TITLE: The Unaired Unaired Pilot
AUTHOR: hwshipper
PROMPT: For wilsonfest prompt: House/Wilson: Wilson tells House that he looks good unshaved
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.

SUMMARY: House/Wilson established relationship. Set during 1.01 Pilot and takes the two unaired Pilot scenes as canon.
BETA: Sterling work by the masterly triedunture

The Unaired Unaired Pilot

Wilson: I lied. I've been lying to you in increasing amounts ever since I told you you looked good unshaved, a year ago. (2.05 Daddy's Boy)

Wilson walked into House's office, where House was carefully building a house of cards. He sat down in front of House's desk. House balanced another card precariously on top of the structure, shooting Wilson a warning look as he did so.

Wilson resisted the urge to blow and instead said casually, "Mind if I come over tomorrow night?"

House's eyes narrowed immediately and he paused with one hand hovering over the pile of as yet unused cards. Wilson met House's gaze, then dropped his eyelids slightly.

"Julie letting you off the leash?" House asked, and picked up another two cards.

"It's her night for evening class," Wilson said. This was actually true, though not relevant.

"If you must," House said. He placed the two cards together at right angles, and balanced them on the top of the pyramid.

Wilson glanced through into the conference room where Cameron sat, busily working on e-mail. "Didn't your new fellow start work today?"

"Foreman? I think Chase is showing him where the men's room is," House said brightly. "I've managed to avoid seeing him so far."

"Well, you wouldn't want to give him the impression you actually want him to do any work," Wilson deadpanned. He eyed the house of cards. "You've glued those bottom ones."

"Have not."

Wilson leant forward and, ignoring House's yelp, tapped the structure lightly. It toppled over, the top few cards scattering, the bottom ones falling but staying stuck in their pyramid.

"Spoilsport," House grumbled.

Wilson stood up to leave. "See you tomorrow."

That night Wilson worked late, mainly to put off going home until he thought Julie would have gone to bed. Then at midnight, when he had just decided to go home, he got a page. Rebecca Adler had seized again.

He went to find out what had happened. She had lost the ability to talk again. She was distressed. Wilson fought hard to conceal his own distress. Before he knew it, it was 5 AM. Not worth going home. He managed a few hours sleep on the couch in his office, was woken by the phone at eight, and staggered bleary-eyed through the rest of the day. House had gone AWOL, probably avoiding demands for work from Foreman.

Wilson left at five, as early as he ever left work, and when he got to House's apartment he was mildly surprised to find House wasn't there. By now Wilson was exhausted, so he went straight to bed and fell asleep immediately.

When he woke, the room was in darkness, and another body was lowering itself onto the mattress beside him. Wilson yawned and rolled over. House, settling himself down comfortably a few inches away, kissed him on the mouth.

"Morning breath in the evening. Thanks," said House. "You left early today,"

"You didn't?" Wilson asked sleepily.

House reached out and curled an arm round Wilson's head. "You really must want some."

"I worked through last night. I was tired," Wilson prevaricated. "Where were you today, anyway?" He shifted position slightly, wriggling a little closer to House.

"Hiding out in the OBGYN lounge. They got pretty pissed with me. I might actually have to meet Foreman tomorrow."

Wilson opened his mouth to say Good, I have a case for you, but stopped himself. Now was not the time. Instead he said, "You know Cuddy's preparing for battle with you on the clinic duty thing."

House snorted. "Yeah, I'm so gonna agree to it now after all these years." He rolled onto his back and scratched his chin meditatively. "I'm thinking of going clean-shaven."

"You're kidding," Wilson responded instinctively.

"No. What do you think?"

"Do you care?"

"No, but I'm interested."

"I think..." Wilson considered, and went on, "I think if it was me asking you that, you'd say I must be trying to hit on some hot impressionable woman too young for me."

"Ha ha," House said with derision.

"You want to look younger for Cameron, is that it?" Wilson said mischievously.

"Fuck off. Anyway Cameron likes me looking older and grizzled."

Wilson grinned in the darkness. "What am I saying? It must be for the new boy. Make a good first impression. Gotta be clean shaven before you meet him."

This got him a sharp elbow in the ribs. "Watch it."

Wilson reached out and put a hand up against House's face, feeling the stubble. House lay still as Wilson ran his fingers along House's jawline, rubbing the hairs first the way they fell, then back up against the grain. Wilson's fingertips prickled and he felt a similar tingling in his groin. He moved his hand down House's chin and onto his neck. House made a small throaty growl as Wilson leaned forward and nuzzled his neck, then shuddered as Wilson ran his tongue over his Adam's apple.

"I like you unshaven," Wilson murmured.

"You don't mind the beard burn?" House muttered back, sounding slightly breathless.

Wilson smiled. "After fucking you on and off for the last eighteen or so years, I'm used to it. There's a reason I moisturize, you know."

