Title: Twenty Years of Stealing My Food: Part 15
Author: hwshipper
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.
Beta: the always brilliant triedunture
Summary: Wilson gets a job at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. House helps, kind of.
Excerpt: "Also," House said off-handedly, "I don't know if it'll help, but I do know the new Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro."
Twenty Years of Stealing My Food: Part 15
Wilson read the letter twice, did a celebratory air punch, then picked up the phone and called House.
"Hello?" a female voice answered.
"Hey, Stacy," Wilson greeted her. "I got an interview for the job at Princeton Plainsboro!"
"Congratulations!" Stacy's voice was warm. "I'll tell Greg. He's not here right now, he's got a suspected case of meningitis. His patient, that is, not him."
"That's okay, just tell him, interview is Thursday next week, and there's a drinks reception for candidates to meet oncology staff the night before." Wilson was already mentally booking half a week off work. "I hope you don't mind if I stay at your apartment a couple of days, crash on your couch? It would be really good not to have to travel back and forth from Penn."
"Of course, that's fine. I might not be there, I have to go to Baltimore some time next week for work, but Greg will be happy to have you."
"Thank-you." A thought struck Wilson. "Hey, how did that conference of his go last week?... He was presenting a paper, he said it went okay but he was very casual about it."
"It went very well." Stacy's voice rose in emphasis. "The conference organizer edits a medical journal, he went straight up to Greg afterwards and said he wanted to publish it."
"That's really good to hear. And wow, that'll be the third paper he'll have had published this year!" Wilson marveled, and added, "You've made such a difference, you know... he always had to be pushed really hard to do conferences and publish papers."
"Oh, hey," Stacy said modestly, but Wilson knew it was true. Having Stacy around, working very hard herself, and pushing House not to be lazy, had brought about a real difference in House's workrate. He was now building a reputation as a diagnostician, having published a series of landmark papers and given some legendary conference papers. Wilson regarded this activity as an essential bulwark against House's bosses at Princeton General, who were always threatening to fire him.
"Anyway, Greg says you're completing your fellowship to plaudits all around," Stacy added.
"Oh, hey." It was Wilson's turn to demur, but he was pleased. He was coming to the end of his fellowship at Penn and although his boss had told him he'd be happy to stay on as an attending, Wilson had been on the lookout for a job in Princeton for some time now.
And now there was a vacancy at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital's oncology department. It was particularly attractive, not only because it was just down the road from House and Stacy, but also because it had good potential prospects. Dr. Collins, the Head of Oncology, was due to retire in a few years' time. Doubtless there would be a raft of current senior oncology staff with their eye on the top job; what it meant for Wilson was consequent vacancies, if everybody shuffled up the ladder one place.
He really wanted this job.
Wilson arrived in Princeton the day before the interview to find Stacy was indeed away in Baltimore, and House bouncing around their apartment, eager to pass on gossip on the Princeton oncology scene. House had been chatting with oncology colleagues at Princeton General.
"The head of oncology at Plainsboro, Dr. Collins, is an old soak just marking time before he retires," House reported. "Humor him and try not to faint at his whiskey breath. His second in command is Dr. Brown. Brown doesn't suffer fools gladly, lives for research, hates admin but has ended up on the management board there somehow so he'll be interviewing you too, for sure."
"I've met them both." Wilson had been deliberately networking Princeton oncologists at conferences and seminars for a while now. "I definitely created a good impression with Collins... not sure about Brown."
"And the departmental secretary is the one who actually runs the place, her name's Nora," House recited. "See if you can meet her at the party tonight."
"Will do."
"Also," House said off-handedly, "I don't know if it'll help, but I do know the new Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro."
Wilson consulted his interview letter; the name was in the letterhead. "Dr. Lisa Cuddy?"
"That's her. We were at Michigan together." House's tone could not have been more casual. "Haven't seen her since, though. I heard she became an endocrinologist, but she always had a hard-on for admin."
Wilson raised his eyebrows. "Michigan? When you were a med student? Then she must be very young to be a Dean of Medicine."
"Yeah. She's younger than me, though a bit older than you, I think." House paused, then went on, "Word on the street is that Princeton Plainsboro nearly lost its certification last year and Lisa Cuddy was brought in as the new broom to kick some ass and turn things around. She's purging the old guard, bringing in new blood."
