An Unwanted Gift
Apr. 16th, 2010 08:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moose_mcmooseTitle: An Unwanted Gift
Author: moose_mcmoose
Prompt: Birthday 35. House decides to surprise Wilson by making him a birthday dinner. Wilson eats it and gets food poisoning. Slash preferred. Bonus points for guilty!House.
Pairing: House/Wilson slash
Category: sick!Wilson fest
Rating/Warnings: PG-13.
Words: 3225
Summary: See prompt.
Disclaimer: I am currently failing at life as I do not own them.
Beta: My dear friend PMB.
Nobody ever seemed to remember Wilson's birthday which made this plan all the more easier to execute. The fact that Wilson knew that nobody seemed to remember his birthday also meant there was little to no expectations on his part, making this plan all the more surprising and brilliant.
Admittedly, House hadn't even realised it was Wilson's birthday until a cheeky glance at Wilson's medical record, for what was probably the billionth time, revealed the not so secret fact. In previous years, he had either not bothered at all or attempted random guesses using the fluctuations in Wilson's demeanour as some sort of blueprint for his equations. Weight Gain = More Cake = Possible Confectionery Birthday Gift From Nurse. Or perhaps even Coming Into Work Smiling = Possible Morning Sex From Wife = Birthday Only (Depending On State Of Marriage).
He'd always thought of Wilson as one of those Summer babies, born on a sticky August morning when all those clichéd cockerels were crowing and the sun basked the earth in a delicious toasty blanket, annoyingly cute and cherubic with all the mothers cooing about how chubby and gorgeous he was.
Turns out his guess was out by some months and in an entirely different season altogether, which went some way into explaining the polite confusion on Wilson's face when House wished him Happy Birthday some time during August last year.
Wilson was born at the back end of February. A time of the year where the snow dances away and the rain comes out to play. Also the time of the year where House was finding it difficult to get the car started so he could get to the damn store to get this plan into action.
He was sure Wilson had no idea. Why would he? It's not like House had got it right in the past fifteen years so what would change it now?
It took several aggressive attempts for the car to splutter into life. House doesn't know why he doesn't just sell the thing, it was an old piece of shit with the exhaust dangling away on the underside, and he does have the bike these days, but his well-hidden streak of nostalgia and sentiment keeps him from driving it straight to the scrapyard. Also, for this particular escapade it would serve him much better than his bike would. He couldn't really imagine whizzing around on a motorbike with a chicken strapped to his back being an entirely comfortable experience.
He was also thankful that Wilson was easy to cook for, saving him time having to wander around stores looking for certain foods. There was no need to worry about being kosher as Wilson was possibly one of the most un-Jewish Jewish people he had ever met and was willing to eat pretty much every thing if it was in date and edible, the only lines being drawn at brussel sprouts and tofu.
He hadn't bothered to write a list, instead just scrawling code on his right hand to remind himself what to buy. The wings representing chicken, the vampire teeth representing garlic, the barrel representing olive oil, the rice representing...rice and the penis on his wrist was a gentle reminder to buy some lubricant while he was out. He thought he been caught out earlier in the morning while in the process of sketching the points of vampire teeth, Wilson had asked what the hell was on his hand. For a second he froze but then registered Wilson's glazed, 'just got out of bed look' meaning he wasn't really awake at all and would take any old reason House would throw at him. And, sure enough, the boredom angle worked and Wilson had slipped off to work just as glazed and none the wiser.
The store wasn't too busy when he arrived. There was no need to weave in between old crones and dribbling, screaming children, meaning the trip was already infinitely less painful than he had expected. He pulled a chicken from the fridge to his right and threw it into his basket. Then the rice. Then the garlic....
This was almost too easy. He should come shopping on his own more often instead of trailing on Wilson's tail. He could do this all in less than fifteen minutes which makes him wonder why Wilson takes almost half an hour to decide on one type of yoghurt.
The only downside to the little outing was the gum-chewing, over excitable, teenage twerp at the checkout. Her gums lined with braces, her hair scraped back into a too tight ponytail, she insisted on giving a running commentary on every item in House's basket.
"Can I just have my change?" House opened his palm.
"Oh sir. Smile. It's a lovely day outside."
