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Here is my second and final submission for the hw_fest.
15th was the deadline. Still the 15th where I am at, hehe ^.^
Enjoy!
Title: Hideaway
Author: evila_elf
Rating: R
Words: 1270
Prompt: #17. House and Wilson are hiding on the balcony - why, and/or what happens?
Disclaimer: I don’t own them *sobs*
Notes: Big thanks and hugs to daasgrrl for the wonderful beta!
Wilson massages his eyes with the heels of his hands, then returns his attention to the sorted piles of papers spread out across his desk. He sighs. He needs a break. A distraction. Something, anything, to give him a good reason to get up after poring over paperwork for three long hours.
The phone rings and Wilson stares at it for a good 10 seconds before he realizes that the insistent ringing is not his imagination. “Doctor Wilson,” he answers, forcefully keeping a weary sigh from his voice.
“Wilson?” The voice on the other end is a whisper.
“What…House?”
“Shhhhh!”
“House?” he whispers the question again, even though he is sure of the hissing voice’s owner.
“Are you alone?”
Wilson has to strain his ears to catch the words. “Yes,” he answers, then wonders why he is whispering.
“Good. Come out onto your balcony. Double back if you have to, to make sure you aren’t being followed. Jump over the edge if Cuddy sees you.”
Wilson hangs up the phone and smiles at House’s idea of dying rather than being caught. He is reluctant to leave the warmth of the hospital building but, when House calls, he comes running. The way it has always been. He opens the door and steps out onto the balcony, the chill wind laughing at him for leaving his coat inside. He cautiously walks over to the partition and looks around. “House?”
“Get the hell over here!”
The voice, seeming to come from nowhere, surprises him. He looks to his right and finally sees his friend: House is standing with his back to the wall, hidden from the view of anyone in his own office, by the little windowless space where the partition meets the wall. At first, Wilson thinks that House is in pain, but the way he leans to the side to take a peek into his office and motions Wilson to hurry over dashes that idea.
Wilson jumps over to House’s side of the balcony and walks over to him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Cuddy looking for you?”
“Who else?” House takes another look. “Shit!” He reaches out and grabs Wilson’s tie, using it to pull him closer. So close that they are now pressed together.
Wilson gasps at the sudden movement, at the heat from House’s body, and from the fact that he can barely breathe around his tightened tie. “House!”
“Be! Quiet!” House hisses the words, so close to Wilson’s ear.
Wilson tries to loosen the death grip on his tie. He finally gives up, then realizes how close he is standing to House. Well, more like how much he is pressed against House at this point. “Not a good idea at work,” Wilson whispers.
House stops peeking into his office and looks at Wilson. He raises an eyebrow. “Does someone want to come out and play?” He relaxes his hold on the tie just enough so that Wilson can lean back and meet his gaze.
Wilson remembers the last time they tried fooling around at work. He had thought that they were being discreet, but something about the looks House’s team had given him over the next couple of days had made him wonder. Now, out on the balcony, pressing up against House, Cuddy close by…alarm bells are going off.
House leaves his cane leaning up against the wall and trails his hand from Wilson’s butt up to his neck, then pulls him in for a brief kiss. A little spark of heat in the cold. Wilson’s hardness is already pushing against his leg. No turning back now.
Wilson has to swallow twice before he finds his voice. “Is Cuddy really looking for you?”
“Does it really matter?”
And a hand is cupping his groin and it really doesn’t.
Then their lips are pressed together and nothing matters anymore.
House breaks the kiss first, but only long enough to switch positions, swinging Wilson around so that it is now Wilson who is pressed up against the wall. He runs one hand up under Wilson’s shirt, warming it against the hot skin as the other unzips the other man’s pants.
The last rational part that is left of Wilson’s brain tries to protest but, by the time the thought reaches his mouth, the only ‘protest’ produced is a low moan. He gasps as House reaches into his pants, teasing him with those talented fingers, before slipping them into his underwear.
House winces at the noise Wilson’s head makes as it smacks back against the building, the painful sound of skull against brick. The sound seems loud enough to be heard through the wall.
Wilson thrusts his hips forward, encouraging House’s fingers to continue their caresses.
Without warning, the door five feet away from House swings outwards and there is a stranger standing there. He looks around a moment before he spots the duo wedged into the corner to his left.
