This is an AU of events and moments between House and Wilson. By AU I mean that some things will be different, so please don't waste time telling me when I have something "wrong"!
This is also slash.
Written purely for humour, not profit.
Once upon a time there were two boys called Greg and James. Greg was the grumpy one, and James was the pretty one. And they both went to the same kindergarten in the middle of a big, noisy city.
They met one day when Greg stole James's lunch from under his nose. And James had stood there with his hands on his hips, his bottom lip quavering. But Greg had grabbed the nearest stick and whacked him round the head to stop him from crying.
After that they were best friends; because boys will be boys.
By the time he was ten, little Jimmy had gone through six girlfriends, and Greg was non-too-impressed by this.
"Kissing is disgusting." He said, watching James read his book – Telling the ill they are dying; for dummies.
"You only say that because you've never tried it."
"That would be because it is ew." Greg said, with indignation.
James lowered his book – it was just getting to the good part; wearing the right ties – and looked at Greg.
"It's not 'ew'." He said, using his fingers to wrap the word in visual quotation marks.
"Is too." Greg retaliated, sticking out his tongue.
And then James had leant across and kissed him. It was only the chaste lip-to-lip kiss that a ten year old was aware of, but a kiss nonetheless.
"I rest my case – EW!"
James sighed and leant back to read his book again, albeit this time upside down.
When they were fourteen, Greg crashed James' date in a milkshake parlour – ordering for himself; insisting it went on 'my good friend Jimmy's tab' – and slid into the seat opposite them in the booth.
"What are you doing here?" James hissed, still trying to keep a smile on his face for his girlfriend.
"What? A guy can't have a milkshake with his best friend?"
"Not right now, he can't!"
"It's alright," The girl interjected, "I was just going anyway."
"See ya!" Greg grinned.
"Do you want me to walk you out?" James asked, but she shook her head.
"I never know whether I'm meant to do it anyway..." James sighed into his milkshake.
"She was ug-ga-lee."
"You can't say that!" James responded, though why he was in shock after knowing Greg all these years was a genuine mystery. "Her dog just died."
"So she's ugly and needy? Gosh! What a catch." Greg commented, sarcastically.
"Just because you don't care about anyone..."
"Yes I do." Greg grabbed a chip off James's plate. "I care about anyone with money or tits."
James just rolled his eyes.
By the time they reached the prom, even Greg had a date. Not that he could remember her name, or paid any attention to her; but the premise was there.
James had followed him up to the school roof and was watching him drag on a cigarette – the glowing end bright against the night sky.
"Most people dance at proms Greg." James said, stepping into the darkness, his hands in his pockets.
"I am not most people." Greg had stated simply, "I am superior."
"How could I forget?" James responded sarcastically.
House drew deep on the cigarette one last time and tossed it over the edge of the roof.
"And you're to call me 'House'."
"O-kay? Why?"
"Because I'm going to be a doctor and therefore everyone will know me as House; may as well get a good head start."
"Since when have you wanted to be a doctor?" James asked furiously, flinging his arms in the air.
Greg checked his watch. "About fifteen minutes."
Momentarily too flabbergasted to speak, James just shook his finger angrily in the direction of the other boy.
"You only want to be a doctor because I do!"
"No...because I can be better than you!"
James started to walk off in a huff.
"Come on Jimmy! You've been my best friend forever, you really think I'm gonna leave you now?"
"So you're becoming a doctor for me?"
"Well someone's gotta look out for you."
James smiled and sauntered back over to the spot he had vacated, slipping his hand into Greg's.
Greg just frowned and glanced down at their entwining fingers, before roughly pulling his hand up and away.
"Stop being a sap Jimmy!"
"It's 'Wilson'." The shorter boy replied.
When they went to college, naturally they were roommates.
Actually it was somewhat unnaturally as the girl at the desk had swooned over Wilson and assured him he could have anything he wanted. In response, House had just growled and bared his teeth.
And somehow it transpired that it was Wilson who carried both sets of cases up the stairwell, and Wilson who had the job of finding the room while House lounged comfortably against the nearest wall.
When Wilson had located the room in question, he threw himself down on the nearest bed and lay back with his eyes closed.
House stood watching him in the doorway.
"What makes you think you get that bed?" House asked, raising one eyebrow.
"You know I always take the window bed." Wilson responded groggily, not opening his eyes.
There was the definite click of the dorm door closing.
House casually strolled over to the end of the bed, then swiftly pulled off Wilson's shoe and tickled his feet.
In fright the younger boy jumped off of the bed and hobbled on the one foot as he peeled his other shoe off.