"And you're stuck working in a grocery store all day. Nice." The teens mouth clamped shut miserably before she dumped a mound of change in House's hand. "Thanks."
House pulled up the brown grocery bag from the counter and glanced at his watch. Seventeen minutes. It would have been less if that babbling ball of hormones kept her mouth shut. He adjusted the bag in his arm and headed out to his car.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Either Wilson was caught in bad traffic or he was taking one of those morose detours he was fond of taking after he had a bad day. House hoped it was the former; watching Wilson pick away depressingly at a plate of chicken wasn't what he was aiming for this evening. Although, the extra time he'd been thrown had gave him a chance to spruce the place up a little, give the place a quick dust, set the mood and don that light blue shirt that Wilson constantly gushed about like an over-sentimental Hallmark movie.
So everything was set. The table, the lights, the food, the ever so slightly offensive birthday card, Die Hard ready to watch on the TiVo.
He was slipping a cheeky I.O.U into the card envelope when he heard the latch on the door click open. Wilson padded in, head bowed, shoulders and back soaked by a fresh rain storm.
"Why does it always seem to rain...." Wilson paused, dropped his briefcase to the ground and peeled his coat from his shoulders, "...when I leave work?" And then vague, blank look House was searching for on Wilson's face made itself present. "What's all this? What's that smell? Why are you wearing that shirt? Did you dust the TV?!"
"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that list of twenty questions. All questions must be produced in writing." House picked the card from the counter top and waved it in the air. "Happy birthday."
Wilson blinked and shook his head. "You remembered?"
"You're surprised?"
"Nobody remembers my birthday, least of all you. You gave me a birthday card on Hanukkah a couple of years ago. And once in June. And August."
House flopped his arms. "Do you have to negate this? I'm doing a nice thing here"
"I'm not negating it. I'm just surprised that's all." Wilson took the card from House fingers and unfurled the lip of the envelope. "You even bought me a card." He slipped the card into his hand. "With a dick on the front of it."
House shrugged. "What can I say? I don't do sentiment."
Then out came the I.O.U tucked between his thumb and index finger. "And a beautiful I.O.U. for 'One Hump courtesy of Gregory House'" Wilson clutched the paper to his chest. "You spoil me, you old romantic."
"Stop fluttering your eyelashes you big dork." House turned to the oven, slipped a hand over a towel and pulled the door open. "Now if you keep being sappy you won't get this food." He waved the tray with the two slabs of chicken in the air, wafting the smell towards Wilson's agape mouth.
"Y-You cooked?" If Wilson had lacked all self control he would have pounced by now and duly ripped the chicken from the oven tray, possibly mauling House in the process, but he resisted the urge to dive for the food, instead moving his head along with House who moved the tray around in the air. "That smells really good."
"It's gonna taste damn good too. I've spent the last three hours doing all this." House flipped the chicken onto two separate plates, before dribbling on lashings of garlic butter and a healthy spoonful of rice. "Now sit down."
Wilson pulled a chair from beneath the table. "So this is all elaborate foreplay I assume."
"Would you rather I jumped you at the door?"
"Hey, I'm not complaining. Just...this is weird. You're cooking for me with no strings attached. Usually you'd want a favour or something."
"It's your birthday. And people tend to do nice things for people on their birthday." House brought the two steaming hot plates to the table, planting one in front of Wilson and one down for himself.
Wilson glared ravenously, picking up his fork in preparation to graciously gorge on the food before him. "You're logic is sound as always."
"I'm disappointed you'd doubt it. Now eat up."
Wilson cut a healthy chunk of chicken and stuffed it in his mouth. "God, that's good." His eyes rolled theatrically before he plunged his cutlery back into the meal.
"I know."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Bruce Willis had just managed to push a chair and a computer packed with C4 down a lift shaft when House felt a hand edge up his thigh. His plan had come together beautifully, the night was going without a hitch and he was pretty sure he'd be getting some much needed sexual release before Alan Rickman met his maker on screen and Bruce Willis took his shirt off.
Wilson was doing that geeky smirking thing he usually did when he was getting a bit horny; his hand still quietly and slowly edging up towards House's crotch. If House had the choice he would grab Wilson's hand right now and plunge it into his crotch, but he knew Wilson got off on the whole 'slow build-up' scenario and it was his brithday after all.
