NOTE: Much thanks for theletterv for his patience and honesty, as well as his whip-crackin' fic whip. And yeah, it's for Valentine's Day. Sorry it's late, but I had to like ride dragons to save the world and stuff.
Under Wraps
February 7th
Normally Wilson had no aversion to Valentine's Day, but when he stepped into the hospital and saw the pink and red decorations, although they were minimal, he felt the urge to systematically rip them off the walls. He didn't, of course, and he snorted at how very Housian the impulse was. Unlike House, however, his impulse had nothing to do with being a misanthrope, and everything to do with being bitter about his current situation. Sam was the last woman he could have made it work with, and he just had to be in love with his best friend who was dating their boss.
Not that he really wanted to dwell on the last part, but how could he not? Everywhere he went, it was love this, and love that, and pink, frilly hearts, and slightly (but noticeably) more romantic couples. Almost every station on the TV had some sort of romantic themed movie and he couldn't go shopping without being assaulted by something heart shaped. Love was all around, and that only served to remind him how much it was not in his life.
Wilson had started avoiding House, ever since he'd drugged him and then completely ditched him to have sex with Cuddy (or be alone in his apartment to drink scotch-it didn't matter which) and so far, House hadn't seemed to notice. Then again, why would he? He was busy with Cuddy, acting like a typical boyfriend and pretending to be someone he wasn't. The hardest part, besides knowing that House couldn't truly be happy (or worse, maybe he was), was that Wilson had no right to complain as he had done this to House on multiple occasions. The only difference was House had the guts to actually confront him. Wilson just stewed in silence.
He was halfway to the elevator when Caroline strode up to him; a young, pretty nurse in his department. Her forced smile did nothing to improve his mood, nor did the fact she was wringing her hands in front of her. "Hello, Doctor Wilson," she greeted.
"Caroline."
She clacked alongside him silently until he made it to the elevator, and he pressed the call button. "Excited for Valentine's?" she asked genially, rubbing the back of her crimped blonde hair.
"Not particularly." He glanced at her. She shifted her weight onto her other foot. "Is there anything you needed to discuss?"
"I know you've already done the schedule for this month, but . . . I was wondering if I could have Valentine's off?"
"I . . . thought your-excuse me," he muttered as the elevator door opened as someone forcibly pushed between them. He allowed Caroline to get in first, and then he stepped inside beside her. The elevator was otherwise empty. "Which floor?" he asked, after hitting the one to his office with the hand not holding his briefcase.
"The same," she answered.
"I thought your boyfriend worked Valentine's?"
"Well he did, but-well, he found out last night that he got it off and I've always wanted to go to a Broadway play and if we don't go on Valentine's it's not really anything special, you know?" She bit on her lip and lowered her chin a little, widening her eyes underneath her lashes and pressing her chest forward ever so slightly, so that the fabric of her snug scrubs tightened across her breasts. "I was just hoping I could somehow get it off."
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I . . . I wish I could promise you that, Caroline, but . . . I've already scheduled you for Monday and unless someone decides to cover the shift for you-"
"I'm sure someone would if you . . . I don't know, called?"
"I'll try my best, but . . . It's probably best if you try to get someone to cover it. I'm completely swamped."
She gave a slightly exaggerated sigh. "Thanks anyway."
He knew his smile was pinched. "Of course."
It was quiet for just a few seconds longer, but it seemed like an eternity as she scuffed the ground with her heel. She was in her late twenties and her and her boyfriend had been dating for a few months so of course she wanted to celebrate it, but she wasn't the only one with a boyfriend or family who wanted Valentine's Day off, and trying to reschedule with only a week in advance was hell. Anybody who actually had the holiday off had probably already made plans, and he didn't know anyone who would prefer to work on a holiday. He tried to give Monday off to people who were married or had been in a serious relationship for a longer amount of time; since the two of them had only been dating for hardly half a year, he had given the day off to someone else. He couldn't have known that her boyfriend would get it off at the last minute.
The elevator dinged and she didn't get off, not that he expected her to as he'd figured she just got on because he had.
Sighing, he noticed that the differential diagnosis room was currently empty, but it was early in the morning. He wondered if House had a case and it bothered him slightly that he honestly didn't know. He had no idea what was going on in House's life, but right now, seeing him with Cuddy was too much to bear; he had to detach himself before attempting to spend time with House again; before being let down again.
