Wilson was able to knock off work reasonably early – five-fifteen – but he still felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. His pager had gone off at five in the morning, and he’d been in the hospital, in consultation with three physicians and the patient’s large and extremely voluble family by six. He’d missed lunch and almost got caught dozing during the late afternoon budget review meeting. He needed... something, anything to break this tension.
He swung open the rear door of his Volvo without looking, and his briefcase had almost left his fingertips when he jerked it back suddenly. It dropped from his hand on the backswing and hit the pavement.
“Damn it, House! What are you doing in the backseat of my car?”
House opened one eye lazily. “Attempting to nap. Or I was, until you almost conked me with that over-loaded paperweight you call a briefcase.”
His hands having already made their way to his hips, Wilson closed his eyes and pursed his lips to demonstrate just exactly how exasperated he was with House. “It’s been a long day; I want to go home. Get out of my car.”
“A long day? It’s only” – House opened both eyes and checked his watch – “five-twenty.”
“I was here before six a.m., which you well know. Get out.”
“Ooh, you’re snippy.” House pressed back against the far door and stretched, his legs sliding across the leather. The small hitch of his hips was not unnoticed by Wilson. “Are you feeling... frustrated? I think you might need to relax.”
Wilson was trying so hard to hold his stern pose, but the quick licking of his lips might have given him away. “Let’s go. Out.”
“This backseat is comfy.” House’s arm was around the headrest, his fingers caressing the seat back. The friction of blue denim against black leather was proving extremely distracting.
House continued, “I think you’re going to have to come in and get me if you want me out.”
“House,” Wilson replied, dignity fighting a valiant but ultimately futile battle against libido, “we’re in the middle of the parking lot.”
“Actually, we’re at the back of the parking lot, near nothing, so no one can ding your precious, boring, boxy car. Come in and get me. Or better yet, get in and come...”
Libido’s fatal blow to dignity was swift and merciful. “I get the picture,” Wilson replied as he climbed in and pulled the door shut behind himself.
It took a few false starts before they found a comfortable position. House sprawled across the entire seat, while extremely visually appealing, left nowhere for Wilson to put his weight that wouldn’t knock or cramp House’s leg. Wilson across the seat was marginally better, but House’s lanky frame had trouble fitting.
They ended up in a classic teenage car-makeout pose – both sitting, twisting toward each other. They even kissed like teenagers, Wilson thought, hungrily but aimlessly – the kisses a beautiful purpose unto themselves, not a means to an end. Wilson’s arms were around House’s neck, his hands in House’s hair. He slid his legs over House’s left leg until he was halfway sitting in House’s lap. With that slight change, he found himself slightly taller relative to House, and the new angle of their mouths meeting was exciting.
House’s hands were picking slowly, carefully at Wilson’s shirt, tugging it gently from his pants. Wilson moaned into House’s mouth but made no move to help him. The slow movements were torture but of the best kind.
Finally, House’s hands were under Wilson’s shirt, trailing warmth up Wilson’s back. Wilson leaned into the touch, and it caused him to pull his lips away from House’s. House took the opportunity to pull Wilson closer to him, more fully onto his lap, and to turn his attention to Wilson’s neck.
Wilson was sensitive in one particular spot just below the jawline, and House unerringly found it with his lips. He kissed gently, then licked in one long, slow stroke that drove Wilson insane. Wilson might have been moaning when House’s lips pressed down on the spot again and began to lightly suck.
Wilson’s eyes had long since closed, but they flew open at the knock against the car window. House growled once and continued his assault on Wilson’s neck, trailing kisses on his way up to Wilson’s ear.
The oh so beautiful sensations kept a lid on Wilson’s anxiety... until he looked up to see that it was Cuddy looking in the car window. She was holding his briefcase up – right, he’d forgotten it on the pavement – but seemed as if she might drop it, if the astonished look on her face was anything to go by.