A huge explosion boomed from the screen, causing Wilson to jump, squeezing House's thigh in the process.
"You big girl." House grinned.
"I forgot about that part." Wilson blew out a puff of air and leaned his head onto House's shoulder.
"He's just pushed a whole pile of C4 into a lift shaft, what did you expect to happen? A small cloud of smoke?"
"No sarcasm on my birthday please."
"Well that's an absurdly hopeful request." House smirked as he observed Wilson's hand run back up his thigh once again. "That, however, is not."
Wilson's hand strayed further north than before, slipping under House's shirt and edging along the belt on his jeans. With care, Wilson peeled the belt from the buckle, his eyes still transfixed on screen where Bruce Willis was caught up in a hail of enemy gunfire. He pulled the belt though the loops before tossing it away onto the side of the sofa.
House tensed, quelling the urge to tell Wilson just get on with the whole thing instead of teasing him like crazy. He kept his mouth shut and buttocks clenched as Wilson began releasing the buttons on his jeans and the bottom of his shirt. Then a warm, smooth hand ran up his shirt and onto his chest. He could see why Wilson's sexual abilities as a lover were so frequently praised to such great heights; the guy had barely done anything ridiculously overt and already House's jeans were straining under the pressure.
Time for him to move things along a little quicker otherwise a bizarre renactment of Hiroshima was going to take place in his trousers.
House tapped Wilson on the shoulder, the younger man looking up to see what the apparent problem was.
"What?"
"Nothing." House planted his lips onto Wilson's mouth, cupping a hand around the back of Wilson's neck to pull him closer. With his free hand, he began to slacken the tie that hung around Wilson's neck and flipped open the buttons on the collar, baring a sleek, smooth upper chest. He wished Wilson's birthday was everyday if this is what he would be getting.
Wilson had began running his hand up and down House's back, following the gentle curviture of the spine with the delicate touch if his fingers.
House was just about to pull the shirt from Wilson's shoulder when Wilson froze, gripping House's back with fierce pressure. "Woah. Woah. Ow, you're hurting me. What's wrong?"
"I feel weird."
"That's called 'being horny.' Now come on, we were just getting starting."
Wilson raised his hand. "No, no, no seriously. I feel really weird."
"Jesus Wilson, your timing is impeccable."
"Shut up House." Wilson inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes, clinging onto the sofa tightly for apparent support. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Am I that unattractive?" House raised his eyebrow mockingly. Wilson was surely faking, probably realising he wasn't up for it and too embarrassed to admit that to be the case, but he did look a little peaky, a little grayer than he did a couple of hours ago.
"Shit." Wilson darted away from the sofa, surely smashing the world land speed record as he rushed to the bathroom.
"Is my cooking that bad too?" House bellowed behind him. He heard the bathroom door slam with excessive force and toilet seat being thrown upwards. Wilson was either an astounding Oscar winning actor with a penchant for making fabulous sound affects or he really was throwing up his insides with aplomb. House didn't bother to grab his cane before he limped down to the hall to the bathroom, the straining and the groans from within echoing off the walls. He pushed the door slightly ajar with his hand. "You okay in there?"
"Yeah.....I'm fucking....marvellous."
"Well there's no need to be rude." House stepped into the bathroom, the not so delicious smell of vomit wafting up into his nose. "You should really flush that away." He leant over and pulled at the flush handle.
"Don't." Wilson ducked his head away from the flowing water, not entirely avoiding the splash back that dribbled onto his face. If he didn't care so much about getting the floor dirty he would happily throw up on House's bare feet next. "Thanks...." A dry gag stuck in his throat. "Now...I've got toilet....water on my...face."
"Well at..." House's witty comeback was interrupted by another huge creaking heave followed by the grim sound of something hitting the water. "This is really not turning me on."
Wilson growled before flipping a weak middle finger in House's direction.
"I'll get you some water." House hobbled back to the kitchen and grabbed a cup from the cupboard next to the oven. He'd spoke to soon, counted his chickens before he had managed to fence them in and now Wilson was having a spectacularly bad birthday. Wilson hadn't looked sick when he got back. Sure, he was a little wet from the rain, a little miserable after what was probably a tough day at the office, but it wasn't significant enough to cause some serious vomiting. He twisted the cold tap, pushing the cup underneath to catch the water, while an echo of another heave from Wilson travelled into the kitchen.