It wasn't until he'd sat in his chair that he noticed the gift, sitting on his desk, staring innocently at him. It was a teddy bear; it was soft to the touch and cushiony when he squeezed it. There was nothing spectacular or romantic about the bear; it just wore a blue shirt.
Humming to himself, he turned it over in his hand, and then gave it a tiny squeeze before putting it back on his desk.
February 8th
Wilson had stopped expecting House to eat lunch with him months ago; he had also stopped eating lunch in the cafeteria. No reason why he should; he could eat in his office just as easily. If House wanted to eat with him, he would join him. But he hadn't, so Wilson stopped waiting.
Wilson had stopped waiting for many things.
He paid for his lunch, and not even the fact that it cost half as much without House's added to it made him feel better.
Wilson had heard that Cuddy's mother was sick-he had no idea if she was still on House's caseload, or if they'd diagnosed her, or if she was being tested while vomiting blood and seizing. He'd just heard she was House's patient through the grapevine, and that was it. He hoped that House would come and talk to him about it, but he doubted it would happen; he'd been seeing less of him these days. He didn't know what was more painful; seeing House and being constantly reminded that he was with Cuddy and not him, or not seeing House and fearing losing him forever.
He just ordered a ham sandwich and mentally imagined House making comments about being kosher and left the cafeteria. He almost rammed right into Caroline, who seemed to have been waiting outside the doors for him. "Hi," she greeted as he juggled the sandwich.
He caught it and then smiled at her, knowing where this conversation was going already. "Hello."
"Did you manage to cover my shift?"
"To be honest, Caroline, I was far too busy yesterday to call anyone. I'm sorry," he answered truthfully, and then headed on his way.
She let out a sound that was a mixture of a scoff and a sigh. "It's just, it would mean a lot to me if you could cover that shift. I've always wanted to watch a Broadway play and especially on Valentine's."
"I know, but-well, perhaps if you tried speaking with someone . . . I really can't promise anything right now."
"What, you mean like Giselle? But she's off today," she asked, mouth turning up in a scowl.
Wilson pursed his lips. Giselle was one of the nurses that followed the rules strictly, and that apparently annoyed the other nurses. She'd had a rough childhood growing up and had gotten in trouble with the law quite a bit, but she had gotten over that phase, luckily. Still, he had a feeling that people often had a difficult time accepting that her past was just that; the past.
"Or anyone," he suggested.
She touched his shoulder and smiled at him, showing off her teeth. "I know you'll think of something." She nodded once and then walked away, leaving him holding his sandwich and sighing.
There was far too much on his mind, far more important things, for him to be dwelling on Caroline's boyfriend. He had given Monday off to those who needed it more than she did for a reason; he couldn't be expected to be able to make everyone happy. Being a department head meant he had to schedule his staff, and holidays were the worst. Nothing was as horrible as Christmas, but every holiday was hard in its own respect. He missed House's rants about the idiocy of the holiday itself, and he wondered if House would manage to pull that with Cuddy or if he'd grin and bear it, acting like whatever it was she wanted him to be.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd never demanded gifts from House, even if he had occasionally given them. He somehow found himself doubting Cuddy would be similar.
The elevator was not empty, although he wished it had been; two men were discussing what they were going to get their wives for Valentine's Day. One had been stressing out as his wife was apparently picky so he was going for an expensive diamond and white gold necklace, and the other seemed rather nonchalant about the whole thing, and muttered something about dinner at Olive Garden.
He was more than glad to leave the elevator when it stopped on his floor.
He sat in his chair and almost put his sandwich on a rather nice grey sweater vest. He tilted his head and contemplated it before putting the sandwich aside. He ran his fingers along it; the fabric tickled. It seemed to be about his size; if not, perhaps just a little too big, but nothing noticeable. It wasn't anything fancy, but it wasn't boring, either.
Smiling, he bit into his sandwich, and stared at the gift.
February 9th
As Wilson walked out of exam room one, politely escorting an elderly woman out of the door, Caroline caught his eye and smiled widely at him. He smiled as well in greeting, but groaned when she started walking towards him. He understood why she wanted it off and he really couldn't blame her for being persistent, but he honestly hadn't thought to try calling anyone yesterday. He hadn't been too busy or anything-he'd just completely forgotten. He had patients who needed him more than she did, more people on his staff asking for last minute changes to their schedule, and the more he avoided House, the more he seemed to think about him. He hadn't seen his face for days, and it was starting to aggravate him.
