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Current mood:	amused
Current music:	the disappointed failure of someone else's casual sex
Entry tags:	fanfic, vampire

Snacking
Title: Snacking
Rated: hard R
Pairing: Wilson/Chase
Fandom: House MD
House MD belongs to Bad Hat Harry productions and its partners.

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This story is an AU missing scene from episode 6x08 Teamwork. It ties the AU back into canon in my stereotypically round-about way. It was written March 2010 and has been edited.

This story borders on non-con. It is not a rape-fic. It has a prequel, Death or Something Like It.

-----

Being the head of the oncology department had its perks. Dr. James Wilson was able to schedule all of his appointments for afternoons and evenings, a move that enabled him to avoid exactly half a day’s worth of sunlight. It was also a move that forced him to commute in the brightest light of the day.

Today he was running late. It made sense, being a bright, cloudless day. He itched all over just thinking about it. Still, he was late for an appointment, a new patient, a referral from another hospital. Some variant of chronic myelogenous leukemia.

He made it to the hospital, ignoring all the weird looks he invariably got at his attire to find the woman he could only assume was his patient demanding the nurses somehow “get Dr. Wilson off that damned golf course, we have an appointment for 20 minutes ago!”

Wilson walked up behind the woman and cleared his throat. It had no effect. “Excuse me, Miss?” he said.

The woman looked back at him, turned back to continue berating the nurse, but had to double-take back to Wilson. She looked from his seemingly normal dark suit, leather gloves, sunglasses, hat, and… umbrella?

“Nice umbrella, Dr. Wilson,” the attending nurse cracked.

“I apologize for my lateness,” Wilson said, still not folding his umbrella. “Perhaps you’d like to come with me, Madam?”

The woman glared but followed as Wilson strode to the elevator, twirling his umbrella like some strange Broadway reject.

-----

The umbrella was folded and tossed into a corner of Wilson’s office. Sunglasses and gloves came off in the safety of glass made opaque to UV. He pulled the blinds anyway, reducing the brightness from painful to something approaching tolerable. A sigh of relief escaped his lips before he found his chair and the file of the fuming woman before him. “Mrs. Roberts, I presume,” he said. “Sit, sit down.”

Mrs. Roberts took the chair in front of the desk, sitting down stiffly. “I’ll have you know I have an appointment with my daughter’s wedding coordinator in twenty minutes and now I’m going to be late because of you.”

Wilson sighed. Of course she would be the controlling type. He picked up her file and gave it a few once-overs.

An evil idea popped into his head. He kept from grinning though he wondered when House had begun to rub off onto him. “I’m afraid you’re going to miss your appointment entirely,” Wilson said. “I’m going to need a bone marrow biopsy from you to determine the extent of the cancer before we can discuss treatment.”

“What--what?” Mrs. Roberts said, sputtering. “But I had one of those months ago! It’s why I’m here, isn’t it? My symptoms haven’t gotten any worse so the old biopsy should be enough!”

“Mrs. Roberts, your biopsy shows me the extent of your cancer as it was those months ago,” he said, lacing his fingers together like an evil scientist. “Some cancers are relatively asymptomatic. That means you can’t feel when they’re getting worse. Just because your symptoms haven’t changed doesn’t mean your leukemia hasn’t metastasized. That means spread uncontrollably. I see from your file you demanded a second opinion rather than begin treatment. Well, as your oncologist my second opinion requires you to get that biopsy before I recommend any treatment.”

Mrs. Roberts huffed and got up to leave.

“Congratulations are in order for your daughter,” Wilson said before she could launch into a tirade. “I’m sure her wedding will be spectacular, and the chance to be together with friends and family on her special day is truly priceless.”

It was underhanded and mean but Mrs. Roberts paused. For a moment she looked as if she were about to cry. Then she sat down. “When can we do the biopsy?” she asked in a small voice.

“Do nights work for you?”

-----

His stomach growled. Wilson knew if he found a mirror he’d be deathly pale and his eyes bloodshot. Dammit.

For some reason he was much… hungrier… now than when it first started. Maybe it was the midday commute. Maybe it was a trend. He hoped not, a trend wasn’t something he could keep up with for long.

He wasn’t sure how long House alone could keep up. Speaking of, Wilson barged unannounced into House’s office.

Damn it. Damn it damn it. House was at the whiteboard discussing symptoms. He had a patient.

“Nevermind,” Wilson said, leaving immediately. He hid in his own office and counted to ten. On eight House let himself in.

“Remember when promising I wouldn’t drink from you when you had a case was one of the arguing points that kept me from being let go?” Wilson asked before House could say anything.

“So you’d rather eat a patient?” House asked.

Wilson gave him a vaguely disgusted look. “Good thing I work in a field where all of my patients smell like poisoned things.”

House made a noncommittal noise. “If you start hissing I’m sending Chase over,” he said.

“Oh yummy.”

House laughed as he left.

-----

It was late when a knock on his office door brought him out of charts and paperwork. He looked up, wondering just when his office had gotten so dark, and chanced to open the blinds.

