swirlsofblue (swirlsofblue) wrote in get_house_laid,

Fic; Betting for a bike

Title; Betting for a bike.
Pairing; House/Wilson
Summary; Written for http://community.livejournal.com/get_house_laid/ 
prompt 048; House loses his motorcycle to Wilson at poker. He starts planning in order to get it back. 
Disclaimer; I don't own House, so don't sue. 

AN; Comments are very much appreciated. 

“I just have a few scrapes and bruises.” House protested but let Wilson check him anyway; he was still slightly shaken up from being knocked off his motorbike. And he’d never admit it but Wilson in doctor mode was oddly calming. House needed this; part genuine check-up, part a guise for Wilson to provide comfort under. Wilson delicately traced his fingers along a bruise on House’s chest, leaving his hand resting above House’s heart as House let out a soft sigh. They hovered within that moment until House broke it.

Just as Wilson was finishing the check-up there was a knock at the door; it was bus-stop-guy who was there for poker night.

“What happened to you doc?” He asked noticing the bruises on a shirtless House.

“Wilson brutalised me with his car! I could’ve died!”

Bus-stop-guy raised a questioning eyebrow towards Wilson who just smiled in a way that said; he’s House.

“He’s lucky I’m not going to sue.” House told bus-stop-guy with a loud conspiratorial whisper as he began dealing the cards.

“Go ahead; it’ll probably end with me finally getting my money back.” Wilson pointed out.

“But then I’d just borrow the money from you to pay you back.” House replied.

“Ten.” Wilson said throwing his chips in. Bus-stop-guy called and House raised by another ten. Wilson stared his sexy poker stare and then folded; Bus-stop-guy followed him. House smirked and showed them that all he had was a pair of tens. Wilson said he only had a pair of eights anyway. Bus-stop-guy grumbled and said he’d folded and so didn’t have to show his cards; of course House didn’t allow that and soon discovered he had had three six’s. And so the night began.

Eleven beers, a couple bags of nachos, one argument over chocolate-covered snacks (House rooting for chocolate peanuts, Wilson for chocolate raisins), and several hands later House and Wilson both had considerable piles of chips and money and bus-stop-guy had a very measly little pile. He was suspicious that House and Wilson were working together but was too tired to argue with House.

House was playing with a little dog toy which was filled with chocolate-covered-peanuts and would poop one out when its head was pressed. Bus-stop-guy was repeatedly picking up his cards and putting them back down as though he hoped with enough concentration they would change before eventually folding.


“I see your hundred and raise you fifty.” House told Wilson. Wilson looked at House; he could tell the time was right.

“I see your fifty and raise you 2-months worth of clinic duty.” Wilson said.

“Why pimp yourself out when you’ve got plenty of cash and chips to bet?” House asked with suspicion.   

“Do you want me to do your hours or not?”

“Fine. I call.”

“I can do my own clinic hours.”

“Ok. How much is the wonder-boy-oncologists precious time worth?”

“Your motorbike.”

“Oh, snap. No.”

“The bike, or I take the clinic hours off the table.”

“You’re such a mother-hen I wasn’t even injured.” House whined looking at his cards, it was a very good hand but Wilson had obviously been waiting all night to make his play so his hand must be pretty good also.

“Deal. I call.” House finally said. Wilson gestured for House to put the keys on the table and House did so reluctantly. They sat staring at each other for an eternity or two before Wilson finally decided to show his cards.

“I have two pairs...” Wilson began, House smirked suspiciously. “...Of sevens” Wilson grinned. House groaned; of course Wilson had four-of-a-kind, the universe hated him.

“Full House; Kings over tens, and I’m not giving you my bike.” House grumbled, but Wilson had already taken the keys.

“I should be off.” Wilson said smugly, picking up his coat.

“You can leave right after I’ve won my bike back.”

“I’m leaving now before you somehow con it off of me.” Wilson told House as he walked out of the door.


The next day House barged into Wilson’s office around mid-morning.

“Ok, you’ve made your point, I’ll be more careful, now can I have it back?”

“It’s still a death-trap, you won’t be more careful, and I won it it’s mine.”

“But mu-uum! The accident wasn’t my fault, this crazy driver came out of nowhere; I think he was high.” House whined.

“Very convincing argument. When you manage to get knocked over by one of the most careful drivers on the road it’s a sure sign you shouldn’t be riding” Wilson replied.

