Fic: Need a Hand
Title: Need a Hand
Author: Nemesis (Nems)
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: "and there was that time in your bathroom while Julie thought we were washing our hands..." (from my fic, Clinic Duty). Well. The time in the bathroom when Julie thought House and Wilson were washing their hands. It's in the same universe as Clinic Duty, and you should all read Clinic Duty ANYWAY, but you don't HAVE to to understand this fic. They're... loosely connected.
Disclaimer: Oh, come on. Does anyone actually bother reading this? Hoping for some amusement, perhaps? The real amusement is beyond the lj-cut. I thought up lovely stuff for you to read beyond there, and you're reading this drivel instead.
A/N: Okay, let's talk about beta jobs: First thanks goes to Cristina, for whom this fic was written, and second thanks goes to 1lostone.
This fic was brought to you by the good folks over at Nemesis' Muse Offices, occasionally found in his brain. It was written for my lovely, wonderful, patient, saintly wife, Cristina. After all, she's put up with me ALL DAY, and I've been in a weird mood today.
REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY AND KEEP ME WRITING, SO IF YOU LIKE AND WANT MORE FIC, CLICK ON THE 'POST A COMMENT' OR WHATEVER THE EQUIVALENT IS, OKAY? Favorite lines are much appreciated :D Especially since I don't know what others find funny or good.
“Your insane friend is here,” Julie told Wilson as she walked through the living room, barely glancing at her husband and keeping absolutely none of her disdain for House out of her tone. Wilson had been lying on the couch, but at the mention of House, he stood up. “Go let him in,” Julie added as she went back to the kitchen.
Wilson opened the door just as House started knocking on it. “Good to see you again,” Wilson grinned, stepping aside to let House in.
“Yeah, long time no see,” House answered. “What, couple hours at the most?”
Julie emerged from the kitchen. “So glad you could come, House,” she said flatly, making it clear she was anything but glad that he was invading her home.
“Well, technically, I haven’t come yet, but if you’d like to give me a hand with that…”
Wilson elbowed him sharply.
“Hey, cripple here! No trying to knock me off-balance.”
Julie scowled. House noted that her face seemed to be made for scowling. House scowled back at her, barely repressing the urge to stick his tongue out.
“Go wash your hands. Dinner’ll be on the table in ten, fifteen minutes.” She swept back into the kitchen, still scowling.
“Here, let me hang up your coat,” Wilson offered. House shrugged it off and handed it to him.
Wilson bit his lip. “Julie forgot to mention that the downstairs bathroom is out of order - pipe blockage or something like that, and we have to use the upstairs one.”
“Oh hell,” House cursed, reaching into his pocket. He flipped open his Vicodin bottle and downed one. “Up we go,” he muttered darkly, pulling himself up by the railing.
Wilson went behind him, ready to catch him if he slipped. He said nothing and didn’t even obviously hover around House, but he was a steady supporting presence. House was grateful for the help and the reticence.
They entered the bathroom. House turned to Wilson, and Wilson almost groaned at the speculative gleam in House’s eyes.
“No,” Wilson pre-empted.
“Oh, come on. Julie knows that it takes me forever to do stairs - I wouldn’t put it past her to have fixed the pipe herself somehow so that it would take me forever to go up and come down. A few extra minutes… who’s gonna notice?”
“House, we are not…”
“Partypooper,” House interrupted, sticking his tongue out childishly.
“See? Here we go again. You’re childish, House.”
“And horny,” House supplied.
“I’m married.”
“Didn’t stop you before.”
“Oh, very well,” Wilson gave in, rolling his eyes, wondering why he always gave House everything he asked for. “Logistics are gonna be an issue, as always, with your leg.”
“Just took a Vicodin. I can probably handle standing this time.”
“Lean against the sink anyway; I don’t want you collapsing with your dick in my hands.”
House winced at the thought and leaned against the sink. He kissed Wilson. “Excellent point,” he murmured. “And unless you want Julie to walk in here with my dick in your hands, we really need to speed this up,” he added with a lick at Wilson’s lips.