"Right." This was promising. Wilson would be new blood.
"So it wouldn't surprise me if she wanted to sit on the board interviewing prospective new oncology attendings," House added.
Wilson nodded solemnly, and wondered if he would ever dare namedrop House in a job interview. He considered what House had said: we were at Michigan together. House's Michigan days were a closed book to Wilson.
"When you say know her... you... got along?"
House shrugged, and looked innocent.
Wilson could have called House on an outright lie, but an evasive House--and especially a vaguely humorous and evasive House--was much more difficult. "I mean, should I try and mention you, or should I not mention you at all costs?"
"Let's just say she should remember me," House said, with a revoltingly lewd wink.
Wilson resolved not to mention House if he could possibly help it.
Wilson was at his best at the cocktail party that evening. He made sure to talk to Dr. Collins first, greeting him jovially, reminding him that they had met at a conference at Sloan-Kettering a few months ago. Collins was affable in return, and Wilson couldn't help but notice that there was indeed whiskey on Collins' breath despite the fact that the only drinks on offer were wine and orange juice.
Wilson managed to find Brown next, asked about a recent paper Brown had published, indicated that he had liked and respected the paper without being too obvious about it; asked a couple of intelligent questions and generally tried to come across as competent, yet not a threat. Brown seemed pleased, so Wilson was pleased too.
To everyone else in the room, Wilson just tried to be nice. He knew that the interviewers would merely ascertain from the other oncology staff--doctors, nurses, secretaries--that they would be happy to work with any of the candidates. Wilson was good at being nice and knew they would all say yes, sure, they would be very happy to work with Dr. Wilson if he was appointed.
"So I hear you recently got a new Dean of Medicine," Wilson said conversationally to a grumpy-looking elderly nurse. He tried not to stare at the nicotine stains on her teeth and fingertips.
He was rewarded with a scowl, and the nurse replied, "Yes, Dr. Cuddy."
"I hear she's...young?" Wilson ventured.
"Young enough to be my daughter," the nurse said. "Although she wouldn't dare dress like that if she were my daughter, I can tell you."
Wilson, intrigued, gathered that the nurse did not approve of Dr. Cuddy.
He went to refill his glass, and asked the administrator who had been given the job of serving the drinks if she was Nora, the departmental secretary. He was told no, with a laugh; with the rest of them at the party, someone had to stay behind to keep the department running.
The event had been going on a while, and Wilson was wondering how much longer it would be politic to stay, when the door opened and in stepped a woman with big hair and a big chest. She was wearing a power suit with a short skirt and a tight fitting blouse, and a lofty pair of red heels.
Wilson dragged his eyes up her legs to her face and remembered what the nurse had said. This must be Dr. Lisa Cuddy.
She was late, and judging from the way she was looking at her watch, she wouldn't be staying long. He started to edge across the room towards her, observing a couple of the other candidates trying to do the same.
She picked up a glass of wine, and he heard her say to the woman serving the drinks, "--five minutes. I'll see them all at interview tomorrow anyway."
He increased his stride and as she turned away from the table, he was right in front of her stretching out his hand. "I'm James Wilson. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Cuddy."
She shook his hand, a firm shake, and looked up and down at him. "Dr. Wilson. McGill, Columbia, Mass Gen, and now Penn. Quite a résumé you have."
She had read the pile of applications; she'd remembered the details; she knew her stuff. Wilson was impressed, and knew immediately it was worth trying to impress her. They talked for a minute or two about his current fellowship. It went well--he made a joke at one point and she laughed--but Wilson felt he needed to make more of an impact.
She looked again at her watch and he knew she was about to move on. He decided swiftly that it was all or nothing; he had to play the House card.
He stepped back a little, so as not to give the impression he was trying to buttonhole her, and said casually, "Oh by the way, I think we have a mutual acquaintance." (He shied away from saying friend at the last minute. He was proud to be House's friend but he wasn't at all sure that Cuddy had been). "Dr. Gregory House."
Cuddy looked at him, startled, and raised her eyebrows. "House?"
For a few dreadful seconds, Wilson thought House had sold him out. House, you bastard you slept with her and never called her, or stole her car or plagiarized her work or played loud music through her wall or just insulted her once and she's never forgotten...