"Any development?" she inquired, head tilted and eyes innocently huge while she thrust her chest forward slightly and batted her eyes. Apparently she thought flirting would work. Perhaps she thought he hadn't tried-and he hadn't-but flirting wouldn't change the circumstances any.
He smiled at the elderly woman as she hobbled away, then started towards the elevator again; he needed to get ready for a meeting. "I hate to tell you this, Caroline, but I have been extremely busy; you're not the only one who's been asking for Monday off." There was a slight edge to his tone, but he didn't regret it; although he tried to be friendly, he was also the head of the department, and he had to be firm.
"Well, I know that, Doctor Wilson, but . . . well I talked to Giselle, but she-"
"Caroline," he interrupted, stopping briefly to stare at her. "I will get to it when I can, but I can't promise anything. Honestly, you'd have a better chance than I would at convincing someone to cover for you."
She opened her mouth like she was going to argue, then she closed it and nodded once, turning around and walking away. He watched as she trudged off and he sighed before turning towards the elevator.
He saw House then, across the clinic; far enough away where he'd have to yell to catch his attention, and Wilson cupped his mouth to do so then stopped himself. Realizing how pathetic that would be, he lowered his hand and just watched as House said something to Cuddy, who kissed him quickly before walking away. Burning, clenching pain reared in Wilson's chest-after the initial sting it dulled into a quiet throb, but the pain was still fresh enough in his mind to make his eyes tear.
House turned and caught his eyes. He'd been frowning, but then he smiled genuinely. He nodded his head in greeting and Wilson couldn't help but grin so hard his cheeks hurt; the pain in his chest disappeared and melted into something warm as he found himself waving like some high school girl.
House raised his eyebrows and mimicked him, before miming a phone beside his ear and mouthing; "Call me!"
Wilson laughed openly then and House's grin melted into something softer as they continued staring at each other. Despite the fact they were quite far apart, he still felt as though they were side by side, and when he realized it had been a few seconds, he cleared his throat and nodded at House in parting before turning towards the elevator, heart still thumping.
His face was still burning when he walked into his office a few minutes later.
This time, he saw it the moment he stepped into his office. He put it beside the stuffed bear he'd gotten a few days ago, and smiled as he eyed the single, white rose in the clear glass vase.
February 10th
Y didnt u call me?
He stared at his pager and frowned, not understanding why House would've paged him that. They hadn't made any plans recently, had they? He put his pager back, and then tapped his fingers against the counter as he waited for the pharmacist to fill the prescription he needed for a patient.
Without any reason why, he remember House joking about calling him the day before, and it clicked that he had apparently meant it. He chuckled to himself as he took the prescription and signed his signature.
He pulled out his phone and dialled House's number-he could actually dial it quicker than his speed dial-and then put it to his ear while it rang. House picked up on the fourth ring, and was audibly chewing something. "I stole your lunch," he greeted, then burped.
"Oh how very tragic. How can I ever afford another sandwich?"
"Hey, I actually needed to discuss something with-"
"Doctor Wilson," came Caroline's voice and he jumped a little.
"Who was that?" House asked.
"Caroline," he answered, and greeted, with a brief smile. "I can't actually discuss this right now," he stated in his Mister Important voice, something House had dubbed ages ago.
"Oh, well excuse me Mister Important, I guess I'll go," House groaned.
"No not you," Wilson rushed, then covered the mouth piece with his hand, suddenly rather agitated with Caroline, whose big, blue eyes blinked and blonde hair bounced when she jerked her head back as if stunned that he would actually not have time for her. "I really have to take this call," he insisted.
She nodded, then walked away.
He sighed and walked towards the elevator; he needed to have a meeting before doing his rounds, and the particular family member he was meeting with had a tendency to take his time and often made Wilson late for his rounds; better to grab the prescriptions beforehand.
"Sorry about that, House," he apologized. "She's just . . . upset that I have her working on Valentine's Day."
"Oh boo hoo, that's not even a legitimate holiday."
"What, you're not celebrating?"
"Do I ever?"
"I assumed you would with Cuddy. It's not as if you didn't with Stacy, and I recall one or two gifts thrown in my direction in the past. One of which ended in a black eye and a nurse thinking Julie abused me."