“No, my marriage sucks enough that I don’t really need this extra…”
“Explosion,” House said, his voice muffled by Wilson’s skin. He lapped at Wilson’s neck, earning a long, drawn-out sigh.
House’s fingers went to Wilson’s belt, frowning when it didn’t magically disappear. “You really need to learn about jeans,” House complained. “A button, a zipper, and free access to your dick.”
“And you really need to learn about fashion.”
“Hey, it’s been established that I look way cooler than you.”
“Less professional, though.”
“Ah, got it,” House crowed, finally undoing Wilson’s belt and unzipping his pants. “Professional… Who the fuck cares about looking professional? Not like the patients see me anyway.”
“Your logic is twisted and probably flawed, but… oh shit…”
House grinned as he stroked Wilson’s cock. “Always knew I could shut you up somehow.”
Wilson deftly unbuttoned and unzipped House’s jeans. He noted with some distant, still-present part of his brain that they made a sight. Two grown men (one of them married), leaning against the sink, their pants undone, their dicks in each other’s hands, a cane propped up next to them, water running to disguise their activity…
Wilson really, really hoped Julie wouldn’t pick this moment to see what was taking them so long. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been, wasn’t sure why he cared so much about Julie not finding them, wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing… only thing he was sure of was that he never, ever wanted House to stop doing that, that little twist of his wrist which would’ve made Wilson cry out except he was supposed to be quiet, he didn’t know why he was supposed to be, but House had moved one hand from Wilson’s dick to his mouth, forcing him to be quiet, and he was rubbing one thumb against the leaking head and the other against his lips and stroking, firmly, along the hard shaft. Wilson noted, barely, that his hands were full too and somehow he was managing to keep his hands moving, not to just leave them there, it was almost like wanking but the angle was wrong, but it was close enough for him to do without many brain cells, and House’s dick was heavy and hot and hard in his hand, leaking merrily, and he was spreading the precome round, and House’s blue eyes were boring into him, amused and aroused and sparkling with mischief, and Wilson knew that House had more presence of mind right now and even knew that House knew this, and House was smirking or maybe grinning, Wilson couldn’t tell, his vision was blurry, he was so close, so close, and House’s hand was becoming more insistent, and… He arched his back and came, his whimpers and moans muffled by House’s hand.
House moved his hand to catch the semen before it could hit their clothes, and he smiled lazily at Wilson.
Wilson moved his hand faster, willing House to come, wanted to see House undone too, especially after that mind-blowing orgasm (he wondered why he had never thought of having sex in a bathroom before). House’s blue eyes fluttered shut, and Wilson could’ve keened at the loss of that intense, darkened blue gaze, but House was gasping, biting his lip to keep from making too much noise, and he was coming, warm and wet, into Wilson’s hand.
House’s eyes opened slowly again and he smiled. “We really do need to wash our hands now,” he laughed and stuck his hands under the jet of water. He soaped up his hands and washed them carefully and thoroughly.
“Wilson!” House said sharply. “I know I’m good, but you’re going to get a really rude awakening if you don’t wash your hands and zip your pants up. And you might want to buckle your belt again.”
Wilson shook himself and House made room for him at the sink. House dried his hands, zipped up his jeans, and grabbed his cane.
“Ready to try to head back downstairs?” Wilson asked once he was presentable again.
“If I say no, do you think Julie will serve dinner up here?”
“I think she’d serve your dinner up here so that she wouldn’t have to deal with you at the dinnertable.”
“Aw. Half the fun in these dinners is annoying her.”
“Oh, God. You’re going to make tortured references to this bathroom thing all night, aren’t you?” By silent consent, Wilson started going down the stairs first, backwards, ostensibly so that he could talk to House. He was ready, though, to catch House if anything were to happen.
“Maybe.” House leaned heavily on his cane as he tried to get down the stairs.
“House, don’t. She’s sharp, she’ll figure it out.”
“Shh. She’ll definitely figure it out if we talk about it right now.”
Julie was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. “Certainly took you long enough,” she muttered.
House brandished his cane, emphasizing why it had taken that long. He smirked and said, “Yeah… I needed a hand.”