"You already had your ridiculous grooming habits when we met, when you were a poverty-stricken med student," House retorted. "Don't blame me for that."

Wilson didn't reply, but moved his face upwards and rested his own smooth cheek against House's bristled one. House shifted his head back and forth slightly, and Wilson leant into the burn. Then Wilson moved to straddle House, one knee on each side of House's hips. Wilson kissed House first on the lips, then moved downwards, trailing his mouth over House's stubbled chin and neck, then his chest, nuzzling his way through House's chest hair. House twitched and groaned a little under Wilson's touch.

Wilson then wriggled down the bed, eased off House's boxer shorts, and took House's cock in his mouth. House gasped and started to thrust as Wilson ran his tongue up and down the shaft. Wilson then licked his fingers and eased first the one finger and then another inside House while continuing to suck his cock. House moaned, "God, yes," as his hips jerked involuntarily

Then Wilson pulled away. House opened his eyes in disbelief and barked, "Finish, you bastard."

"Nuh uh." Wilson was stripping off his own boxer shorts. "Turn over. You're gonna come while I fuck you."

Wilson saw House's blue eyes shine in the darkened room before he shifted over and lay on his front. Wilson rolled on a condom and came back to straddle House, sitting back on his heels.

"You know, there are other areas you could think about shaving," Wilson said teasingly. He grabbed a pillow and eased it underneath House's bad thigh.

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me before I throttle you," House rasped.

Wilson reached for the lube, slicked his cock, and lowered himself carefully on top of House. He felt House breathing unsteadily as he grasped House's hips and thrust inside, gently at first, then harder as House growled and moved with him. Wilson closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling, the intensity, the intimacy, the sheer knowledge and sensation of being inside House; and the reaction, House bucking and arching beneath him. All too soon, he felt House juddering underneath him as he came, and the sensibility brought Wilson to his own climax too.

As they lay together afterwards, Wilson muttered, "So, you gonna shave?"

"Dunno. I might," House said sleepily. "I know there's a razor in the bathroom somewhere."

"Yes, that's my razor." Wilson felt the need to make this clear. "The nickel-handled one. Which I keep here because I know you've got no reason to touch it."

"Oh yeah? I was using it to get bits of fluff off the sofa covers only the other week."

Wilson knew from personal experience that those sofa covers had quite a history, and he shuddered. Only the fact that it was extremely unlikely that House would have cared about fluff enough to try and shave them off stopped him commenting further. He thought he might change the blade on the razor anyway, just in case.

He reached up to the top of House's head and ran his hand through House's hair at the crown, where it was thinning. "Actually, I think you really need to keep all the hair you can."

"Shut up."

Wilson obeyed and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Wilson got up and left for work before House was awake. Later on, Wilson ambushed House in a corridor and, after seizing House's cane as he was about to get in the elevator, persuaded him to take the Rebecca Adler case.

His cousin, as Wilson explained.

"Grabbing my cane," House grumbled later on, sitting in Wilson's office. "In public, too. Might as well have grabbed my dick."

"Thought I did enough of that last night," Wilson said nonchalantly. "Anyway, I don't think it would be a good idea to start bartering sexual favors for cases."

House's eyes gleamed. "You're not kidding. Actually—"

"So, you decided not to shave?" Wilson hastily interrupted.

"Dunno," House said cheerfully. "But if I do, I'll go along to a barber and get it done with a real blade. Not that crappy one you keep in my bathroom."

"You tried using it?" Wilson queried with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Shaved the mold off the cheese this morning."

"House— You know I got that razor years ago in London. It's almost impossible to get new blades for it now." Wilson closed his eyes, then asked, "And did you eat the cheese after?"

"Dude, of course not! That would be totally disgusting." House rolled his eyes in mock indignation and stood up to go. "It was an experiment. You should be glad I told you."

Wilson supposed that was true.

That evening Wilson took a deep breath and went home at a vaguely reasonable time, only to find Julie wasn't there. She had left a note saying she was staying with a girlfriend for a night. Wilson tried not to think too hard about the relief he felt.

He slept reasonably well on his own and wrote a friendly note for Julie when he left for work the next morning to show her that he had been home.

Wilson stayed out of House's way most of that day, aware that he and his team were working on Rebecca, running tests, testing theories. He also knew that House was seeing his first clinic patients in six years. Wilson had a good idea about what House's reaction was going to be to all that and decided to stay out of the way as much as possible.

In the evening he went to check up on Rebecca and found himself chatting about House with her as he did so; Rebecca was understandably intrigued by her attending doctor who had yet to actually attend her in person at all.

When Rebecca then started seizing again and her heart stopped, Wilson stayed calm and professional and dealt with it. He maintained his composure right up to the moment he left the hospital, two hours later. He got into his car, put his head on the steering wheel, and felt closer to crying than at almost any moment since he was twelve years old. He didn't cry; but he didn't go home, either. He fired up the engine and headed for House's apartment.

