House M.D. Fan fiction: Cheater (2/4)
Title: Cheater
Author: pgrabia
Disclaimer: House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I’m not making any money from this.
Genre: Drama/Romance
Characters/Pairing(s): G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.
Word Count: ~5400
Spoilers/Warnings: General spoilers for all seasons up to and including episode 8x20 “Post-Mortem”. Basically PWP with a little bit of plot.
Rating: NC-17 (M) (to be safe)
A/N: How I wish the series had ended: A re-working of the final scene in Episode 8x20 and AU from there. Thanks to Clinic-Duty community for the transcript of the final scene up to where my fic deviates from canon!
Unbetaed, sorry.
Chapter Two: Letting Go
They were standing in the center of House’s living room. Wilson’s hands were on his head, fingers combing through House’s thinning hair, massaging his scalp; his lips, tongue and teeth were ministering to his neck. The room was hot, Wilson was hot, and all House could think about was getting their clothes off as quickly as possible. To that end his hands left Wilson’s ass and migrated forward and up to the fly of his best friend’s jeans, ripping open the button with such urgency that it popped off and was heard hitting the hardwood floor and rolling away. He took a little more care lowering the zipper over Wilson’s swollen member, earning a groan of appreciation when his hand cupped it and squeezed for a moment. House then used both hands to tug down on the waistband, lowering the pants past Wilson’s hips. He then set to work on lowering the boxer shorts as well.
“Too many clothes!” House whispered into Wilson’s ear and then gasped; the oncologist had just reciprocated with a grab at his bulging crotch through House’s own denims.
Wilson chuckled lecherously at House’s reaction, stopping his sucking on House’s neck long enough to speak. “Hung like a jackass and just about as stubborn!”
“You mean a stallion,” House argued, now pushing Wilson backward toward the rear of his apartment where the bedroom was. He wanted to slam Wilson up against the wall and fuck him senseless there but his leg wasn’t feeling like it would cooperate with that so the bed it would have to be. “Don’t believe me? You will when I slam up your ass until I reach your fucking tonsils. I’ll do it again and again until you beg me to stop and then I’ll do it agai-”
Wilson’s mouth found his, silencing him. A long, talented tongue forced its way into House’s mouth, tickling the top before molesting his tongue without mercy.
House groaned deep in his throat, his hands roaming all over Wilson’s body, uncertain where to stop and rest. He wanted to squeeze the younger man’s ass, cup his balls, run his fingers through thick brown hair, pull his hips against his own so he could grind their erections together. It was a kaleidoscope of incredible sensations and emotions and movements that House was being swept up into with abandon and he never wanted it to stop.
By this time Wilson had already lowered House’s jeans and underwear to his ankles, so all he had to do was step out of them, which House did. Wilson yanked up on the hem of House’s t-shirt and quickly removed it as well, throwing it to the floor. He reversed them so that it was he now that was guiding them toward the bedroom, pausing long enough to press House’s back against the wall while he sucked hard on House’s erect nipples.
There was something else that House wanted him to suck on more, and he told him so by thrusting his hips toward Wilson, brushing his cock against him. Again Wilson chuckled sexily.
“Patience,” he told his older lover, “all in good time.”
“Fuck time,” House growled hungrily, “I want you now! Twenty. Fucking. Years!” He lifted Wilson’s face with his hands and kissed him hard on the mouth, nipping his lip hard enough to draw blood. Wilson groaned as pleasure and pain became one, and took up leading them to the bed once more.
“This comes off now,” House grunted as he divested Wilson of his golf shirt, throwing it to the floor. He half-expected Wilson to complain that it would get wrinkled but he was too far-gone to care at the moment. He wanted to get the show on the road as quickly as House did by the look and feel of it. They were both dripping with sweat, panting lightly for breath, their skins hot, tingling and extra-sensitive, members hard and aching for release.
They crossed the threshold into the bedroom where Wilson finally lost his bottoms before House spun them around and pushed him down onto the bed.
“Socks, too,” House said. Wilson’s shoes had been lost somewhere along the way and House slipped Wilson’s socks off. He climbed onto the end of the bed and began to kiss each of Wilson’s toes, stopping to suck on a couple along the way. This brought belly laughter from Wilson.
