A/N: Warning! This chapter includes one of the creepiest scenes I've ever written. Not graphic or gross, but creepy. And if you don't know who Joe Penny is you should Google his image. That's some serious 80's hotness!
Chapter 4 – Post Joe Penny Drunken Orgasm
House woke up at 4 in pain. Post Joe Penny drunken orgasm he'd fallen asleep and contorted his leg into a position that would have hurt a healthy limb. Ninety continuous minutes of sleep was a rarity for him. He'd have to remember the Kentucky Bourbon/Joe Penny combo. He grabbed the pill bottle by the bed and rattled it. It sounded like two. He opened it. Two. He popped the pills. The movement of throwing his head back made his head spin. House was pleasantly surprised at how buzzed he still was. He'd feel like crap in a few hours, but right now it was only his leg.
A few minutes later it was his bladder. Could he wait it out? If he got up he could find another Vicodin and chase it down with a little more whiskey. He couldn't fault his logic. He slowly made his way to the bathroom.
From the bathroom to the living room without his cane was slow going sober. Drunk and a little stoned it took a lifetime. His uneven footfalls echoed off the bare wood. Maybe Wilson was right. Maybe he should give PT another try. He smiled to himself. Wilson being right about something! Those were the kind of things he thought in the middle of the night when he was that special level of drunk where he wasn't himself, but hadn't gone to a darker place.
The glare of the muted television illuminated the pill bottle on the coffee table like House's personal religious vision.
"Daddy's coming for you."
He stopped cold. It was the slight snoring of Wilson. Looking closer, Wilson was on one end of the couch and Curt on the other. Apparently the taxi never came.
He picked up the bottle of bourbon. It was empty. So they'd stayed up, drank him out of house and home, then fallen fast asleep looking like little angels. One glass on the table had a finger's worth of booze left. House picked it up and swigged it down. He put the glass on the table hard hoping the sound would wake them so he could belittle them about holding their drink. They didn't stir. House made an unbalanced turn and headed towards the kitchen.
He grabbed a piece of cold pizza. It didn't matter if it was late/early and he wasn't hungry. He had to eat when he could in case he wasn't allowed to eat a meal.
Oh no, House thought. Stay away from the dark.
He sat the pizza down to open the pill bottle. He only took one pill. He let his head hang back and imagined the path the pill was taking. He'd be numb again soon. He didn't move. He wanted to hold on to that moment.
He was startled out of his meditation by a hand on his back.
"Wilson," he said turning towards the hand. The hand didn't move so it came to rest low at his waist.
"No, it's Curt. James is asleep," Curt whispered. He knew seduction was a perfect way to get closer to House and clearly that was the game House wanted to play. Then again, maybe his power was an aphrodisiac. As if he wasn't close enough, he moved in closer.
"Are you okay, Greg? Is it your leg?" His hand remained lightly on House's waist. He put his free hand on House's chest. "I didn't mean to scare you again." Curt was the one with the elevated pulse.
House reasoned he must be dreaming. Nobody touched him. Even so, he was suddenly aware he was under dressed in his worn boxers and thread bare t-shirt.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Even in his altered state House thought of a dozen vulgar answers to that question. Instead he shook his head. No need to be rude to a figment. Certainly no reason to feel practically naked in front of one.
"I was going to get a drink." House turned back to the cabinet. The hand on his waist stayed almost in place and was now lightly touching the top of his hip on the other side. At the same time the hand on his chest skimmed down and came to rest on the top of his other hip.
Curt restrained himself from gripping House. He continued his torturous, feather like touch.
House ignored the urge to lean back into Curt. This might only be a dream, but even his subconscious mind had more sense than to get involved with Wilson's new little buddy. House decided the too light touch was maddening instead of sensual. He was going to stick to that story.
House lifted his right arm to open a cabinet. The hand on that hip ghosted up to his ribs then back down to slightly below where it had been. This was either a dream or a set up to some unpleasantness. He probably wanted to cry to Wilson how the big bad Dr. House tried to touch him in his naughty places.
"Here. Let me get that," Curt whispered millimeters from House's ear. Curt reached up with his left hand to a bottle of brown liquor near the front of the cabinet. His right hand floated down and barely hovered over House's right buttock. House stopped himself from groaning, but couldn't keep his cock from twitching.
Curt moved his hand to open the bottle. House had mixed feeling about that. A pleasant fog was beginning to cover his brain. He wondered what he could get away with before Curt called for Daddy Wilson.