Right. That’s why. The last colors of sunset were fading from the darkened sky. He let Mrs. Roberts in, turning on a few lamps for her benefit. And tried to ignore the shocked look she gave at his appearance.

“Dr. Wilson, are you quite all right?” she asked.

He cringed inwardly at the question. “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he said. “I have a blood condition. I’m due for a transfusion. Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Mrs. Roberts gave him a wary look, as though coming to the decision she didn’t want this man doing her biopsy.

Wilson made a ‘follow me’ motion and let himself into House’s office. “Must be some case,” he said upon seeing everyone still there.

“Waiting for test results,” Foreman said without looking up.

“Then why are you here instead of home?”

“They should be up in about an hour,” Chase said.

“So you have an hour free,” Wilson mused, checking to see who was most awake and who was most capable of charming the nervous patient behind him. “Dr. Chase, I need you for a bone marrow biopsy.”

Chase tensed up and looked at Wilson. He did have a patient in tow but it was obvious from his appearance… “Um…”

“I won’t bite,” Wilson promised, trying to look like he meant it.

“See that you don’t,” Chase said, resigning himself to the loss of his break.

-----

“Tell me about Dr. Wilson,” Mrs. Roberts said as she lay under the needle.

Odd request, Chase thought as he prepped her for her biopsy. “What do you want to know?”

“Why is he so pale?” she asked. “He said he has a blood condition but why would he be so pale? He looked almost monstrous.”

You don’t know the half of it. “His bone marrow doesn’t make enough red blood cells,” Chase allowed. “He needs blood every week or so otherwise he gets anemic like that.” Close enough to the truth, he guessed.

“If he has leukemia then why doesn’t he treat it?” Mrs. Robert asked, grimacing at the pain of the needle.

“He doesn’t have leukemia,” Chase pointed out. “If he did treatment would be simple. A bone marrow transplant and then it’d be over. Like yours will be, if we caught it before it metastasized.”

“So what does he have?”

Chase pulled out the needle, marrow sample inside. “Honestly, we’re not sure,” he admitted. “The best diagnostician in the country can’t figure it out. All we can do is treat it.”

-----

House was on a case. Chase was with the cancer patient. Cameron was hiding out. Foreman looked like he could fight back. The hospital was on a blood shortage.

Wilson was so hungry. Days. Days it had been. Days of hiding from the autumn sun. Days of House without a patient and of course he just had to have one now, didn’t he.

A knock on his office door. He could smell blood, foul and thin. The woman Roberts walked past. Chase came in with the file.

Wilson inhaled, savoring the smell of life on this man. He hissed, watched as Chase seemed to realize what was about to happen and shrank away, turned to run.

Never underestimate the speed of a hungry vampire. Wilson caught Chase just inside the door before he could pull it open. Wilson pulled the blinds closed, a last concession to humanity.

Struggle. Fear. Tasted like fear. Hot skin under his tongue and a moan, a pretty pretty moan. Token struggle.

Wilson held Chase fast as they knelt on the floor where he’d tackled the human. He licked up Chase’s neck one last time before sinking his fangs down into yielding flesh.

A new symphony. One without pain. Fear a tiny tart point under chocolaty betrayal and sweet pleasure. Wilson drank deeply until he’d sucked away the fear, until pleasure grew so sweet it exploded onto his tongue, too sweet like a pure sugar. He pulled off, licked at the punctures until they stopped seeping.

The knocking reached his senses. So did the stench of salt. Tear tracks didn’t seem enough to account for it and Wilson was hit with a wall of guilt.

He’d finally done it. He’d done what the board always feared he would. He’d taken. He’d taken blood that wasn’t offered. He pulled Chase to his feet, guilt magnified when Chase cringed at his touch, when silent tears fell anew. Wilson left the man on the sofa and pulled open his door, careful to block Chase from the view of anyone there.

Save the man at least one dignity.

It was Mrs. Roberts. She wanted to schedule the next appointment and thank Chase and oh good, he’d gotten his transfusion because he looked so much better, he’d looked like a walking dead thing last she saw him and he mustn’t let it go so long and Wilson got rid of her as quickly as he could.

“Chase…” Wilson began, trailing off. He had no idea what to say to this man he’d essentially violated. “I’m sorry.”

Chase glared up at Wilson through guarded eyes, knees pulled up to his chest. He’d shoved himself into one corner of the couch as far from Wilson as he could. “I believe you,” he whispered.

Wilson closed his eyes in shame. And then placed what that salt smell was. Unmistakable. Unbelievable. His eyes popped open and he gave Chase a curious look. That was a look of betrayal but it wasn’t hurt. It wasn’t the look of a violated man. He took a gamble. “You’re not sorry, are you?” Wilson asked.

“I’d rather you hadn’t known,” Chase admitted. He somehow managed to both shrink down and unfold into the couch.

Some instinct caused Wilson to approach, to lean over the couch like a predator about to strike a willing prey. “You enjoyed it,” he purred. “And you knew you would enjoy it. You enjoyed it so much you came from the sensation of having your neck sucked. I didn’t even have to touch you.”