“Seriously? A foot fetish, House?” He playfully kicked at the diagnostician. “Quit it, that tickles!” He grabbed at House’s arms, pulling him toward him. “Come up here.”
House sighed, bidding silent farewell to Wilson’s tootsies-at least for now-and allowed himself to be pulled onto the naked and beautiful body of his best friend. Of course he’d seen Wilson naked before, but never like this, never this close and for this reason. He wanted to kiss and lick every inch of that body, to worship it, but his growing need was pushing that to the side, for another time.
They kissed and suckled and wrestled until need became too much to bear any longer.
“Lube?” Wilson moaned as House chewed on his earlobe.
“Drawer,” House stopped to say. Wilson reached with one hand to open the drawer in the bedside table; he quickly located the tube and pulled it out, forgetting to close the drawer when House possessed his mouth again.
“Have you ever done this before?” House asked him with surprising gentleness once he’d broken the kiss.
“Never…you know,” Wilson replied almost sheepishly, staring up at him. “Just oral…a long time ago. You?”
House nodded but didn’t elaborate. His last experience at anal sex had been a little over a year before, in prison, where it hadn’t been consensual or pleasant; two bruisers had held him still while a third had had his way with him. House hadn’t fought back as hard as some of their other victims, believing that extreme resistance would have only resulted in himself being the one who ended up in the infirmary for his efforts. Fortunately, he had previous experience that had been consensual and pleasurable to think back to, though that had been quite some time in the past, too.
“What do you want, Jimmy?” House murmured, kissing his nose. “Do you want to pitch or catch?”
“Seriously? Sports metaphors?” Wilson asked, smiling a little nervously.
“Look, it’s fantastic either way,” House told him, serious now, “but if you bottom the first few times may hurt. It gets better the more you do it…look, you fuck me now. I want your first time to be slow and good, and that takes more time than I think I have to spare before I fucking come all over the place.”
“Okay,” Wilson agreed, being careful not to look too relieved though House could see it in his eyes.
“I want you facing me, so I can see your face,” House told him, earning a grin from Wilson, who wisely refrained from pointing out how romantic he sounded.
House led Wilson through the process of preparing him and other logistics and Wilson was a fast learner. A drawn-out groan left him as he slowly entered House for the first time. House winced slightly, earning immediate concern from his partner.
“I’m…I’m fine,” he assured Wilson. “Keep going!”
Wilson leaned forward and kissed him gently before doing so, thrusting hesitantly at first but then with increasing speed and vigor with the encouraging words and sounds made by his lover. House reveled in feeling completely filled up by this man that he had loved for so long; he savored each kiss, each caress and ignored any discomfort he might be experiencing in the presence of the pleasure. He committed each second of their lovemaking to memory so should it never happen again he would have the memory of these moments of true happiness and desire to turn back to for comfort.
Wilson proved to be very sensitive to House’s non-verbal encouragement and direction and it wasn’t long before he’d adjusted the angle of his thrusts just so that he grazed over House’s prostate with each one. He was succeeding at limiting the amount of contact he had with House’s ruined thigh, which allowed his older lover to focus on pleasure instead of pain.
“Oh God, yessss…,” House moaned loudly, both of his hands on Wilson’s hips, unconsciously squeezing hard enough to bruise. He laid open- mouthed kisses and little bites along Wilson’s sweaty shoulder and neck, enjoying the taste of him as if he were partaking of ambrosia. The scent of him, his musk and sweat and stale cologne was absolutely intoxicating; House had always enjoyed the smell of his friend but never so much as at that moment in the throes of passion.
Only a few more thrusts and House knew he would be finished; he sensed that Wilson, too, was approaching climax. It was with a particularly sexy groan from Wilson that House went over, soaring on the heights of one of the best orgasms he’d ever experienced. His climax triggered Wilson’s mere moments later, and he cried out something that sounded like House’s first name before collapsing onto him, no strength left in him to support his weight or move.
House slowly descended from the immediate high to feel Wilson’s hot breaths against his neck. Sweat slicked their bodies, dampened the sheets, and made them both shiver in the cool room. Wilson half-rolled off of House, keeping one arm and leg wrapped around him as if ensuring that he wouldn’t up and run away, not that that was possible at that point. He reached his left hand down and pulled the comforter, which had been kicked to the end of the bed, up and over them. House kept Wilson close in his arms, kissing his sweat-soaked hair and caressing his creamy skin.
