Post Half-Wit flashfic

[rubberbutton]

Title: post Half-Wit flashfic
Rating: R for the F-bomb
Pairing: Wilson/Chase
Summary: See, House, if you don’t treat Wilson right, I’m going to start pairing him with someone else.

Chase rapped lightly on Wilson’s door and pushed the door open. Wilson sat bent over a stack of patient files and looked up as he entered. The room was lit only by the soft yellow light of the desk lamp, but even the dim illumination couldn’t hide how tired Wilson looked, how worn. The cast shadows deepened the circles under his eyes. Chase shut the door and turned back to Wilson, who looked at him expectantly, wearing an expression of pleasant neutrality. Chase recognized it as the one he used with patients.

“How do you stand it?” Chase demanded without preamble.

Wilson sat back in his chair. He took a deep breath, marshaling patience, and set down his pen. “What he do now?”

“D’you mean besides faking cancer?” Chase threw himself down in the one of the chairs opposite Wilson’s desk.

“Oh. That was yesterday,” Wilson answered sheepishly, “I assumed there was something new.”

Chase snorted derisively. “Hard to top making all your co-workers think you have a year left to live. What could possibly be left?”

“Murder, military coup, sex change—trust me you do not want to throw down that glove. …He’s unhappy,” Wilson said taking a more serious tone, struggling to equivocate.

“Understatement of the year,” Chase muttered. He set his elbows on his knees, bracing himself up as he remembered just how terrified he’d been learning House was going to die. The unpleasant numbness as he’d realized the floor had just dropped out from beneath him.  

“Wow. He’s really gotten to you, hasn’t he?” Wilson asked and stood, circling around his desk to stand before Chase.

“I fucking hugged him,” Chase addressed the floor. “Not a one-armed kind of deal, either. Full-on, I’m-sorry-you’re-dying hug. And he just stood there and let me hang on, damn near crying, while I thought he was dying. Knowing that he was actually perfectly healthy, knowing my dad died not more than a year ago.” He brought his fist down on the arm of the chair and swore viciously. “Fuck.”

“He didn’t mean for you to find out,” Wilson tried, taking the seat next to Chase. “And he wasn’t thinking any further than his own pain.”

Chase turned so he could look at Wilson through the fringe of his hair. Wilson’s eyes met his; they were so dark they looked black, pained but gentle. “Why are you his friend?”

Wilson smiled self-deprecatingly. “Masochism is the popular theory.”

Chase sat up a little, leaning on the arm of the chair to study Wilson’s face. He could see now the fine webbing of lines that were developing around Wilson’s eyes and mouth. Chase wondered how many of those lines had appeared in the past few months. “You deserve better, you know.”

“My ex-wives would disagree with you there,” Wilson’s smile turned bitter and ugly. “And so would House.”

Chase reached out a hand and placed it a little awkwardly on Wilson’s shoulder. “No, you do.” Wilson looked at Chase’s hand, startled at the contact. Chase squeezed a little and withdrew, wondering if he imagined the flash of disappointment that crossed Wilson’s face. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Wilson took a moment before speaking. “Uh. Thanks.” Chase leaned over further, the arm of the chair digging into his stomach uncomfortably, and kissed Wilson lightly on the mouth. It was over quickly, almost before it actually registered as a kiss. Chase licked his lips nervously, realizing the full import of what he’d done, innocuously as he may have meant it.

“I…” Wilson’s eyebrows were about to make acquaintance with his hairline.

“Sorry,” Chase said feeling foolish but not particularly sorry.

“It’s all right,” Wilson assured him hurriedly. “I just didn’t know that you were, uh…”

“I’m not. Not really,” Chase supplied just as quickly.

“Oh. Okay, because that whole Cameron thing.” A bright flush was creeping across Wilson’s high cheekbones.

Chase reached out again and put his hand on Wilson’s shoulder, right where it became neck. It was supposed to be a reassuring, comradely sort of clap but he quickly realized he’d miscalculated as he felt Wilson stiffened under his fingers. He knew he should snatch the hand back and apologize, but something stopped him. Wilson was watching him with eyes half-lidded, expression intense but unreadable. Chase tried not to think about it and let his finger urge Wilson in.