It couldn't have been the food. The chicken had been cooked properly, he'd made sure of it. Wilson wasn't allergic, the guy was a food shoveller when he wanted to be. The garlic, the oil...the rice.
The rice.
Crap.
He'd never poisoned anyone with his food before. Typical that it should tonight of all nights where his duck would be broken. He limped back to the bathroom to find Wilson leaning heavily on the toilet, the side of his face lying on the cold lid, heavy breaths escaping his lips.
House offered the glass of water, which Wilson took with a shaky hand. "Drink this."
Wilson gulped a mouthful of water. "Thanks."
"You okay?"
"I...um...for now...I think." Wilson ran a hand down his face, sticking a haggard lump of hair to his forehead. "Okay...maybe not." He quickly threw his head back over the bowl.
House cringed as Wilson emptied what was left of his stomach into the toilet. He knew he should have chosen the rice; he should have went with something a little less risky. What would have been wrong with pasta or even fries? A hand shot up from beneath and grabbed his lower arm. He looked down to see Wilson staring up, his eyes drooping and glazed, his hair dishevelled and damp.
"I think...I'm okay now."
"Sure, you look fantastic." House's attempt at comforting were not all in vain as a small smirked creeped across Wilson's face amongst all the sweat and grey hue. House filled the cup with water from the sink and handed back into Wilson's grasp. "You sure you're okay?"
Wilson shrugged. "I don't think I have anything else to bring up."
House swooped down and grabbed the bin from the beneath the sink. "You wanna bring this with you?"
"Probably for the best I think." Wilson propped himself back up, clinging onto the side of the bath tub and sink to support his quivering legs.
"Come on. Let's watch John McClane shoot some German guys." He held the bin out for Wilson to grab while taking Wilson's arm in his other hand and began leading him into the living room. "So fun birthday huh?"
"It's been better than most."
"Seriously?"
Wilson settled himself onto the sofa and curled his legs onto the arm. "Yeah. Usually, I do nothing or get drunk and fall asleep in a pool of my own vomit. Alone." He poked 'play' on the TV remote and Bruce Willis' assault on the roof of the Nakatomi Plaza continued a pace. "If I fall asleep in a pool of my own vomit tonight at least I'll have you there."
"My god."
"What?"
"Even though I poisoned you, you still manage to be an overwhelming sap."
"You complain but I know you like it really." Wilson winked, his hands clasped around the bin which he held on his lap.
There was no point in trying it deny it. He knew he liked it and Wilson knew he liked it. A bluff remark was the way to go. "Shut up. This guy is about to get shot in the crotch."
Wilson chuckled, before leaning his head onto House's shoulder to make himself a little more comfortable as the man on the screen morphed into human Swiss cheese. The loud firing shots and the gratuitious view of the man's wounds did nothing for Wilson's stomach and the bin in his lap became that little bit heavier. "This is a great birthday."
House waved a hand over the bin, wafting the distracting smell away from his persons. He'll make this up to Wilson somehow, perhaps a sappy gift, or a well practiced blow job and Wilson always had that I.O.U. to claim whenever he wanted to. He wasn't sure if Wilson was being serious when he said this was a great birthday, but the relaxed form and fixed, loose smile all indicated that it was probably the best birthday Wilson had had in years.
Author: moose_mcmoose
Prompt: Birthday 35. House decides to surprise Wilson by making him a birthday dinner. Wilson eats it and gets food poisoning. Slash preferred. Bonus points for guilty!House.
Pairing: House/Wilson slash
Category: sick!Wilson fest
Rating/Warnings: PG-13.
Words: 3225
Summary: See prompt.
Disclaimer: I am currently failing at life as I do not own them.
Beta: My dear friend PMB.
Nobody ever seemed to remember Wilson's birthday which made this plan all the more easier to execute. The fact that Wilson knew that nobody seemed to remember his birthday also meant there was little to no expectations on his part, making this plan all the more surprising and brilliant.
