Spoilers: Cursed (episode 113)
Author's Notes: Although I think the idea for this story has been in the back of my head ever since I first heard House utter the line "Double-entry bookkeeping?" (see below), it took shape after a twisted little discussion about Debbie from Accounting™ on the Differential Diagnosis YahooGroup.
I am operating under the assumption that the "blonde thingy" House sees talking with Wilson in "Cursed" (episode 113) is the infamous Debbie. Here's the reference:
House: Oh, you never run out of thingies. Like that blonde thingy you were chatting up.
Wilson: She's the hospital accountant. We were going over billing procedures.
House: Double-entry bookkeeping?
Many thanks to Debbie (NOT from Accounting!) for serving as my beta reader!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dr. House, checking in at 1:30pm. Write it down, please."
Evil Nurse Brenda (TM) rolled her eyes.
"And where would I find Jimmy Wilson, Boy Wonder Oncologist(TM)?"
"Exam room two," barked Evil Nurse Brenda(TM), "But he's with a..."
"Thank you!" waved House as he hobbled toward the exam rooms. He slipped quietly inside the door of exam room two and--
"Whoa! Wilson! What the--"
House's friend, Dr. James Wilson, spun around on the exam room stool. He hastily swiped the sleeve of his lab coat across his mouth, trying to remove the dewey substance coating it before House noticed. Behind Wilson, sprawled on the exam table was a woman, skirt bunched at her
hips, her feet in stirrups, her knees spread wide.
"House! I'm with a patient! Dammit, I thought the door was locked. What the hell are you..."
"Did you just have your face in the patient's crotch, Wilson? What kind of exam are you doing?"
A perky blonde head peeked up from the exam table. "It's an oral exam, Dr. House!" The "patient" giggled and made goo-goo eyes at the back of Wilson's head.
"Debbie from Accounting(TM)!" House gasped. "Wilson, you dog! I KNEW it! I KNEW it! You're doing her!" He cocked his head to the left. "And she's not a natural blonde. I knew that, too."
"She, um, thought she might have a...yeast infection, so I agreed to check it out over her lunch break and..."
"...you decided to stick your nose up her twat?! C'mon, Wilson, you can do better than that."
"Oh, okay." Wilson's shoulders slumped and he ran a hand through his dark, unruly hair. "You're right, I'm doing her."
"Wilson, you slut!" grinned House. "What do you even know about this woman?"
"Well, her name's Debbie, and she works in Accounting..."
"We talk about billing procedures!" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM).
"Yeah, that, too," Wilson agreed. "Aside from that..."
House tapped his foot as his friend mussed his hair. "Well?"
"Well.." Wilson thought for a few seconds. "Not much. After all, she's just a plot device, an extraneous character created to allow you to hint that my third marriage was on the skids."
"Dr. House called me a blonde thingy!" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM).
"Yes, he did, sweetheart," said Wilson. "D'you think you might want to close your knees for a minute or two?"
"Okie dokie!" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM).
Wilson looked up at his friend. "Promise me you won't tell Cuddy. Please?"
House considered Wilson's request, while Wilson re-arranged something in his neatly pressed trousers.
"Okay."
Wilson heaved a sigh of relief.
"On one condition..." House added.
"Oh, God," Wilson sighed. He raised wary brown eyes to House. "What?"
Looking like the cat who'd swallowed the canary, House stated, "I want in."
"What?" gasped Wilson.
"You want to discuss billing procedures, too, Dr. House?" Debbie from Accounting(TM) giggled. "But we hardly ever do any billing for you, and Carl usually does it..."
"His secret friendship club name is Kevin," said House. "And could you possibly stop being so one-dimensional for five minutes?"
"It's not my fault the writers didn't give me a personality," Debbie from Accounting(TM) pouted. "All I know how to do is giggle, discuss billing procedures and make goo-goo eyes at Jimmy."
"It's okay, sweetheart," said Wilson, turning on the stool to pat her foot in the stirrup. He turned back to House. "So we're talking about..."