-- End.
Author: Nemesis (Nems)
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: "and there was that time in your bathroom while Julie thought we were washing our hands..." (from my fic, Clinic Duty). Well. The time in the bathroom when Julie thought House and Wilson were washing their hands. It's in the same universe as Clinic Duty, and you should all read Clinic Duty ANYWAY, but you don't HAVE to to understand this fic. They're... loosely connected.
Disclaimer: Oh, come on. Does anyone actually bother reading this? Hoping for some amusement, perhaps? The real amusement is beyond the lj-cut. I thought up lovely stuff for you to read beyond there, and you're reading this drivel instead.
A/N: Okay, let's talk about beta jobs: First thanks goes to Cristina, for whom this fic was written, and second thanks goes to 1lostone.
This fic was brought to you by the good folks over at Nemesis' Muse Offices, occasionally found in his brain. It was written for my lovely, wonderful, patient, saintly wife, Cristina. After all, she's put up with me ALL DAY, and I've been in a weird mood today.
REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY AND KEEP ME WRITING, SO IF YOU LIKE AND WANT MORE FIC, CLICK ON THE 'POST A COMMENT' OR WHATEVER THE EQUIVALENT IS, OKAY? Favorite lines are much appreciated :D Especially since I don't know what others find funny or good.
“Your insane friend is here,” Julie told Wilson as she walked through the living room, barely glancing at her husband and keeping absolutely none of her disdain for House out of her tone. Wilson had been lying on the couch, but at the mention of House, he stood up. “Go let him in,” Julie added as she went back to the kitchen.
Wilson opened the door just as House started knocking on it. “Good to see you again,” Wilson grinned, stepping aside to let House in.
“Yeah, long time no see,” House answered. “What, couple hours at the most?”
Julie emerged from the kitchen. “So glad you could come, House,” she said flatly, making it clear she was anything but glad that he was invading her home.
“Well, technically, I haven’t come yet, but if you’d like to give me a hand with that…”
Wilson elbowed him sharply.
“Hey, cripple here! No trying to knock me off-balance.”
Julie scowled. House noted that her face seemed to be made for scowling. House scowled back at her, barely repressing the urge to stick his tongue out.
“Go wash your hands. Dinner’ll be on the table in ten, fifteen minutes.” She swept back into the kitchen, still scowling.
“Here, let me hang up your coat,” Wilson offered. House shrugged it off and handed it to him.
Wilson bit his lip. “Julie forgot to mention that the downstairs bathroom is out of order - pipe blockage or something like that, and we have to use the upstairs one.”
“Oh hell,” House cursed, reaching into his pocket. He flipped open his Vicodin bottle and downed one. “Up we go,” he muttered darkly, pulling himself up by the railing.
Wilson went behind him, ready to catch him if he slipped. He said nothing and didn’t even obviously hover around House, but he was a steady supporting presence. House was grateful for the help and the reticence.
They entered the bathroom. House turned to Wilson, and Wilson almost groaned at the speculative gleam in House’s eyes.
“No,” Wilson pre-empted.
“Oh, come on. Julie knows that it takes me forever to do stairs - I wouldn’t put it past her to have fixed the pipe herself somehow so that it would take me forever to go up and come down. A few extra minutes… who’s gonna notice?”
“House, we are not…”
“Partypooper,” House interrupted, sticking his tongue out childishly.
“See? Here we go again. You’re childish, House.”
“And horny,” House supplied.
“I’m married.”
“Didn’t stop you before.”
“Oh, very well,” Wilson gave in, rolling his eyes, wondering why he always gave House everything he asked for. “Logistics are gonna be an issue, as always, with your leg.”
“Just took a Vicodin. I can probably handle standing this time.”
“Lean against the sink anyway; I don’t want you collapsing with your dick in my hands.”
House winced at the thought and leaned against the sink. He kissed Wilson. “Excellent point,” he murmured. “And unless you want Julie to walk in here with my dick in your hands, we really need to speed this up,” he added with a lick at Wilson’s lips.