But then she smiled, a genuine smile showing off perfect large white teeth, and said, "Now that's a name I haven't heard in years. How is he? What's he up to these days? "
"He's fine. Actually he's working just down the road from here, at Princeton General."
"Really! I had no idea. Of course I've only been in Princeton myself for a few months. How interesting."
"You were--friends--at Michigan together, I believe?" Wilson ventured, feeling bold.
"We were at Michigan, yes." Cuddy's brow furrowed for a few seconds as she remembered. She sipped her wine and glanced down at the floor. "As for friends--well if you know House, you know he doesn't really do friends."
Except me, Wilson thought a little smugly, but it didn't seem quite the right moment to say it.
"And how do you know House?" Cuddy asked. "Don't tell me he ended up in oncology. I can't imagine anything less suitable for him."
Wilson noticed that Cuddy called him House and not Greg and wondered if this was significant. Girlfriends called him Greg. House's parents called him Greg. Everyone else called him House. Maybe it was just the doctor thing.
"No, no, I met him back at Columbia, he was in Nephrology then. He switched to Infectious Diseases a few years ago, and he's an attending in Infectious Diseases at Princeton General now."
"That sounds much more House's kind of thing," Cuddy said, nodding. "Plenty of scope for diagnosing weird and wonderful medical conditions from all over."
"I'm staying with him and his girlfriend for a couple of days while I'm here in Princeton for interview," Wilson said conversationally.
Cuddy's eyebrows raised again at the word girlfriend. "House lives with a girlfriend?"
"Her name's Stacy, she's a lawyer, does some work for Princeton General and for this hospital too, I think."
"Stacy the lawyer... we have a few lawyers on staff here... but I do know the name. Stacy. Short dark hair, right?" Wilson nodded, and Cuddy beamed. "House's girlfriend, well, who'd have thought it! I'll have to have a chat with her sometime." She smiled again, and put her half-empty wineglass down on a nearby table. "Dr. Wilson, I really have to go now. It's been a pleasure talking to you and I'll see you tomorrow."
She started to walk away and paused, looking back. "Tell House I said hi, and get him to come see me sometime."
She headed out of the door. She hadn't talked to a single other candidate.
Leaving the hospital a short while later, Wilson reflected that the evening had gone well beyond his wildest hopes. And curiously, he had House to thank for it.
The interview the next morning was a breeze. Nobody said a word about any conversations the previous evening, but Wilson had already done the hard work there and was now reaping the rewards. Dr. Collins already knew Wilson would do, Brown knew that Wilson was competent, and Cuddy had a reason to know who Wilson was.
But that didn't mean to say that Wilson felt complacent. There were a lot of other good candidates: he'd met them. He went back to House's apartment afterwards, fretting slightly. House was at work.
In the afternoon, the call came on his cell. It was Cuddy. "Dr. Wilson, congratulations. You got the job."
Wilson breathed a huge sigh of relief and swiftly felt exuberant. "Thank-you, that's great!"
"My assistant is typing out your appointment letter right now," Cuddy went on. "It'll be in the mail tonight. Unless you're still in Princeton, in which case you can drop by and pick it up, if you want. Didn't you say you were here for a few days?"
"Yes, I'm here until tomorrow, I'll drop by this afternoon," Wilson said.
"Give us a couple of hours to sort out the paperwork," Cuddy said, and hung up.
Wilson speed dialed no.1 on his phone. For the first time ever, House answered immediately. "Wilson?"
"I got it!"
Wilson heard a sigh at the other end, followed by a gruff voice that Wilson recognized as House's version of pleased and proud. "Of course you did."
"The drinks are on me tonight. I'll get the beers in."
"Actually, I think I might be on my way home right now--got a bit of a cold coming on--" House sneezed a spectacularly fake sneeze. "No point spreading it among patients here, right?"
"You don't have to skive. I've got to stop by Princeton Plainsboro and pick up my appointment letter in a couple of hours, we can start drinking after that."
House's voice picked up several semitones. "You're going to Plainsboro? I'll drive you. Wait, I'll come by and pick you up."
"I can walk, it's not far," Wilson protested. "You don't have to."
"No," said House. "But Cuddy said I should pop in and see her sometime, right?"