"...double-entry bookkeeping, Wilson!" House said edgily. "Do I have to write and direct this scene as well as perform in it?"
"Might help," shrugged Wilson. "And you'd hardly be the first lead to demand it as part of your contract."
"Stop trying to change the subject, Wilson," House scolded. "From the state of your pants..." Wilson shifted on the stool. "...and the goop you tried to surreptitiously wipe from your face when I barged in—you missed a spot on your nose, by the way--" Wilson's swiped at his nose with the other sleeve of his formerly pristine lab coat. "--you and Debbie are already 'prepped' for this procedure. I'm going to need some assistance in that department, though." House began to remove his jacket. "Roll over here, Wilson."
Wilson's jaw dropped. He pointed to his chest. "You don't mean you want me to..." he sputtered.
House made an "icky" face. "Gah, Wilson! How many times do I have to tell you? That's just subtext! It gives a certain segment of the audience a happy, not me. Unless you really want to..." House tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress another "icky" face.
Wilson mirrored House's "icky." "Um, no. It's all subtext for me, too. After all, it's well-established in canon that I'm a total himbo. Look at how you found me today, for crying out loud!"
"Yeah, you're a regular Christian Troy," House deadpanned.
"Christian Who?"
"Never mind. I forgot, this isn't a cross-over. Just roll away from the accountant."
"That's me!" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM). She raised her head to make goo-goo eyes at Wilson, who was scooting the exam stool toward the door.
"That's right, Thingy(TM)," said House. "Your turn. Feet out of the stirrups and off the table you go."
"Then what, Dr. House?"
House covered the few steps to the exam table and laid down his cane. He turned around to face Debbie and Wilson--who was pointedly staring at the floor--as he unbuckled his belt, unfastened his jeans, then pulled the jeans and his boxer briefs to his knees. He hopped up on the end of the table. He grimaced briefly as he rubbed his bum leg.
"Jimmy?" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM). "Are we going to discuss billing procedures with Dr. House, too?"
"Something like that, yeah," sighed Wilson, still averting his eyes.
"Time to play doctor!" said House gleefully. "Wilson! Got condoms?"
"Of course," sighed Wilson, reaching into his pants pocket. "I'm a responsible slut, after all. Don't need to add child support to the alimony I'm paying. Trojans are cheaper."
"Excellent!" pronounced House. "Roll on one, already."
Wilson stood, still keeping his eyes on the floor. He began to unfasten his trousers.
"Blonde Thingy(TM)!" House barked.
"Yes, Dr. House?" she giggled.
"She has a name, House," said Wilson.
"I know, but let's not personalize this too much, Wilson," replied House. "As you yourself said, she's a plot device. In this scene, she's a conduit for you and me to have sex at the same time, in the same place, without actually having it with each other. Gives the subtext-happy segment of the audience something to squee about, yet keeps the homophobes from fleeing, sending our ratings down the crapper. Now, back to Miss Thingy(TM)." House crooked his index finger at her. She walked to his side, and he pointed to his flaccid penis.
"Little Greggy here needs some help rising and shining, if you know what I mean."
"Sure thing, Dr. House!" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM). "Oral exam! Do I get to sit on the spinny chair, like Jimmy did?"
"No," said House. "You're going to stand in front of me and bend over."
"Okie dokie!" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM). She dutifully bent her blonde head over House's crotch. "Hi, Little Greggy! Time for your check-up! Let's see what type of insurance you have, so I can bill them correctly..."
House looked up at Wilson, who'd finally torn his gaze from the floor. "Insurance?" House quizzed.
"One-dimensional, remember?" replied Wilson. "Just let her talk. Pretend I'm giving you advice, and ignore it accordingly."
Debbie from Accounting(TM) placed her right hand on the base of House's penis and twirled her tongue around the tip. House closed his eyes and moaned, "Okay..."
As Debbie from Accounting(TM) worked her hand and tongue, Little Greggy began to rouse. House opened his eyes and gave Wilson an approving look. "Nice."