"Where are your glasses?" House's first thought was his reading glasses. He didn't need them to drink. Then he realized Curt meant drinking glasses. He smiled at his own confusion. Curt, who couldn't possibly know why House was smiling, smiled back.
Sycophant, House thought. He could live with that. If this isn't a dream, Curt must need something from him like a recommendation or a second department head to hang in his den. House took the bottle from him and took a swig straight from it. Curt's smile widened. He took the bottle and swallowed a longer drink. House grabbed the bottle back and murmured something about 'monkey see, monkey do'. He took a large gulp and handed the bottle to Curt. He took a sip and put the bottle down.
"You win. I've had more than enough to drink." Curt marveled at how much energy flowed around House even when he was drunk. He wanted to lean in closer and kiss him, taste the power. With difficulty he reminded himself that getting closer to House didn't mean groping him in the kitchen while Wilson slept a few yards away. That was hot, but ultimately meaningless. He needed House to trust him, to let him in on his secrets. He'd show House he was interested in all aspects of the man. There would be plenty of time later to consummate their union.
House smirked. Of course he won. He turned to gloat and knocked the bottle over. Curt jumped into action. He up righted the bottle, but not before some of the precious booze spilled onto the counter. He grabbed a stack of fast food napkins from House's prize collection and sopped up the mess.
"Sorry 'bout that. You've got great reflexes." Curt smiled. A compliment! "'specially for a drunk guy." House picked up the bottle and took another swig. Even in his altered state House could see inside him and tell he wasn't as drunk as he pretended! That must mean, Curt reasoned, that House wasn't either.
House moved to leave, glowing in his cleverness. His leg didn't move with him. Curt, with his great reflexes, caught him and stopped him from falling. House grabbed on to him for balance. His self satisfied grin turned to a self deprecating sneer. Great exit ruined. Stupid leg.
Curt made sure House was steady before leaning over and kissing his temple.
"Everything's alright," he whispered. House was glad he'd rubbed one out to Joe Penny saying those words not long ago or he would be giving Curt something to run to Wilson about. House looked at Curt quizzically. He wasn't sure how flirting with him would help Curt get into Wilson's Dockers, but he'd figure it out. Even if it meant going out in public with them.
"Nighty-night," House said limping away, waving off Curt's assistance. He was going back to bed and in the morning he wouldn't wake up and in the afternoon he would wake up with his houseguests dim dream-like memories.
House woke up every hour or so, but slept enough to have vivid, Technicolor, crazy dreams. He had one where he was examining a giraffe in the clinic who insisted he had TB. In another, he watched Wilson fighting with his father until they merged into one person. He even dreamed he was in his kitchen when that Curt guy had gotten friendly with him in a vaguely sexual, creepy way. He didn't remember the others, but he was sure he had them. He wished he remembered a Joe Penny dream, which he was sure would be more than vaguely sexual in a very erotic way, but he didn't. All in all, they hadn't been bad dreams. There were a lot of nights he couldn't get back to sleep after some gruesome nightmare. He'd choose a giraffe, WilDad, and what's-his-name in his kitchen over one of those terrors anytime.
House finally gave up trying to get back to sleep around 1. It was after noon. He'd managed to sleep more than usual. He actually felt pretty good. Maybe he'd get up, put on some coffee, take a shower and even leave the house on a Saturday. He was hungry. Cold, stale pizza didn't sound appealing sober. Maybe a trip to that new Italian place was in order. Well, it wasn't really new. It had been there a few months, but it was new to him. Plan forming in House's mind, he stumbled to the bathroom. His planning was sidetracked when he couldn't find his toothbrush. How drunk had he been? He had a few more he'd snagged from the hospital, but that was weird. Then again, he once lost a chair while on a bender and he'd never figured that one out either.
Distracted by dental hygiene and walking he didn't notice the sound immediately. The living room had been cleaned - an advantage to letting a guilty Wilson sleep over. He heard the sound again. Was it an intermittent leaf blower? That seemed unnecessary on so many levels House thought it was pretty likely one of his stupid neighbors was using one to blow grass off the 5 square feet of ground in front of the building. He was at the kitchen before he heard the voices.
"...sleeping...bedroom...mess, but House..." That was definitely Wilson. He'd better be on the phone. House entered the kitchen.
"There's our sleepy head!" Curt. House closed his eyes, counted to magic seven and opened his eyes. Curt was still there. Wilson was still there.
"Are you okay, House?" He was, but he wondered how long that would be true for them.
"Fine. When did you get here?" Wilson pulsed the coffee grinder again. At least they were making coffee. A little caffeine would be nice before he killed them.
"We got here around, I don't know. What time was it, Curt?"