“You catch on…quick,” House said as he panted, his heart still racing.
“I was always…a high achiever,” Wilson agreed, smiling against House’s neck before kissing it. “You did pretty…good yourself…for an…old fart.”
“And without…a little blue…pill,” House agreed, smirking. He kissed Wilson again and squeezed him closer if that was even possible. “Bonnie was …right about you.”
“What was that about…Bonnie?” Wilson asked, lifting himself up enough to look House in the face.
“She once told me that you were a sex god,” House told him, his breathing evening out. “She didn’t say it in those terms but the message was the same.”
“Was this while she and I were married or after the divorce?”
“A few years after,” House told him. “After Julie, even.”
“Why were you talking to my ex-wife about our sex life?” Wilson looked confused by the concept of his best friend and ex-wife talking about such intimate matters. “Or about anything, for that matter. You hate each other.”
“It’s a long, boring story that really doesn’t matter,” House assured him, brushing a stray lock of Wilson’s hair into place. It was such a simple yet intimate gesture that brought a smile to Wilson’s lips. “The point is, she was right.”
Wilson relaxed back down onto the pillow, reaching to lovingly brush House’s scruffy cheek with his hand. “I told you how long I’ve known I was in love with you. How long have you known you wanted me?”
House noticed how Wilson didn’t use the term ‘in love’ when it came to his feelings for the younger man. It was a sign of insecurity about what House’s real intentions were; he was determined not to assume anything. House didn’t like talking about feelings or using the four-letter ‘L’ word like it had no real specialness or meaning at all, but he didn’t want his lover to be confused about his feelings for him.
House shifted his body so that he was lying on his left side facing Wilson. He moved in and kissed him tenderly, lingering for a while before meeting his gaze. It was time to let down his guard and become a little vulnerable, as much as he disliked it.
“Listen closely because you may not hear this again for a long time, if ever. I’ve loved you since the day I met you, Wilson,” he murmured carefully, earning a lasting smile from his best friend. “I fell in love with you shortly after the infarction, after Stacy had been gone for a few months. I acknowledged it for the first time while I was at Mayfield.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Wilson asked, amazed both by House’s confession and by how easy it had been to get it. “It wasn’t because you were afraid of what others might think about you if it got out that you had gay feelings for me because you’ve never given a damn about what others think about you.”
“True,” House agreed, “but I do care about what you think about me. I didn’t know how you felt, either. I didn’t want to risk losing my friendship with you; it was-is-too important to me. And I did give you more than a few hints, you know.”
“I always thought you were kidding,” Wilson told him, “and then there was your pursuit of Cuddy….”
A sigh left House at the mention of her name. Some wounds would never heal completely and that was something he’d had to come to terms with over his year in prison and the months after he’d been released on conditional parole.
“Sorry,” Wilson apologized, “Change of topic.”
“No,” House countered, shaking his head. “You’re right. There was always sexual chemistry between us but I only actively pursued her because I didn’t think I could ever have you as my lover; she was available, at least until she took up with Lucas, and you kept pushing me at her. It made sense, in a way, but she and I should have known that I could never be the kind of man she wanted and needed, and I could never love her like I do you.”
“You keep saying it,” Wilson pointed out, smiling smugly. “Shortly after you destroyed Cuddy’s house and ran away she told me that you only told her once that you loved her, and then only because she had drawn it out of you. Yet you keep saying it to and about me.”
House lifted one of Wilson’s hands to his lips. “It’s easier to say when I actually mean it.”
“You didn’t love Cuddy?”
“Yes and no,” House replied. “Yes, I loved her but I was never in love with her. Enough discussion about Cuddy. You have a second lease on life…any ideas on what you want to do with it?”
“Aside from spending it with you, like this?” Wilson clarified. “Yeah…yeah. I want to let go and do all of those things I’ve put off or considered frivolous or selfish over the years. I want to do the things on my bucket list without having to kick the bucket. I want to travel the country-no, the world. I need a sabbatical from medicine, and if I ever choose to come back…no more oncology. I’m done. I don’t know what else I would specialize in…hematology? Hell, maybe I’ll become a pain management specialist and come up with a way of easing some of your suffering. Maybe I’ll just set up a shingle somewhere and practice general medicine. Maybe I’ll teach. One thing I am certain of is that I want to do all of this with you. What do you say to a super-amazing, epic road trip of all time, you and me?”