House didn't say anything. Wilson waited for a few seconds, but nothing happened.
"House?" he urged.
"Alas, my plan of getting her arrested for domestic violence failed." House sighed loudly and Wilson chuckled while he prodded the call button, although was somewhat intrigued by House's moment of silence.
He shook his head fondly and since House wasn't watching, he knew he could smile as much as he wanted. "I think fraudulent charges and framing people is legally frowned upon, House." The man who was taking his wife to Olive Garden and the man who bought the expensive necklace were in the elevator; they both looked at him and blinked rapidly.
"Well that's what she gets for messing with my man," House declared dramatically.
Wilson chuckled and blushed deeply as the doors slid shut; he rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet. "House," he chuckled, biting down on his lip. Even though it had clearly just been a joke, he felt giddy and somewhat light-headed at the implication, as stupid as it was.
One of the two men cleared his throat and they both stared pointedly at him.
Wilson coughed a little out of embarrassment; he felt his cheeks go red.
"Actually House, I have to go."
House munched loudly on some potato chips and Wilson frowned slightly. He'd been looking forward to eating those. "Killjoy," he managed around a mouthful of Wilson's food before his end of the line went silent.
The ride was awkwardly silent, and he was glad when it stopped on his floor. He hurried out and headed toward his office. When he stepped in, it wasn't empty.
"Doctor Wilson," Giselle greeted. She brushed an errant, stray curl away from her eyes (the rest was pulled into an up-do held together by, Wilson assumed, bobby pins) and smiled. "I hope you don't mind me coming into your office; I was just going to leave a note."
"It's fine," he promised, then went over to his desk.
He sat and noticed the watch beside his pen holder; a watch that he hadn't bought, nor had any reason to be there. He picked it up and held it. It was nicer than the one he currently wore, but nothing extravagant. His was worn from years of use; this was clearly new.
He wasn't surprised to find it there.
"That was here before I came in," she revealed and he glanced at her, smiling.
He put it back on his desk. "Is there something you needed?"
"I just came to talk about Monday. If you don't have time, I can stop by later . . ."
"I . . . gave you Valentine's off," he recalled, furrowing his brows slightly. He knew he had, because she was married and had worked the last two years on Valentine's so he figured it was fair to give her the day off.
She waved dismissively. "My husband and I can have a dinner anytime. We don't need to spend all day together."
Wilson felt a small, but noticeable, weight lift off his shoulders. "Thank you, Giselle. This is really, really appreciated."
With a smile and a nod, she slipped out of his office and he replaced his old watch with the new one.
February 11th
The coffee was lukewarm and didn't have enough sugar, but Wilson figured it would do the trick. It had been a long night the night before due to a patient of his coding, and that seemed to set off a chain reaction. Still, he was looking forward to going to his office; getting a gift had become a pattern, and he assumed he was getting one today, too. The teddy bear he could have written off as some gift from a patient, probably a younger one, and he had thought it could be Caroline for awhile, but what was the point of buttering him up to get a day off if it was anonymously?
Truth was, he'd had an idea of who it was as soon as he got the second gift, but he just didn't want to admit it and get his hopes up.
He started walking towards the elevator, but he saw House and veered in that direction instinctively. House limped in his direction, and started talking as soon as they stood in front of each other; "You're in an awfully chipper mood," House stated, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Am I? Must be the coffee," he evaded, although his mind was focused on the gift that would be on his desk, either when he set foot in his office now, or sometime later in the day.
House narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you. When you took a sip of your coffee, you winced and looked disgusted."
Wilson smiled. House would never admit to leaving gifts in his office-if it was, indeed, him. He supposed, technically, that it could be many people; it didn't necessarily have to be House. "I've got a Valentine," Wilson admitted, watching House closely.
"Oh?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows. "Who would that be?"
"I don't know. Secret admirer. Gives me one gift a day."
House's eyes squinted, then he shifted his weight onto his other foot. "You have an eyelash," he informed, then pressed his fingers to Wilson's cheek. The moment his fingers touched Wilson's skin, electricity charged through him, dancing across his skin. Their eyes didn't meet, as they had already been looking at each other, but Wilson suddenly became aware of the fact that their eyes were locked.