"Yeah," nodded Wilson. "One of the writers owed me a favor, so they gave her that little skill. That's her data-entry hand by the way. Wait 'til you see what she can do...the dexterity in those little fingers..."
Wilson still stood near the door, his hands on his hips (TM), his trousers and boxers pushed down to the tops of his thighs, his latex-covered penis at half mast. It started to stir again as his
thoughts drifted off to Debbie from Accounting's(TM) digits.
"Still managed to maintain most of your stiffy through all of that," observed House. "Impressive!"
Wilson shrugged his shoulders. "You know us himbos. Always prepared."
"Isn't that the Boy Scouts?" corrected House.
"Yeah, well, I was one of those, too, briefly. Pre-himbo days."
"Color me unsurprised," said House. He inhaled sharply as Debbie from Accounting's(TM) dexterous digits slid to his scrotum. "Care to join in?"
Wilson stepped forward. "I'm guessing I'm supposed to..." He nodded toward Debbie from Accounting's(TM) rounded bottom.
"Yep," nodded House.
Debbie from Accounting(TM) instinctively spread her feet and raised her bottom a bit as Wilson placed his hands on her hips. He briefly moved one hand to help guide Little Jimmy into Debbie from Accounting's(TM) slick thingy(TM). Debbie grunted as Wilson's first thrust hit home.
"Hey!" yelped House. "Watch the teeth!"
"Sowwy, Dowwo How," giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM), her mouth never leaving Little Greggy.
"Ooh, that felt good," moaned House. "Wilson, make her giggle again. Tell her a joke or something."
"Kinda busy at this end," Wilson grunted, continuing to pump into Debbie from Accounting's(TM) thingy. The veins in his neck were popping out with his effort and increasing pleasure.
"Slow down there, Jimmy," House coached. "Don't pop your cork so soon."
"Why the hell not?" groaned Wilson?
"Aw we hawee sampawn?" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM). "Yow sawd 'cowk.'"
"You," House said, patting Debbie from Accounting's(TM) bobbing head to make sure she understood he was speaking to her, "No conversation, more giggling. And ease up on the vacuum just a bit. I don't want to pop yet, either."
More giggling. "Yow sawd 'pawp.'"
"Hush!" fussed House. "You," House pointed a finger at Wilson. "This"--he pointed to Debbie from Accounting's(TM) head and bottom--"is double entry transaction number one. I figure we need to try one more before we each make our 'deposit." House leered. "Prepare to temporarily disengage, Wilson."
Before Wilson could dismount, though, Debbie from Accounting(TM) began to climax. Her head lifted from Little Greggy and she bucked madly against Wilson,squeezing her thighs tightly together, holding Little Jimmy firmly in place. She giggled madly.
"House, I don't think I can last..." gasped Wilson.
"Think about something else," encouraged House. "Think about...oh, I dunno, Cuddy's breasts!"
Wilson's eyes popped open. "You're joking, right? Cuddy's breasts are fabulous--that's not going to help prolong the cork popping!"
The giggle got even louder. "You said..."
"Shut up!" said House and Wilson in chorus.
"Okay!" said House. "I've got it! Think about Vogler's breasts."
Wilson blinked, then made the "icky" face. "Yep. That did it. Thanks."
"No problem," said House. "Any chance of you pulling out anytime soon? She can go for awhile, can't she?"
"I think she's almost done for now," said Wilson, looking down at Debbie from Accounting's(TM). "It takes awhile. See, one of the writers owed her a favor..."
"Huh," said House. He tapped Debbie from Accounting(TM) on the shoulder. "You back among the living, Thingy(TM)?"
"Yessiree, Dr. House!" she giggled. She spread her feet again, allowing Wilson to dismount. The latex sheath glistened in the harsh exam room light.
Debbie from Accounting(TM) stepped back, letting her skirt fall back around her thighs. She looked from Wilson to House, then back again, a puzzled expression on her pretty, vacant face. "But Jimmy, Dr. House, you're both still..." She giggled. "...hard!"
