Does He Love You, a house, m.d. fanfic

Author's Note: Hiya, peeps. So, I'm been battling insomnia these last four days, which means that I've been a little too brain-dead to try and update anything. And then I started thinking that it's been a while since I wrote a oneshot, and I've never written a songfic before. I realize this song is like 8000 years old, but it's just so right for my OTP that I just had to give in. Takes place at the end of Wilson and Bonnie's marriage.

Disclaimer: Definitely don't own House, Wilson, or the rights to Does He Love You, which is sung by Reba McEntire and Linda Davis.

Does He Love You?

I've known about you for a while now.
When he leaves me he wears a smile now.
As soon as he's away from me
In your arms is where he wants to be.

Bonnie stares silently at her husband, and before he even speaks she knows what's coming - they've had this same argument so many times before. The phone rang two minutes ago, right before they were supposed to walk out the door, and by the look in his eyes she already knows who it was. She feels her lips press together into a tight line but waits to hear his explanation.

"Bonnie," he begins, and at least he has the decency to sound like he feels guilty. Lately she's had the feeling that asking her has been a courtesy, and nothing more.

She doesn't answer, but drops her eyes.

"That was House."

She tells herself that she has to resist the urge to say something sharp. James had made it pretty clear the other night that barbs against his best friend would not be tolerated. So she settles on, "What did he say," though, of course, she knows what he said. The same thing he says every time he calls.

James grins, like he's sharing some private joke, but it isn't with her. "Idiot left the lights on in his car, so the battery's dead. He just wants me to ride over there and give him a jump start."

She turns this information over in her head. "So, can't we just stop by there on the way to the restaurant? I mean, there's no reason for you to take a separate car."

There's a flicker in his eyes and she realizes that she's already lost this battle. "It won't take long, I promise," he assures her, gently squeezing her shoulder. "I'll just meet you there."

She smiles, knowing that's what he's expecting, but he isn't even looking at her. He's already turned away and is reaching for his keys.

"Twenty minutes," he says, his hand on the doorknob. "Go ahead and order an expensive bottle of wine and I'll be there before you know it."

And he's out the door as she softly says, "Happy anniversary."

But you're the one he rushes home to.
You're the one he gave his name to.
I never see his face in the early morning light.
You have his mornings, his day times, and sometimes I have his nights.

House is standing by his car when his best friend pulls in the driveway. The sight of the silver BMW causes his heartbeat to speed up just a tad, but he impatiently sighs at himself. This 'being in love with Wilson thing' is getting to be more than a little annoying, but at this point, when he's this far in, there's really nothing he can do about it.

The oncologist gets out of his vehicle and raises his eyebrows at House. "I think this makes you the damsel in distress," he teases, and there's a careless grin playing across his face that House never sees on him when they're with Bonnie. He's gotten to where he's memorized every detail of the other man's expressions and lately Wilson's eyes haven't seemed quite so light after spending time with his wife. He'd ask about it, but that's just not his way.

"Which would make you my Prince Charming," he replies, smirking slightly. "You do know how to do this, right?"

Wilson peers at him in confusion as he withdraws the jumper cables from the trunk of his car. "You don't know how to jump start a car?"

"I try not to fill my head with useless information."

"Yes, that is your reputation," Wilson replies sarcastically. "Pop the hood."

The conversation gets put on hold while the younger man carefully connects the cables to both cars' batteries, House using this opportunity to watch him without his noticing. It's sort of hot, actually, the way Wilson rolls up his sleeves, then pinches the bridge of his nose while he ponders positives and negatives. It's so strange to see him in this 'man's man' roll. Strange, but hot.

Wilson opens the driver's side door to the BMW and turns the key in the ignition. "Okay, House, turn on your car," he calls.

House eyes his Oldsmobile warily. "This is so going to explode," he mutters to himself, sliding into the driver's seat. He winces nervously, then turns the key.

And, to his utter astonishment, the engine roars to life.