Wilson resisted but not enough to pull away as Chase closed the space between them, holding his breath as Chase’s mouth found his. He made a guttural little moan in the back of his throat as Chase’s tongue licked along his lower lip. Wilson’s mouth eased opened in a passive invitation, and Chase took it, letting his tongue flick against Wilson’s.

Wilson’s breath caught and then he was kissing back, leaning into the kiss so Chase doesn’t have to crane out quite so far. It was still awkward—the chairs weren’t arranged with making-out in mind—but it lasted until they were both breathless.

“Um,” Wilson managed as they sat back, both carefully keeping their gaze on anything but each other.  

“Yeah,” Chase agreed.

“Are you doing this to punish House?” Wilson asked after a moment, his voice low but calm.

“Right, I’m sure he’d be real broken up about it if he knew,” Chase said wryly. He looked at Wilson sharply. “Are you going to tell him?”

Wilson sighed shortly. “No. But he’ll know something’s up.”

“Not necessarily—we’re both straight guys. Moment of comfort is all this is. We’ll just continue on as usual. He can’t suspect if we don’t give him reason to.” Chase stood, feeling resolved and suddenly sure of the situation. Wilson followed suit, keeping on Chase’s heels as he made for the door.

“Okay. Sure,” Wilson agreed quickly. “Forget it ever happened.”

Chase turned back with his hand on the doorknob and smiled at Wilson, who was wearing an introspective and troubled expression. “Thanks, Dr. Wilson.”

Abruptly Wilson grabbed Chase’s shoulders and hauled him in for a rough, breathless kiss. Chase tried to step back, but ran into the door. Wilson pressed into him, a hand coming up to cradle the back of Chase’s head, Wilson’s fingers curling in his hair. Chase’s arms closed automatically around Wilson, his hands slipping under the thick lab coat to press into the small of Wilson’s back, urging him closer. Wilson obliged with an unmistakable grind of hips, rocking against Chase and kissed lower, tracing Chase’s jaw and breathing against the skin behind his ear. Chase moaned softly as Wilson lightly nipped above his collar.

Chase whimpered a weak protest when Wilson pulled back. His expression was fierce and a bit wild; a thrill of fear suspiciously like desire ran through Chase. Wilson licked his lips and said, “Go; get in your car, park in the lot behind the dry cleaner’s on Johnson—you know the one?”

Chase swallowed hard, but didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded.

“I’ll wait here for thirty minutes and follow. Okay?”

Chase felt his stomach tighten as he realized exactly what Wilson had in mind. “Okay,” he heard himself agree.

“Then go and I’ll see you in a bit.” He leaned in and kissed Chase again, more softly this time but with a promise of what was to come. Chase pulled away and took his leave with a last uncertain smile, letting the door click close behind him.

Comments

[rubberbutton.livejournal.com]

As a rule I'm a H/W shipper, absolutely.

The thing is- I totally am, too. H/W is and always will be my OTP, but for some reason Wilson/Chase has been growing on me lately. And the sad thing is that it really is just a reaction to House's asshatery. The fact that I feel the need to punish a fictional character by writing fanfiction is a new kind of pathetic for me...

so... you have won me over :D

No one can resist the sweater-vests!

[purridot.livejournal.com]

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I love the concept. Cam is only interested in a physical relationship with Chase; she's so cold and unemotional. But Chase needs more than that (I think his House hug shows that), and it makes sense that he and Wilson would feel drawn to comfort each other right now. The power of the sweater-vests keeps growing...

[rubberbutton.livejournal.com]

Cam is only interested in a physical relationship with Chase; she's so cold and unemotional. But Chase needs more than that (I think his House hug shows that), and it makes sense that he and Wilson would feel drawn to comfort each other right now.

*nods* Uh huh. Chase seems like an affectionate kind of guy, plus, he's vulnerable and he seems like he'd be needy. Put that all together and he's just perfect for Wilson, who feels rejected by House and desperately needs to be needed. They're a match made in screwed-up heaven.

The power of the sweater-vests keeps growing...

Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.