Chase couldn’t help himself, he shuddered with lust. He started to get hard again, uncomfortably hard with the remains of his last orgasm still in his pants. He found himself arching is neck, exposing the punctures for Wilson to feed.

Wilson shivered. Maybe just another taste…

The door opened with key to the scene of Wilson lying on top of Chase on Wilson’s couch. Wilson had his lips on Chase’s neck and was sucking in slow, languid swallows. Chase was gripping Wilson’s shoulders for dear life, holding the vampire in place.

Cuddy tried most not to think about why Chase was rutting against Wilson while he drank.

“Ahem.”

Wilson pulled away to growl at the interloper while Chase tried to pull him back down.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t… feed… from House’s team when they had a case,” Cuddy said, sounding uncomfortable with the subject.

“No, I said I wouldn’t feed from House,” Wilson pointed out. The spell was broken enough that despite Chase’s tugging he was able to check the man for his level of blood loss. He was getting low, it was time to stop. Wilson licked at Chase’s neck until the bleeding stopped, suddenly very conscious of the pleasured whining coming from the man and the feel of hips sliding against his own.

The door closed and footsteps receded. Relief was short lived as footsteps returned. More of them. Wilson could barely get himself straightened out much less do anything about the very pliant and pleasure-addled Chase, who seemed to have lost the ability to do much more than keep trying to drag Wilson back down to his neck.

The scream was enough to break the spell over Chase. His eyes went wide at the sight of his wife staring in shock, mouth open in the remnants of a scream. He barely registered the sound of Wilson falling off of him onto a heap on the floor. “Allison!” Chase shouted. “Um… It’s not what it looks like!”

“What does it look like?” asked an interested House from the hallway.

Cameron gaped in fear and disgust at the scene before her. She turned and ran, unable to deal with it.

House limped up to the scene of Chase splayed on Wilson’s couch, pale with blood loss, neck bitten and sucked on, semen staining his slacks. Wilson picked himself off the floor and brushed himself off. Blood had run down the side of his mouth, as sure a sign of having glutted himself as the blush of life staining his skin.

“I sent you to help Wilson with a patient, not feed him,” House scolded. “Now you’re useless. Stay there, don’t try to get up.

“Make sure he stays conscious,” he warned Wilson before limping off.

“This is why I never wanted you to bite me,” Chase admitted, ashamed.

“Good reason,” Wilson agreed. “I should have stopped myself that second time. You shouldn’t have offered. I could have killed you, Chase. I could have killed you and you wouldn’t have cared. Hell, you’d have loved every second of it.”

Chase had the good sense to look ashamed.

“I’m not touching you again,” Wilson vowed. It was a vow he knew he would break. “It’s too dangerous.”

“No…” Chase went from ashamed to horrified. “You can’t. Don’t you see? I’ve never felt like that before and if you’re honestly telling me I can never feel like that again…”

“If we do this again I might kill you. I almost killed you. If Cuddy hadn’t walked in on us I would have killed you.”

“I don’t care…”

“I’ll talk to you when you’re sane again,” Wilson said, cutting him off. The man was conscious; that was proof enough for him that he wouldn’t die. He left his office to wander.

-----

Cameron let herself into Wilson’s office. The vampire wasn’t around. Probably stalking some poor defenseless nurse, she thought.

“Allison?” Chase mumbled from the couch. He was absurdly tired and got dizzy every time he tried to get up.

“Chase,” she acknowledged. Chase knew he was in trouble then as she knelt down next to the couch. Her hands were warm, almost burning warm as they took his pulse, felt his temperature. “I can’t tell if you’ve got class 2 or class 3 hemorrhage,” she concluded. “You might need a transfusion.”

“Allison,” he whispered, trying again. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said.

“Like Dibala wasn’t my fault?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she repeated.

“You’re saying I can’t decide for myself?” Chase demanded. “You saying I can’t decide what’s right and what’s wrong? I can’t even decide what I want?!”

“Nobody could want that!”

“You have no concept of what it’s like!”

“You’re right!” Cameron shouted. “I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve never had my life sucked out of my veins by some monster while rutting against it like-- like…”

“I’m not sorry about doing what was right,” Chase defended. “And I’m not sorry about letting Wilson take what he needed. I’d do it again if I had to. Both. Either. I don’t care. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” His heart wrenched at her broken look, how everything fell apart around her. Marriage wasn’t supposed to be like this. There wasn’t supposed to be monsters. And yet…

“We have to get out of here,” she said, broken. “House, this place, it’s destroying us. Not just our marriage but you and me, it’s destroying who we are. We’re leaving.”

Chase watched as she left, letting the office door slam behind her. He laid his head back on the couch with a groan. His head was pounding and he was so cold…

-----

The next day Chase and Cameron put forth a front of solidarity. They were leaving, she said. They were both leaving Princeton-Plainsborough. And they weren’t coming back. It was all House’s fault, she said.

He tried to believe her. He really tried. But some lies just couldn’t be believed.

End