„Wilson!" House's voice rang through the apartment and Wilson found himself marveling again, at how House could sound questioning and threatening at the same time.
„What?" he yelled back, trying to sound busy. It didn't really work.
„Where's my pink shirt?"
'Ahhh', Wilson thought, 'he's finally noticed.' Out loud he said „Which pink shirt?" Feigning innocence, he ambled into the bedroom.
„Duh, I only have one pink shirt. MY pink shirt, and I can't find it. Where is it?" House stopped rummaging through his drawers and glared at his friend.
Wilson shrugged, holding his palms up. „Why am I supposed to know, where your shirt is?" House just kept looking at him. Wilson shrugged again. „I haven't seen that ugly thing in ages." That wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't a lie either. Wilson knew very well, what had happened to the piece in question. He had taken it onto himself to make sure, it would never disfigure House's body again.
House kept glaring at Wilson, as if he was trying to make the shirt appear from behind Wilson's ear.
„You always do the laundry, and I distinctly remember putting the shirt in the basket, the last time I wore it. Ergo, you must have been the last person to have seen it."
„Are you sure about the basket. Because you always leave your stuff lying around everwhere. Which forces me to run around the apartment, collecting it all in, when I want to do the laundry." Wilson tried to sound hurt.
„Don't change the topic! I want my shirt!" House pouted.
Wilson folded his arms and stared pointedly at his lover. „Why do you want to wear it anyway. It's ugly and... gay..."
„But I am gay." House pointed out. „And so are you!" He jabbed his finger at Wilson.
Wilson, sighed inwardly, he'd managed to change the topic, but he hated this discussion. „Yes, I am aware of that fact, but that doesn't mean I have to walk around in rainbow-coloured trousers."
„Well, maybe you should. It would make a nice change." House retorted and grabbed one of his blue shirts, while giving his impeccably dressed friend a disaproving stare.
„I can't force you to dress reasonably, but that doesn't mean I have to succumb to your level, just because I'm your boyfriend."
„Ouch!" House mocked him. „The advantage of my style, though, is that people won't notice if I've just had an office-nookie..." House smirked.
Wilson's cheeks flushed. He remembered the occasion House was refering to. Cuddy had walked into his office, shortly after House had left it through the balcony door. Wilson had been trying to straighten his shirt and putting his tie back on at the same time. Cuddy had stopped in the doorway and given him a glare. „I thought I'd told you, no sex at work!" Wilson had looked up flabbergasted, but he'd felt too guilty to be able to defend himself properly. He'd adamantly refused to have any more office-sex afterwards.
„I'm going to work." Wilson said and turned around to leave the bedroom.
„Don't you think I've forgotten about my shirt!" House yelled after him.
Wilson stopped in the doorway and said without turning around. „If you do, I might rethink that no-sex-in-the-office-rule..." Then he left. He hoped with all his heart, that House would have forgotten about the shirt by the time he arived at work. Or at least, that his last statement might get House to consider the possibility of sacrificing a shirt for more work-related making-out.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
House didn't mention his shirt again and Wilson thought he might be lucky enough to get off easy for once.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
That night, Wilson was sitting naked at the top end of the bed with House lying between his legs, sucking him. It had been House's suggestion and Wilson, though surprised at the gesture, had readily agreed. It wasn't every day that House offered to blow him. Usually Wilson had to promise him pancakes for breakfast, to get him to grumpily agree to it.
Wilson should have known, it was too good to be true. But then, he'd always believed in the good in people.
House was sucking him like only he could. There was something about the way he used his tongue that made Wilson go almost crazy. He banged his head against the wall behind him, moaning, trying to delay the final moment for as long as possible.
Then, suddenly, House stopped. Wilson let out a frustrated groan and reached for House's head, trying to get him to continue, but House resisted. He looked at Wilson with a wicked grin on his face.
„Sooo, where's my shirt?"
„What?" Wilson groaned. He must have misheard, surely House wouldn't bring this up again right now. „Keep going." Wilson aimed for commanding, but ended up at pleading.
„Nor before you tell me, what happened to my shirt." House achieved commanding without even trying.
When Wilson didn't answer, he lazily ran his fingers over the length of Wilson's cock. Wilson whimpered. House grinned, he knew he'd get what he wanted. Wilson always gave in, especially when he was threatened with being denied something he really, really wanted.
„I... I ..." Wilson faltered. House licked the head of Wilson's cock encouragingly.
„I... cut it into pieces and used it to clean the apartment during the two days you spent at that conference in Philly, last month." Wilson mumbled so fast, it was almost impossible to understand what he was saying.
But House understood. He stared at Wilson, his expression unreadable. Wilson stared back at him, sure that he wouldn't be getting any more sucking today, maybe not forever. He cursed himself for caving in. In a second or two House would push himself up and they would probably end up fighting half the night...
House shifted his position, then he lowered his head again and resumed sucking Wilson. Wilson was so surprised by this, that he came almost immediatly.
Afterwards House rolled over, facing away from Wilson and didn't say another word. Wilson felt both guilty and satisfied at the same time, a strange mixture. It took him a long time to fall asleep.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
They next morning House acted as if nothing had happened. Wilson wondered if he should bring the subject of the shirt up again, but he was so glad, that they hadn't had a fight, that he left it be. Maybe House wasn't actually mad at him for destroying his shirt... Maybe Wilson would buy him another one of those damned things for Christmas... Maybe they could just forget the whole thing... He pushed the thoughts away.
That evening Wilson came home to find House in the bedroom, folding clothes. It was the oddest thing Wilson had ever seen. House never did anything remotely connected to laundry. The moment he saw what House was doing, Wilson got suspicious. He stepped closer and looked at the things on the bed.
There they were: Wilson's shirts. Wilson's socks. Wilson's underwear. Wilson's... everything white... But now... Wilson blinked, then stared... then stared at House. House stared back, his eyes glinting.
„Hey honey. I did the laundry today. Unfortunatly I forgot one of my red socks in the machine..." House sounded almost sincere, almost apologetic, but Wilson knew better.
„You... you... you dyed my clothes!" Wilson breathed. „It's all pink!"
„Uhhmm... sorry."
„No you're not, you did it on purpose. To get back at me for destroying your shirt. You mean... evil..." Wilson grabbed one of his shirts and shook it in House's face.
„I think it's nice. Try it on, maybe pink suits you." House grinned.
Wilson looked at his clothes. „It's all pink!" he said again. He thought about the next day, he couldn't possibly wear any of this to work. His hand went to the back of his neck and started massaging. All his stuff was pink. He hated pink. He looked at House again. House was still grinning cockily, but Wilson could also detect a glint of apprehension in House's eyes.
Wilson imagined how he would look like, wearing a pink shirt, with pink socks to work and suddenly he started to laugh.
„Here!" He thrust the pink shirt, he was holding, into House's hand. „To make up for the one you lost. And I promise you, you're going to wear it to work tomorrow. We'll be a perfect match."
„Like the Olsen twins!" House said, also starting to laugh.