Admittedly, House hadn't even realised it was Wilson's birthday until a cheeky glance at Wilson's medical record, for what was probably the billionth time, revealed the not so secret fact. In previous years, he had either not bothered at all or attempted random guesses using the fluctuations in Wilson's demeanour as some sort of blueprint for his equations. Weight Gain = More Cake = Possible Confectionery Birthday Gift From Nurse. Or perhaps even Coming Into Work Smiling = Possible Morning Sex From Wife = Birthday Only (Depending On State Of Marriage).
He'd always thought of Wilson as one of those Summer babies, born on a sticky August morning when all those clichéd cockerels were crowing and the sun basked the earth in a delicious toasty blanket, annoyingly cute and cherubic with all the mothers cooing about how chubby and gorgeous he was.
Turns out his guess was out by some months and in an entirely different season altogether, which went some way into explaining the polite confusion on Wilson's face when House wished him Happy Birthday some time during August last year.
Wilson was born at the back end of February. A time of the year where the snow dances away and the rain comes out to play. Also the time of the year where House was finding it difficult to get the car started so he could get to the damn store to get this plan into action.
He was sure Wilson had no idea. Why would he? It's not like House had got it right in the past fifteen years so what would change it now?
It took several aggressive attempts for the car to splutter into life. House doesn't know why he doesn't just sell the thing, it was an old piece of shit with the exhaust dangling away on the underside, and he does have the bike these days, but his well-hidden streak of nostalgia and sentiment keeps him from driving it straight to the scrapyard. Also, for this particular escapade it would serve him much better than his bike would. He couldn't really imagine whizzing around on a motorbike with a chicken strapped to his back being an entirely comfortable experience.
He was also thankful that Wilson was easy to cook for, saving him time having to wander around stores looking for certain foods. There was no need to worry about being kosher as Wilson was possibly one of the most un-Jewish Jewish people he had ever met and was willing to eat pretty much every thing if it was in date and edible, the only lines being drawn at brussel sprouts and tofu.
He hadn't bothered to write a list, instead just scrawling code on his right hand to remind himself what to buy. The wings representing chicken, the vampire teeth representing garlic, the barrel representing olive oil, the rice representing...rice and the penis on his wrist was a gentle reminder to buy some lubricant while he was out. He thought he been caught out earlier in the morning while in the process of sketching the points of vampire teeth, Wilson had asked what the hell was on his hand. For a second he froze but then registered Wilson's glazed, 'just got out of bed look' meaning he wasn't really awake at all and would take any old reason House would throw at him. And, sure enough, the boredom angle worked and Wilson had slipped off to work just as glazed and none the wiser.
The store wasn't too busy when he arrived. There was no need to weave in between old crones and dribbling, screaming children, meaning the trip was already infinitely less painful than he had expected. He pulled a chicken from the fridge to his right and threw it into his basket. Then the rice. Then the garlic....
This was almost too easy. He should come shopping on his own more often instead of trailing on Wilson's tail. He could do this all in less than fifteen minutes which makes him wonder why Wilson takes almost half an hour to decide on one type of yoghurt.
The only downside to the little outing was the gum-chewing, over excitable, teenage twerp at the checkout. Her gums lined with braces, her hair scraped back into a too tight ponytail, she insisted on giving a running commentary on every item in House's basket.
"Can I just have my change?" House opened his palm.
"Oh sir. Smile. It's a lovely day outside."
"And you're stuck working in a grocery store all day. Nice." The teens mouth clamped shut miserably before she dumped a mound of change in House's hand. "Thanks."
House pulled up the brown grocery bag from the counter and glanced at his watch. Seventeen minutes. It would have been less if that babbling ball of hormones kept her mouth shut. He adjusted the bag in his arm and headed out to his car.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Either Wilson was caught in bad traffic or he was taking one of those morose detours he was fond of taking after he had a bad day. House hoped it was the former; watching Wilson pick away depressingly at a plate of chicken wasn't what he was aiming for this evening. Although, the extra time he'd been thrown had gave him a chance to spruce the place up a little, give the place a quick dust, set the mood and don that light blue shirt that Wilson constantly gushed about like an over-sentimental Hallmark movie.
So everything was set. The table, the lights, the food, the ever so slightly offensive birthday card, Die Hard ready to watch on the TiVo.
