Title Thank God For Sneezing
Rating PG
Pairing House/Wilson
Word Count 662
Spoilers 401 - Alone
Summary House's sneeze knocks him off-balance. Thank God.
A/N Yes, inspired by the promo picture. The only way to stop my fangirling is just to give in.



“I take it those poor, confused souls running around with numbers on them have to do with you,” Wilson said as House entered his office, uninvited as usual. He wondered if it was possible to read the paper and make sarcastic remarks at the same time. “What kind of diabolical plot did you come up with this time?”

“Everyone loves reality TV, right?” Wilson rolled his eyes, knowing full well House hated reality shows and that House knew he didn't watch them, either. “I thought I'd take that approach. Pit a bunch of saps against each other, then force the winners to like each other and work as a team.”

“Oh, Dr. House, you are brilliant,” Wilson said robotically. He decided to give up trying to read; besides the fact conversations with House usually required all available brain power, House was trying to read over his shoulder. When anyone did that, it rendered Wilson incapable of focusing on the words on the page. He looked up at House with a puzzled expression. “So what's with the numbers?”

“I'm better with numbers than names.”

“Really? I never noticed.”

“That, and I know you have a deep-seated fear of numbers, and that being surrounded by them would induce nightmares,” House said, then suddenly appeared serious.

“What's wrong?” Wilson asked, his own smile beginning to waiver.

“I --,” House began, but was cut short by a loud sneeze strong enough to knock him over. House tried to regain his balance, and really, it shouldn't have been so difficult, as he still had his cane in hand and there was plenty around to grab onto. Wilson started to move to steady him, but he didn't react quickly enough, and House came toppling down.

Right on top of Wilson.

“Are you okay?”

“Didn't break anything.” House shifted from the awkward face-down position until he was splayed across Wilson's lap, his arms propped against the desk.

“Good, that means you can get up.”

“I could.” House formed a mischievous smile; that was never a good sign. Never. “But you make a great chair. Must be because you're so pleasingly plump.”

“Well, as long as you're comfortable...”

“I am, thank you.”

Wilson sighed. “You're sitting on my paper.”

“Reading makes you stupid.”

“You're crushing my arm. Kind of need it.” House seemed to consider Wilson's complaint, and moved around. He gripped on the back of the chair to pull himself up, but only to sit up, and then wrapped his arms around Wilson. Wilson would have died of shock, right then and there, if he hadn't known House was only trying to yank his chain.

Wilson wore his best exasperated face, but wasn't exactly putting forth his best effort to get House off his lap. He hugged House's waist, pulling him closer and feeling almost too warm against his body heat. Wilson felt House rest his head on top of his; he closed his eyes and noticed for the first time that House, who wasn't one to wear colognes, did have a scent, and it was the faint smell of the soap and shampoo he must have used this morning.

Wilson wasn't sure how long they sat like that, or how long House intended to keep him there, but he didn't really care.

Then he heard a knock at the door – open door, Wilson realized as he snapped his eyes open and saw Cuddy enter the office. She stopped mid-stride once she noticed the tangled mess in Wilson's chair. Her and Wilson's reactions were eerily similar: open mouth, shut mouth, blink, stare stupidly. House squeezed Wilson tighter and batted his eyelashes at Cuddy.

Cuddy turned around and walked a few steps before turning again, going up to Wilson's desk, dropping a file on it, and then leaving. She closed the door behind her.

“I hate you,” Wilson said after the shock wore off and he could finally speak again.

“Aw, I do, too.”