House and Wilson walked into Princeton Plainsboro and looked around the lobby. Nurses bustled around, doctors in white coats strode past, and patients queued for the clinic.
"Ever been here before?" Wilson asked House.
"Yes, to pick up Stacy, maybe once or twice. I have a feeling I'll get to know it a lot better in future," House answered thoughtfully.
Wilson got directions to Cuddy's office, and found her assistant, who gave him his appointment letter and said, "If you can wait a few more minutes, Dr. Wilson, I'll have all the other forms you'll need to fill in."
"Sure," said Wilson.
House, standing behind him, suddenly said, "There she is!" and walked across the assistant's office towards a door. The door had a glass panel, and Cuddy was visible at her desk in the next room.
"You can't just--" the assistant began, but too late, as House opened the door without knocking and walked right in. Wilson hesitated for a second, then curiosity got the better of him and he followed House in. Cuddy didn't look mad. And he had his appointment letter right there in his hand.
"Lisa Cuddy!" House strode across the room.
"Well, if it isn't Greg House! Long time no see!" Cuddy came out from behind her desk and met him half way. They shook hands, Wilson observed. House was not a great hand-shaker, but Cuddy obviously knew his even greater aversion to air hugs and cheek kisses. "And Dr. Wilson, good to see you," she acknowledged him, and looked back at House. "Still not shaving, I see," she added.
"I see the twins are as bonny and bouncing as ever," House countered.
Wilson was really confused by this for a second, looking around the room for a stroller, before realizing from the direction of his gaze that House was talking about Cuddy's breasts. If Cuddy hadn't not so much as blinked an eyelid, Wilson would have died of embarrassment on the spot.
"You haven't changed a bit," she laughed.
"So I gather congratulations are in order," said House smoothly. "For having the good sense and taste to appoint my best buddy Wilson to your staff, of course. Oh, and also for becoming the second youngest ever female Dean of Medicine. Nice office you've got here. How's the job going?"
"It's everything you hate," Cuddy said dryly. "Lots of paperwork, endless admin, caution in the face of ethical dilemmas, and lots of schmoozing of donors."
"Ah, well you'll have an ally in Wilson here, he's very good at schmoozing."
"So I saw at the party last night," said Cuddy, and Wilson felt faintly embarrassed. "And you, House? You're working at Princeton General? In fact, I'm sure you have a really good reason for not being there right now."
House gave a theatrical sneeze. "Cold coming on, had to leave early."
"Yeah, right." Cuddy might not have seen House for years but she clearly had the measure of him. "I pity your Dean of Medicine, I really do. Don't you have a girlfriend to keep you in order these days?"
"Stacy tries her best," House said indulgently. "But she's a busy person, doing the high-powered lawyer thing and all."
"Ah yes, and did I hear she does some work here for us? I will be looking her up very shortly." Cuddy beamed. House looked vaguely apprehensive. "Now much as I'd love to stand here and chat all day, I really must get going. We must do lunch sometime."
"You were totally flirting with her," Wilson said to House as they headed back to the car across the parking lot.
"Was not!"
"You so were! You jumped at the chance to see her. And she obviously only asked me to come over in the hope you'd come with me." Wilson was sure of this. "What happened at Michigan? You must've dated."
House shrugged a little. "If you say so."
Wilson didn't believe it, but could see House was not about to cave. 'I shall just have to wait until you're really drunk this evening and ask you again."
Wilson never did get around to asking House about Michigan that evening, as they were both in a celebratory mood and they lifted the Stacy Convention for the first time in a long while.
They had a take-out of burgers and fries, and managed to finish two six-packs of beer between them, with a few whiskey chasers interleaved. They ended up sitting on the floor in the living room, sprawled on the rug, pawing clumsily at each other and exchanging occasional sloppy, beery kisses. Periodically House tried to haul himself back onto the couch, only to slither down the cushions again. Wilson found it hysterically funny each time he tried.
Then House fell off the cushions again and half on top of Wilson this time, and instead of pushing him away, Wilson reached out to wrap an arm around House. House moved sideways so their faces came together, and next thing they were necking and tugging off each others clothes as if the end of the world was nigh.
Hell, it had been months since they'd been half-naked and close like this, gasping and panting and wriggling up against each other. Wilson placed a palm flat against House's chest, taking great pleasure simply in touching House's bare skin, while House chewed at Wilson's lips a little and nibbled Wilson's left ear.