"Excellent observational skills, sweetheart," smiled Wilson warmly.
"Oh, don't encourage her, Wilson," said House. "She's not hanging around long."
"You don't know that," scolded Wilson.
"Do so," said House smugly. "I'm a spoiler whore."
The giggle again. "Jimmy! He said..."
"I know, I know," said Wilson, patting Debbie from Accounting's(TM) shoulder. Let's see what he has in mind next. Your lunch break's nearly over, and Little Jimmy here is going to turn a lovely shade of blue if he doesn't get to..."
"...pop his cork?" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM).
"Yes," sighed Wilson. "And soon," he added, looking pointedly at House.
"Okay!" House clapped his hands. "Next entry!" He rubbed his hands lecherously. "Wilson! Condom, please."
Wilson dug in his pants pocket for a foil packet, which he tossed to House.
"And a new one for you," House directed.
"But this one is still intact," said Wilson, looking down at his shiny member.
"Ah but you'll be making a different entry in the ledger this time," House explained. "Don't want to introduce any possible nasties from the cooter into that other place. You know how the nasties thrive once they get in there." He leered at Debbie from Accounting (TM), who,
predictably (and irritatingly), giggled.
Wilson compliantly rolled off the condom, tossed it in the red hazardous waste bin, then opened another foil packet. In the meantime, House had Debbie from Accounting(TM) demonstrate her skill at applying a condom with only her mouth.
"Hey!" Wilson complained. "I didn't know she could do that!"
"The writers owed me a favor," grinned House.
Wilson shrugged. "Well, now that she's been given that talent..."
"You're welcome," said House. "Now, Wilson. I believe there's some KY in the GYN exam drawer."
"Yep," said Wilson, pulling a tube from the drawer.
"Thingy(TM)!"
"Present, Dr. House!" she giggled (of course...)
House scooted up to the edge of the table a bit. "Take off your skirt. It'll just get in the way."
Debbie from Accounting(TM) complied.
"Wilson!" House directed. "Help Thingy(TM) up here. She's going to mount me."
Debbie from Accounting(TM) giggled as Wilson helped her climb onto the table.
"Doesn't the giggling make you want to slap her, Wilson" asked House.
"Nah," said Wilson. "I think it's kinda cute." Debbie from Accounting(TM) wrapped her legs around House's hips. "Besides," added Wilson, thanks to my years of friendship with you, I've built up an incredibly high tolerance to annoying drivel. I can tune it in and out on a whim."
"Oh, nice, Wilson," snapped House. Wilson helped lower Debbie from Accounting(TM) onto House's cock. "Ohhh, nice, Wilson," moaned House.
"Yeah, well..." grinned Wilson. "Hey, how come I don't get to continue with that particular 'entry,' anyway? I did see her first."
"Variety is the spice of life," House smiled as Debbie from Accounting(TM) wriggled a bit, adjusting her position for maximum...uh, comfort. "And I'm obviously thicker than you..."
"Obvious to whom?" snarked Wilson.
"...so she'll be more comfortable with you handling the second entry. Now," House returned to his directing duties, "Can you do this standing on the floor, or do you need to get up on the step?"
Wilson looked down at Little Jimmy, then at Debbie from Accounting's(TM) luscious bottom, judging its distance from the floor.
"I think I'll be okay if you scoot up just a bit. If I have to get up on the step, my knees will be toast."
"Okay, Thingy(TM)," grinned House. "Hang on!"
"Okie dokie!" she giggled.
Wilson grabbed the blonde's hips and lifted her slightly as House scooted forward.
"Ooh!" she giggled.
"Hit your G-thingy, did I?" House's chest puffed out slightly.
"No, the writers didn't give me one," pouted Debbie from Accounting(TM). "It just tickled a little." She giggled.
"We'll talk to the writers for you," House said soothingly.
"Yeah, I think they owe you one--or three--after this episode," added Wilson.
"Thanks, guys!" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM).
"God, Wilson, can you lube up already? We need to get this over. I can't abide the giggling much longer!"
