Talk

I decided I wanted to try my hand at a House fiction, if it sucks, please, let me know. I accept CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, I don’t like flames. No one deserves to be flamed, its just another way to insult and hurt people. If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it, unless you’re Gregory House, which I doubt you are J

Warnings: Oneshot House/Wilson, don’t like it, don’t read.
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It was insane to think of Greg House and compassion in the same sentence. Sure, every once in awhile he would do something relatively positive, that didn’t involve blackmail or tricking Cuddy, but those times were very few and far in between. It also usually had something coming to him in the end. So it puzzled his other co-workers when he let James Wilson move into his cramped apartment with him. He also allowed the man to speak more freely and a lot more honestly with him than any of the others. It was definitely the talk of the clinic for a couple weeks, everyone trying to figure out House’s real intentions on giving James a place to stay.
“He’s manipulating him off work now too, I bet. Pretty soon we’re going to have a House clone running around.” Forman had mumbled quietly one day to Chase when the blonde Aussie had asked his opinion on the matter, being quiet to make sure he wasn’t being overheard by House, or even worse, Cameron. She always did hate it when any of the others were negative about each other.
Cameron had smiled, shaking her hair out of her face. “They’re best friends, even if House denies that friends exist. Of course he’d let Wilson stay, and be nicer to him.” She said happily when Forman’s whispers had reached to her down the table.
“Maybe House has actual feelings deep down in that black, grizzled heart of his.” Cuddy had said hurriedly when asked by Stacey, the two of them just passing in the halls. “This little sleep over time with Wilson might do him some good.”
But it didn’t seem to be helping his attitude any. He’d come into work tired, and more surly than usual. He’d complain of back aches, and mumble incoherently to himself sometimes. He seemed distracted when Wilson came into the room, grinning impishly whenever he’d wince taking his seat. This, of course, started up even more rumors.
“You don’t think House and Wilson are, you know, do you?” Chase asked quietly while he and Forman looked at a batch of test results. Forman raised an eyebrow.
“It’d explain Wilson’s hesitance to sit down, and House’s lack of sleep. But come on, do you seriously think Wilson is that stupid to start something with a heartless bastard?” The blonde shrugged.
“Maybe he sees something in House we don’t.” The other doctor snorted, quickly ending the conversation as the two of them walked into the room, House glaring as Chase looked guilty.
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Wilson arched up off the bed, moaning fervently as House bobbed up and down, taking him into his mouth almost completely. He pulled at the man’s graying hair, encouraging him on. He came within minutes, falling back against the covers and letting out one last groan. House smirked, crawling on top of Wilson.
“Think they’ve figured out what you’re giving me to stay here?” The handsome doctor gave his trademark sheepish grin, running his hands through the older male’s hair.
“Who knows, you know how they love to talk.”