"Jimmy, you did it," he cries, stepping out of the car.

Wilson shrugs modestly. "No problem." He checks his watch, and House pretends not to see. "I should probably go, though," he says.

"Stay and have a beer," House cajoles. "She can wait another 20 minutes, can't she?"

There's a moment of silence as Wilson considers this, but eventually he shakes his head. "I wish I could." And he looks like he means it.

"You can. I give my permission."

"Yeah, but I'm not too sure Bonnie recognizes your authority."

To hell with Bonnie, House thinks in annoyance, but he holds his tongue. It's been his experience that insulting his buddy's wife will only lead to Wilson defending her, and the last thing he wants to hear is the woman's good qualities. Or, rather, perceived good qualities.

Another beat, and then the oncologist raises his eyes to meet House's, and there's something there, behind the light brown, he's sure of it. Maybe a whisper of real conflict and temptation? But before he has a chance to really decipher the look his friend sighs and turns away.

But does he love you (does he love you)
Like he loves me (like he loves me)
Does he think of you (does he think of you)
When he's holding me?
And does he whisper (does he whisper)
All his fantasies.
Does he love you (does he love you)
Like he's been lovin' me?

To Bonnie's overall surprise he arrives before the drinks, and that night they make passionate and lengthily love. When she comes she cries out his name, clutching the strands of his hair tightly with her fingers. A minute later, when he follows, he bites down hard on his lower lip and doesn't look her in the eye.

He rolls off of her and onto his back, and it's hard not to read too much into the way he stares up at the ceiling quietly. Fear flutters in her stomach, and she swallows hard.

"Everything okay," she asks, struggling to keep her voice even. Nevertheless it shakes but he doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm fine," he says, giving her a warm smile, but suddenly it - everything- seems forced. She tells herself that she's blowing things out of proportion-that she's always been a little paranoid, though, of course, the fact that he cheated three months ago doesn't help things. But he told her about that, and it was only once. They had decided to try to work through it. She's trying to learn to trust him again.

But later that night, when he thinks she's asleep, she feels him move out of bed, pick up the cordless phone, and take it out into the living room.

"Hey, House," she hears him say, and she swallows hard.

When he's with me
He says he needs me.
And that he wants me.
That he believes in me.

House is a little surprised when his phone rings. It's after one in the morning, and he doesn't have a case, so really there's only one person that can be calling.

"Wilson," he guesses into the receiver.

He hears his friend take a deep breath, as though steeling himself for something, though what, House has no idea.

"Hey, House," Wilson answers, his voice thick with emotion.

The diagnostician waits to see if the other man is going to expand on that, but he doesn't continue.

"Was that it?"

He listens to the sound of the younger doctor walking through his apartment and then stepping outside, closing his front door behind him. "I think I'm going to leave Bonnie," Wilson blurts.

House, who had been lying down on the couch, sits up quickly in astonishment. "You're going to . . . leave your wife," he repeats. He's gotta be hallucinating. He's convinced himself that this is real because it's what he's wanted for so long.

"Yes."

"She didn't leave you when you told her about Anna."

"I know."

"Then why?"

Wilson gives a sharp sigh. "It's complicated." He pauses. "Can I come over? I . . . I'd like to see you. There's something I want to talk to you about, actually."

House can barely believe what he's hearing but before he can answer an emphatic "YES!" there's sound of the front door opening again on the other end of the line.

And when I'm in his arms,
Oh he swears there's no one else.
Is he deceiving me?
Or am I deceiving myself?

She stares at her husband, taking in the scene.

"I gotta call you back," he tells House, and she watches him hang up the phone.

"You were talking to House," she says, and she cocks her head to the side in confusion. "At one in the morning?" She doesn't want to have this conversation, not now on such little sleep, and when she's pretty sure that she knows where it will lead. But she's starting to realize that burying her head in the sand just puts off the inevitable.

He frowns. (How can he be indignant?) "He's my best friend," he answers defensively.