House found himself grinning at the enthusiasm and hope he heard in Wilson’s voice and saw illuminating his face.
“When you put it like that, how could I refuse?” House told him, hugging him close. For the first time in years-hell, in decades-House felt happy and he would do whatever it took to make it last and to share it with the one person who was the source.
“What about…us?” House asked him almost shyly. “This. Are we--Is this-going to be our dirty little secret?”
Wilson lifted His face to kiss House sweetly before giving him a devilish smile. “Hell, no! This becomes front-page news from now on. No more feeling ashamed of being who I am or for loving you. If you’re game, that is.”
“Oh, I’m game, alright, but it can wait ‘til later” House announced, his hands migrating toward more sensitive areas of Wilson’s body. “I’ve got something much more important to do, first.” He moved his face toward Wilson’s and kissed him with a lot of tongue.
“Mm,” Wilson hummed in response, pulling House on top of him. “Mm-hmmmm.”
---
House woke up to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom next door to his bedroom. He rubbed his face with his hand a couple of times before sitting up. A tad disappointed that Wilson hadn’t wakened him so they could shower together, he decided he would join him anyway-that is, if he could get his ass out of bed before Wilson finished.
Getting up after hours of dormancy was a painful and difficult process of stretches and range of motion exercises before House could actually get to his feet. Fortunately, Wilson seemed to be taking a more languorous shower this morning so House made it to the bathroom before the other man turned off the water. Thankfully the door was unlocked; House crept into the bathroom, still naked from their lovemaking the night before. He pulled back the shower curtain.
Wilson shrieked at the unexpected intrusion, jumping and nearly slipping in the tub before grabbing the handrail House had installed after the infarction. Covered in soap and glaring at House, he was absolutely adorable (not that that word had even occurred to House).
House set his cane down next to the tub, climbed in, and closed the curtain again.
Wilson wagged a bar of soap at him. “You scared the shit out of me. It was like something out of Psycho!”
“Told you watching Hitchcock would be the end of you someday,” House chirped, surprisingly awake for how early it was. “Just wanted to soap you down but you beat me to it. Oh well, guess I get to scrub you and rinse you off, then you can wash me.”
“Oh really?” Wilson replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, really,” House told him, smiling lasciviously. “Or, I can fuck you against the wall right here. Moist heat relaxes and loosens everything up.” He wrapped an arm around Wilson’s waist and pulled him until their bodies touched. Wilson chuckled before initiating a very hot and steamy kiss, his fingers lightly tracing patterns up and down House’s flanks, eliciting goosebumps.
They played for a little while in the shower, though actual intercourse was postponed for later (the risk of House slipping and falling in the tub with his bad leg being too great). Wilson did indeed clean every inch of House, taking longer in the more erotic zones before going down on him. It was perhaps one of the best blowjobs House had had in a long time; Wilson had a very talented and knowledgeable mouth.
They rinsed off and got out of the shower, toweling each other off. House suggested they return to bed so he could return the favor, but Wilson was insistent that they didn’t have enough time before work and that he would gladly take a raincheck. House pouted for a while just to make a point despite the fact he knew Wilson was right. House dressed in fresh clothing; Wilson put back on his casual wear from the night before.
“How about we do drive-thru for breakfast?” he suggested. “That way we’ll have time to swing around the loft and I can change for work?”
Drive-thru sounded good to House, who agreed. He rode in to work with Wilson since he had every intention of dragging Wilson back to his place after work in order to fill that raincheck. It was in the car between Wilson’s loft and the hospital that they talked about how they were going to announce their relationship at work and some of the rules Wilson wanted in place for behavior between them while at the hospital.
“The direct approach is best,” House offered from the passenger’s seat. “We walk into the hospital, stop at the desk and I grab your ass. Then we kiss with lots of tongue-”
“Uh,” Wilson interrupted, “I was thinking we would do it with a little more class.”
“My way’s classy,” House defended but was failing to convince his friend. “Fine. What boring way have you got in mind?”
Wilson paused until they stopped for a red light before taking his eyes off the road to look at House. “Why don’t we just walk in holding hands-”
House made a gagging sound.