"Okie dokie," grinned Wilson. He squeezed the tube of KY, liberally applying the gel to the tip of his condom, then rubbing some gently around Debbie from Accounting's(TM) anus.
"Hey! That's cold!" she giggled.
"Sorry...forgot," said Wilson. Placing his hands on her hips, he said "Now, take a deep breath, and let it all out..."
"Jeez, Wilson, this isn't a real exam!" griped House.
"I get confused sometimes when I have sex in an exam room," explained Wilson. "Forgot which role I was playing there for a second."
"Slut," laughed House.
As House ogled her chest, Debbie from Accounting(TM) exhaled deeply. Wilson quickly entered her. She inhaled sharply and sat straight up.
"Owww!!!" she yelped.
"I knew I'd be too much for her," said House.
"Uh, she didn't yelp until I got in there," corrected Wilson.
"It's an awful lot at once," said Debbie, starting to giggle just a smidge. "I don't think I was written for this, but I know I can manage it. Give me a second, okay?"
"Poor thing," soothed Wilson, rubbing a soothing hand over her back, then a smooth, round cheek of her bottom. Looking at House, he said "We probably should've let the writers flesh her out a bit before we tried something like this. The double entry might be too much at once."
"Looks easy enough in the porn videos," House observed. "But those girls are a different kind of professional..."
Ignoring House, Wilson offered, "Two or three of the writers still owe me favors, one or two of the producers, too, if you wanna wait..."
"Hell, NO!" griped House. "I need to finish this. You, too. Remember? Poor, blue Little Jimmy?"
"It's okay," giggled Debbie from Accounting (TM). "I think I'm ready."
"Show time!" leered House. "Ready, Dr. Wilson?"
Wilson sighed. "Ready, Dr. House."
The doctors quickly found a compatible rhythm, and Debbie from Accounting(TM) bounced gleefully on their cocks.
House came first, throwing himself back on the exam table as he moaned, "Oh, damn, Thingy(TM)!" Debbie from Accounting(TM) was next, clamping her internal muscles around both doctors as she giggled in an octave usually only audible for dogs. Wilson was close on her heels, burying his face in the back of her neck and digging his fingers into her hips as he made one final thrust and found his release.
Wilson recovered his composure quickly. Rubbing Debbie from Accounting's(TM) bottom tenderly, he pulled out, then began to lift her from House's cock.
Suddenly, she slipped from Wilson's hands, and began flying around the room like a popped balloon.
House sat up quickly, his head following Debbie from Accounting(TM) as she floated to the floor.
"Wilson," said House, pointing to the floor. "We broke her!"
Putting his hands on his hips, Wilson stared. "I told you we should've let the writers flesh her out, but NO, you had to..."
His rant was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. Their heads both snapped toward the locked door.
"House! Wilson!"
"Uh-oh!" said House softly. "Mommy found us."
"And she sounds reeeally angry," added Wilson.
"House! Why is this door locked?" yelled Cuddy. "Wilson! What's House doing in there? Open the door!"
"Why does she assume it's me causing trouble?" whined House.
"Statistically speaking, it usually is you," Wilson replied matter-of-factly. "I'm the responsible one, remember? If I'm in here, I'm obviously trying to stop you from doing something bad."
"It never works," House said.
"Yes, but I still try. It's what I do," said Wilson, resigned to his fate.
"House! Wilson! Open this damned door!" She banged her fist twice for good measure.
"She's going to break a nail at that rate," said House.
"That's IT!" shrieked Cuddy. "I'm going to get the master key!"
"Uh, we'd better do something...and pronto," said Wilson.
"Yeah, Cuddy can move pretty fast in those come-fuck-me heels when she's mad."
"Dr. Cuddy?" giggled Debbie from Accounting(TM).
House's and Wilson's heads whipped around to the floor, where Debbie from Accounting (TM) was slowly re-inflating.
"Yes, that was Dr. Cuddy," said Wilson. He quickly rushed to Debbie from Accounting's(TM) side and knelt down to help her sit up.
