SquidgeWorld Archive

Opportunist: After Discussion Discussion
by Scribe

When House and Wilson had decided to commit to each other they'd settled on living in Greg's House. There were three bedrooms, in graduated sizes, and Wilson and House shared the largest one in front. When Chase moved in he had accepted a slightly smaller room at the back of the house. They'd all agreed that, while three in a bedroom was a very sexy and romantic idea, it wasn't very practical. In terms of closet and drawer space alone... Well, House wouldn't have felt too cramped giving up some clothes storage room, but Wilson had to keep a certain size wardrobe for work, and Chase liked to dress nicely. Then there was the sleeping arrangements. The master bed was big enough to hold three comfortably, but with the three occupants being physicians, their timetables sometimes differed widely. By having at least one seperate bedroom it was possible for someone to go to bed earlier or later than the others without disturbing anyone. There were times when Wilson came home to find Chase wrapped around House, and times when House came home to find Wilson sleeping alone with Chase snoring peacefully in the smaller bedroom. The only constant was that House ALWAYS slept in the big bed. He was perfectly willing to use his leg as an excuse if he had to, but neither of the other men saw it as an issue.

There'd been a small rennovation when Wilson moved in, though. A small expansion had been built onto the master bedroom, connecting through the bathroom. You walked down a couple of steps to a small, paneled room with a tile floor, a number of potted plants--and a hot tub. On House's insistance they'd taken a tax deduction on it as a medical expense--therapy for House's leg. Wilson was a little surprised when the IRS passed it without a murmur. House said that it paid to hire an accountant whose main list of clientel had names like 'Big Tony' and 'Louie the Fish'.

House went directly into the bathroom--and locked the door before starting to strip. He hadn't been wrong in his estimation of his lovers. He was taking off his pants when he heard and saw the knob turn--more than once. He settled back on the toilet to unlace his shoes, watching it in amusement, wondering if they were going to be foolish enough to ask him to open up.

He could hear them talking outside the door. "Don't bother to say that you can't believe he locked us out." That was Wilson.

"Oh, hell no, I'm not surprised." Chase raised his voice, obviously wanting House to hear, eventhough he wasn't addressing him directly. "He may be, though. I'm locking the door next time I shower."

House silently mouthed, "Damn!"

Wilson spoke again. "There's no use in pounding or calling--it'll just encourage him. We might as well go watch television. Come on."

House snorted. "Sure. Like I believe that," he muttered. "The question is do you talk in the livingroom, or bedroom? I'm lobbying for bedroom--it'll cut down the time I have to wait for nookie by a couple of minutes."

He finished stripping, went down into the hot tub room, and climbed in. When he was settled he set the temperature to a moderate heat, and gentle agitation. Then he scooted over and leaned back against the slope that was built into the side of the tub, wishing that they didn't have to have the non-skid surface on the underwater bench and tub bottom. Still he supposed it was preferable to risking having his butt slide off at an inopportune moment. That could involve cracking his skull and drowning, so it was to be avoided. *And it DOES come in handy when we screw in the tub,* he thought smugly. *Chase can really get some traction when he straddles one of us.*

House took his time, enjoying a lazy period of relaxation, basking in the knowledge that he'd thrown his lovers one lu-lu of a curveball that probably had them sharing a debate more heated than a head-to-head between Republicans and Democrats in an election year. He finally got out just before his skin started to prune, dried off, and wrapped himself in the loose, thick terry cloth robe Wilson had given him last Christmas. He'd felt obligated to bitch about the bright red color (complaining that one slip-up on laundry sorting would leave him with pink underwear, and while that was all right for Chase...), but he was secretly pleased with it.

He strolled into the master bedroom to find both Wilson and Chase--Wilson sitting on the edge of the bed, and Chase perched cross-legged, looking even more like a teenager. House eyed them as he shut the door. "Drat--you're both still dressed. No sex tonight?"

"Not until I'm sure I'm not going to wake up with morning sickness," said Chase tartly.

House went over and sat on the edge of the bed, patting Chase's leg. In the sort of bright, false voice used to talk to children under six (and a tone that House could do so well) he said, "Let me explain sex. You see, despite what the conservative moral majority would have you believe, it IS possible for people to engage in sex for reasons other than procreation. If you don't want a baby to result, you simply keep the sperm away from the egg. Now, if it's a daddy and a mommy you have to be verrrry careful, but when it's a daddy and a daddy getting funky together..." Chase rolled his eyes, then tipped backward, doing a backroll, legs still crossed. House had to duck, and Chase ended up sitting with his back against the headboard--out of House's reach. "What are you--TWELVE?"

"He doesn't need sex ed from a gay version of Mister Rogers," said Wilson. He picked up the journal that was lying on the bed and shook it once. "Don't drop this in our laps, then act like it's some interesting new take on the removal of ear wax."

House took the magazine, staring at it with mock interest. "I MISSED that?"