“No, my marriage sucks enough that I don’t really need this extra…”
“Explosion,” House said, his voice muffled by Wilson’s skin. He lapped at Wilson’s neck, earning a long, drawn-out sigh.
House’s fingers went to Wilson’s belt, frowning when it didn’t magically disappear. “You really need to learn about jeans,” House complained. “A button, a zipper, and free access to your dick.”
“And you really need to learn about fashion.”
“Hey, it’s been established that I look way cooler than you.”
“Less professional, though.”
“Ah, got it,” House crowed, finally undoing Wilson’s belt and unzipping his pants. “Professional… Who the fuck cares about looking professional? Not like the patients see me anyway.”
“Your logic is twisted and probably flawed, but… oh shit…”
House grinned as he stroked Wilson’s cock. “Always knew I could shut you up somehow.”
Wilson deftly unbuttoned and unzipped House’s jeans. He noted with some distant, still-present part of his brain that they made a sight. Two grown men (one of them married), leaning against the sink, their pants undone, their dicks in each other’s hands, a cane propped up next to them, water running to disguise their activity…
Wilson really, really hoped Julie wouldn’t pick this moment to see what was taking them so long. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been, wasn’t sure why he cared so much about Julie not finding them, wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing… only thing he was sure of was that he never, ever wanted House to stop doing that, that little twist of his wrist which would’ve made Wilson cry out except he was supposed to be quiet, he didn’t know why he was supposed to be, but House had moved one hand from Wilson’s dick to his mouth, forcing him to be quiet, and he was rubbing one thumb against the leaking head and the other against his lips and stroking, firmly, along the hard shaft. Wilson noted, barely, that his hands were full too and somehow he was managing to keep his hands moving, not to just leave them there, it was almost like wanking but the angle was wrong, but it was close enough for him to do without many brain cells, and House’s dick was heavy and hot and hard in his hand, leaking merrily, and he was spreading the precome round, and House’s blue eyes were boring into him, amused and aroused and sparkling with mischief, and Wilson knew that House had more presence of mind right now and even knew that House knew this, and House was smirking or maybe grinning, Wilson couldn’t tell, his vision was blurry, he was so close, so close, and House’s hand was becoming more insistent, and… He arched his back and came, his whimpers and moans muffled by House’s hand.
House moved his hand to catch the semen before it could hit their clothes, and he smiled lazily at Wilson.
Wilson moved his hand faster, willing House to come, wanted to see House undone too, especially after that mind-blowing orgasm (he wondered why he had never thought of having sex in a bathroom before). House’s blue eyes fluttered shut, and Wilson could’ve keened at the loss of that intense, darkened blue gaze, but House was gasping, biting his lip to keep from making too much noise, and he was coming, warm and wet, into Wilson’s hand.
House’s eyes opened slowly again and he smiled. “We really do need to wash our hands now,” he laughed and stuck his hands under the jet of water. He soaped up his hands and washed them carefully and thoroughly.
“Wilson!” House said sharply. “I know I’m good, but you’re going to get a really rude awakening if you don’t wash your hands and zip your pants up. And you might want to buckle your belt again.”
Wilson shook himself and House made room for him at the sink. House dried his hands, zipped up his jeans, and grabbed his cane.
“Ready to try to head back downstairs?” Wilson asked once he was presentable again.
“If I say no, do you think Julie will serve dinner up here?”
“I think she’d serve your dinner up here so that she wouldn’t have to deal with you at the dinnertable.”
“Aw. Half the fun in these dinners is annoying her.”
“Oh, God. You’re going to make tortured references to this bathroom thing all night, aren’t you?” By silent consent, Wilson started going down the stairs first, backwards, ostensibly so that he could talk to House. He was ready, though, to catch House if anything were to happen.
“Maybe.” House leaned heavily on his cane as he tried to get down the stairs.
“House, don’t. She’s sharp, she’ll figure it out.”
“Shh. She’ll definitely figure it out if we talk about it right now.”
Julie was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. “Certainly took you long enough,” she muttered.
House brandished his cane, emphasizing why it had taken that long. He smirked and said, “Yeah… I needed a hand.”
-- End.