Tears well up in her eyes and she sniffs. "Are you in love with him," she asks.

And then he finally does look her in the eye. "Maybe."

She nods slowly to herself, and she wonders if she's always been expecting this, on some level. "You're leaving me for him?" There's no need for beating around the bush anymore. "The Hector Does Go Rug?"

He clears his throat, looking slightly caged. "I'm not . . . I'm not leaving you for House. I just." He runs his tongue along his teeth in frustration. "I think I need to be alone for a while."

It's weeks before House is able to talk to Wilson again. Oh, he catches glimpses of the man every here and there – they run into each other at the grocery store one Saturday, and that's when he learns that his friend filed for divorce. He starts to invite the other man over, but halts when he sees Wilson's off-kilter expression.

Finally, five weeks to the day that his friend called him there's a knock at the door that's easily recognizable. His heart lightly flutters and he crosses the living room quickly.

And then Wilson is standing in front of him and it's less like a flutter, and more like a pounding against his ribcage. He smirks to hide his excitement.

"Wilson."

"Can I come in?" The oncologist smiles.

House steps back to allow entry. "Is everything okay," he asks because he can't think of anything else to say.

"I had my court date with Bonnie today," he responds after a moment. "The divorce will be final soon."

"And you're wanting to celebrate?"

He chuckles softly. "Sort of." The following silence is deafening, and then he adds, "Do you remember that I wanted to see you the night I talked to Bonnie?"

". . . Yeah."

He reaches out his hand and gently fingers one of House's long sleeves before moving a little closer. "I want to tell you why I'm leaving my wife," he murmurs softly.

And then his phone rings. House doesn't bother to conceal his frustrated sigh but answers it anyway, then rolls his eyes when the voice on the other line informs him that his patient is crashing. Patients are always crashing.

He hangs up without a response before turning to his friend. "I don't think we should have this conversation," he says. He flinches when Wilson's face falls, but he determinedly continues. He's never been too good at voicing, uh, feelings or whatever, but he can't let the oncologist get the wrong idea. "You're the only person that means anything, If we were to break up-"

"We're breaking up? We haven't even been on a date."

"If we were to break up and you were to leave . . . I don't know how I could come back from that."

Wilson sighs but doesn't argue. House supposes it's a perk of always being right.

Shouldn't I lose my temper?

Bonnie wants to hate James with every bone in her body. She wants to scream at him when he picks up the last of his stuff from the house two days before the divorce is final, but he looks so forlorn as he prepares to leave for what will be the last time that she can't feel anything but overwhelming sadness. She had never expected this, and definitely never wanted it.

"Are you with House," she asks, even though she knows that it's none of her business now. He can date whoever he wants.

He shakes his head. "We're going to stay friends. It's better that way."

Somehow she suspects that he didn't get much choice in the matter. She wants to feel victorious, but she doesn't. "I'm sorry, James. I really do want you to be happy."

He leans forward, brushing his lips against her cheek. "I want you to be happy too. I'll always care for you, Bonnie. And if you need anything-"

"Really, I'll be okay."

He smiles sadly. "I know.

Oh, and shouldn't I be ashamed?

It's awkward the first time House sees Bonnie after she and Wilson are divorced. She's at Demaro's, a restaurant that he frequents and judging by the number of shot glasses in front of her, she's thrown back quite a few. He turns to walk right back out, but she looks up and sees him.

"House," she calls, a little too loud for sobriety, and he approaches her. "How've you been?"

"Fine," he replies warily.

"I heard you broke my husband's heart." She laughs. "Sorry, I guess it's not funny. But I am enjoying your misery."

"I told you that I'm fine."

She raises a glass as though in cheers, and then swallows it in one gulp. "But you're not."

'Cause I have everything to lose.

At her words she watches House leave, then sighs deeply and drops her head into her hands.

And I, I have nothing to gain.

The door to Demaro's shuts behind him, and he turns to watch Bonnie through the window for just a moment before he gets in his car and drives away.

Oh, does he love you?