"Look," said Chase, "if it was Wilson who'd done this..." he looked at Wilson, "not that I'd think you ever would, but we're working on theory here." Wilson gestured as if to say 'of course'. "If it was Wilson I'd know where he stood, that he was serious about it. But you..." He made a sound of frustration. "All right, it's not quite 'boy who cried wolf' territory, but with the way you dig I can't ever be sure you're serious unless it involves..." He stopped. "Actually, I can't think of ANY subject where I could be absolutely sure you were being serious. I think that it's going to take three days for the motrician to get the smirk off your face."

"Thank you. As for how serious I am about this--" he dropped the journal on the floor. He took a breath. "Actually, pretty serious. Even if Tucker Preston wasn't in charge of the project."

"I've heard of him," said Chase. "He's done some fantastic work in fertility. I didn't know he'd moved on to this, though."

"Neither did I," said Wilson. "I haven't heard from him for about five years now." He flicked a finger at House. "You saw him on your trip to Ontario a couple of years ago, though--right?"

"One riotous weekend," said House. "Much sharing of stories, many fermented grain alcohol products consumed. "He'd just finished the gestastion prolongation project and started this one. Judging from that article, he's reaching his projected goals early. How fortuotous for us."

Chase crawled between the two men, flopping on his belly and reaching down to pick up the magazine again. He flipped it open to the article, head hanging over the edge of the mattress as he read. "This would have been considered speculative fiction a few years ago, but he's got some compelling statistics here. The success rate in the animal testing is fantastic."

Chase's new position had brought him once again within comfortable reach. While he was speaking House had been staring appreciatively at his ass. Now his hand hovered right above the tempting swell, as if trying to decide which cheek he wanted to grope. Wilson grabbed House's wrist, shaking his head silently. House shrugged. "And he's about to move on to the human trials. With your biological clock making itself known, the timing couldn't be better."

Chase's eyes were flicking rapidly over the print. A heavy lock of blond hair fell in his eyes and he shoved it up impatiently, then started nibbling his thumb in concentration. House said, "I know you want to discuss meaningfully here, but if you don't stop that I'm going to be forced to molest you."

Still reading the journal, Chase turned over and rested his head on Wilson's thighs, flipping his legs over House's head and resting them across his lap. His casual physicality at home would have surprised his fellow Ducklings. "You know, this artificial womb concept has been around for some time. Coming up with a viable version is going to help a lot of people, not just gays."

Wilson stroked Chase's hair. "But how do you feel about it personally?"

Chase frowned. "I'm not sure. My first reaction was pretty much what I think it would be for most guys--no fucking way. But the more I think about it, the less the concept bothers me, at from a theoretical standpoint. And the physical risks are well within acceptable limits, but..." He lowered the magazine over his face, letting it lay there. "The social aspects? I'm not sure I could deal with that. I mean, pregnant WOMEN have enough crap from the rest of the world. Total strangers wanting to rub their bellies, lectures on what they should or shouldn't be doing from people who's knowledge of pregnancy is limited to what they've seen on sitcoms. And a pregnant MAN? As badly as I want a child, I'm not sure I could do it, and this is the sort of thing you'd better be sure of before you leap into it feet first." He pulled the magazine down a few inches and gazed over the edge at Wilson. "What about you?"

"I don't know. I'd have to give it a lot of thought." He sighed. "There are considerations with my job. I don't directly handle the chemicals and radiation, but still... And the stress is a factor. Plus I have to consider, right or wrong mindedness aside, would my patients take seriously the life-and-death directives of a man in his third trimester? Some people seem to think that a baby sucks brain cells away from a woman, and I doubt they'd think things would be any different for a man."

House snorted. "What a couple of wusses." He plucked the magazine off Chase's face and tossed it away. He made his voice whiny, "People might rub my belly. They might not take me seriously. They might think I'm stupid just because I'm carrying life. You're going to let petty little social considerations keep you from bringing a baby into this world--a baby that you both obviously want--very badly?"

"It's easy for you to say," said Chase. "You don't give a flying fuck at a rolling donut what the rest of the world thinks of you."

"Exactly." That one word, and a smirk--then silence. Total silence as Chase sat up abruptly, and he and Wilson stared at House. "Oh, stop looking at me like I'm talking about swimming the English Channel naked, on television. Think about it for a moment--what is the only thing I like as much as being right--" he pointed at them, "and sex doesn't count."

Chase smiled slowly. "Outraging anyone, any time, anywhere, to the greatest extent possible."

House gave him a conspiratorial smile. "And just think, not only would I be a pregnant man, but I'd be a pregnant gay man, a pregnant gay man in a polygamous relationship, and perhaps most significant, an UNMARRIED pregnant gay man in a polygamous relationship." His smile was wicked. "I'm almost having an orgasm thinking of Cuddy's reaction alone." Wilson was smiling, shaking his head. "What?"

"I was just thinking," said Wilson. "You--with mood swings? How would we know them from the usual ones?"

Chase started to laugh. "Be afraid. Be VERY afraid."

The End