He knocked on the door in a perfunctory manner and let himself in.

It was late, but House was still up, lying on the couch, listening to music, and flicking through a medical journal. He looked up and frowned as Wilson came in.

"Julie toss you out?"

"No." Wilson sat down on the couch, perching on the edge next to House. "I came from work. Rebecca Adler just seized again. Her heart stopped for a few minutes."

House grimaced at the news, then said, "You could have called. Or waited until tomorrow; it's not like I'm gonna do anything now."

Wilson put his elbows on his knees, balled his hands into fists and put them to his eyes. He didn't say anything. He didn't want to get shot down. House didn't do sympathy well. Wilson knew House couldn't give him what he wanted, but he did hope House could give him what he needed.

House read his mind and said gruffly, "Go to bed."

Wordlessly, Wilson stood up and went to the bedroom. He took his clothes off and got into bed, where he hunched up in a ball and tried not to think too hard about anything.

A few minutes later, House joined him. House angled his body around Wilson's and put a hand on Wilson's hip; Wilson pressed back, feeling the warmth, needing the companionship, wanting the hand that crept around and grasped his cock. House fucked him quite slowly and deliberately; Wilson found himself trying not to say anything, trying not to make any noise for fear of what might come out. He was swept up by arousal while trying to stifle his gasps and moans; he put his head in the pillow and bit down hard as he came.

Afterwards, as they lay together, House said quietly, "She's not your cousin."

Wilson said, as if House hadn't spoken, "Did you decide whether to shave?"

House didn't reply immediately, then said, "Probably won't. I thought I might lose my magic powers."

Wilson smiled in the darkness. "What, you're Samson now? Shave and you won't be able to diagnose anymore?"

"Yeah, and you wouldn't want that, so don't go trying to shave me in the middle of the night, Delilah," House retorted.

Wilson laughed a little.

A few minutes later, House remarked conversationally, "Foreman's going to break into her house tomorrow."

Wilson felt the muscles tense in his neck and shoulders. His mind flicked rapidly through an inventory. Then he started to relax, and eventually fell asleep.

The next day Foreman and Cameron came back from Rebecca Adler's house, and Wilson found himself confronted by Foreman saying she couldn't be his cousin. You don't even know her name! You called her Rachel. Wilson wasn't afraid of Foreman. But there were a terrible few seconds when House shouted You idiot! when Wilson thought House was about to throw the cousin thing in his face, and hang him out to dry in front of his fellows.

The moment passed; House had found his diagnosis, the worm; she could be treated. The distress didn't quite end, as Rebecca didn't want to be treated; she'd had enough, she wanted to go home and die. Her talking to House made no difference, though Wilson was glad House tried. Then Chase's x-ray idea to confirm the diagnosis was successful, she took her meds and was soon on the mend after that.

They were sitting watching General Hospital when House said, "You said she was your cousin. Why would you lie?"

"It got you to take the case." Wilson chose the simple answer. House knew that, had known that from the start. It wasn't even the first time Wilson had used the same lie.

"You lied to a friend to save a stranger." House insisted on pursuing the point. "You don't think that's screwed up?"

Wilson evaded. "You've never lied to me?"

"I never lie," House said, emphasizing each word.

This was such a blatant lie Wilson could only mutter, "Oh, right."

They watched the TV for a couple more moments, then there was a commercial break.

House leaned forward, muted the TV, and said, "You were fucking her, weren't you?"

It was time to level. Wilson was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "Before she got ill. For a few months. She knew I was married, had to be discreet—we gave each other fake names as a joke about it."

"Rachel."

"Yeah. We probably would have ended it soon anyway—she'd just got a new boyfriend actually, had been on a few dates with him, was very happy about it. But then she got sick." Wilson sighed. "The new boyfriend vanished. She needed me."

"Of course she did." House's voice was ironic, but not sarcastic.

"The doctors in Trenton couldn't figure it out. I was trying to find out what was happening with her case. The easiest way to explain my interest to them was to say she was my cousin. She went along with it." Wilson shrugged. "And it worked. I got her transferred here. You took the case, and you solved it. She can go back to teaching kindergarten. We already agreed we won't see each other again."

House was silent. The commercial break ended and House turned on the sound.

"So I guess you decided not to shave," Wilson remarked.

House glanced at Wilson. "Yeah. I thought I'd save that for the day I kill a clinic patient, have to don a disguise and flee to Mexico."

"You do know that you wouldn't actually look like your high school yearbook picture anymore," Wilson pointed out.

"Why not? You do," House retorted. "Ever thought of growing a beard? Then people might actually think you're old enough to be a department head."

Wilson smiled and relaxed into his chair.

END