“You hate bikes, so you’re not going to ride it. It needs to be ridden; if it’s just left somewhere it will kill the bikes spirit.”

“Are you seriously quoting Phoebe from friends?”

“Actually it was Ross trying to convince Phoebe to learn to cycle.”

Wilson just stares.

“Seriously; give me the keys.” House demands.


House grumpily leaves already plotting his next move.


House walked up to Wilson in the cafeteria line and added a chocolate-chip muffin and a coke to Wilson’s tray.

“Can I have my bike back now?”


“Can I have my bike back now?”

“This is your new master plan; I’m disappointed.”

“Can I have my bike back now?” 

“No. But if you’re very good I’ll let you sit on the back of my bike.”

“Can I have my bike back now?”

“I have a new hypochondriac clinic patient; on Tuesday he was convinced he was dying of smallpox.”

“Can I have my bike back now?”

“I pointed out that he didn’t have any symptoms and he came back on Friday in a protective suit so he wouldn’t catch anything. He complained that he had African sleeping sickness.”

“Can I have my bike back now?”

“I just found out I’ve got an appointment with him this afternoon. Apparently he’s worried that his kidneys aren’t working because his urine is dilute after drinking copious amounts of water.”

“...Can I have my bike back now?”

“I was going to just deal with him on my own; but who am I to deny him the expertise of an actual nephrologist. I think I’ll give him your pager number.”

“You bastard.”


House barged into Wilson’s office again at four o clock, he then shoved the paperwork Wilson was working on onto the floor. Wilson glared as he watched the papers scatter on the floor but House just shrugged with feigned innocence and dropped into the chair opposite Wilson’s desk.

“No more time for paperwork.” House said throwing a pack of cards onto the table. Wilson sighed gazing at his watch; he supposed it was time for a break.

Before Wilson knew it they had been playing for three hours with House repeatedly pestering Wilson to bet the bike, House had offered to bet everything from clinic hours, to doing Wilson’s laundry, he had pointed out that House wouldn’t stick to it if he lost. Then House offered to bet some other odds, everything up to the kitchen sink. Wilson kept refusing.

“I’ll bet the bike now if you want.” Wilson had said at one point smirking, House just scowled at him; they both knew he had nothing in his hand.


“What about...”


“I could bet...”

“Not a chance.”

“Ok, what about if you win I give you a blow job.” House joked.

“Sounds good to me.” Wilson replied smugly, laughing at the shock on House’s face.

“Seriously?” House asked incredulously.

“Why not? I bet the bike.” Wilson said shrugging.

“Ok, I call with my amazing services.” House said leering.

“Full House, nines and fives.” Wilson said showing his cards.

House smiles looking at his own Full House; tens and jacks. He calculates the odds of what has just happened while considering what to do;

“Why don’t we call it a draw?” House asks.

“Sure.” Wilson agrees; he can tell that House has won despite him refusing to show his cards.

House sits on a footstool in front of Wilson and moves his leg into a comfortable position as Wilson undoes his fly. House takes Wilsons’ dick into his hand and considers it with a smirk, then looks into Wilson’s soulful eyes, seeking something. Wilson smiles, and apparently House finds what he was looking for; he continues as though blowing his best friend is something he does every day.

House runs his tongue along Wilsons’ shaft before taking it into his mouth. He holds it gently between his teeth, and draws it back out scraping along the underside. Wilson hisses as House fondles his balls while taking his already hard member further into his mouth. House’s responding smirk causes Wilson to start bucking his hips urgently. House picks up the pace and Wilson’s fingers curl insistently into House’s hair. He then slows down savouring the moment; Wilson groans with frustration. House continues to change pace repeatedly over the next few minutes, until before he knows it he’s swallowing Wilson’s cum.

Their poker games get more interesting after that.


“I see your blow-job and raise you a quickie in the janitors’ closet.”

“I see your quickie and raise you a fuck over my desk.”

“I call.”

As they hurry to lock doors and close blinds, they barely glance at the cards, just looking to see who’ll be doing the fucking this time.

The poker-foreplay continues for a couple of months (it’s what they were comfortable with) until one-day when a stressed out Wilson roughly pulls House into the bedroom fore-going their usual etiquette, much to House’s amusement. The random fucking eventually morphs into some semblance of a relationship. And Wilson even manages to brainwash House into driving at the speed limit (sometimes).

Tags: author: swirlsofblue, fic, pairing: house/wilson

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