House pulled his hand away and held the eyelash between his fingers. "Make a wish," he said, then blew at the eyelash. It drifted between them and House's mouth twitched upward in a half-smile.
Before Wilson could wrap his head around his wish, the insistent clacking of heels against linoleum interrupted. "House," Cuddy called, heading their way with her lips pursed. She stopped beside them, and smiled painfully at Wilson, as if screwing her lips in an upward direction was a foreign gesture to her. "Wilson," she greeted falsely, then turned to House. "I told you that HR needed that paperwork last night."
Wilson nodded at the both of them and drifted away without saying goodbye, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise anyhow with the way they were quietly snapping at each other.
As he waited for the elevator, he glanced over his shoulder to see Cuddy rubbing her temples and House looking at him. Wilson tried to give a comforting smile, but considering their distance he doubted it would be easy to interpret.
When he walked into his office, his eyes immediately went to the centre of his desk, where a bottle of cologne lay waiting for him.
February 12th
Although Wilson had the day off, he was going to drop in to work anyway. Perhaps the gift would make it to his doorstep, but House would never bring it to the loft-it was too personal that way. And there was a reason, although Wilson couldn't figure out why, he was doing it anonymously.
When he walked into the hospital, he was still wearing his street clothes; it was around noon, and if anyone asked, he was just picking up some paperwork. It felt so . . . juvenile and silly, to care about this gift-of-the-day secret admirer thing, but it had been awhile since he'd felt appreciated and . . . well, admired. Of course there had to be some sort of objective behind this; some sort of purpose, but . . .
"Hey, Wilson!" House's voice boomed and everybody's heads swivelled upwards. Wilson's did the same and he turned on the spot to see House standing above him, leaning over the railing. "What are you doing here?"
"I forgot paperwork; what are you doing?" he called back, and remembered belatedly that people were standing all around him. He only cared a little; enough for his cheeks to burn and for him to smile apologetically at Giselle, who was standing a few feet away.
"Paperwork with Cuddy! And don't lie, Wilson, I know you're here for the gift!"
Somehow, having that broadcasted for the whole hospital to hear was more embarrassing than conversing loudly with his best friend like some twisted balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet. His mouth worked feebly and then he cleared his throat. "Have fun with Cuddy, House," he replied, then turned to leave.
"Hey Wilson!"
Wilson craned his neck to look upward again. "What?"
Even at this distance, with House several feet above him, he could see the grin. "I can totally see down your shirt!"
Wilson barked out a laugh and House beamed. He turned around and headed towards the elevator, looking down at his sweater, trying to repress his smile but failing. He knew Giselle was looking at him and smiling as well, and he was sure others were staring too, but he didn't care so much about that. The giddiness that filled him was pathetic; he shouldn't react that way over something so trivial, coming from House of all people (who was still dating their boss) but he really couldn't help the fleeting thumps in his chest, or that fact that he didn't scowl when he glanced at the frilly and pink decorations.
He beamed at the two people in the elevator who furrowed their brows despite smiling in return. The two of them whispered amongst each other about Caroline and her boyfriend. He was glad Giselle had covered Monday for Caroline so he wouldn't have to deal with that anymore; there would've been no possible way for him to get someone to work it.
Wilson tuned them out, thinking instead of House's gleeful face and booming, cheery greeting, and he chuckled while rubbed the back of his neck, emotions still running high.
The elevator stopped and he hurriedly left, obviously in a hurry, but he didn't care how it looked; as far as the other people in the elevator knew, he could've left incredibly important paperwork in his office. Or perhaps his lunch-it was noon, after all.
Despite the fact he knew he'd locked it, it was unlocked when he got to it. He rolled his eyes although he was smiling thinly, and pushed open the door. As he expected, his gift was on his desk-a soft, light-blue tie.
He lifted it and slid it through his fingers, tilting his head one way and then the other. It was actually a rather nice tie; not outrageous, not hideous, not patterned-just a solid, pretty blue.
A few light knocks interrupted his concentration and he turned around; he'd left the door wide open and Caroline stood in the doorframe, knocking on it with her knuckle. "Doctor Wilson?"
"Yes?" he said, folding the tie over his palm.
"I . . . I heard you were here and I just wanted to stop by to say thanks for. . . getting my shift covered."
Wilson smiled. "Thank Giselle; she's the one who offered."
