Title: Now or Never pt 1 & 2
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1821
Spoilers: very mild Needle in a Haystack
Summary:House has a fit of honesty and tells Wilson what's really on
his mind.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Howard Shore.
So he'd been avoiding me. Ever since he'd found me on the floor in a
pool of my own vomit. Yes, he'd been around and maybe even available
if I really needed to talk, but still… he was avoiding me. Or maybe
it was my guilt eating away at whatever is left of me. Not that many
would notice, but I don't deal well with hurting him.
I'm still in the damn chair – proving my point is a real pain in the
ass – when I see him heading to his car. It's snowing and I pretend
to be struggling. I'm used to pretending with Wilson. He hears me –
I can tell from his posture the exact moment he does. I keep
rolling; going so slow it's almost painful. From the corner of my
eye I can see him sigh, put his things in his trunk and then slowly
decide to make his way toward me.
"Hey!" I say, going for complete surprise as his hands find my chair
and start to push.
"Like you didn't see me," he replies, sounding unaffected.
"Jig's up. You're right – I did see you." I pause, letting the snow
fall over my face. "Nice night, huh?" I say with a grin, sounding as
if I haven't a care in the world.
He's grimacing and I laugh out loud, knowing that even for me, I'm
overdoing it.
"It's freezing out, so yeah, I'd say its lovely weather we're
having."
"Gee, Jimmy. You really know how to ruin a mood," I say, going for
crushed but really? I wind up sounding just like… me.
"I learned from the best," he says, and I know I've got work to do.
"You know, they're saying we're going to get snow all through the
night. Maybe you should crash at my place. We'll get a pizza, watch
some television…" I try, doubting the same-old same-old will work.
It doesn't.
"I have a lot of work to do or I would," he says, and it sounds like
the biggest lie ever told.
We're at the car and I fumble with my keys.
"Well, thanks for the push," I tell him, giving him a sardonic
smile, keeping the fact that I miss the hell out of him to myself.
"House…" he starts, but I manage to get the door open and maneuver
the chair so I can hop out of the seat and into the car in a tricky
and impressive move. He puts the chair in the backseat and then I
purposely drop my keys in an artfully staged accident. Anything to
bring him down to my level.
"You'll get laid," I say softly once he's looking at me with those
pathetically brown, warm and delicious puppy dog eyes. Nothing like
cutting to the chase. Then I immediately make a face because... ewww
Chase.
Then I grin wickedly and shrug. "Sorry… just thinking of Chase after
saying something as intimate as that makes me kinda feel icky
inside."
I study his face, wondering if he gets that thing about me not
kidding yet.
"House, I…."
"Is me wanting you enough?" I say finally, apparently on an honesty
kick. Do I ever do anything small?
Those dark brown eyes seem to delve into me; searching. For the
punch line? For the Vicodin?
"I don't know," is his answer.
"Too bad," I say, after a long, frustrated sigh. Rolling my eyes, I
reach for what he thinks are the keys. But really? I'm going for his
face. I shift uncomfortably for a second so I can turn in my seat,
cup his cheeks in my hands and bring our mouths together. Kissing
him makes me moan. Lucky for me, it makes him do the same.
Pt 2/2
I guess I've been expecting this, actually, but when it happens...
when I finally realize what he's going to do I can't believe it. Our
mouths sort of… collide. When we get it right – the angle, the feel…
it feels right. All the things I've felt for Greg seem to change and
shift; this new thing between us now taking precedence over
everything else.
It's done and he's pulling away and I know I'm an idiot, but my hand
comes to my mouth anyway, his eyes sparkling, already knowing he's
got at least twenty more things to tease me about later. I look
down, his blue eyes too much to take for the moment. I hear him
shift in the seat and feel him poke at me for attention.
"Wilson, it's freezing, remember? Now get in the car."
House sounds like he always does. Irritated that he's just so far
ahead of the rest of us; always having to check behind him to make
sure everyone's in tow. Why make him wait, I think, and stand up,
click the lock on my keychain to lock my car and get in.
The ride to his place isn't a long one. I can't count how many times
I've done it. And I don't speak the whole way there, my thoughts
circling until I realize what I'm going to say.