"I think it was a little before 2, but I wouldn't bet on it." Curt was glad he had an answer when Wilson had failed.
"It's a little before 2 now and that skillet belies a longer visit."
"Two last night. House, don't you remember us coming over last night?"
"You've been here all night? Did you forget how to use door knobs? I would have thought Curt was a real hand at knobs. Here. I'll demonstrate." Wilson ignored him in favor of putting rice on a plate.
"You'll be glad when you taste this amazing lunch we made." Wilson gave House his 'I dare you to hate it' face. He hoped House would be nicer with Curt here, but he was aware of the new audience factor. He had also hoped House would give Curt the benefit of the doubt since he had vouched for him. Next time they were alone he'd make it clear to House he intended to be friends with both of them and since Curt was willing to share, House should be grateful.
"As it happens, I'm having a late lunch at ..." He struggled for the name. "...Cacciatore...Cannelloni...that Italian place over on ..." House searched for the name of the street. He drove it on his motorcycle all the time, but never paid attention to the signs. Or speed limits.
"Cavelli's on Thorndike?" Wilson was pretty sure that was what House meant.
"Yeah, Cavelli's. I haven't been there since they opened." Curt marveled at how Wilson had read House's mind. He wanted that kind of telepathic connection with him. He needed it.
"Didn't that place burn down?" Curt wondered if House was trying to subtly admit to playing a hand in the fire. He wouldn't be surprised if he could make things combust by staring at them.
"Yeah, three weeks ago. That's what you get for procrastinating. You're having Mexican." Wilson waved a plate under House's nose. It did smell good.
"Since it's here I guess so." He took the plate. It looked good even by Wilson's standards. And those tamales looked like...like they didn't come from his kitchen. "Did you guys have this delivered or something? I know I don't have fresh anything in my kitchen." He was suspicious of the only Mexican place that delivered to his neighborhood. None of the employees were fluent in Spanish. Very suspicious.
"Curt went shopping." Wilson handed House a fork. House felt like he was being pushed or bullied into eating it. What was their game?
Wilson wanted House to eat and enjoy the meal not only because he always wanted House to eat home cooked meals and enjoy them, but because he thought food was a great way to re-introduce him to Curt.
Curt wanted House to take his offering and be pleased. He realized looking through the pantry and refrigerator House was too busy with more important, less mortal concerns than food. No wonder he kept Wilson around. His human form needed things he often overlooked. Curt could look after all his physical needs for him.
House took a bite of rice. It was good. He didn't feel like he'd been poisoned, didn't feel any after effects. He turned to take it to the couch.
"Ah...House?" Wilson didn't want to bring it up, but House seemed oblivious and Curt had clearly been too polite to say anything. "Shouldn't you get dressed for lunch?"
House looked down - stained shirt and worn boxers. He remembered his dream that seemed less dreamlike from the night before. At least they covered his scar.
"Ah...Wilson, you weren't invited for lunch. I had planned on coffee to wake up, shower to clean up, then clothes to dress up. Telling me I'm underdressed to be in my own home is bringing me down." He wasn't going to change to spite them even if he did miss his three layers of cloth armor.
"I don't mind seeing you naked, but you do have company," Wilson said gesturing at Curt.
"Don't mind? Because I could take..." Wilson interrupted him.
"Don't start! I mean I've seen you naked and while it's uncomfortable I'm used to your attention seeking behavior, but you might not want to bust that out in front of company."
"He saw me like this last night and didn't jump out of the window screaming." House finally addressed Curt. "Does it freak you out that I walk around in underwear when I wake up and think nobody is here?" Curt was beet red. He tried to think of something that wouldn't sound like he wanted to see him naked while making it clear he wanted to see him naked. Wilson, who was becoming a nuisance to Curt with his interference, spoke first.
"Of course he's freaked out! He barely knows you and you're running around half naked. Are you doing this just to mess with him?" He turned to Curt. "House isn't used to guests. I'm sorry if he scared you last night or anything." He shot a look at House.
"No! No, we had a little chit chat in the kitchen and a little drink. It's Greg's place. If he wants to be all naked it's up to him. Half naked he's just a tease." Curt immediately thought he shouldn't have said that.
"See? I haven't caused any irreparable damage. I didn't molest him. I didn't scare him. It's not like I burst into his home unannounced or sneaked up behind him in the kitchen." Wilson knew what that tone meant. It meant he'd hurt House's feelings and House would never admit it, but if he didn't apologize House would sulk until he forgot he was upset. Luckily House never seemed to care if it was a sincere apology.
