Title: Guest Lecturer
By: sarcasticsra
Summary: Gregory House hated guest lecturers. Mostly.
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Gregory House
Disclaimer: It’s not obvious? This isn’t mine. =P
Rating: Mild R
A/N: In case someone doesn’t pick up on it, this takes place before the infarction. House is also about twenty-four in this, making Grissom about thirty-one. Think sometime around the year ‘84? Thanks for the beta, Kelly. =D


Gregory House hated guest lecturers. His professors (mostly) were competent enough, thank you very much. There was absolutely no reason to bring in some moron who had no idea what he was talking about, but had mastered the art of bullshit well enough to make people think that he did. Naturally, because Gregory House was at the top of his class, and knew a lot about parasites, he decided to go to the lecture, anyway, even though it wasn’t required. He may or may not have gone merely to be a jerk. And even if the few people who knew him would have called him on it, they didn’t have any proof, now did they?

But the fact of the matter was that Dr. Gilbert Grissom, respected entomologist, whatever –- degrees weren’t as impressive as what you did with them –- actually knew what he was talking about. He was also quick and interesting, something House hadn’t expected. Most of the guest lecturers the school had brought in were dull old men who, even in the unlikely event that they had a shred of actual knowledge that House hadn’t already read about three times in his textbooks, were so boring that the most dedicated geek couldn’t listen for more than ten minutes without falling asleep.

Gil Grissom wasn’t like that, though. He was enthralling, and fascinating, and actually had observations and points that House though were valid and innovative for once instead of so old it made you wonder why they were bothering to speak about them.

The fact that he was easy on the eyes didn’t hurt, either.

Not that Gregory House was shallow, but it got really difficult to look at someone when they resembled a fish-snail-snake hybrid monster. Since House was well aware of the fact that his tastes weren’t strictly heterosexual, and knowledge was the ultimate turn-on for him, it made sense that the darkly intriguing man who was his professor, technically, for a day, would be attractive to him. It also made sense that he would approach him after the lecture.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” House said, by way of greeting. “You knew what you were talking about and you managed to keep most of us awake. Two for two.”

“Gregory House, I take it?” Grissom asked, calmly, slight amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re already gaining a reputation and you’re not even out of med school yet.”

“Amazing what happens when you know what you’re doing.” House looked at him appraisingly. “You also have quite the reputation.”

“Something I’m sure dazzled you enough to come hear my lecture. Or were you just hoping I wouldn’t know what I was talking about so you could heckle me?”

“That hurts, Doc.”

“Gil. But it’s true?”

“Maybe. You never know with me.”

“So I’ve heard.”

*



Gregory House didn’t mind guest lecturers. Not when they were intelligent, interesting individuals with whom he could have a long, winding, intellectual conversation with. He and Gil Grissom had been able to talk for hours about this and that, medical or otherwise, and it was great. He could think at levels and make conclusions that he would have to explain to anyone else. Finally, someone was on his level and he’d be damned if that wasn’t incredibly arousing.

There was also the matter of the man’s eyes.

House had never been one for mushy crap that covered up lies and bullshit, and poetry was a waste of time as far as he was concerned, but the man’s eyes were like nothing he had ever seen before. They were intense and focused and when he was making a point after a particularly long speech –- something the man had a tendency to do, but House forgave him –- they sparkled and sizzled in a way that was distinctly fascinating. This man loved knowledge, and that much was apparent.

He was also quite witty and clever, not once deterred by House’s, admittedly, sometimes caustic barbs. He usually had one of his own to match, and when he didn’t he could just give him a look with those powerful eyes and it had the same effect. House wondered if that was fair, but then decided that it didn’t matter –- you used whatever arsenal you had, fair or not. Fair was for sissies, anyway.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“You can tell time, too? Golly, I think I’m in love,” House remarked flippantly.

Gil smirked. “One of these days, someone’s going to misinterpret you.”

“Will I get to have one of those awkward-yet-amusing, Three’s-Company-esque misunderstandings? I’ve always wanted one of those. They’re so entertaining.”

“They say that people who are extremely sarcastic have an oral fixation, Greg.”

“Sounds kinky.”

“I’m sure there’s a term for people who relate everything to sex, too.”

“Isn’t that ‘men’?” House asked. “Or does being a reputed entomologist not leave time for dirty thoughts about your gender of choice?”

Grissom raised his eyebrows. “Not many people find it easy to communicate with me.”

House heard the subtle stress and smirked a little. “Not many people could communicate with you if they wanted to. Overt brilliance is a turn-off for a lot of folks. I should know.”

“The arrogance of that statement almost disguised the compliment therein.”

House snapped his fingers. “You’re just too clever for me.”

“No,” Grissom said, and he looked right into House’s eyes. “I’m not.”

*



Gregory House liked guest lecturers. He especially liked them when they were brilliant men with intense eyes who nearly made his brain short circuit when they kissed him. Gil Grissom was a focused man – in everything he did, apparently.

Their kisses were heavy, hot, hard, and everything they both wanted. Someone who was equal, in strength, in intelligence; the struggle for dominance was actually a struggle for once. House was pinned up against the wall of his apartment, and he’d be damned if he didn’t have at least a slight wall kink –- of course, that could be the way the older man was kissing him and pressed against him, too. At any rate, he didn’t feel like analyzing it –- he just never wanted it to stop.

They managed to get somewhere soft and horizontal, eventually. House fuzzily thought that it might be his bed, but who was really expected to be able to think that lucidly when they were quite obviously being seduced, and well?

“Condoms... and oh, lube in the night stand,” he panted as he arched into the body on top of him in response to obviously talented hands.

Gil merely nodded, those eyes boring into his, and that was the only coherent sentence anyone said for the rest of the night.

*



When his friends ribbed him the next day about actually enjoying a guest lecturer’s company and wondered what this meant for his reputation, House merely rolled his eyes replied sarcastically. The image of Gil Grissom’s heated, intense gaze wouldn’t be something that he’d get out of his mind any time soon. Of course, none of his friends needed to know that.

Just like they didn’t need to know that perhaps guest lecturers weren’t so bad after all.


-End