"Why? Why would you do that?"
"It's fun." House answered, confidently, as if it answered the question.
"But you knew it would annoy me!"
"That's 'cause I know everything about you Jimmy."
Wilson removed one of his hands from where it was automatically resting on his hip and waved his finger at House,
"You don't know anything about me."
"Oh yeah?" House asked, and pulled Wilson towards him by the buckle on his belt, then leant down very slightly to ghost over the other boy's lips as he whispered,
"How am I doing so far?"
Needless to say this was the only encouragement that Wilson needed and he pulled the taller boy down towards him in a fierce kiss, trying to taste House's mouth, lips and tongue all at once.
After that they just fell into the nearest bed. And the night after that. And after that. And so on.
So all in all, the original sleeping arrangement argument was pretty null and void.
Wilson was drunk. This was expected, what with this having been his stag party and all. But considering the fact that usually all it took was a couple of light beers, it would appear there was more alcohol than blood in his veins right now.
The rest of the crowd had left them at the front door to Wilson's apartment and somehow House had managed to prop his friend up with one hand and open the lock with the other, the result of which was they both fell inwards into the flat and onto the floor.
Wilson just giggled in-between hiccoughs, trying to get back up onto his feet but having trouble locating them. House pushed the front door back closed with his foot.
"Come on!" He sighed, defeatedly, "She'll never forgive me if you sleep in tomorrow." He dragged them to their feet, although a little inebriated himself, and pulled the newly qualified oncologist towards his bedroom.
Wilson flung himself flat out on his back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"Married. Me. I'm getting married."
"Yup. This is because you're an idiot."
"No," Wilson began to shake his head but stopped when it hurt too much, "It's 'cause I loves her. She's the one – my one-and-only." House rolled his eyes as the other doctor inevitably began to hum Chesney Hawkes.
House knelt down at the end of the bed and pulled the brown loafers off of Wilson's feet, without bothering to untie them, then stood up to leave.
"Is that it?" Wilson asked, propping himself up on the bed.
"You're a big boy; you can manage your own pants."
Wilson reached out and grabbed House's wrist.
"But I want you to."
"Wilson..."
"Please."
"You're getting married tomorrow. To a girl. Who happens to like you, for some unfathomable reason."
"You did it before."
"That was years ago – that was college! Everybody does stupid stuff in college."
Wilson frowned and his eyes began to water.
"It wasn't stupid." He replied, crestfallen.
"Married." House repeated, running his hand across Wilson's face and back through his soft hair.
"Not yet." The smaller doctor grinned, pulling House down on top of him and kissing him roughly both on, in and around the mouth.
It was so easy, so familiar. It was one night.
It was the last one.
At least it was the last one until Wilson arrived at House's door with a suitcase in the middle of another night, flourishing tear stained divorce papers and a face so upset it would have broken most people's hearts.
House didn't notice.
"I hope you brought pizza." He called from the sofa.
Wilson just stood in the door way, backlit by the light in the corridor.
"She left me. Well, she kicked me out."
"Uh huh. That's nice. How about beer?"
"You're not even listening to me!" Wilson yelled, dropping his suitcase with a crash and throwing the papers across the room. He slammed the door shut and stormed over to the sofa.
"My wife has chucked me out. I am no longer married. My life is falling apart. You are meant to be my best friend and you aren't even pretending to care!" His arms had been flung in all directions during this speech and he now collapsed exhausted in the armchair.
"Well I'm hardly going to act surprised when I knew it was doomed from the start, and as for caring, it seems a pointless exercise since nothing I can say or do is gonna make things better."
He looked across at the oncologist and sighed at the pathetic-ness of it all.
"Why did she kick you out?"
"I'd been seeing people behind her back."
"How did she know that?"
"I told her."
"Why?" House asked, raising his eyebrows.
"You-You told me to! You said being honest would strengthen our relationship!"
"Did I? I obviously didn't mean it, 'cause that would be stupid."
By now Wilson had ran out of tears so he just screamed into his hands.
"I'll get you the pillow." House said; pushing himself up from the sofa and leaving Wilson to his usual Friday night haunt on the couch.
It was about 2am when Wilson gingerly knocked on House's door and peered in. Being a constant insomniac this didn't involve waking House up.
"Can I get in with you?"
"Is that a wise idea?"
"I can't sleep by myself." His voice was shaking.
House really didn't want to give in to feelings but he hated seeing his best friend like this.
"Come on then." He pulled back the cover and Wilson slithered in, wrapping his arms round House's waist and breathing hot tearful breaths into the diagnostician's shoulder.
