By Lady Mac
A/N: My first HOUSE, M.D. fic! Just a bit of drabble, rating for mild language, innuendo, and GHEY.
Disclaimer: HOUSE, M.D. and everything associated with it is property of FOX, also I make no money on this.
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Dr. Gregory House idly studied the CT image on his computer screen as he turned over his bottle of Vicodin again and again. The six tablets made a satisfying clatter every time, and he half wished one of his team was there to be annoyed. Or, even better, Cuddy. He didn't know if it was one of her buttons, but he made a mental note to try pushing it later.
There was a soft tap at the door and Wilson stepped into the office. "You paged?"
House looked up. "What? Me page you? Unthinkable."
Wilson stepped to the side of the desk and crossed his arms. "Can we skip the witty banter? Chase is alone in the clinic with a set of four-year-old triplets."
"Fine, Dr. Sourpuss." Wilson's tie had huge parrots on it, and House let himself stare a moment longer than necessary. "I needed an oncologist's opinion on this case." He nodded at his computer.
Wilson leaned over the desk, close enough that House could smell the light scent of shaving cream that still lingered on his face and neck. He took a secret pleasure in it, and allowed a small smile.
"What the hell is this?" Wilson said, focusing on the screen. "There's no way anyone in this hospital has a tumor that big."
"Are you sure?"
Wilson shot his friend an exasperated look. "No one here would doubt for a moment that this is cancer, in which case the patient would already be under my care. And he's not. Where'd you find this?"
"Medical oddities dot net. Have to keep the team busy."
"Cute. What do you really want?"
"You seem frustrated, Jimmy." He shook his pills for punctuation. "Is something wrong in your personal life? Ex-wives not putting out?"
He turned to go. "House, I don't have ti--"
House's hand shot out and grabbed the horrible parrot tie, pulling the other man's face down to within inches of his own.
For a very long moment the only sound in the room was the two doctors' heavy breathing as they stared at each other. The air seemed electric between them, pulsing with potential energy, the distance at once too close and not close enough.
House finally broke the silence. "Jim, I--"
"Greg--"
Suddenly the distance closed and their lips pressed feverishly together. But the moment ended nearly as soon as it began. They jerked apart, and the tie freed itself from House's grip.
"I -- I have to ... clinic," Wilson stammered, and hurried out of the office.
For a while House didn't move, and when he did, it was to relax the death grip on his pills. He had enjoyed Wilson's touch far more than he would have guessed, had the notion ever crossed his mind, and he found himself searching for an excuse to see his friend alone at the earliest occasion. Would that evening be too soon to ask him over for Chinese takeout and "Lethal Weapon IV"? Pizza and football? Would it actually be pizza and football? How would Wilson react if it wasn't? Or even if it was?
His pager went off. Cuddy. With a quick glance at his lap, he decided she could wait a few minutes while he looked up some pictures of really ugly people.
-FIN-