A/N: I know I have an unfinished story from forever ago but this little thing got stuck in my head while I was driving on a long trip.... you know how that goes...
….......
The smell of the stuff wasn't so bad, really. Not too girly.
Even so, House rolled his eyes at his own reflection as he scrubbed at his lips with a forefinger. The white paste was grainy, a little more so than toothpaste, and he could taste that this texture came from ground-up salt. "Dead Sea salt," the saleswoman had specifically informed him, as if salt from the Dead Sea were some kind of long-kept beauty secret.
Maybe it was. He didn't know and would never admit it even if he did.
He only cared that it worked, and that it smelled like cypress and patchouli rather than roses or strawberries or lilacs or whatever. Rinsing the stuff from his mouth, he noted with satisfaction how smooth the skin had become. Almost a little raw, since he'd been exfoliating twice a day for the last couple of months.
"Exfoliating." I just thought the word "exfoliating." I am officially a woman. Yet, the second little glass container still somehow found its way into his hand. He refused to look at it, instead regarding himself in the mirror once more. Am I really doing this? Absently, he picked a bit of the paste out of his beard where he had missed a spot in the rinsing.
Apparently he was really doing it, because somehow the lid was off the jar and the transparent goop on his finger, ready for application. House brought his finger and thumb together, considering why he couldn't feel the same effect on his fingers as he was about to feel on his lips. Because lips are a mucous membrane.
He rubbed it in well and couldn't suppress a smile at its effect. "This will plump up your lips," the straight-laced saleswoman had explained.
"Will it work anywhere else on my body?"
Well, he wouldn't be going back to that store.
Whether there was any actual visual effect, he didn't know, but he was man enough to admit to himself that he liked the way the stuff felt. Not a tingle so much as a buzz, a deep sort of hum, that made one hyper-aware of one's mouth. It made you pout. It made you feel like you wanted to press your lips against someone else's just to share the sensation. He'd been trying to piss off the prudish saleslady, but he was genuinely curious as to what sort of effect the stuff might have on other parts of one's anatomy. Especially transferred from his lips to a certain woman's--
"House!" He started forward, nearly stumbling against the counter as Wilson's voice nagged at him from the next room. "We're going to be late!"
"Just a minute, sweetie! I'm almost done putting on my face!" House pressed his lips together. The buzz from the plumper intensified as he hurriedly replaced the lid on the little jar.
"I have an appointment at nine." Now Wilson's voice was right outside the door. Good thing it was locked. Awkwardly, House knelt beside the sink and opened the cabinet. The inside was dusty, filled with cleaning products and probably a fair measure of mold if you looked closely enough. He grabbed the two glass containers and dropped them into the tube of a half-used roll of toilet paper, way back in the far corner of the cabinet, behind the copper pipes and the plunger.
"Sorry," he said in mock apology as he limped out of the bathroom. "It takes time to look this beautiful."
"What were you doing in there, anyway?" Wilson asked irritably.
"Masturbating."
"No you weren't. You were in there way too long."
"Oh, ha ha." House pulled on his coat and gestured impatiently at the door. "Well? Do you want to stand here and discuss my sex life or do you want to get to your meeting on time?"
"I don't think your right hand counts as part of your sex life," the younger man answered.
"Does your mom count?"
When Wilson huffed and turned to open the door, House's fingers unconsciously pressed at his still-buzzing mouth. The lips were silky smooth, but the fingertips calloused.
This would not do. He resolved to go shopping for hand cream after work.
Because the next time he got the chance to kiss her, he'd be prepared.