House patted him awkwardly on the back.
"There's plenty more fish in the sea." He said consolingly.
Wilson burst into a fresh flood of tears.
"But I don't want to marry a fish!"
It was going to be a long night.
"Are you getting the feeling of déjà vu?" Wilson asked as House adjusted his bow tie.
"If I remember correctly, this is the part where I remind you that you are making a mistake."
"It'll work this time." Wilson said confidently, glancing back down the aisle in anticipation.
"No it won't."
"Can't you have a little confidence in me?"
"Nope."
The preacher broke their conversation and the traditional wedding march filled the church.
"Can you please be upstanding for the bride."
House fingered the wedding rings in his pocket and bit his lip, before gently sliding one finger along the outside of Wilson's hand as the oncologist stepped forward to join Bonnie.
He had worked hard on his best man's speech. It wasn't down on little cards or anything but he had a good idea of what he wanted to say. Just right now, with all eyes on him, his mouth went dry and his legs began to teeter.
"No doubt you are all expecting a witty, sarcastic speech which will cause you to piss your pants, but I don't really see the point. I've known Jimmy forever. He's only still so small because half of his lunches ended up in me. Not to mention the cash from his pockets.
"I can tell however, by the extravagance today, that at least this new bride will be able to fund the provision for this particular handy service.
"I've crashed many of Wilson's dates. I feel honoured" he interjected, sarcastically, "to have been actually invited to two of his weddings.
"May this one last longer than the previous; because bonnie is his 'one-and-only' and all that. Bottoms up."
He sat down and glanced across at Wilson, whose wide eyes were hard to decipher. As soon as he had finished suffering the father of the bride, House excused himself from the table and sidled into an empty restroom. He splashed his face with cold water and then straightened his bow tie in the mirror. It didn't want to comply so he just pulled it off and slammed it in the sink.
"Shit" He swore, leaning over the basin, his hands curved tight around the porcelain sides. The door swung open and Wilson double checked the bathroom was otherwise clear before wandering over next to House.
"Why do you do this to me?" He asked, hands on his hips.
House spun round and slipped his hands into the gaps Wilson's elbows had made at his waist, slamming him back against the tiles and attacking the oncologist's mouth with his own.
"House!" Wilson said indignantly, trying to break away.
"Shut up." House mumbled reaching his hand down and undoing the zip in Wilson's dress pants. As he slipped in his fingers he asked, "Tell me you don't want this?"
Wilson just looked at him, then reached his hand round the back of House's head and pulled his face down towards his lips.
There was the sound of footsteps outside.
"Fuck!" House yelled under his breath, then pulled Wilson into the nearest cubicle and closed the door, sitting down firmly on the lid of the seat and pulling the younger doctor down to straddle his lap before passionately exploring his mouth again.
Wilson hoped he would be able to stay quiet as his wedding guests moved around the room outside, commenting on his gorgeous bride and asshole best man, while said best man was fucking the groom not three meters away.
Wilson bit down hard on House's shoulder; relieved, in more ways than one, when the room once again emptied.
No one was really surprised when Wilson showed up at House's front door with a suitcase following his third divorce. Least of all House, who had had a six-pack of beer waiting for the past three months for this very night. As soon as Wilson had stepped over the threshold he lifted the phone and called in their pizza order.
Once the beer was drunk, the pizza consumed and the conversation successfully avoided, House had thrown a pillow and blanket at Wilson and limped off towards his bedroom.
"What? Can't I come with you?" Wilson asked getting up from the couch and following him, spinning the diagnostician round and sliding his hand down the inside of the other man's thigh.
House forcefully pushed him off so that he landed hard against the opposite wall.
"You can stay here because I'm your friend, but I am fed up of being your fucking rebound."
House and Wilson were best friends. House was the greying, limping one, and Wilson was the panicking, emotional one. And they both worked at a big hospital in the middle of a busy city.
They shared Wilson's food. They devoured Wilson's pay checks. They both moved in permanently to House's flat.
They fought, they laughed, they played, and they loved.
"Greg?" Wilson murmured into House's chest as they lay spread-eagled on the bed.
"Hmm?"
"Why didn't we just do this years ago?"
"Because you are an idiot. And it was fun for me to watch."
Wilson rolled his eyes in the dark and began trailing kisses down House's torso.
"Oi! Jimmy!"
"What?" Wilson asked, still moving agonisingly slowly downwards.
"Hurry up already!"
Wilson smirked and, as always, did as he was told.
And they both lived happily ever after.