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Wilson was silent in the car. House sat, arms crossed in the passenger seat, studying Wilson intently. His jaw was tight, his eyebrows furrowed, his forearms stiff. House got too engrossed in thinking about Wilson’s forearms and he lost his train of thought. He sighed dramatically and tossed his head against the headrest.
“I give up. What did I do?”
“You know what you did,” Wilson muttered tightly, taking a turn much harder than he’d intended to.
House cocked his head. “That’s weird. I thought the fact that I asked what I did implies that I don’t–”
“You were flirting with a nurse!”
“I was– what?” House sputtered. “We were talking.”
“You were flirting . I know what that looks like, House, you get this little…” Wilson fought the urge to gesticulate with both hands. “Smirk. A glint in your eye.”
House huffed. “You’re deducing that I was flirting with a nurse based on the fact that I was enjoying the conversation?”
“Have you met you?”
House couldn’t really argue with that. “You flirt with nurses all the time, why is it any different when I do it?”
Wilson pulled up to his apartment complex. “Because I have a reputation to uphold. You don’t.” He put the car in park but didn’t get out.
House raised an eyebrow. “Right. Your reputation of being a womanizing whore.”
“My reputation of being a man who likes women.”
He stifled a laugh. “So, I can’t flirt with the nurses because it makes you look gay?”
Wilson rubbed his face in frustration. “You can’t flirt with the nurses because– because you have no reason to!” House rolled his eyes and reached for the door handle; he heard a click before he could reach it. He turned around and looked at Wilson, who had just locked the car doors.
“Real nice.”
“Why’d you do it?” Wilson asked.
“Let me out, Jimmy, I’ve gotta stretch my legs.”
“Recline the seat, why’d you do it?”
House realized he might be in the car a while. He didn’t lean the seat back, though; that would be forfeit. Instead, he just shrugged and stared straight ahead, feeling Wilson’s eyes boring through him. “I don’t know why. We were just talking and–”
“ Bull shit.”
“She came onto me first!”
“Uh, no, she didn’t.”
House huffed. “Believe what you want to believe, just let me out of this damn–” he felt the air leave his lungs as his seat lurched backwards, and the headrest fell about a foot and a half. He looked up to see Wilson reaching over his body and pulling the lever on the seat. House’s train of thought effectively stopped as Wilson climbed over the center console to straddle him.
“I told you to recline. Now, tell me the truth.”
“She was funny.”
Wilson slapped House across the face. “What did I say?” House did not manage to suppress an embarrassing whine. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Her eyes reminded me of yours,” House attempted, hoping to earn some brownie points if he said he was thinking of Wilson the whole time. Well, he was. But not for that reason.
Wilson slapped him again, this time eliciting an even more incriminating sound. “Not good enough.” He ground down against what was very obviously a hard-on. “Tell me the truth, or you’re not getting what you want.”
“I did it because I knew it would piss you off!” House gasped.
“And why did you want to piss me off, lovebug?”
House vied for useful friction to no avail, with Wilson playing keep-away until he got an answer he liked. “ ‘Cause you fuck better when you’re mad.”
Another slap. “You’re lying. Why did you want to piss me off?”
“I like it when you hit me.”
The next slap felt like being high. “There we go.”
“Can we go inside now?”
Wilson shook his head and started grinding incessantly against House. “Nope. We’re gonna stay in here until you come in your jeans.”
House moaned, half in protest, half in strained pleasure. “C’mon, Jimmy, it’s cold in here.”
“You’ll warm up.”
His noises got slightly more frantic. “Please, I don’t want to come in my pants.”
“Should’ve thought of that before you made me mad on purpose.”
Clouded by sensation, though still present, a light clicked on in House’s mind. “Did that– fuck! Did that seriously upset you?”
“Of course it did!” Wilson barked, his hands roaming underneath House’s shirt. “You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, I can’t risk someone even thinking about laying claim on you.”
“You’re the only one who’s ever chosen that,” House mumbled. “No one has ever wanted to take care of me like you do. No one craves neediness like you do. Feeling threatened by a random nurse is pathetic, even for your standards.”
Wilson cracked him across the face again, and House groaned. “You did that on purpose, too.”
“Yeah.”
“You know you can just ask me to hit you, right?”
“Then you won’t mean it.”
Wilson laughed. “15 years of history and you think I can’t summon genuine ire towards you?”
House inhaled sharply and grabbed onto Wilson’s hips, guiding his motion and chasing release. “I’m close.”
“Yeah?”
House nodded, closing his eyes. “C’mon, hit me again.”
Wilson obliged, speeding up his movement as well, relishing the way House was writhing and whimpering below him. “Yeah, there you go. You’re mine, hmm?”
House agreed mindlessly, feeling himself about to tip over the edge.
“Look at me,” Wilson ordered. House opened his eyes, and Wilson slapped him one final time. “I own you.”
House came with a shout that melted into a groan. Wilson slowed to a halt and bent down, kissing the skin of House’s cheek that was beginning to bloom red, kissing the beginnings of tears that threatened to fall. An apology went unspoken, but Wilson understood it regardless. He just continued to kiss the man’s face until they joined their lips together, and all was forgiven.
It was serene for a moment, until a knock on the passenger side window made them both jump. “Shit,” Wilson sighed, thinking it was a cop or something.
No. It was worse.
Foreman stood outside the car. Wilson made eye contact with him, and didn’t bother getting into a less incriminating position. It was dark out. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Wilson rolled down the window.
“Dr. Foreman. What are you, um…doing here?”
Foreman raised an eyebrow at the disheveled nature of the normally put-together man. “Sorry to…interrupt. House left his pager. He wasn’t home, so I assumed he’d be with you.” Wilson’s face flushed, but then Foreman said, “Do you know where he is?”
Oh? He didn’t notice! Wilson laughed nervously. “Nope. No idea.”
“I’m right here,” House piped up unhelpfully, reaching his hand out the window.
“House,” Wilson hissed.
Foreman froze. “Oh. Well…here.” He slowly handed House his pager, squinting his eyes shut. “I’m gonna go.”
“Yes, please. Thanks,” Wilson sighed, completely humiliated, as Foreman walked away. He rolled the window back up. House failed to hide his snickering face from Wilson. “You’re a jerk.”
“Oh, come on. It’s Foreman. What could possibly happen?”
Wilson shook his head. “Let’s go inside before the rest of your kids inexplicably show up.”
“You gonna hit me again?”
“If you behave.”