She smiled again, then looked at his palm. "That's a nice tie," she stated and with a nod, left his office.
He looked at the silk wrapped around his hand, and hummed slightly to himself in agreement. It really was.
February 13th
Technically it was Wilson's day off, but he'd been called in. It was nothing serious, the patient ended up being fine, but he was planning on coming in anyway, so he didn't mind. He would've stopped by his office around noon either way, so at least he managed to get some work done as well.
Anticipation thrummed through him, crawling through his skin and making him itch; forcing him to check the time every few minutes. It hadn't been in his office when he first got there, but he knew it would be there by the end of the day. Despite not having anything to do, he remained to catch up on clinic hours, and looked around for House. It was House's day off but Wilson knew he'd drop by.
He brushed off Caroline's concerns; smiled politely at Giselle, who inquired after his day and after House; ignored the men worrying about tomorrow and the women buzzing excitedly about what they thought they might get.
Although the mere mention of the holiday had irritated him last Monday, he now held no contempt for it.
Sometime before noon he left the elevator, wandering towards his office, tunnel-vision leading him to his door. House slid into step beside him, seemingly from out of nowhere, and the mere presence sparked Wilson; he really was pathetic. "Let me guess-you forgot paperwork again?"
"No, I was actually called in. And you? I'm sure you're just here to finish some paperwork as well," Wilson aired sarcastically, then gave House a knowing look. One half of House's mouth quirked upward and his uneven gait forced their shoulders together repeatedly, until they stopped in front of Wilson's door. "And I would prefer if, after rummaging through my office, that you relock the door."
An eyebrow raised as House shifted his weight onto his other foot, although Wilson suspected it was just to get in his personal space. "I haven't been in your office. I'm dealing with paperwork for HR."
"Of course," Wilson agreed, although his tone heavily implied that he really didn't believe him. "The gifts just magically appeared on my desk through osmosis."
"Teleportation would make more sense than osmosis. And I'm not your secret admirer. I don't celebrate Valentine's Day, remember?"
"And once again, may I mention Stacy and the two gifts you've given me in the past?"
"I am not constrained by holidays," he declared proudly, sweeping one arm outward graciously, as if gesturing towards an audience. He raised his chin arrogantly. "I give gifts 'cause I want to, not because I have to."
"I assume you're giving Cuddy something."
House shifted his weight again and looked down at the floor. He cleared his throat and, with his head still bowed, lifted his eyes to meet Wilson's. "Do you know who's giving you the gifts?" he asked, and Wilson knew a deflection when he saw one, but the tone of his voice and look in his eyes stopped him from interrogating about Cuddy.
Wilson rubbed his neck and took half a step closer. "I have my suspicions."
House furrowed brows and lifted his head. When he tilted his head, his blue eyes swept over his face. "You're wrong," House stated.
Wilson heard blood whoosh past his ears and shook his head slowly, moistening his bottom lip, once against realizing that their eyes had been locked for the past while. "I don't think I am." Conviction coloured his tone and he raised his chin slightly, challenging House to disagree.
House reached forward as if to brush away nonexistent bangs, but his hand hesitated. He cleared his throat, then dropped his hand. "Don't be disappointed," he muttered, then limped away. Wilson watched him leave, and House looked over his shoulder to meet his gaze. Wilson smiled at him and House nodded before looking away and prodding the call button with his cane.
He opened his door and went directly to his desk, plucking two monster truck tickets from atop it.
February 14th
Wilson hadn't made it halfway to the elevator before House stepped beside him, the momentum from his limp making their shoulders brush. "You're here early," Wilson remarked.
"Well, I wanted to see what your secret admirer got you today before I even bother trying to upstage it with my own gift."
Wilson rolled his eyes as they continued. "You don't celebrate Valentine's Day, remember?"
"There are exceptions."
"Besides, I think it's useless to keep up the charade, House. I know it's you."
"There is nothing secret about my admiration for you. Defeats the whole purpose, wouldn't you think?" House pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him and smirking.
Wilson snorted, and shook his head at the floor, and they both stopped in front of the elevator. House pressed the button and they looked at each other, waiting for the doors to slide open. This time, Wilson was aware of the moment their eyes locked, and his throat dried.
House tilted his head and frowned. "What the hell are you wearing?"
"My new vest and tie."
"Well, when did you get it? You almost look well-dressed."