"It's not enough," I say, a finality in my voice never having been
used before towards Greg. I stare at his profile, knowing it's true.
"What's not?" he asks, distractedly, eyes on the road.
"You wanting me."
He glances at me, eyes glowering in that classic way of his. They
soften in that instant and I soften, too, but not enough to take it
back.
"You have to need me for this to work, Greg," I continue, hands on
my knees, looking at the road now. He parks the car and then turns
to me after undoing his seatbelt.
"I…. need you," he says softly, reaching over to put a hand on my
arm. It's warm even through my winter overcoat. I don't say anything
because showing any of my doubts at this early stage will be hell
for us both. I undo my own seatbelt and get out of the car, walking
around to his side as he's reaching for his cane. I shake my head
slowly.
"Prove it."
He looks genuinely confused and I smile at him, offering my hand. He
gets it now, but still looks hesitant. When he takes it, I take all
the weight he needs, getting him to his feet and situated so he can
close the door. It's a slow scuffle to the door. The stairs are
tricky, but we manage. Once inside, though, he reaches for the cane
he always keeps by the door. I grab it, too, and we struggle with
our eyes for a long moment. He releases it to me and I look out into
the living room. Defiantly, I send it across the room and secretly
sigh with relief when it rests solidly a good foot in front of the
piano bench. He looks mildly amused and I glare at him before
tightening my hold on his waist, turning us so we're facing one
another. I kiss him this time, the snowy shadows playing with the
ambient light in the room. I keep my eyes open this time, too,
liking that he doesn't. I kiss him hard and with more passion than
I've felt in years. Possibly ever.
Seems I've still got it, too, as he's the one moaning pretty loudly
this time. I follow pretty quickly, though, as he proves to me that
he's still got it, as well.
When we break apart, I help him off with his coat, hanging mine
beside. I step out of my winter shoes – expensive and French, like
every other pair I own. He takes his off, too, and then leans into
me and we make our way to the couch.
"I've always thought your couch would be great to make out on," I
confess, easing him down.
He chuckles. "This couch has seen a lot of action, Jimmy. Sometimes
I even get crazy and use my left hand."
I'm laughing even as I roll my eyes. I usually sit to his right, but
not tonight. I settle on his left and we don't turn on the
television or anything else. He reaches for me at the same time I do
him, sliding our arms around each other. I want his weight on his
good leg, I think, as our mouths find each other again. His hands
are strong, gripping my arms and exploring my chest. My hands slide
down his back and rest on his ass. I give him a gentle squeeze and
he nips my tongue with his teeth. I groan and let the kiss grow
deeper, feeling him tense up, expecting pain as I work us gently
closer and closer to one another.
I ease his right leg over to settle in between mine. I let him
breathe through it, him pretending like I don't know what I'm doing.
When he's settled and realizes it isn't nearly as bad as he thought
it would be, he's kissing me again. And moving his hand down to my
lap. I tug at him a little, wanting more his weight. Wanting… all of
him. He's more than half laying on me and I give his ass another
little pinch just because I can.
He grunts like a girl and I make a mental note to say something
about it tomorrow in front of everyone so he knows I'm not missing a
thing here.
"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, Jimmy, but… I don't
go all the way until I get a dinner and a movie date," he says
haughtily. I kiss his nose and then bite along his jaw line.
Finally, I've discovered something that will shut him the hell up.
Yes, I could take this further than mutual hand jobs on the couch,
but why push it when I know he's exhausted from proving his point
all week long. Oh, and saving another kid's life. And realizing he's
in love with me. We're both pretty tired from that sharp stick in
the eye. God, I'm even thinking like him – something I made *all* of
my wives promise to shoot me for.
It's only when I'm laying there, blanket over us, his head on my
shoulder and mine resting on the arm of `Inspiration Point' – yes,
he's dubbed the couch and I let him because I'm a sucker – that I
know we're going to be okay. That this isn't really going to change
much. It will give us something new to talk about between innings
and quarters. And will make weekends a little better for both of us,
too, but… he'll still be House and I'll still be me. But now we'll
be… us.