Disclaimer: I don't own House. If I did it would be rated MA.
A/N: Well, I just had to write a House/Wilson at some point. So why not now?
"What are you doing?"
"…Writing a check, House."
"Yes, I can see that. What are you writing that check to?" Gregory House squinted over Wilson's shoulder at his slanted handwriting.
Wilson sighed and scribbled down his signature. "A charitable organization, House."
"Why?" House asked with irritation, shifting his weight on his cane.
"To help those in need House. That's what you do when you have money and no wife or children to spend it on." Wilson said slowly, rolling his eyes and ripping out the check.
"Well, I need a new pair of shoes, how about you spend your money on that?" House suggested, plucking the check out of his hand.
"Just because you're a selfish bastard, doesn't mean I have to be." Wilson quickly pulled the check back, before handing it to the woman over the counter.
"I take that as a compliment. One day, I'll be rolling in money and hot college girls while you are watching soap operas in that same apartment, because you spent all your spare money on charity." The two exited the building side-by-side, taking their time. It had been a long time since neither had been on call, and both were in severe need of alcohol. Well, mostly House, and he dragged Wilson along to make him pay for it. Their little pit stop to a section of the hospital House rarely visited was a small detour, and one that Wilson knew he would be subjected to a lot of teasing about.
With a few more comments about Wilson's sainthood, they reached the parking lot. Wilson headed reflexively for his car but House stopped him, slapping his cane at Wilson's shins.
"I want to take my bike." He told the questioning Wilson.
"Okay, I'll meet you there." Wilson attempted to walk away from House, but was stopped again, this time by a rather painful slap. "What?"
"Why waste gas?" House shrugged. "You're always going on about how we should all be more worried about the environment. I have two helmets, believe it or not."
"… I've never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before."
"You're missing out."
"Well it's not like I've ever had a motorcycle riding boyfriend." Wilson said sarcastically, waving his arms in exasperation.
"Well, now you do, so here's your chance. The helmet's in my office, so kindly fetch it for this poor cripple." House leaned on his cane with exaggeration.
"Somehow I don't feel any sympathy." Wilson muttered. "And…" He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Would you quit with the… boyfriend stuff? Half the hospital already thinks we're in a romantic relationship, and you're only encouraging the rumors." He shifted his weight and fidgeted, seeming unsure of what to do with his arms.
"Well, we might as well be." House said matter-of-factly, waving his hand dismissively. "We spend our off nights and weekends together, go drinking, watch movies—"
"—Well, I watch them, and you comment on how bad the actors are—"
"—Face it, Wilson. We might as well be dating. And who gives a damn what the hospital thinks? They could think we're having hot monkey sex in the janitor's closets for all I care."
Wilson turned visibly redder at this assertion. "Well… we're not dating, so…"
House raised his eyebrows, looking expectantly at Wilson for another argument he could crush in a moment's time. When he got no response, he crossed his arms and settled against the wall. "Just get the helmet before I change my mind about going out."
Wilson disappeared muttering something about bad word choice, and House pulled out his trusty bottle of Vicodin. A few pills later, Wilson returned, carrying the helmet awkwardly in his right hand.
House swung his leg over his motorcycle and looked expectantly towards Wilson, who was struggling with the helmet. Finally he sat stiffly behind House.
"Put your arms around me."
"What?"
"Put your arms around my waist unless you want to go flying into the street the moment I start moving." House repeated, his words dripping in aggravation.
"R-Right." Wilson complied, his neck sweating somewhat under the heat of the helmet. The past conversations about boyfriends and caught him slightly off guard, and now he was feeling increasingly strange around House. But riding on the back of another guy's motorcycle would have any man feeling strange.
Wilson could hardly keep his eyes open during the drive. He wasn't exactly well equipped with the guts required to ride a motorcycle. All he could was squeeze House as tightly as possible and pray he wouldn't fall off. The ride was filled with the sound of traffic and the subtle scent of House's cologne.
As they reached their destination and House parked, Wilson jumped off the motorcycle as fast as he could. "We are never doing this again."
"Agreed. I find it extremely difficult to concentrate on driving with you pulling the Heimlich maneuver on me." House pulled off his helmet and reached for his cane. "You always seem to find one way or another to break my concentration." The second sentence came out before he could give it further thought.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's very distracting to have someone so stupidly nice around you all the time." House said evasively, walking ahead of him.
"I'm really not that nice, you of all people should know that." Wilson followed him with slow steps.
"I know. You're only nice when it's completely stupid to be nice."
"Like how I'm nice to you?" Wilson stopped, and became aware that they were fairly alone. The loud voices resounding from inside seemed relatively far away compared to how close House was, standing on the sidewalk before him.
House spun around and pointed an accusing finger towards Wilson. "Exactly. God knows what will happen to you if you keep hanging around 'selfish bastards' like me."
"What if I like hanging out with selfish bastards?" Wilson crossed his arms.
"Then you need some serious help. Vicodin?" He pulled out his treasured orange bottle and offered it to Wilson.
Without much thought, Wilson ignored the little plastic container and grabbed House by the back of the neck, pulling him into a rather violent kiss. House, also without thinking much, returned the kiss, the Vicodin slipping slightly in his grasp.
Wilson pulled back and stared at House, looking pretty stunned. House, as always, maintained the same facial expression.
"I'm crazy." Wilson said slightly breathlessly, mopping his face with his hand. "I've actually lost it."
"I'm glad you've finally realized this, Wilson. Seeing as I lost my sanity a long time ago, I'd say we're a good match." House shrugged, stuffing his pills back into his pocket.
"Who the hell knows… You up for a drink?" Wilson shook his head, before heading towards the bar.
"Never been a better time." House nodded in agreement, and the two walked (limped) side-by-side into the rush of noise and laughter that drove them together.