Wilson furrowed his brows. "They're . . . gifts. I got these, and-House, you know what I got. The teddy bear, the . . . watch, the monster truck tickets . . ."
House's face fell and he blinked rapidly. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it tightly. Without saying a word, he pivoted on his cane and stalked off. Wilson moved to walk after him and opened his mouth to call his name, but he heard the ding signalling the door was sliding open, so he pursed his lips, hesitated, looking back and forth, and then finally stepped inside the elevator.
Two women were already in, one fiddling with an expensive looking necklace, although judging by the sigh and the frown she wasn't happy about it. The other nattered on about Olive Garden and, although she didn't actually like the restaurant, she knew her husband did and so she'd never told him. The other complained that she had never once said she wanted a necklace and that it was too nice to wear everyday anyway. The first retorted that Valentine's was about celebrating love, not gifts.
When the door opened on his floor he left, frowning as he thought over House's behaviour. He tried the doorknob before attempting to unlock it, and it swung open as he had suspected. It was already unlocked.
He felt like a moron when he saw Giselle standing there, smiling at him, her hair pulled up in a fancy up-do.
"Doctor Wilson," she greeted, smiling widely.
"Er, Giselle," he greeted, blinking once. "How did-"
"I wasn't always such a stickler for rules. I picked your lock."
"But-but why would you-"
"The nurses were doing secret Valentines. You're recently single and I knew that if anyone else got your name they'd try to seduce you so I . . . rigged it." She shrugged half-heartedly.
Wilson thought over the gifts; there really was nothing that stood out as Housian or something that nobody other than House would have thought of getting him, except for the monster truck tickets. "Well, how did-how did you know I like monster trucks?" he asked, thinking of how excited he'd been at the thought it was House. He had told him several times that he wasn't the one getting the gifts, and he hadn't meant it to be ironic at all.
"I asked around. You'd be surprised what people know about you." She walked over to him and handed over a picture frame; inside was a picture of him and House, walking close enough their elbows touched. He had no idea how old it was-this happened often enough where it could've been last month, or two years ago. "Happy Valentine's Day."
Giselle left and he remained still, holding the framed picture in his hands. Staring at it, he noticed that he was staring at the ground, hiding a grin, and House had his head turned, gazing openly at him. He wasn't grinning, but there was a small lift to his mouth and his blue eyes were soft yet intense. Neither of them were aware of the fact someone was snapping a picture of them; just pure emotion. The expression on House's face was undeniable, and the pink shade to Wilson's cheeks were just as telling.
Despite being surprised at the giver of his gifts, he couldn't deny that he was pleased with what he'd received.
Throughout the day, Wilson kept an eye out for House. He'd put the picture on his desk facing him, where he'd put a picture of his wife when he'd been married. He knew House was upset over the tickets, but he didn't want House thinking he was going on a date with Giselle; she clearly wasn't interested in him. She'd given him two tickets for his sake; not hers. And who else would he take?
Clinic dragged on slowly; a couple of colds, a few flus, and an embarrassing sex toy incident seemed to take hours more than it had. After clinic ended, he checked an empty exam room, went through a few empty hospital rooms, and even checked the morgue; House wasn't there. He had other hiding places, but he knew House would eventually seek him out, so instead of scouring the place, he decided to check House's office; if he wasn't there, he would wait for House to come to him. They'd see each other eventually.
When he walked by House's office, it was empty, and he sighed. He pushed open the differential diagnosis room to see the team collectively working on a crossword puzzle, except Masters who seemed to be going through patient files determinedly.
"Hey, have any of you seen House?" he asked.
Chase looked up from the crossword puzzle. "Yeah, but it was weird. He thrust two tickets in my hand and told me to go take one of my floozies." He shrugged, then returned back to the crossword. "Dunno what that was about, but it was still weird."
Wilson would have chuckled if he didn't know how much that must've bothered House; he must have bought Wilson the tickets, only to find that he'd already gotten two, presumably from some nurse who wanted to get down his pants. House rarely bought him gifts, and the one time he actually did, someone had beat him to it. That had to have stung.
Wilson sighed, said goodbye, and left the differential room.
