Title: Five Times House Couldn't Get It Up-and one time he wished he hadn't.
Fandom: House MD
Pairings: House/Wilson, House/various characters.
Genre: Mixed bag.
Notes/Warnings-Written in response to too much "House is a stud" in canon and maybe fanon too. Beta-ed by Beta Goddess Carol, but not all suggestions taken. Remaining typos/suckage are my own fault.
The first time it happened there were plenty of excuses. He was tired, the case had been a real bitch, and oh yeah, he was in pain. All true and all beside the point.
Wilson managed to make it worse, pointing out that there were still plenty of things they could do, while not mentioning the obvious cause or the obvious answer.
House threw him out and spent the rest of the night conducting experiments with his porn collection. Even a dusty video of “Inside Seka” failed to produce results.
The next day he found the prescription on his desk.
Cuddy walked into his office, eyes shining with hormonally induced gratitude. Her basal temperature readings and blood tests told the tale: this was the moment and would he be the donor? Not the most romantic proposition he’d ever gotten, but there had to be some benefits to fathering the boss’s bambino.
Anyway, it had been years since he’d gotten his hands on that ass without a syringe and a swab being involved.
He nodded toward the door with a leer. Cuddy locked it behind her and closed the blinds.
She left twenty minutes later. This time, the tears were real.
“Why are you being so stubborn?”
“You doctors think everything can be solved with a pill.”
“You’ve never had a problem with that approach before.”
“It’s not the Vicodin.”
“Of course not. Just because opiates are known to diminish libido is no reason to think…”
“I was screwing Stacy when I was still on Percocet.”
“Tell it to JAMA. If you were a diabetic…”
“I’d probably kill myself with Twinkies.”
“Will you please give it a try?”
“Oh, all right. Write me another script.”
“What did you do with the last one?”
“I gave it to the night janitor. “
It had been the wrong day for some asshole of a cop to get in his face and he’d done something stupid as a result. Even for him.
House was trying to get the anger out of his system with a ride before he went to Wilson’s hotel. Time for a pill. The other kind. Wilson would never turn him away hard and horny.
Lights in his mirror. Police. Oh shit!
Tritter’s hand roughly caressed his stomach, making him shiver, but when it moved against his crotch, seeking a reaction, there was nothing.
He should have taken that pill sooner.
This is it, Cameron thought, knocking on his door with a pretext as flimsy as her underwear.
She’d been so stupid before. House didn’t do “dates.”
He kissed back, she reminded herself.
He knew what she was there for, of course. She was counting on that, even though he’d still make her pay with a barrage of insult and innuendo before giving her a chance, but he didn’t. He just smiled ruefully, and pointed the cane down the hall. Too easy, she thought, walking into the bedroom, but not listening, because, she realized later, she was still stupid.
She quit the next day.
And one time he wished he hadn’t.
“In what deranged corner of your mind did you think this was remotely funny?”
Wilson had the nerve to do his best “innocent look,” while House nearly panted in frustration. The coffee doping wars were supposed to be over.
“Sorry. Very important procedure. Gotta go.”
“You can’t leave me alone like this.
“Don’t worry. You won’t be alone.”
“What? Oh no….”
Cameron in low-riding jeans. Cuddy as well? This could he fun. Alli? Was she legal yet? Honey too? This was getting ridiculous. Brenda and (smiling through her dentures) Georgia!
He woke up in a sweat. With a hard-on.