He was slipping a cheeky I.O.U into the card envelope when he heard the latch on the door click open. Wilson padded in, head bowed, shoulders and back soaked by a fresh rain storm.
"Why does it always seem to rain...." Wilson paused, dropped his briefcase to the ground and peeled his coat from his shoulders, "...when I leave work?" And then vague, blank look House was searching for on Wilson's face made itself present. "What's all this? What's that smell? Why are you wearing that shirt? Did you dust the TV?!"
"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that list of twenty questions. All questions must be produced in writing." House picked the card from the counter top and waved it in the air. "Happy birthday."
Wilson blinked and shook his head. "You remembered?"
"You're surprised?"
"Nobody remembers my birthday, least of all you. You gave me a birthday card on Hanukkah a couple of years ago. And once in June. And August."
House flopped his arms. "Do you have to negate this? I'm doing a nice thing here"
"I'm not negating it. I'm just surprised that's all." Wilson took the card from House fingers and unfurled the lip of the envelope. "You even bought me a card." He slipped the card into his hand. "With a dick on the front of it."
House shrugged. "What can I say? I don't do sentiment."
Then out came the I.O.U tucked between his thumb and index finger. "And a beautiful I.O.U. for 'One Hump courtesy of Gregory House'" Wilson clutched the paper to his chest. "You spoil me, you old romantic."
"Stop fluttering your eyelashes you big dork." House turned to the oven, slipped a hand over a towel and pulled the door open. "Now if you keep being sappy you won't get this food." He waved the tray with the two slabs of chicken in the air, wafting the smell towards Wilson's agape mouth.
"Y-You cooked?" If Wilson had lacked all self control he would have pounced by now and duly ripped the chicken from the oven tray, possibly mauling House in the process, but he resisted the urge to dive for the food, instead moving his head along with House who moved the tray around in the air. "That smells really good."
"It's gonna taste damn good too. I've spent the last three hours doing all this." House flipped the chicken onto two separate plates, before dribbling on lashings of garlic butter and a healthy spoonful of rice. "Now sit down."
Wilson pulled a chair from beneath the table. "So this is all elaborate foreplay I assume."
"Would you rather I jumped you at the door?"
"Hey, I'm not complaining. Just...this is weird. You're cooking for me with no strings attached. Usually you'd want a favour or something."
"It's your birthday. And people tend to do nice things for people on their birthday." House brought the two steaming hot plates to the table, planting one in front of Wilson and one down for himself.
Wilson glared ravenously, picking up his fork in preparation to graciously gorge on the food before him. "You're logic is sound as always."
"I'm disappointed you'd doubt it. Now eat up."
Wilson cut a healthy chunk of chicken and stuffed it in his mouth. "God, that's good." His eyes rolled theatrically before he plunged his cutlery back into the meal.
"I know."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Bruce Willis had just managed to push a chair and a computer packed with C4 down a lift shaft when House felt a hand edge up his thigh. His plan had come together beautifully, the night was going without a hitch and he was pretty sure he'd be getting some much needed sexual release before Alan Rickman met his maker on screen and Bruce Willis took his shirt off.
Wilson was doing that geeky smirking thing he usually did when he was getting a bit horny; his hand still quietly and slowly edging up towards House's crotch. If House had the choice he would grab Wilson's hand right now and plunge it into his crotch, but he knew Wilson got off on the whole 'slow build-up' scenario and it was his brithday after all.
A huge explosion boomed from the screen, causing Wilson to jump, squeezing House's thigh in the process.
"You big girl." House grinned.
"I forgot about that part." Wilson blew out a puff of air and leaned his head onto House's shoulder.
"He's just pushed a whole pile of C4 into a lift shaft, what did you expect to happen? A small cloud of smoke?"
"No sarcasm on my birthday please."
"Well that's an absurdly hopeful request." House smirked as he observed Wilson's hand run back up his thigh once again. "That, however, is not."
Wilson's hand strayed further north than before, slipping under House's shirt and edging along the belt on his jeans. With care, Wilson peeled the belt from the buckle, his eyes still transfixed on screen where Bruce Willis was caught up in a hail of enemy gunfire. He pulled the belt though the loops before tossing it away onto the side of the sofa.
