Adventures in the Janitor's Closet
There was less than twenty square feet in the janitorial closet and House was determined to make use of every last one of those feet. Christmas was fast approaching and the only way to tell was because House and Wilson’s ‘sessions’, if you would, had started happening with an increasing frequency. Outside that closet were decorations and carols, but inside the closet was House, pushing Wilson up against the wall.
They gasped and panted and Wilson wiped away sweat from his forehead.
“You know, we really need a mistletoe for this,” Wilson pointed out with a sly grin.
House leveled him with a glare, pushing him against the wall as he initiated another rough kiss, pinning Wilson’s arms above his head. There was no ring on Wilson’s finger; it had been slipped into his pocket. The closet provided a few good things. No decorations, which was good because House hated Christmas. And the close walls made Wilson feel as though it was out of the world’s eyes. No one to see their misgivings. That’s what he had said once when House asked him why they couldn’t make out in a stairwell or in the parking garage.
House’s kisses were searing and desperate because Wilson had said once that he loved them just like that, because they belonged to House and him alone.
“What we really don’t need is mistletoe,” House countered after the kiss was through and his voice was rough. Wilson had to have known he would react like that. He just enjoyed getting a rise out of House at times – both literally and figuratively.
They both turned to the door when the sound of Christmas carols drifted down the hall.
“Chase started singing Little Drummer Boy to piss me off,” House grumbled, his hands tight on Wilson’s waist. They were both panting and Wilson looked dodgy. His eyes were shifty and all and he looked like he was thinking of making House just a little bit miserable using that ol' Christmas spirit thing. People thought that House couldn’t hate all of Christmas. They were wrong. “And Cameron doubled the candy canes in the office. I’m going to be swimming in them soon.”
Wilson gave House a quick kiss. “Give me a second, okay?”
“Why? We’ve got ten minutes before I need to show up.”
Wilson didn’t listen, but rather pried himself away from House’s grip and opened the door, shutting it behind him just as swiftly. House grabbed for his cane – which he’d hung up on the second shelf with the all-purpose cleaner and the mop heads – and leaned on it, popping a Vicodin as he whiled away the time and waited for Wilson to come back. God, he hoped that Wilson wasn’t finding Chase to sing more carols just to annoy him.
Finally, Wilson was back and he had something up his sleeve.
Literally.
“Jimmy? Whatcha got there?” House ventured, hanging his cane back up. He could use another go of endorphins while the Vicodin kicked in. Wilson simply reached up his sleeve and very slowly pried out a sprig of mistletoe, leaning up to pin it up to the ceiling. House watched, slightly appreciative of the small things Wilson did. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were giving in to the man.”
“Yes,” Wilson replied dryly, straightening his shirt. “The man is convincing me to convert,” he pointed out to House. “Out of all the traditions, you have to not-hate this one that much.”
House paused. “Well…”
“Well?”
“So long as I don’t wind up kissing any of the children because of this weed,” House gestured to the mistletoe on the ceiling, but before Wilson could reply, House had his hands wrapped around Wilson’s biceps with harsh force and Wilson was pinned against the wall.
The kiss resumed like it hadn’t ever stopped in the first place and House was as passionate and desperate and giving as always, sucking on Wilson’s lower lip and rocking his hips forwards to create friction. Wilson nudged his knees in between House’s thighs and rubbed there to help with the friction as the kiss continued.
They kissed stupidly, kissing until neither of them could breathe. Until they were forced to part and gasp for their breath. They kissed like teenagers who’d just discovered making out and they kissed this way every time because it was the janitor’s closet and no one would ever condemn them there. It was for them alone and when they left, neither of them ever mentioned it.
Wilson pressed one hand on House’s shoulder, as if to steady himself, and House had both palms pressed hard to the wall.
“So, mistletoe kissing,” Wilson gasped breathlessly. “Yea or nay?”
“With you, I think we can make the exception.” And House was glad of the mistletoe being hung in the closet, because Wilson wasn’t going to go talking about House didn’t hate all of Christmas after all, because that would require an explanation. Wilson, moreso than House, really wasn’t ready to give an explanation about the adventures of the janitor’s closet.
Wilson leaned in and this time, the kiss was softer and sweeter and it was a type of kiss House hadn’t felt in years. It was the kind of kiss that Stacy used to give to him on cold nights. Wilson kissed him like that and it felt about as good as it always did and House closed his eyes. Those were the kind of kisses House loved best, but had never told Wilson about.
“Merry Christmas,” Wilson said softly as he parted.
House swallowed, feeling a little uneasy and not just from the pain in his leg. He reached for his cane and gave Wilson a smirk. “And Happy Hanukkah to all.” He opened the door and left the room. A minute later, Wilson would leave as well, as they always did.
*
Cuddy frowned as she yanked open the door and true to the janitor’s word, found a very odd thing dangling from the ceiling of the janitor’s closet. She leaned up and yanked it down, turning to the various nurses and doctors standing about the station.
“Okay, who’s the comedian?” she growled, and stormed right past Wilson in her pursuit.
Wilson just smiled and hid it with his chart, catching House’s gaze from across the hall.
end