"I'm sorry if we scared you last night."
"I wasn't scared. I was startled."
"Fine. Startled. And I don't remember sneaking around behind you."
"That was me. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm pretty sure you know that wasn't my intention."
Curt smiled at House and Wilson thought he spied a gleam in Curt's eyes. Oh no, no, no, Wilson panicked. He should have warned him not to try that cute flirty thing on House. He'd warned him about a lot of the things House might say or do, but he didn't warn Curt what not to do. After explaining House wasn't Yogi he didn't think he needed to warn Curt to not poke the bear. Wilson worried more when he saw House lick his fork. House playing along might be fun to watch, from a distance, but it usually resulted in a dramatic end to the game and metaphoric or literal bloodshed.
"I thought your intentions seemed pretty friendly."
Not good, Wilson thought. At least House wasn't giving Curt 'the look' and slightly raising an eyebrow while wearing a lopsided smile…and then there was 'the look'. Had he warned Curt that House took innocent flirting as an invitation to not so innocent innuendo that would inevitably lead to lewd advances?
"That's me – pretty and friendly."
"So House," Wilson quickly cut in, "why don't you get dressed and I'll make some coffee." Please, please, please, please…
"I'm going to eat lunch, watch some tv, wait for coffee and then I'll take a shower and then I'll put on some clothes. I expect you and pretty boy to leave at some point in that sequence." House took his plate to the couch and picked up the remote. He'd ignore them until they leave.
Wilson dragged Curt back as far away from the living room as they could get and pulled him down to the floor. He didn't want House to hear or see them. He knew House would know they were talking, but he'd prefer House not to have confirmation.
"Ok, be quiet. He can hear Cuddy get a run in her pantyhose from here."
Of course he can! He's the great Gregory House! Curt didn't understand how Wilson took his powers for granted.
"I should have told you. Flirting with House is dangerous." Curt understood Wilson's jealousy.
"It's fun. I think he likes the attention." Wilson gestured for Curt to whisper quieter. "He flirts with you."
"He doesn't like the attention; he loves it. That's the problem. We've known each other long enough for him to know the boundaries. He gets off on pushing the boundaries, but I know he'll never do anything. I can't say the same for you. He'll keep pushing and when you tell him he's gone too far he'll take that as a challenge to go farther. You have no idea the lengths he'll go to." Wilson was worried Curt wasn't getting his point.
"I think I know how to handle it." And he did want to handle it.
"Trust me. Even knowing me as long as he has and knowing I'm straight sometimes he goes too far to see me freak out."
"Like what did he do?" Curt was getting excited. Not only was he getting more personal information, he was getting sexual information.
"Like putting his hand on my knee and magically moving it to the inside of my thigh. Like kissing my neck. Once when we'd only known each other a year or so he…" Wilson lowered his voice even more and double checked House wasn't standing behind them. "He told me how hot I was and how he wanted me all the time and wanted to take me right there, right then. We were both a little drunk and I thought it's only talking. House wants to shock me. I didn't make that boundary clear.
"He pushed me over on the couch. Before I knew what was happening he was kissing me, licking my lips. He had one hand holding me down and the other pulling up my shirt. I was frozen. He was rubbing against me and suddenly he had my shirt up and started … licking and … sucking my … nipple. I snapped out of it and pushed him off me. He promised never to do it again and he hasn't been as aggressive as that since. It was scary."
Wilson looked a little panicked simply recounting the story. Curt tried not to look incredibly turned on.
"Was it scary because you didn't want him to stop?" Wilson did not want to think about that. He didn't answer.
"My point is he has poor impulse control. I don't want you to stop hanging out with us because he groped you."
"What if I don't mind him groping me?" Curt enjoyed the shocked look on Wilson's face. He understood why House worked to bring it out in him.
"It's not a joke, Curt. Not to us anyway. If he thinks you aren't playing around, he'll take that as permission to pursue you. Trust me. Being one of his obsessions isn't as fun it looks."
"Don't worry, James. I know my way around men. Greg is an aggressor. If he finds someone more aggressive he'll back down." Wilson shook his head.
"No, he'll just escalate."
"It sounds like you have him all figured out." Curt knew Wilson didn't.
"Oh no! There is no figuring out House. He's dramatically unpredictable. I thought he'd throw us both out last night. Instead he invited us to watch television. I don't know what you two 'chit chatted' about last night, but I'm amazed you're still alive."
"It's private."
"Private?" Wilson said it louder than he meant to. He looked around for House.
"Yeah, private. We talked a little, drank a little."