“Who the hell are you?” House growls possessively, hand still in Wilson’s pants, lips a fraction from his flushed cheek.
The guy looks at House with extremely wide eyes, then glances at Wilson, who is currently pressed up against the wall and looking quite happy.
Wilson notices that the hand that was fondling him has stilled. He opens his eyes, looks at House, then follows House’s gaze to his right. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He looks back at House. “Who is he?” he whispers, wondering if he is imagining things.
“Little busy here,” House complains. “Unless you want to watch, Mister…” he reads the nametag, “…Jefferson, leave!”
Mr. Jefferson finally snaps out of his stupor and clears his throat so that he can speak. “Which one of you is James Wilson?”
Wilson removes a hand from House’s hip and slowly raises it in the air, not sure if he wants to admit his identity.
“I need you to sign here, please.” Jefferson holds out a clipboard and pen, trying to stay as close to the door, and his escape route, as possible.
Wilson stares blankly at the paper.
“J-a-m-e-s--”
“I know how to spell my name,” Wilson answers crossly, twisting his other arm in front of House so that he can sign on the dotted line.
Jefferson snatches the clipboard back and hands over a manila folder.
Wilson looks at the plain envelope with his name scrawled on it, House resumes nibbling on Wilson’s neck, and Jefferson flees.
“I think the mood has left me,” Wilson says, trying to push House back.
“I’ve noticed,” House grumbles and steps back, finally removing his hand from Wilson’s dick.
“You can say that again.”
“When’s lunch break?”
Wilson shrugs. “Anytime, I guess.”
“Your office, ten minutes, bring your appetite.”
“I can manage that. Wait,” he catches House’s arm before he leaves, “I thought Cuddy was looking for you?”
“She’s always looking for me.” House winks, then limps back into his office.
Cameron looks up from the computer as House walks by her. “Did that man find Doctor Wilson?”
“You told him we were out there?”
“Yeah. I could see his hand.” She motions to the corner of the window. In the afternoon light, a handprint is still visible.
“Got to go give him a stern talking-to about keeping his hands off my windows. No manners at all.” With a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, House eagerly leaves his office.
Cameron can’t help but notice how light his step is as he leaves. She sighs wistfully, then continues checking House’s e-mail.
15th was the deadline. Still the 15th where I am at, hehe ^.^
Enjoy!
Title: Hideaway
Author: evila_elf
Rating: R
Words: 1270
Prompt: #17. House and Wilson are hiding on the balcony - why, and/or what happens?
Disclaimer: I don’t own them *sobs*
Notes: Big thanks and hugs to daasgrrl for the wonderful beta!
Wilson massages his eyes with the heels of his hands, then returns his attention to the sorted piles of papers spread out across his desk. He sighs. He needs a break. A distraction. Something, anything, to give him a good reason to get up after poring over paperwork for three long hours.
The phone rings and Wilson stares at it for a good 10 seconds before he realizes that the insistent ringing is not his imagination. “Doctor Wilson,” he answers, forcefully keeping a weary sigh from his voice.
“Wilson?” The voice on the other end is a whisper.
“What…House?”
“Shhhhh!”
“House?” he whispers the question again, even though he is sure of the hissing voice’s owner.
“Are you alone?”
Wilson has to strain his ears to catch the words. “Yes,” he answers, then wonders why he is whispering.
“Good. Come out onto your balcony. Double back if you have to, to make sure you aren’t being followed. Jump over the edge if Cuddy sees you.”
Wilson hangs up the phone and smiles at House’s idea of dying rather than being caught. He is reluctant to leave the warmth of the hospital building but, when House calls, he comes running. The way it has always been. He opens the door and steps out onto the balcony, the chill wind laughing at him for leaving his coat inside. He cautiously walks over to the partition and looks around. “House?”
“Get the hell over here!”
The voice, seeming to come from nowhere, surprises him. He looks to his right and finally sees his friend: House is standing with his back to the wall, hidden from the view of anyone in his own office, by the little windowless space where the partition meets the wall. At first, Wilson thinks that House is in pain, but the way he leans to the side to take a peek into his office and motions Wilson to hurry over dashes that idea.
Wilson jumps over to House’s side of the balcony and walks over to him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Cuddy looking for you?”
“Who else?” House takes another look. “Shit!” He reaches out and grabs Wilson’s tie, using it to pull him closer. So close that they are now pressed together.
