Chapter Text
“This couldn’t wait until tonight?” Wilson asks, knowing that he should be doing something but distinctly not doing something about the fact that House is unbuttoning his pants for him, turning toward him on the couch in his office. “I don’t care that you were the only one who got off last night and it’s suspiciously compassionate of you to insist on it.”
“I don’t have sex that isn’t transactional,” House says, smirking when Wilson immediately sits up to let him tug his pants and underwear down at the same time. “Also, getting you to be unprofessional is one of my favorite hobbies. I just have a wider range of opportunities now.”
The look of concentration on House’s face when he wraps long fingers around Wilson’s erection makes Wilson let out a startled noise, somewhere between a moan and a laugh.
“I just got this horrible feeling that you’re going to be in the middle of this and have it somehow trigger the genius response in your brain,” he says, when House raises his eyebrows, “and then you’ll rush off with no explanation to go miraculously save another life.”
“I don’t have a patient right now,” House says, moving his hand slowly. “You're turned on by what I do, aren't you?”
“. . .jerking me off in our place of employment?” Wilson asks, shakily.
“ Miraculously saving lives,” House says, just a little bit dry, not waiting for Wilson to answer before he’s leaning down to take Wilson’s dick in his mouth.
“It’s not like you’re the only one in this room who saves lives,” Wilson says, letting his hand find the back of House’s neck then tracing fingers up to slide into his hair.
“Oncology is objectively not sexy, though,” House says, pulling off to catch his breath.
“Your last patient had a flesh eating virus,” Wilson points out, barely holding back a moan when House goes back down. “Not to compliment you again but– God. Who have you been blowing?”
“Nobody,” House says, barely sitting up, warm breath making Wilson’s hips twitch. “I’ve just had years of observing and working with highly qualified professionals.”
It takes Wilson a second to realize what he’s talking about before he laughs, too loudly, and barely manages to get out, “That makes sense, you’re behaving like a. . .highly qualified professional ,” before his dick hits the base of House’s throat. The sensation of that and the vibration of House laughing makes him feel like this could be over very soon. He tightens his grip on House’s hair, waiting for him to keep moving, and then he realizes House is waiting, too.
He carefully tugs House’s head up until he can see his face, then asks, “You want me to take over?”
“Sure,” House says, in a somewhat hoarse and absolutely fake casual tone. “Why not?”
Wilson is overwhelmed looking at him like this, red mouth and spit on his chin, but he doesn’t stop until House makes a noise approaching a whine. He makes a note of how much he wants to hear that noise when they’re alone and he can see how loud he can make House be.
“ Please ,” House says.
“Good job,” Wilson says, warmly, before he proceeds to fuck his best friend’s face in the middle of a work day, taking it slow until he chases the feeling and holds down House’s head when he comes down his throat.
House gasps for air and sits up slowly.
“We. . .might need to explore oxygen deprivation,” he says.
“You can just say you want me to choke you,” Wilson says, leaning in to kiss him softly.
“Hey, did you call me a slut back there?” House asks, suddenly, pulling away.
“I was thinking whore,” Wilson says, “but I guess you are doing it for free.”
“. . .yeah, I want you to choke me,” House says, heatedly, pulling him back in for another kiss.
*
Approximately 30 seconds after House leaves, there’s a quiet knock on his door and Masters is waiting outside when he opens it, smiling uncomfortably.
“Hi,” she says. “Could I speak with you for a moment?”
“. . .sure,” he says, sighing, stepping aside to let her in and leaving the door open. “Did you pass House on your way in?”
“Yes,” Masters says, looking a little more nervous.
“Did he say something?” Wilson asks.
“He told me not to steal his man?” Masters says, making a face. “I wasn’t planning on doing that.”
“That’s good,” Wilson says, rolling his eyes then smiling to soften it. “What did you need?”
“I wanted to apologize,” she says, quickly, both of her hands laced together and squeezing each other, “both for walking in on you and House, uhm–embracing? And also for telling Thirteen. I just panicked because you’re so nice and decent and House is. . .”
“House?” Wilson offers.
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “He’s House.”
“Did Thirteen offer any insight?”
“She said that you’re. . .” she starts, looking like she’s trying to remember the exact wording. “That you’re grown men who can make your own terrible decisions. Oh, I’m actually not sure I was supposed to say that.”
“It’s okay,” Wilson says, laughing. “I’m aware of her opinions on the matter.”
“Okay,” Masters says. “Okay, so that’s–I think we can never talk about that again?”
“Absolutely,” Wilson says, firmly, going back to his desk as Masters starts to leave. “Have a good day.”
“Dr. Wilson?” she asks, turning around with her hand on the doorknob.
“Yes?” he asks, with a note of dread.
“Is he nice to you?” she asks.
Wilson opens his mouth then closes it again when he realizes that he has no idea what to say to that. House is nice to him sometimes. He was very nice to him around fifteen minutes ago. But also he has almost ruined Wilson’s life, like, fifteen times with almost no remorse so it’s difficult to reconcile the highs and lows.
“He’s. . . House ,” he says, eventually, shrugging a little.
“I don’t know what that means when you say it,” Masters says, hesitantly, “but I also don’t think I want to.”
“That’s a wise choice,” he says.
*
“House, are you trying to make your ducklings think we’re a couple?” Wilson asks, while they’re walking out of the hospital together later that night. They don’t have specific plans for tonight but most nights have been taken up by something involving their clothes on the floor. There’s a likelihood.
“I’m pretty sure Masters thinks I’m your Lifetime movie husband,” House says, looking mildly proud of himself. “I’ve had a little fun with that. Otherwise, not really. I assume you’ve girl talked with Thirteen about it?”
“We spoke,” he says.
“What did you tell her?” House asks, looking a little suspicious.
“I could never reveal something shared during the sacred act of girl talk,” Wilson says, dryly.
“You know, she probably has tips and tricks,” House says, lightly.
“You think she’s into that kind of thing?” Wilson asks.
“She’s messed up and sexually fluid and also it’s hot to imagine it,” House says, shrugging. “Let’s say yes.”
She’s his friend but, to be fair, it is hot to imagine it.
“Would you consider yourself sexually fluid?” he asks, when they’re in the parking garage. “Considering. . .”
“All the sexual fluid we’ve shared?” House says, raising his voice so it echoes and turning a few heads in front of them.
“I don’t have to sleep with you,” Wilson hisses, grabbing House’s arm and dragging him toward his car. “I could stop at any time.”
“I heard things like that in rehab,” House says. “If I remember correctly, it’s a lie.”
“I hope you’re not implying that I’m addicted to you,” Wilson says, even though that’s something he’s been thinking about for a long time. A long–a long time. Years.
As they’re pulling out onto the road, House says, “You know, I don’t exactly have the urge to go out and seek other dick. Maybe you’re the exception to the otherwise hetero rule.”
“That’s. . .strangely sweet,” Wilson says, making a face.
“Do you want me to send out a memo clarifying that we’re not dating?” House asks.
“That’s a perfect way for you to convince everyone that we’re definitely dating,” Wilson says, laughing. “I’d prefer if there’s not a paper trail, honestly.”
“I just want the world to know how much I love you, babydoll,” House drawls, then immediately starts listing some of the innuendo he thinks he could fit into an email without it becoming an HR issue.
Wilson doesn't hear a single one of them because he's too busy interrogating the feeling he got when House said he loved him.