”-And go to Foreman’s office, Wilson continued, apparently unaffected by House’s interruption. “We tell him right away that we are in a relationship and that we both are wanting to take a leave of absence just as soon as the conditions on your parole are over and we can make arrangements for you to be able to leave the state legally-”
“Seriously,” House interjected, rolling his eyes, “can you make it any more gay? And we don’t have to wait. My parole officer hasn’t demanded to see me in months. Public service is such hard work. My way has more pizzazz, more ‘Out and Proud’ than yours does.”
“House, we’re two men having sex with each other. It doesn’t get much gayer than that. Besides,” Wilson said with a nod, turning his attention back to his driving when the light turned green, “you may be right, but your way is entirely inappropriate for a hospital setting.”
Staring blankly at him House said, “And your point is? Come on, we have to do something over the top or nobody will believe it.”
“Nobody will believe it if we do go over the top,” Wilson insisted. “Everybody is used to you being outrageous, House. It has an opposite effect on the staff now. By being subtle but showing some tasteful signs of public affection and being honest when questions are asked, people will be more willing to believe it. Trust me on this.”
House crossed his arms in front of him stubbornly. “Fine, we’ll try it your way-for a while. If nobody buys it, we do things my way. And I’m still going to grab your ass.”
Wilson sighed, long-suffering. “Of course. We have to have some rules, some boundaries, when it comes to PDA at work.”
“Make all the rules you want, Wilson,” House told him, smirking. “Rules are made to be broken.”
“I’m serious about this,” Wilson insisted more fervently. “I’m not ashamed of our relationship, House, I’m really not, but there are some things that are better left for when we’re alone. Grabbing my ass or my crotch at work is out.”
“Not even at lunch in your office?” House asked, now appearing disappointed. “Or in the janitor’s closet during coffee break?”
“As long as we’re alone, it’s fine by me,” Wilson assured him, “but not in public. And I do actually have patients and meetings and paperwork to do so there won’t be more ‘coffee breaks’ than we normally take. When we’re on duty we behave as colleagues with some professional decorum, but what we do privately is nobody else’s business. I still need to command some respect from my colleagues and staff, House, even if you don’t give a damn about that sort of thing-and don’t give me that look. I am serious about being less about appearances and more about being the real me, but this is new to me. Baby-steps, House.”
House sighed heavily, staring out the windshield. A moment or two later he nodded once, which Wilson caught out of the corner of his eye.
“Baby-steps, Wilson.” House agreed.
Before leaving House’s apartment that morning they had thought of taking House’s disabled placard out of his car. After parking in House’s disabled space, Wilson now put it up on the rear-view mirror of his Taurus. As House came around the car, Wilson grasped his free left hand with his own right, and carried his briefcase in his left. House looked at their hands for a moment, a hint of a smile playing around with the corners of his eyes and mouth.
“Ready?” Wilson asked him as they walked together like that toward the parkade elevator.
House gave his hand a squeeze. “More than,” he replied.
They caught the next elevator car up. Two other people were on it as well. If they noticed the handholding, they didn’t show it. House was dubious this would work, being subtle, but he was willing to try if it was that important to Wilson. The elevator emptied of its occupants at the Lobby. Wilson led the way off, his hand still firmly holding House’s. They walked up to the front desk to sign in and receive any messages they might have. One of the reception nurses gave them a funny look as she handed over the message papers but said nothing. Wilson acted as if nothing at all was different, thanking her in his sickeningly charming way. House took his with a grunt.
After looking through his messages and signing a couple of orders pending, Wilson leaned over and gave House a peck on the cheek. House looked for any reactions. Nurse Jeffrey had been talking with the reception nurse but had stopped and stared when he noticed the simple, chaste kiss. A couple of doctors walking past looked away from them quickly but whispered between them while stealing short glances in Wilson’s and his direction.
“We should go see Foreman right away,” Wilson told him, acting as if he hadn’t just been seen kissing his best friend’s cheek. House had to press his lips together to keep from smiling.
“Good idea,” House told him, taking Wilson’s hand again. They walked toward the clinic. A few eyes from staffers were on them as they proceeded, but when House caught them staring they all quickly looked away and went back to what they were doing. Perhaps Wilson was right after all.