House tensed, quelling the urge to tell Wilson just get on with the whole thing instead of teasing him like crazy. He kept his mouth shut and buttocks clenched as Wilson began releasing the buttons on his jeans and the bottom of his shirt. Then a warm, smooth hand ran up his shirt and onto his chest. He could see why Wilson's sexual abilities as a lover were so frequently praised to such great heights; the guy had barely done anything ridiculously overt and already House's jeans were straining under the pressure.
Time for him to move things along a little quicker otherwise a bizarre renactment of Hiroshima was going to take place in his trousers.
House tapped Wilson on the shoulder, the younger man looking up to see what the apparent problem was.
"What?"
"Nothing." House planted his lips onto Wilson's mouth, cupping a hand around the back of Wilson's neck to pull him closer. With his free hand, he began to slacken the tie that hung around Wilson's neck and flipped open the buttons on the collar, baring a sleek, smooth upper chest. He wished Wilson's birthday was everyday if this is what he would be getting.
Wilson had began running his hand up and down House's back, following the gentle curviture of the spine with the delicate touch if his fingers.
House was just about to pull the shirt from Wilson's shoulder when Wilson froze, gripping House's back with fierce pressure. "Woah. Woah. Ow, you're hurting me. What's wrong?"
"I feel weird."
"That's called 'being horny.' Now come on, we were just getting starting."
Wilson raised his hand. "No, no, no seriously. I feel really weird."
"Jesus Wilson, your timing is impeccable."
"Shut up House." Wilson inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes, clinging onto the sofa tightly for apparent support. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Am I that unattractive?" House raised his eyebrow mockingly. Wilson was surely faking, probably realising he wasn't up for it and too embarrassed to admit that to be the case, but he did look a little peaky, a little grayer than he did a couple of hours ago.
"Shit." Wilson darted away from the sofa, surely smashing the world land speed record as he rushed to the bathroom.
"Is my cooking that bad too?" House bellowed behind him. He heard the bathroom door slam with excessive force and toilet seat being thrown upwards. Wilson was either an astounding Oscar winning actor with a penchant for making fabulous sound affects or he really was throwing up his insides with aplomb. House didn't bother to grab his cane before he limped down to the hall to the bathroom, the straining and the groans from within echoing off the walls. He pushed the door slightly ajar with his hand. "You okay in there?"
"Yeah.....I'm fucking....marvellous."
"Well there's no need to be rude." House stepped into the bathroom, the not so delicious smell of vomit wafting up into his nose. "You should really flush that away." He leant over and pulled at the flush handle.
"Don't." Wilson ducked his head away from the flowing water, not entirely avoiding the splash back that dribbled onto his face. If he didn't care so much about getting the floor dirty he would happily throw up on House's bare feet next. "Thanks...." A dry gag stuck in his throat. "Now...I've got toilet....water on my...face."
"Well at..." House's witty comeback was interrupted by another huge creaking heave followed by the grim sound of something hitting the water. "This is really not turning me on."
Wilson growled before flipping a weak middle finger in House's direction.
"I'll get you some water." House hobbled back to the kitchen and grabbed a cup from the cupboard next to the oven. He'd spoke to soon, counted his chickens before he had managed to fence them in and now Wilson was having a spectacularly bad birthday. Wilson hadn't looked sick when he got back. Sure, he was a little wet from the rain, a little miserable after what was probably a tough day at the office, but it wasn't significant enough to cause some serious vomiting. He twisted the cold tap, pushing the cup underneath to catch the water, while an echo of another heave from Wilson travelled into the kitchen.
It couldn't have been the food. The chicken had been cooked properly, he'd made sure of it. Wilson wasn't allergic, the guy was a food shoveller when he wanted to be. The garlic, the oil...the rice.
The rice.
Crap.
He'd never poisoned anyone with his food before. Typical that it should tonight of all nights where his duck would be broken. He limped back to the bathroom to find Wilson leaning heavily on the toilet, the side of his face lying on the cold lid, heavy breaths escaping his lips.
House offered the glass of water, which Wilson took with a shaky hand. "Drink this."
Wilson gulped a mouthful of water. "Thanks."
"You okay?"
"I...um...for now...I think." Wilson ran a hand down his face, sticking a haggard lump of hair to his forehead. "Okay...maybe not." He quickly threw his head back over the bowl.
