The
Best Laid PlansMay 2006
"This is pathetic." Dr. James Wilson sat on the porch of a beach house in Carmel, a glass of fine wine in his hand, the sun going down on the ocean mere yards away, his feet up on the railing, and wished he were anywhere but here.
It had started out as a great plan. House had browbeaten Cuddy into giving them both time off for the holidays; he’d found this place for rent and had booked it; they’d managed to get first-class seats for the trip out; and then two days ago it had fallen apart.
Wilson sighed and took a drink, his brown eyes narrowing as the sun dipped lower, the beams now directly in his eyes. It always fell apart in the end, which was what had led to his last marriage, short-lived though it had been. "I really need to get it through my head that we’re better as friends than anything else," he murmured.
As it was, here he sat in California while the object of his reminiscing was back in New Jersey more than likely watching soap opera re-runs or browbeating his staff. Merry Christmas indeed.
Tired, in pain after the long flight, and even more irritable than usual, Gregory House pushed his limping way through the airport crowds toward the line of taxis. He cried out in pain when an unsupervised child ran straight into him, jarring his bad leg and nearly causing him to fall to the ground. When the mother finally noticed that her precious darling was missing and started yapping at him, he laced into her with a few brutal statistics about death and kidnapping statistics of unsupervised children, making her pale and clutch the pre-teen to her. When he mentioned his current pain and mused on the possibility of suing her, she disappeared rapidly, leaving him without a target to vent on.
"Another disappearance," he murmured under his breath, regaining his balance and continuing toward the front cab, making shameless use of his cane to clear his path. That seemed to be the theme of this holiday season. By the time he’d managed to extricate himself from everything that seemed to be conspiring to keep in him in new Jersey, Wilson had vanished. Aggrieved, House had decided that it was pointless to waste the house they’d rented to spend their vacation in, and he’d gotten on a plane to Carmel. Only now that he was here, he wasn’t sure why he’d bothered.
When the taxi dropped him off at the address he’d been given, House let himself in and just dropped his bags at the door before limping into the living room to collapse into a comfortable chair.
Hearing a noise, Wilson walked out of the kitchen, holding a piece of pizza and his refilled glass of wine. He blinked, then frowned. "Greg, what are you doing here?"
House gaped at him. "Jim? Where the hell did you go? I wasted half a day trying to find you once I got free again."
"Where did I go?" Wilson asked, finally having the presence of mind to set his food and drink down before he dropped them. "I was under the assumption that you didn’t care where I went—as was half the hospital."
"Where on earth would you get that idea?" House stared at him again. So he’d been a little irritable; that was because of their plans being messed up, not anything Wilson had done.
"Oh, the ‘I’d rather fly to Manila with a planeload of syphilis-infected pigs than go anywhere with you’ might have given me that idea."
House still looked bewildered. "I always say things like that when the Vicodan’s wearing off. Why on earth would you start listening to me now?"
Wilson looked down at the counter and picked up his glass, draining the wine. "Probably because it hurt this time."
"Oh." House had to look away from the familiar gaze. "I... didn’t think." Anyone else who knew him would probably have fainted at that near apology from Dr. Gregory House. "But..." He shrugged slightly. "I’m not going to change, Jim."
"I never asked you to," Wilson answered steadily. "All I want is for you to think, even for a second, before you talk. If I deserve it, I have no problem taking it, but not for no reason other than I looked at Cuddy’s tits."
House actually flushed. "Have I mentioned that I can be a bit jealous?"
Wilson simply raised his eyebrows. "Do you really believe I’d do anything else?"
"Not really," House admitted. "But I’ve developed some reflexes from the three wives."
Wilson raised his glass again before realizing it was empty. "The thought of Cuddy as my wife is as appealing as Cameron as yours." He smirked at the last.
"Are you trying to send me into sugar shock?" House demanded with a shudder. "Cameron’s a superb doctor, but she’s too emotional, too sweet, too easily wounded. I’d savage her in a week."
"Hrmmm." Wilson decided that mentioning that the fact House could defend that position so quickly meant he’d put some thought into it. "You look worn out; do you want to get off your feet?"
"I’d love to lie down, but getting to bed would require standing up again," House sighed. "After the trip, I’m honestly not sure I can."