House didn’t bother checking in with the P.A. or knocking when he led the way into Foreman’s office. The Dean of Medicine was on his phone and raised a hand to prevent either of them from speaking. House and Wilson simply stood in front of his desk, waiting, with their hands joined. House noted that Foreman’s eyes had zeroed in right away on their hands and were glued to them as he finished his phone call and hung up.
Foreman, seated behind his desk, crossed his arms in front of his chest and smirked at them. “So, what?” he asked. “Are we going to break out in a round of Kumbiyah and roast some marshmallows now?”
Before House could retort Wilson beat him to it.
“House and I are in a romantic relationship,” he announced as if he were telling Foreman that the cafeteria was serving steak as it’s special du jour. “It just happened and we felt we should let you know before you found out over the grapevine.”
Foreman stared at the chief oncologist, somewhat dumbstruck. That lasted all of two seconds, though, before he smirked in disbelief and shook his head.
“Look, I don’t have time for whatever con it is you two are pulling,” the Dean told them, shuffling through a stack of papers on his desk. “So you might as well just come out with it and save us all a lot of time.”
“It’s not a con,” Wilson insisted firmly. “There should be no problem with our working here together at Plainsboro since neither of us is in a supervisory position over the other but if you think it prudent that we report to HR then we will.”
Foreman’s smirk slowly faded. “But neither of you is gay.”
“Gay is as gay does,” House piped up in his best Forest Gump impersonation, which really wasn’t very good. “Last night Wilson topped but tonight-”
“House!” Wilson cut him off, glaring.
House glared back, “Your way isn’t working.” He pulled Wilson suddenly into a kiss. Wilson surrendered to it. House lingered a moment before letting go of him and pulling back. He then regarded Foreman. “Any questions?”
Foreman simply gawked, and it was apparent that he didn’t want to believe it but simply couldn't help it. He sighed and then shrugged. “Okay. Fine. If this is a prank it probably won’t last more that a few days, a week tops, and if it isn’t then…congratulations?”
House gave Wilson a smug smirk; Wilson rolled his eyes.
“Thank you,” Wilson replied. “Now on to other business. Did you happen to view the films I left with your assistant?”
A smile broke out on Foreman’s face and he nodded. “I almost forgot. This is great news! Full remission. Not everybody is so lucky.”
Nodding and sighing, Wilson went on, “It’s more than I could have hoped for. Of course, there’s always a chance that the cancer might come back, but I’ll deal with that if or when it happens. This entire experience got me thinking about my life and the direction it was going. I’ve decided that I need-want-to change course. To start, I’m going to apply with HR for a sabbatical leave-both House and I are. I’m…burnt out and need some time to see if I can re-ignite my interest in medicine and I want House there with me.”
“’Cuz we’re doing each other,” House interjected, earning another sigh and eye roll from Wilson. House loved provoking that reaction; Wilson looked so cute when he did that (not that House would ever use the term cute).
“House is still on restricted parole for six months,” Foreman reminded them.
“Tell us something we don’t know,” House replied. “We won’t be taking the sabbatical immediately; Wilson has patients he wants to finish up with before he hands their cases over to other doctors and to give you time to find and hire his temporary replacement.”
“I want to recommend Brown,” Wilson added. “I think he’d be good at the job and since he’s already on staff I have plenty of time to train him in the position before I leave. It will also give me time for some preventative treatment, to make certain all of the cancer is gone. Once House’s sentence is completed we’ll be leaving Princeton and probably won’t be back for more than a day or two here or there until the sabbatical is up.”
“What about your department?” Foreman asked, turning his attention to House.
“I want Chase as my replacement,” was the simple reply.
“Chase?” Foreman echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“He’s ready,” House asserted. “I won’t have to train him in the way the department works because he knows it as well as I do. That is, if he hasn’t already settled into a permanent position by that time. I’ll leave procurement up to you.”
Foreman stared at them both for a moment in silence before nodding and sighing. “Okay. Wilson, if you really feel this is something you have to do, then we’ll make it happen. Why you think taking House along will be therapeutic is beyond me but it’s your life.”
“It’s because I’m a stud in the sack,” House retorted, earning another Wilson sigh.
“It’s true,” Wilson admitted, straight-faced, much to House’s surprise and earning an amused smile from him. “We’ll work out the details as they arise. Thank you, Foreman.”
They left Foreman’s office still holding hands and heading for the elevator.
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Chapter One
Chapter Three