House/BSG crossover (with porn!)

[so_jang]

for mizz_magenta, blowersgate and twisted_angel5. So Sally can be exposed to to House, skip it if she likes, and still get porn. ;)


"Do you believe in aliens?" House asked lazily as he rearranged the things on her desk. He was tucking her stapler into his suit jacket when Cuddy finally gave in.

Folding her arms over her chest, she sighed. "Should I?"

"It would explain a lot of things," House murmured thoughtfully as he watched he set down the fils in her hands and started moving her computer monitor back where it was supposed to be. "Elvis, televangelists, the blessed technology of the wonder-bra--"

"House--"

"I have a case!" he announced as he dragged himself out of her chair and leaned on his cane as her glare faded. "But, before you answer that then I should get my cripple ass out of your office and work on it, I want you to know, just because you can't believe in Santa, you could believe in aliens. Probably wouldn't hurt when you see this bloodwork."

Tossing a crumpled lab test result onto her desk, he strode purposefully out of her office, leaving her to decide between uncrumpling the paper ball of the lab test and letting her curiosity eat at her all afternoon. Cuddy bit her lip and reached for the ball.

---

"I didn't think it was possible," Laura Roslin complained from the back of the long ground car the Earth humans referred to as a limousine. "You've managed to find the love child of Dr. Baltar and Dr. Cottle and you expect him to be able to save my life."

Bill Adama smiled at her softly from over the top of his book. The strange, square corners meant it was something he'd managed to steal from their protective detail. Half-Colonial marines, half-Earth forces called the 'Secret Service' and all of them stuck a little too close for comfort. "I've already tried cylons, I just had to keep looking to find something a little more evil."

"This better work," she replied with a wicked grin that didn't quite hide her fear.

"Indeed," he agreed as he straightened his black suit. Not being able to wear his uniform bothered him. In fact, she'd never seen him out of uniform unless he was coming from the shower or some other pleasurably naked activity. "Do you think we should put on accents?"

"My Arielon is awful," she admitted as she snuck her hand across the seat to rest on his thigh. "Maybe we're extremely well educated foreign dictators from--" biting her lip she stopped in frustration. "Frak."

"These are supposed to be soundproof," he teased without looking up from his book.

Rubbing her temples in frustration she tried to remember the country they'd been given as a cover story. "What country was it?"

"I've been trying to figure out how it is that they still have countries," Bill changed the subject as if she had never asked him a question. "Six billion people and they still bother with the devisions of nations and borders."

"Bill--"

"It's fascinating," he finished as the car came to a halt in front of an ornate looking building. Setting down his copy of Machiavelli, he waited for the marines to come around and open his door. "The United Arab Emerites."

"That was it," she agreed as she smacked his shoulder. "Don't leave me hanging in there. I'll look like an idiot if I blow my own cover."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Madame President."

---

House stared thoughtfully at Cuddy's cleavage and mimed tossing his pen towards her tight fitting blouse. "Two points?" he asked himself softly before he scooted his chair back. "Three if I'm behind the line."

"House-"

"How much money did they throw at you?" House asked her as he swung his legs up to his desk and glared thoughtfully at her. "Was it the diplomatic plates on the motorcade or the fact that her shoes are probably worth more than yours by a factor of my paycheck?"

"Mrs. Adama has cancer, send her to Wilson," House suggested as he stared up at the ceiling. "I'm a diagnostician, not a oncologist, that's why we keep the jew. Well, that and he loans me money and lets you feel like the boss because he listens to you."

"Wilson hasn't ever seen that kind of bloodwork," she reminded him as she pressed the crumpled paper flat on his desk. "No one has ever seen this kind of bloodwork. I had to call in three favors to even get you a high enough diplomatic clearance to meet with the Adamas. Three good favors. You'd better figure it out."

"Or you'll spank me?"

---

"I'm not staying in a hospital, not on this frakking planet or any other like it," Laura whispered under her breath when the irascible Doctor House suggested she prepare to spend the night.

"My wife," Bill began as politely as he could. "Would prefer not to stay in the hospital."

"She should stay because she's going to be sick," House suggested as he glared at the three doctors behind him.

Laura stared him down the same ice that froze lesser men. "I'm not sick," she said slowly as if each word was a razor blade.

"You're not sick because I haven't made you sick yet," House corrected as he stared back at her with what could only have been amusement. "Thirteen is going to give you a massive dose of the same mysterious blood component that has probably earned you your honor guard, you're going to feel I've dumped battery acid in your veins."

"I can feel like that in my hotel room," Laura corrected him with the same cool refusal of a wall of marble.

Thirteen shot her compatriots a furtive look.

"Yes, you can," House agreed with her cheerfully. "It's just inconvenient for me to have to come rescue you, so, you can stay and let me treat you, or you can go and you will die."

"You're not saying she's going to live," Bill pointed out without adding any fuel to the airless fire in the air.

House nodded to his staff before he turned his eyes to his guests. "I was hoping you were intelligent enough to realize that."

---

"You know what I like about hospital gowns?" Bill asked as his hand ran lazily over Laura's shoulder.

Laura grimaced and turned her eyes away from the IV tubes going in and out of her left arm and forced herself to focus on him. "The color?" she guessed.

"Easy access," Bill murmured as his hand slipped down her arm and slipped beneath the blanket.

"Access to what?" Laura demanded as she narrowed her eyes and slipped her head down the pillow towards him. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers skimmed across her stomach. She gasped softly and then chuckled when she decided he wouldn't dare.

"You keep asking me to distract you from the IVs," he reminded her wickedly as he pulled his chair a little closer to the bed. "Maybe this is the best way." His left hand pulled the gown up centimeters at a time. When the fabric slipped out from beneath his right hand, the rough skin of his palm rested against her stomach.

"Bill--"

He kissed her cheek and leaned over her. Her breath quickened in his ear as his fingers roamed downwards. Without panties to stop him, he found the upper edge of the hair covering her sex and ruthlessly toyed with a piece of it. Rolling it between his fingers, he tugged and chuckled dryly when she nipped at his ear. His middle finger slipped low enough to crest the hooded skin of her clit. The quiet sound of his breathing didn't change. Even as her own throat tightened, he was calm.

His forehead was warm against hers, when he moved his head the faintest hint of stubble grazed her face. His fingers dove deeper, running along the grooves of her vagina. Her clit caught on the harsh skin of his hand, and as she bit her lip, she felt herself growing painfully tight as she pressed her lips against his cheek. Gasping breath through her nose, she felt his finger pull the wetness up to roam over her clit. His thumb remained there, pushing and grinding as he found his way inside.

Wrapping her hand around his neck held his head down, against hers. Laura could feel his shoulder push against her breasts. Digging her fingers into the back of his neck, she heard the tiny hiss of pleasure he got from feeling her squirm. Tilting her hips up into his hand, she lifting her knee. His fingers, two of them now, made wet sounds that mixed with the panting desperation of her breathing.

Drawing her thumb wickedly down the back of his neck, Laura drew his attention enough to kiss him. His tongue was as patient as his hand. His index finger curled and expertly ran over her. She wasn't sure what was more distracting, his hand or his tongue in her mouth, but it was his fingers that pushed her over the edge. Holding herself there as long as she could, she fought the desire to pull away as the rush overtook her senses. The final scrape of his hand before she jerked painfully away stung like hot water running up her spine. Her head spun as she muffled her cry with the skin of his neck.

His hand stayed there, still and quiet against her thigh as her breath slowed and she curled on her side to face him.

"Better?"