Genre: slash, humor, romance, smut
Warning! sick Wilson
Dis. Nothing belongs to me, except my ill imagination. :D
Summary: 'Mistakes are sometimes the best memories.'
'I made you tea.' House gave him a mug of lemon tea, mixed with antibiotics.
'Thanks...' Wilson's voice failed to sound very trustingly. But he still made a gulp from his mug.
'Bitter.' Wilson said, twisting his lips.
'...Mostly from antibiotics, they might make you sleepy. It is fine. In few hours you'll get better.' House said.
'Hey, I am a doctor too.' Wilson smirked.
'Oh, come on. You like being ill.' Greg said and sat next to him.
'Don't sit too close to me.' Wilson warned him in a caring manner of his.
'Relax. I took my magic pill.' he said and rounded his eyes comically, looking at Wilson, trying to make him laugh.
'Vicodin...' James sighed.
'No, something stronger than that.' House replied.
'Seriously. Go, House. I can't respond well enough to your jokes. And I am not fun right now.'
'Nope, you're not. And I am staying here.' House said and turned on the TV, stretching his legs in front of himself.
Wilson's shoulders were covered with a blanket, a hot mug in his hands; he felt nice warmth inside his stomach from a tea and the antibiotics made him sleepy indeed. He was gently falling into a sweet slumber. He put the mug on the table next to the coach. It feels good to be ill sometimes. His nose became clearer and he breathed in deeply. They were sitting close to each other, watching TV, their arms touched.
Wilson began to fall asleep and his body relaxed; his head fell onto House's shoulder and House shifted back, and Wilson's head descended onto his chest and down his lap.
He didn't want to wake him up, so he kept on watching TV. Greg put his hand down Wilson's head to gently play with his hair, still starring into the TV screen.
Wilson shifted his body closer to House's and murmured something in sleep, then tucked his head comfortably into House's lap.
'Ain't he sweet?' House thought and grinned at his sarcastic thought, but didn't move his hand off Wilson, but shifted it onto his shoulder, gently stroking it. There was no hint on lust, just a mere care, probably a stronger care than between two good friends.
'At such moments I almost feel like not messing with him', he smiled.
House leaned back on the coach and closed his eyes. The drugs he took started to make him sleepy, and he nearly passed out at once.
'...No, we're wrong... Go and redo the tests... Kidney failure.' he heard the voice.
House didn't notice how he felt asleep himself. He woke up to Wilson's attempts to talk in sleep. He was still lying like that, his head rested on House's lap, talking.
'...The biopsy... Do you hear me? We need to...' he continued. His lips were barely moving, pressed onto House's thighs.
'Oh, shut up. I am trying to sleep.' he snarled back and pushed him away, rolling onto one side. House's legs got numb because of a long immobility of lying on the coach in the same position for hours.
'...Biopsy was not...' Wilson murmured again. A few minutes later James reached for the pillow. His head was now lower than his body and this caused discomfort. Finally he seemed to fall asleep. And House, tucking another pillow under his cheek, peacefully sighed.
House woke up to a strange feeling he hadn't experienced for ages: he felt someone's hot palms all over his chest, ribs and stomach.
'House! Wake up. I want you.' with this words Wilson rushed to kiss him on the mouth.
'...Are you out of your mind?' House shouted. He realized he was lying on his back, the T-shirt was on the floor, and his pants were half unzipped. Wilson was standing on his knees, in front of him on the coach. Wilson's eyes were unnaturally shining.
'What the hell's going on?' House wondered.
'Shut up.' Wilson said and touched House's nipple with his tongue, his left hand found its way down between House's lap.
'Are you crazy?..' he whispered, gasping because of a sudden lust overwhelmed him due to Wilson's skillful left hand, and pulled him closer involuntary.
But Wilson only grinned and kept on doing whatever he was doing, squeezing House's balls gently with his fingers through a thin fabric of his pants.
'I must have given him wrong meds. Oh, crap!' House thought. But James's hot kisses, touches and gasps interrupted House's thoughts. When Wilson pulled away Greg's pants and took his dick into his mouth, House decided that Wilson was alright and there was nothing to worry about.
House held Wilson's head firmly with his hands, bucking his hips up and down.
'I wonder, if he's done it before,' House thought, 'It feels like he has been doing it for all his life, ah...!'
Wilson was now sucking him hard, taking in deeper and deeper, fixing his lips tightly around House's dick.
'Oh, f*ck!..' House moaned, pulling James's hair with his slender fingers. 'Yeah, ah!...'
House came hard, splashing onto Wilson's face and lips.
He collapsed back onto the coach, under the younger doctor's kisses.
His abdominal was spasming because of the orgasm.
The next morning James woke up to the smell of toasts, coffee, quiet sound of TV news in the background and House's distant singing.
'...Um, what happened?' he asked, coming into the kitchen, rubbing his eye lids.
'I cooked breakfast, this is what happened.' House replied with a broad smile.
'But you can't cook...' he reasoned, frowning.
'Have a coffee.'
Wilson sat down and sipped at a steaming mug.
'Feeling better, Jimmy?' House asked.
'Yeah. Actually, it is funny, the meds you gave me seemed to help. I feel almost excellent.' Wilson smiled widely and rubbed his neck.
'Actually, the meds in my sperm that you drank last night, while going down on me, made you feel better.' he said.
Wilson blew out his coffee through the nose, shocked.