House propped himself up on an elbow and turned over, pressing his back up against Wilson's chest, his ass up against Wilson's groin. Wilson put a hand on House's hip, admiring the line of House's body, the strong thighs and arching back. He rubbed his crotch against House's tailbone, then reached around to run a hand lightly over House's cock. House's body bucked as if he had almost come there and then.
"House," Wilson breathed into House's ear, and hoped House was sufficiently drunk that he couldn't remember the rules. "Lemme ass fuck you."
"No." House apparently wasn't quite that far gone. They hadn't had penetrative sex since before Stacy had come on the scene, a year ago now. "You can jerk off while humping me."
"No. Please." Wilson was sure he had never wanted anything quite so much in his life: wanted to be thrusting into House's body, hot and sweating right underneath him. "Special occasion. New job. Never again. Please." He circled House's cock in his hand, then ran the tip of his thumb right over the head. House let out a high-pitched whine, followed by a cough.
"Beg all you want. I'm not going to--fucking hell, Wilson!--"
Wilson had reached up to dunk a finger in a blob of ketchup on a plate on the coffee table, and then stuck it right up House's ass. House moaned and writhed and clenched under Wilson's hand, and Wilson felt a degree of smugness even through a layer of alcoholic fog.
"More?" he whispered into House's ear: one finger still up House's ass, the other hand closed around House's cock.
"You bastard--"
Wilson added a second finger and House squealed this time. Wilson eased his fingers in and out, feeling House shuddering, then relaxing, then tensing. It was immensely satisfying: House had obviously missed this.
"You're--a--bastard," House repeated between stifled moans. "You'd better have a fucking condom."
Victory. "You don't keep them here any more?" Wilson groped for his wallet with one hand, keeping the other up House's ass.
"No. Other ways of--Jesus, Wilson--" House squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds.
Wilson reluctantly use both hands to snap the condom on deftly, and added a touch more ketchup just in case. He hoped there weren't any health hazards from ketchup; maybe House still had lube in a drawer somewhere, but Wilson wasn't about to stop now to go find out. He guided House onto all fours, mounted House carefully, then eased inside slowly.
It was tight, much tighter than it had been, but of course it had been far too fucking long since they'd done this, and clearly House wasn't being ass-fucked by anyone else in the meantime. Practically a virgin ass again, Wilson thought, and the idea sent his blood pumping and made his hard-on swell mightily as he thrust. House gasped and Wilson knew that was from pain this time. Damn it, he didn't want to hurt House, but God this was just so good--he tried to ease back a little, and murmured nonsensical nothings into House's ear.
House relaxed again, and Wilson clutched at House's shoulders and thrust, further in this time, and so fucking tight, with House's back arched up against his chest and the back of House's head nuzzled against his face--Wilson came with a sharp cry of God, House!, and a rush of exhilaration.
Momentarily devoid of all strength, he rested his weight on House's back. Then he pulled out, trying to be gentle, but House hissed through his teeth and Wilson knew it had been painful for him. Seeking to make amends, Wilson pushed House onto his side and shifted downwards to take House's cock in his mouth.
"Fuck, yes." House clutched at Wilson's head, pulling at Wilson's hair. House was still hard and throbbing, and it didn't take much encouragement for him to spurt into Wilson's mouth. Hot come stung Wilson's lips, and Wilson gagged a little and swallowed some.
They lay on the floor for a while, completely helpless.
Eventually House stirred, and said gruffly, "If I find I can't sit down now, you are in very serious grave deep trouble."
"It'll be worth it. I should get a new job every day," Wilson mumbled back, and House reached down to run an affectionate hand through Wilson's hair.
They hadn't just lifted the Stacy Convention, they'd broken it big time. Wilson knew that guilt would shortly hit House full on, and he'd be lucky if House even let him within arm's length for the next few months.
But it had been totally worth it.
END OF PART 15
TBC. Next part: Wilson moves to Princeton, and encounters a family member he hasn't seen in years.
A/N: Anybody following this fic may be interested to know that we're now three-quarters of the way through: I've been quite vague about this before, but am now sufficiently near the end that I figure it'll be 20 parts in all. Which is nice :)