Wilson set his glass down and walked around the counter to crouch down next to the chair. "Then let me help you."
House’s blue eyes met Wilson’s brown searchingly before he nodded, finally accepting that he really could lean on James, that he wasn’t alone anymore. Wordlessly, he put his hands in Wilson’s and started to lurch to his feet.
Jim shifted, taking as much of Greg’s weight as he was allowed. "We’d better get you out of your clothes while you’re up as well."
"I’ll probably be out for the night once I lie down," House agreed. "I’ll make it up to you in the morning."
"If you can move," Wilson smiled, letting House lean on him as he walked them toward the master bedroom.
"I’m pretty sure I’ll find the inspiration."
"With the holiday spirit?"
"It’ll be absolutely uplifting."
Wilson chuckled and eased House into the bedroom, then proceeded to begin to strip him. "All right, to bed with you; do you need a pill or is it too soon?"
House hesitated as he glanced at the clock. "Better not. I’ll wake up to take some more when I need them." He rescued the bottle from his pocket and set it on the nightstand before Wilson took his clothes away.
"Okay," Wilson nodded, hanging the clothes over the back of one of the chairs near the balcony before coming back and helping House down to the bed. "Let me get some water and lock up, then I’ll be back."
House nodded as he rolled to his side, moving closer to the center of the bed, knowing that Jim would spoon up behind him. There was a smile on his face as he drifted into a light doze almost instantly, years dropping from him as he relaxed fully.
"Guess I do rate over syphilitic pigs after all," Wilson murmured, smoothing the sheet over the other man then walking out of the bedroom to lock up and turn off the lights. Carrying a bottle of water back with him, he set it on the bedside table within House’s reach, opened the window to let the cool breeze and the sounds of the surf in, stripped, and slid into bed behind Greg, being careful not to jostle him.
House shifted closer, breathing a soft sound of contentment, and he sank into a deeper sleep, his head pillowed on Wilson’s arm. Comfortable in the embrace, he slept for hours, only waking once to swallow more pain pills and immediately falling asleep again. Finally rested, he woke in the very early hours of the morning, and he rolled over to look at Jim.
"It’s too god-damned early to be up; go back to sleep," Wilson muttered, feeling the bed move.
"Gotta love that bright, chipper morning demeanor," House chuckled under his breath, ignoring the fact that it was the middle of the night, as he carefully slid down in bed, managing not to jar his leg as he settled comfortably. His breath ghosted over the soft flesh lying against Wilson’s thigh, and he glanced up, grinning at Jim’s determinedly closed eyes, before dragging his tongue over it.
"God, Greg, it’s..." Wilson paused and half opened his eyes to look at the clock, "...three AM; you’re still on Eastern time."
"You can go back to sleep when we’re done," House promised before licking him again. He smirked when at least one part of Wilson’s body proved that it had no problem getting up at that hour.
Wilson’s groan was a half-hearted protest at best, and he rolled to his back to make things easier for House and opened his eyes so that he could watch the other man by the moonlight that filtered through the sheer curtains.
The cool night breeze carried a hint of salt through the room, ruffling both men’s hair as they lay entwined on the crisp sheets. As the heat rose where they were pressed together, the air was both refreshing and teasing, cooling parts while dancing lightly over stiffening erections before House’s mouth closed over the sensitive tip. He held Jim there, his tongue flicking over the flesh between his lips, tasting the familiar flavor.
"God, Greg," Wilson moaned, arching up off the sheet but careful not to move too quickly so as not to jostle House’s leg.
"Just Greg is fine," House couldn’t resist saying, pulling back just long enough to utter the words and then sliding down, taking Wilson deep into his mouth before he could reply.
"Hmmm, and here I thought you thought you were God," Wilson sighed, struggling not to thrust up into Greg’s mouth.
House pulled back to lick Wilson’s length, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Well, of course I am, but you don’t have to call me by my title in bed."
"What I’m going to call you is psychotic," Wilson grumbled, which earned him a careful nip at his inner thigh, followed by long swipes of Greg’s tongue. House nudged Wilson’s balls with the tip of his tongue, lightly flicked over the sensitive perineum, then retreated again without giving him the touch he wanted.