"I like Dr. Cuddy!" she giggled.
"We like Dr. Cuddy, too..." Wilson began.
"I don't!" House added cheerily, rolling off his used condom.
Wilson turned to glare him. "...but she's going to be back here very soon, and we need to get ourselves cleaned up very quickly, because she's going to be very angry if she sees us all like this."
"But why?" Debbie from Accounting(TM) giggled.
"Oh, gaaaaah!" House exploded. "Wilson, we don't have time to explain this to her!" House grabbed his cane and lowered himself to the floor, grabbing at his underwear with his free hand.
"Debbie from Accounting(TM), c'mon," said Wilson, gently tugging at her elbow. We'll talk more about this later. We need to get you dressed and out of here before Dr. Cuddy gets back."
"But Dr. Cuddy won't mind," she giggled.
"Gah!" fumed House.
"Uh, I really think she will," said Wilson, helping the fully re-formed blonde to her feet.
"But Dr. Cuddy likes to play Double-Entry Bookkeeping, too!" giggled Debbie. "Maybe she'll want to play with you and me and Dr. House!"
Wilson dropped her arm. His jaw dropped. He heard House's jaw hit the floor a split second before his own crash-landed onto the linoleum. Wilson raised his eyebrows questioningly at the blonde.
"Yeah, Jimmy! Dr. Cuddy and Mr. Vogler invited me to play Double-Entry Bookkeeping with them just last week! She likes that game a lot. You should see what she keeps in the locked drawer in her desk." Debbie from Accounting(TM) blushed as she giggled. "It has straps and
everything!"
Wilson continued to stare. He heard House's lower jaw snap back into place behind him. His friend's triumphant laughter filled the room.
"I KNEW it!!" House bellowed. He gleefully pounded his cane into the floor.
Taking a few steps across the room, he clapped Wilson's shoulder. "Wilson, it's okay. Pick your jaw up off the floor. You're starting to drool. Then put Little Jimmy back in his cage."
Wilson blinked once. Then again.
"Thingy(TM)," House directed. "Put on your skirt. Where are your panties?"
"I didn't wear any today, Dr. House," she giggled. I never do on the days I have a lunchtime exam with Jimmy!" She bent over to pick up her skirt. House leered.
"There's a shocker," said House. "Wilson! Snap out of it already!"
Wilson blinked again. He shook his head, his jaw flapping back into place like a window blind that had been yanked too quickly. He took a deep breath, then reached down to attend to Little Jimmy.
"Thingy?" asked House.
"Yes, Dr. House?"
"When you played Double-Entry Bookkeeping with Dr. Cuddy and Mr. Vogler, did you go..." He gestured in the air with his index finger. "...pffft?"
"Oh, no Dr. House!" she giggled.
"Odd..." said House.
"Not really," said Debbie from Accounting(TM). "See, Little Eddie is reeeealllly little. Hardly worth entering in the ledger at all..."
"House, I swear to God..." Cuddy raged from the hallway.
House threw back his head and laughed. "I KNEW it!"
He turned his gaze to Wilson, who still looked mildly stunned. "You okay?" House asked his friend.
The door opened before Wilson could answer.
Debbie from Accounting(TM) giggled as she waved at the hospital's chief of staff. "Hi, Dr. Cuddy! See you and Mr. Vogler tomorrow at 3 for Double-Entry Bookkeeping!" She sashayed past the stunned administrator as House snorted. Cuddy turned to grimace at House and Wilson.
"My office. In one hour. And then we'll never speak of this again." She clicked away on her stiletto heels, turning after a few paces to yell "NEVER!" over her shoulder.
House clapped Wilson's shoulder again. "You okay?"
Wilson grinned and nodded at his friend. "Got any plans for tonight?"
House looked surprised. "Up for a repeat performance so soon?"
"I need to recover from the shock first," Wilson admitted. "Actually, I was thinking we need to take the writers out for some serious drinking tonight."
"Good idea," House agreed. "You're buying."
"I know," sighed Wilson. "It's what I do."
fin