The Way To Go

Disclaimer: I don't own House or Wilson
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"I love you," House said in a low voice without looking at Wilson. He stood in his living room with his hands buried in his pockets.

The evening had started like so many before: a beer, a whiskey and a couple of pills. House was used to it, used to being alone and used to miss Wilson.

Everything was so much easier at daytime. He would chase his candidates around, flirt with every beautiful woman that crossed his way and drop by in Wilson's office every now and then. And whenever he started to think about his messed up life or his feelings for his best friend, he just popped a pill. Immediate relief. Easy as that.

But there were no candidates or beautiful women in House's evenings. And no Wilson.

He had spit out the fourth pill that he had just had popped and reached for the phone. Overdose or call Wilson, House had thought. He had made the wrong decision before, this time he had chosen the call.

Of course Wilson had asked for the reason of the nightly call, but not until he stood in House's living room. He never asked for a reason before. Maybe he needed to look House in the eyes when he heard another lame excuse for House calling him, or maybe he was afraid the reason was too unimportant to show up. Wilson wanted to be there. He wanted to help House, make him feel better, make them both feel better.

House had not known what reason to give. "I love you," was all he could think about to explain. He had said it before, but Wilson had not answered.

"House, you're calling me in the middle of the night to tell me that you love me?" Wilson looked puzzled and annoyed at the same time. His hair was touseled and he had obviously been in bed already.

House nodded. What else was there to say?

"So what?" Wilson started to walk up and down. This was clearly not what he had expected when House had asked him to come over. And this was dangerous territory. Wilson knew House loved him and he loved House, but this was going nowhere. He had had a reason not to answer the last time House had told him.

Wilson turned around to look at House. He was still standing in the middle of the room, looking unbelievably vulnerable without his cane. He had his weight shifted to his left leg and was still staring at the floor.

"I want to be with you," House finally said as he felt Wilson's eyes resting on him. "And I know you want to be with me," he added quickly.

Wilson opened his mouth and closed it again. He took a deep breath. This was tricky, a path full of traps. He did not want to hurt House. "No, I don't." He walked over to House to let him see that they were still close, nothing between them to harm their friendship.

"I don't think it's a good idea, really."

"You do have feelings for me," House said stubbornly. "Don't say there's nothing there." For the first time he looked at Wilson, glancing at him like a pouting child.

"I don't say that," Wilson started, but got interrupted by House.

"So you do love me?" he asked with a slightly shaky voice.

Wilson shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "It won't work." He lifted his hands in defense and let them fall down again, right away. He didn't want House to think that he was about to push him away. "We would hurt eachother."

"I won't hurt you," House said, but knew it was a lie.

Wilson smiled. "Nice try." Their eyes met and House faintly smiled in return.

"It means so much more giving and even more trust. We will get hurt sooner or later." Wilson lifted his hand, his fingers brushed lightly against House's arm and he took his hand away again. This was not the right time to give up his constant resistance. He was in charge. Wilson felt responsible for them both and for their friendship.

"I can take it," House insisted.

"MaybeI can't," Wilson's smile had faded. "This friendship is … important."

House nodded. "So it's about you?"

"Yes, it's about me," Wilson was happy to take the blame. He did not want House to feel rejected. But the moment he said it, Wilson knew it was true. This wasn't only to save House from losing his best friend, this was about him, too. He had no idea how his life without House would be. Easier in some ways, lonier in many others.

"You chicken out now?" House frowned.

"What's so wrong about taking care of myself?" Wilson asked and noticed how defensiv he sounded. He wished he could give in. House had become so much more than a friend. He was a constant companion, his conscience and the only one in this world that made him feel special.

"Nothing," House mumbled. "But maybe I could help you, taking care of you?" He reached out to touch Wilson's hand, but stopped himself.

"You can't even take care of yourself, House. How do you think you could take care of me?"

"You take care of me, I take care of you. Division of labor, so to say." House tried a smile, but it died on him, this conversation was too important to smile now. He felt his stomach clench. What if he couldn't make Wilson understand?

"This won't work," Wilson shook his head. He curtly glanced at House's still outstreched hand, then turned away and walked over to the kitchen. He needed something to do.

The light from the fridge shed a dim light through the dark room as Wilson took out two bottles of beer. House had followed him and waited at the counter until Wilson had opened the bottles and pushed one over to him.

"Why?" House didn't take the beer, but eyed Wilson. His voices sounded a little hoarse, but much steadier now. He had gone this far and this time he would not back out again.

Wilson heaved a sigh. "Let this go, House." He turned and walked back to the living room, leaving House in the dark.

"Wilson." House's voice made Wilson stop mid-step and he pinched the back of his nose.

"I'm not doing this to us." he shook his head again, just as he had done about a hundred times this evening. "It's just one of your crazy ideas."

"I love you," House said again, because he had no idea what else to say.

"This is one of your stupid ideas," Wilson answered, a hint of anger mixing in his calm voice. "Being together? Romantically involved? You only want to proove that I need you."

"I just want to tell you that it's the other way around." House rolled his eyes in frustration, but Wilson still was not convinced.

"I know you do. I actually figured that out without starting a homosexual relationship."

House frowned. "I don't want to share you with another Mrs. Wilson one day. Your marriges won't work anyway. You and me together – itwill work."He put down his full bottle next to Wilson's. "And this conversation is getting so corny."

Wilson had to smile. "Then stop it," he offered. "I'd be happy if we could finally end this discussion."

"I want -," House began, but Wilson cut him short.

"You can't always get what you want." He still smiled faintly. This was so typical for House. He wanted something and then everyone had to go his way, but Wilson would not do it. He wouldn't make himself vulnerable. He wouldn't depend on House. That was a way he was not willing to go.

"But if you try sometimes …," House grinned and made a few steps towards Wilson. He leaned closer until their lips met. "You'll get what you need," he mumbled and put his arms around Wilson's neck.

Wilson reluctantly kissed back. Maybe, he thought, he'll go this way for a few steps, after all.

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