"That explains a lot. I think he's been looking for somebody who could keep up with his drinking. I just don't want…"
"Coffee," House yelled from the living room.
"On its way," Wilson yelled back. "Just don't antagonize him," Wilson whispered. He wondered if Curt had any idea what he was getting into and if House would leave enough of him to return to his family for burial.
Curt handed House a cup of coffee. He was irked it was exactly like he liked it. Curt didn't notice the ire. He sat down next to House, too close. House was beginning to wonder if Curt had no idea about personal space. Pot, kettle, black – he'd let it go for now. He hadn't solved what Curt was up to. House knew it was something. He could tell a schemer when he saw one. Again, pot, kettle, black. He wasn't about to let some smooth talking pretty boy con Wilson. He'd get to the bottom of it.
"What are we watching?" Curt was watching House.
"I'm watching an inaction movie. It's a remake of another boring movie. Where's Wilson?"
"Kitchen." House acknowledged it with a grunt. Curt inched closer. House was intent on not looking at him. "He's cleaning up from me cooking. I'm good, but I'm messy." Why wouldn't House look at him? He pulled his legs up under him and made his staring more obvious by not facing the television at all.
"Then shouldn't you help him clean?" With his peripheral vision House could see Curt move even closer. It was worse than last night. Last night they were both drunk.
"He said it would be faster with me out of the way." Curt leaned into House. "I thought I might be of more service out here."
Don't react, House. He's testing you. He's waiting for you to do something worth crying to Wilson about. Maybe he thinks Wilson will comfort him over how the big, bad man treated him.
"Shouldn't you run along home? Does your mother know you stayed out all night?"
"I already went home and picked up my car and changed before going grocery shopping. I took a long, soapy shower." Curt put an arm around House's shoulders. "I could demonstrate my technique on you. Wasn't a shower on your to do list?"
House was so tempted. He knew exactly what he'd do to wipe that smile off Curt's face. Best not to think about that, House forced himself to think. He wasn't going to think about shoving his dick…no, don't think about it.
"I don't need a demo. When are you two leaving? Don't you have some gay, disco golf planned?" Curt chuckled next to House's ear. He felt his breath. Do not say something about a hole-in-one. Don't do it, House.
"Wilson needs to go home and get ready for our big night out. I thought I'd stay here and hang out with you." House had to look at Curt for that.
"If you two are going out again tonight, you should go with Wilson to get ready. Keeping me company isn't a good use of your time."
"It's going to be a ton of fun," Curt said ignoring House's attempt to shrug him off. "A boys night out is just what the doctor ordered and by doctor I mean Dr. Wilson." It all came back to House – wings, beer, boobs. He'd rather be left behind. He turned back to the television and wished his attention would follow his eyes.
"I'll pass. I'm going to catalog my porn tonight. I think I'll cross reference the different acts with my personal rating system based on difficulty, performance, and lighting. Lighting is the key."
"After dinner I'll help you sort. We'll have to watch quite a bit for me to get the feel of your system." God, Curt wanted to do to House what Wilson said House did to him.
"Wilson is going to look out of the kitchen any minute and I don't think it fits into your plans for him to see you sitting so close to me." Curt backed off and turned his attention to the TV. As if he had commanded it, and Curt was sure he had, Wilson came out of the kitchen.
"The dishes are done except your plate. I've put the leftovers in the fridge with notes telling you how to reheat them. I'm guessing you'll eat them cold, but I feel better knowing you didn't have to."
"Swell. Shouldn't you two scurry off now?" House turned to Wilson making his barely contained displeasure obvious. He wanted to throw Curt out (or throw him down), but he needed to make the effort to show Wilson he understood he needed other friends even if he didn't.
"Yeah, we probably should. We'll be back to pick you up at 6."
"As I was just telling Curtis I have other plans for this evening."
"No, House, you don't. You're going to wear something clean, comb your hair, and be ready at 6. It'll be fun. Come on, Curt. Let's leave the mad scientist to bring himself back to life." Curt hesitated, but decided it was too soon. He could tell House still didn't trust him. Sex he could get anywhere. Curt needed to prove to him they had a deeper connection.
"Do we need to power up the Tesla coil before we go," Curt playfully asked standing up and walking to Wilson.
"Nah. House has minions to do the manual labor." Curt smiled at his promotion to Wilson's level.
"Six o'clock, House. Be ready or we'll drag you out as you are," Wilson threatened. House nodded unenthusiastically. He didn't move until he heard the door close. When he did he jumped up and locked the door and fastened the chain. He didn't need any more uninvited visitors.