House cringed as Wilson emptied what was left of his stomach into the toilet. He knew he should have chosen the rice; he should have went with something a little less risky. What would have been wrong with pasta or even fries? A hand shot up from beneath and grabbed his lower arm. He looked down to see Wilson staring up, his eyes drooping and glazed, his hair dishevelled and damp.
"I think...I'm okay now."
"Sure, you look fantastic." House's attempt at comforting were not all in vain as a small smirked creeped across Wilson's face amongst all the sweat and grey hue. House filled the cup with water from the sink and handed back into Wilson's grasp. "You sure you're okay?"
Wilson shrugged. "I don't think I have anything else to bring up."
House swooped down and grabbed the bin from the beneath the sink. "You wanna bring this with you?"
"Probably for the best I think." Wilson propped himself back up, clinging onto the side of the bath tub and sink to support his quivering legs.
"Come on. Let's watch John McClane shoot some German guys." He held the bin out for Wilson to grab while taking Wilson's arm in his other hand and began leading him into the living room. "So fun birthday huh?"
"It's been better than most."
"Seriously?"
Wilson settled himself onto the sofa and curled his legs onto the arm. "Yeah. Usually, I do nothing or get drunk and fall asleep in a pool of my own vomit. Alone." He poked 'play' on the TV remote and Bruce Willis' assault on the roof of the Nakatomi Plaza continued a pace. "If I fall asleep in a pool of my own vomit tonight at least I'll have you there."
"My god."
"What?"
"Even though I poisoned you, you still manage to be an overwhelming sap."
"You complain but I know you like it really." Wilson winked, his hands clasped around the bin which he held on his lap.
There was no point in trying it deny it. He knew he liked it and Wilson knew he liked it. A bluff remark was the way to go. "Shut up. This guy is about to get shot in the crotch."
Wilson chuckled, before leaning his head onto House's shoulder to make himself a little more comfortable as the man on the screen morphed into human Swiss cheese. The loud firing shots and the gratuitious view of the man's wounds did nothing for Wilson's stomach and the bin in his lap became that little bit heavier. "This is a great birthday."
House waved a hand over the bin, wafting the distracting smell away from his persons. He'll make this up to Wilson somehow, perhaps a sappy gift, or a well practiced blow job and Wilson always had that I.O.U. to claim whenever he wanted to. He wasn't sure if Wilson was being serious when he said this was a great birthday, but the relaxed form and fixed, loose smile all indicated that it was probably the best birthday Wilson had had in years.
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Date: 16/04/2010 07:56 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for sharing, I seriously love it! Memm'ing!
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Date: 17/04/2010 11:33 am (UTC)So glad to hear you enjoyed this story to such a marvellous degree, and that I win at life. Hehe.
Cheers for reading and commenting hib!
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Date: 16/04/2010 08:32 pm (UTC)Poor Wilson, I can imagine he was completely sincere about this birthday being great. Despite what happened, I think so too.
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Date: 17/04/2010 11:46 am (UTC)Glad you ennjoyed it. And thanks for reading and commenting XD
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Date: 16/04/2010 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 17/04/2010 11:44 am (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting XD
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Date: 16/04/2010 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 17/04/2010 11:38 am (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting XD
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Date: 16/04/2010 11:04 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing!
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Date: 17/04/2010 11:35 am (UTC)So glad to hear you enjoyed it! :D
Cheers for reading and commenting XD
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Date: 17/04/2010 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 17/04/2010 06:05 pm (UTC)You rock. Why if I had a non-smut Chuck Norris icon, it'd be all yours. :P
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Date: 17/04/2010 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 17/04/2010 04:37 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it though!
Cheers for reading and commenting XD
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Date: 18/04/2010 03:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 18/04/2010 09:25 am (UTC)Thank you for reading and commenting XD
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Date: 18/04/2010 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 18/04/2010 09:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 18/04/2010 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 19/04/2010 07:13 am (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting XD Muich appreciated!
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Date: 20/04/2010 09:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 20/04/2010 10:53 am (UTC)Thanks for for reading and commenting XD
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Date: 21/04/2010 07:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 21/04/2010 06:18 pm (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting XD