Wilson gasps at the sudden movement, at the heat from House’s body, and from the fact that he can barely breathe around his tightened tie. “House!”
“Be! Quiet!” House hisses the words, so close to Wilson’s ear.
Wilson tries to loosen the death grip on his tie. He finally gives up, then realizes how close he is standing to House. Well, more like how much he is pressed against House at this point. “Not a good idea at work,” Wilson whispers.
House stops peeking into his office and looks at Wilson. He raises an eyebrow. “Does someone want to come out and play?” He relaxes his hold on the tie just enough so that Wilson can lean back and meet his gaze.
Wilson remembers the last time they tried fooling around at work. He had thought that they were being discreet, but something about the looks House’s team had given him over the next couple of days had made him wonder. Now, out on the balcony, pressing up against House, Cuddy close by…alarm bells are going off.
House leaves his cane leaning up against the wall and trails his hand from Wilson’s butt up to his neck, then pulls him in for a brief kiss. A little spark of heat in the cold. Wilson’s hardness is already pushing against his leg. No turning back now.
Wilson has to swallow twice before he finds his voice. “Is Cuddy really looking for you?”
“Does it really matter?”
And a hand is cupping his groin and it really doesn’t.
Then their lips are pressed together and nothing matters anymore.
House breaks the kiss first, but only long enough to switch positions, swinging Wilson around so that it is now Wilson who is pressed up against the wall. He runs one hand up under Wilson’s shirt, warming it against the hot skin as the other unzips the other man’s pants.
The last rational part that is left of Wilson’s brain tries to protest but, by the time the thought reaches his mouth, the only ‘protest’ produced is a low moan. He gasps as House reaches into his pants, teasing him with those talented fingers, before slipping them into his underwear.
House winces at the noise Wilson’s head makes as it smacks back against the building, the painful sound of skull against brick. The sound seems loud enough to be heard through the wall.
Wilson thrusts his hips forward, encouraging House’s fingers to continue their caresses.
Without warning, the door five feet away from House swings outwards and there is a stranger standing there. He looks around a moment before he spots the duo wedged into the corner to his left.
“Who the hell are you?” House growls possessively, hand still in Wilson’s pants, lips a fraction from his flushed cheek.
The guy looks at House with extremely wide eyes, then glances at Wilson, who is currently pressed up against the wall and looking quite happy.
Wilson notices that the hand that was fondling him has stilled. He opens his eyes, looks at House, then follows House’s gaze to his right. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He looks back at House. “Who is he?” he whispers, wondering if he is imagining things.
“Little busy here,” House complains. “Unless you want to watch, Mister…” he reads the nametag, “…Jefferson, leave!”
Mr. Jefferson finally snaps out of his stupor and clears his throat so that he can speak. “Which one of you is James Wilson?”
Wilson removes a hand from House’s hip and slowly raises it in the air, not sure if he wants to admit his identity.
“I need you to sign here, please.” Jefferson holds out a clipboard and pen, trying to stay as close to the door, and his escape route, as possible.
Wilson stares blankly at the paper.
“J-a-m-e-s--”
“I know how to spell my name,” Wilson answers crossly, twisting his other arm in front of House so that he can sign on the dotted line.
Jefferson snatches the clipboard back and hands over a manila folder.
Wilson looks at the plain envelope with his name scrawled on it, House resumes nibbling on Wilson’s neck, and Jefferson flees.
“I think the mood has left me,” Wilson says, trying to push House back.
“I’ve noticed,” House grumbles and steps back, finally removing his hand from Wilson’s dick.
“You can say that again.”
“When’s lunch break?”
Wilson shrugs. “Anytime, I guess.”
“Your office, ten minutes, bring your appetite.”
“I can manage that. Wait,” he catches House’s arm before he leaves, “I thought Cuddy was looking for you?”
“She’s always looking for me.” House winks, then limps back into his office.
Cameron looks up from the computer as House walks by her. “Did that man find Doctor Wilson?”
“You told him we were out there?”
“Yeah. I could see his hand.” She motions to the corner of the window. In the afternoon light, a handprint is still visible.
“Got to go give him a stern talking-to about keeping his hands off my windows. No manners at all.” With a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, House eagerly leaves his office.
Cameron can’t help but notice how light his step is as he leaves. She sighs wistfully, then continues checking House’s e-mail.