The two of them hadn't been together a lot recently; they had drifted somewhat. He'd originally taken the daily gifts as House's way of trying to get them back to normal, but now that he knew it wasn't him he felt stupid for assuming it was. If House had been giving him the gifts, the tie would have been outrageously bad; in fact, all of the gifts would have screamed House-wouldn't have been so easily construed as something anyone would've given. House didn't half-ass anything (well, not the things that mattered). He appreciated the sentiment of course, as it was the thought that counted and he'd rather have Giselle be the one to give him the secret gifts rather than some nurse trying to take advantage of his recently single status, but had he and House become so distant he'd mistaken someone else for him? A few months ago he would've known immediately it wasn't him.
Even this past week, every time they tried to connect, something happened; something stopped them. There was still a distance between them, and these gifts did nothing but prove that. He was just on the fringes of House's life now and that really bothered him.
He walked into his office, but was only mildly surprised to find House standing there, holding the framed picture in his hands. Wilson shut the door and House looked up, ripped out of his thoughts, and quickly placed the frame on the desk and opened his mouth to say something, but instead rubbed at his eyebrow.
"It was from Giselle."
House hummed to show that he'd heard Wilson, then turned back to the desk, looking at the haphazardly placed frame. Wilson walked over and stood beside him, looking over the picture as well; at the way House gazed at him with adoration; at how he was trying to hide his amusement and affection for whatever House had said and done.
House was looking right at him, and Wilson had missed it; if he'd just turned his head and met his gaze at the right time; seen that face . . .
House had been reaching out to him, and Wilson had just kept missing. This past week, House had been trying to reach out to him as well, just not with the gifts; he'd been blinded by the overt things that didn't matter and had missed all the little things. House asking him to call, House needing to talk to him on the phone, and grabbing his eyelash . . .
"I know you bought monster truck tickets."
"Those were for Chase."
"No they weren't."
House sighed loudly, but Wilson didn't look away from the picture. "Well, Gabby beat me to it."
"She's married. It's not like that."
"What is it like, then?"
"You can see the picture, House."
House remained silent, so Wilson turned his head to look at his profile. House's focus was on the two of them walking, and Wilson didn't bother hiding his adoration this time. "I'm taking you to the monster trucks," Wilson promised, and House finally turned to meet his gaze; see his open expression, like Wilson could have whenever the picture had been taken.
House turned his body so he fully faced him, and Wilson did the same. "I broke up with Cuddy."
"Wh-on Valentine's Day?"
"No," House scowled. "A few days ago. We had fill out papers." He shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a rigidity in his movements and his eyebrows were curved with uncertainty.
Wilson took a step closer and lowered his eyes, but only briefly. "Why?" he asked when their eyes met again.
House visibly swallowed, then smiled. He tilted Wilson's chin up with his crooked index finger, and brought their mouths together gently. Wilson smiled against House's lips which made it difficult to kiss. They both tilted their heads, but in the same direction so their noses bumped and Wilson snorted as House pulled away long enough to chuckle, before leaning in again, head tilted in the other way so their lips could connect, and that was when everything in Wilson's head aligned, as if everything made sense. An epiphany without a case; an answer without a question.
Their tongues met and slipped past each other; making room for each other. Their lips locked and detached, before returning and reattaching. He wrapped his arms around House, who in turn did the same; they encircled each other, chests pressed together. They pulled only centimetres away to breathe, the distance between their mouths repeatedly closing, lips wet and soft. House's breath was warm and his stubble scratched at Wilson's skin, bringing a nice contrast to the softness of House's fingers in his hair; at his neck; his lips and tongue caressing Wilson's.
Wilson was the first to pull away, but only because he'd been holding his breath. When he opened eyes, House looked brighter; more vivid-as if he'd only been seeing him from faraway and was only now seeing him up close. Wilson knew it was just a biological side effect of his eyes dilating due to his emotions, but it felt metaphorical anyway.
He stepped away and looked at the floor, biting down on his lip; feeling his cheeks burn and he rubbed the back of his neck, before raising his eyes to meet House's. "Happy Valentine's Day, House."
House smirked. "Well, I have something you can unwrap later."
Wilson quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"But first, lunch."
Smiling, they left the office and House ripped a large heart from off the wall and tossed it away from them so it fluttered to the ground; they both laughed at the same time as they fell into step; footsteps matching a rhythm of their own making-a rhythm Wilson hadn't heard for ages. Their hands knocked; their elbows and shoulders brushed. The distance between them had finally closed.