Jim gasped. "But in a good way."
"You’re so easy." House rewarded him by lapping at his opening with long swipes of his tongue, then lightly pressing against the twitching muscle before retreating again.
"It’s a shame I can’t say the same for you," Wilson gasped out before grinning.
"I’m worth the effort," House retorted before rapidly flicking his tongue over Jim’s opening.
"Possssibly," Wilson hissed, his back arching off the bed.
House licked him again, then blew lightly on the dampened flesh.
"Probably."
Greg nipped his ass.
"Ouch! Forget definitely!"
Having used Jim’s distraction to his advantage, House slipped a slick finger inside him, causing him to shudder and roll over so he could push up onto his knees.
"How could you think for even a second that I wanted anything but this for Christmas?" Greg murmured chidingly.
"Well, there were those syphilitic pigs…" Wilson muttered, glancing back over his shoulder and grinning.
"I’m never going to live that down, am I?"
Wilson chuckled and shrugged. "Probably not, but that’s okay; you can make it up to me."
"Oh damn, how will I ever manage?" He added a second finger, twisting them inside Jim.
"So far so good," was the gasped reply.
"But I’ve always been an overachiever." Now it was three fingers, and House was working them in and out, crooking his middle finger at just the right moment on each stroke.
Jim grunted in reply as he was too busy rocking back against Greg’s hand, his erection slapping against his belly with each thrust.
Needing more, wanting everything, House grasped the base of his cock and pulled Wilson back onto him. He groaned his pleasure as Jim’s body yielded to him, opening and drawing him deeper.
"Oh fuck, missed you, Greg," Jim whispered, groaning as he was filled, loving the feeling of it but being careful not to lean back too much.
"Not going anywhere," House whispered, bracing himself so he could rock forward, slowly fucking Wilson.
Jim nodded, his forehead resting on his arms as he bit his lips, muffling the whimpers he made when Greg hit his prostate again and again. Reaching around, House curled a fist round Jim’s cock and began pumping him in counterpoint to his strokes into his ass.
"Oh yeah," Jim whispered, tightening down on Greg’s cock, his own hips twisting between Greg’s hand and erection as the pleasure grew within him.
"I missed you too," House admitted huskily.
"Good." Smiling to himself, Jim circled his hips, shuddering when Greg’s grip on his cock tightened.
"Coming would be good," Greg rasped, his strokes speeding up and growing jerky.
"Always have to be in charge..."
"Idiot." House bit Jim’s shoulder and drove forward hard, the pain in his leg overwhelmed by the pleasure for the moment.
"Ass!" Jin gasped before arching his back and coming, his whole body shuddering beneath Greg’s, the spasms pulling House’s climax out of him only moments later.
Jim collapsed forward, staying upright enough to keep Greg braced but giving a pleased rumble that was almost like a purr. House carefully pulled free and sank down to stretch out on the bed again, one arm reaching for Jim to pull him close.
"You okay?" Jim murmured as he stretched out, rolling over so that he was facing Greg.
Blue eyes opened to stare at him in disbelief. "Where were you a minute ago?"
"I was being considerate—but that’s right, you have no idea what the word means," Jim chuckled.
"Exactly. And I’m not a girl; you don’t have worry about my tender feelings," Greg grumbled, but the lazy smile on his face tempered the effect.
"Yes, I did manage to pass comparative anatomy, so I noticed the difference."
"I’m happy to provide evidence any time you like."
Wilson snorted. "What happened to being men and going to sleep after sex?"
"I already promised you could go back to sleep after the sex. And see, we’re lying in bed. Convenient, wouldn’t you say?"
"You’re amazing."
"I’m thinking of having a bumper sticker made."
"For your ass?"
"No, I thought I’d tattoo our initials in a heart there."
"And they say it isn’t love," Jim chuckled, getting comfortable next to Greg, one arm wrapped around his waist.
"They know as much as everyone who’s not me."
"Oh really?"
"Or you."
"Much better."
"Oh my God, I’m getting sappy!"
"Then you’re plainly in need of sleep, so sleep!"
"Merry Christmas, Jim," Greg chuckled, closing his eyes.
END
since 02-03-07
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