. Wilson's hands held House's head like something precious and vulnerable, kissing him as if he tasted something delicious and savory. When he softly broke their kiss he nuzzled and kissed House's cheeks and lips. He let go of House's head, sliding his hand down his neck to his chest. They both looked down at Wilson's hand, the corners of their mouths pressed together. Wilson slid his fingers to the buttons of House's shirt, opening one by one, leaving only the last one. He delicately let his hand push inside the shirt and they both inhaled at the same time when he touched House's chest, cupping him, stroking carefully, sensually. House straightened, subtly leaning into the touch, still watching Wilson's hand. Wilson started to breathe heavily through his mouth, pushing the shirt and jacket out of the way and down halfway over House's right shoulder, to expose one side of his chest. House looked up at him a little cross-eyed because he's so close. Wilson kissed him again, his hips vaguely moving between House's legs, his buttocks flexing in those dress pants. And when he leaned down to kiss his chest, House's head tipped back, his lips parting, eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused.

In flagrante, indeed. She fell back heavily against the wall next to the door, her hand clutching her chest. That wasn't what she'd expected; never would she have had suspected this. A sudden urge to laugh bubbled up inside her chest, then she felt tears prickle in her eyes. How dare this bastard court her, stalk her, almost destroy her new relationship and not even mean it? Somehow he'd betrayed her all along. They both had. They did everything together; now, that had just taken on a whole other meaning. How long had this been going on? She felt like a complete idiot. Was this really so absurd, House and Wilson together? She should be glad, House wouldn't bother her any more. But that was an almost unbearable thought. That envious feeling crept up inside her again, a deep longing to be in their circle. For a split second she could see herself walk in there and confront them, interrupt their little tryst, yell at them or laugh at them; or join them. She pushed away from the wall, took a deep breath and resisted the urge to look back when she quickly left the morgue to go to her office; she still had to wrap up for the day and then go home to her daughter and her partner. When she passed her assistant's desk she slowed down and thought back to what he'd said about Wilson changing his and House's address.

And suddenly everything became crystal clear, her brain putting together the pieces in milliseconds, her glands flooding her body with adrenalin and what felt like acid, making her cringe. Wilson! He was the only other person who knew about the loft, knew Bonnie, and knew that she desperately wanted this loft. Of course Bonnie would tell him what she bid. Wilson was the evil bastard. He outbid her on the loft and he got House. He must be so proud. She laughed bitterly as she slumped into the chair behind her desk. Wilson was in charge, and always has been.