For once in his life, House didn't analyze what was suddenly going on between Wilson and him.
If he did, he would reach conclusions such as Wilson was feeling too vulnerable or some load of bull similar, so he simply tried not to think. Just go with the flow. This was too important.
Of course, he still wondered if Wilson was going to snap out of it any day now, if maybe his pain medication made him more loopy than was originally suspected. But as the days passed, he became more and more certain that this was not the case.
He was true to his word.
Every night, he appeared in Wilson's room. Every night, they would start out talking and laughing and insulting good-naturedly, then end up kissing - sometimes fiercely - as if they could not get enough of each other. Which made sense. It had been about twenty years coming.
House was extremely careful not to put any physical pressure on him, as he was still frustrated with himself from the very first time they had kissed for forgetting that Wilson was hurt, and continued to be sore from the surgery. However, he was improving.
Every night, on those when they couldn't seem to get enough - they attempted to see just how far they could go without attracting the attention of of night nurses or occasional janitors. It wasn't far. They both turned out to be complete chickens.
But every night, they grew a little more desperate. House could hardly stand the supense any longer.
One of those nights, while Wilson's warm hands moved up his shirt, caressing the skin lightly, House made to pull back because he was beginning to fall over the brink of not being able to control himself, but Wilson stopped him.
"No," he said, his breath shaky, "a little further."
House felt lost, as only the younger man could render him. "What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know, just - don't stop."
He shook his head, running his palm down the length of Wilson's arm. "If I don't, I won't be able to."
Wilson groaned in frustration. "I hate - we can't keep doing this, House. You're killing me. Please, just - go sit over there," he said, pointing to the chair House so frequently occupied.
Hiding his chuckle, though he was equally as frustrated, House stood and limped over to the chair.
"So, you want me to sit here so we can torture ourselves with eye-sex?"
Wilson tossed an arm over his eyes.
House snorted. "I'm going home." He re-stood and crossed to the glass sliding door.
Before he exited, he turned back as he usually did, and said, a mischeivous glint in his eye, "I'm sleeping in your bed, by the way. Never knew you used Suave for men."
"Yes, you did," Wilson groaned, an arm still over his eyes. "Get out."
Smirking, House left.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The practice of secret-kissing was discontinued, much to House's displeasure.
Luckily, Wilson's condition was beginning to improve very rapidly. He could now roll about in a wheelchair within the confines of the hospital. It was predicted that he would be ready for release in just one week.
It was the longest week of House's entire life. Excluding the time period of his infarction. And perhaps the time Wilson resigned from their friendship as a result of Amber dying.
But, finally, the day came.
House helped Wilson prepare, gathering his belongings, which included the many cards and flowers he'd received from nearly everyone in the hospital. He dumped a majority of them in the trash.
Once he was all set, with final check-ups and release forms signed, the two of them walked side-by-side out into the lobby and then out the hospital's front doors. Nothing out of the ordinary.
They climbed into House's car.
As they headed away from the property, glancing at each other out of the corners of their eyes, Wilson broke the odd silence to say, "I have a surprise."
"So do I," House replied gruffly.
"No, I'm serious. I think you'll like it...uh, eventually."
"I know I'm gonna like it. You're gonna like it too."
"Do you want to see it now, or...wait?"
"I'd love to see it now, however, waiting is probably more sensible as I'm driving."
House smiled when Wilson rolled his eyes.
"Okay, it can wait then."
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Home Sweet Home," House announced as he pushed open the door to Wilson's apartment.
Wilson entered behind him and closed it as House set the load of flowers upon the couch, along with his cane.
"Whoops. That took up all the couch space. Bedroom it is, I guess," he shrugged, grinning at the sight of Wilson standing there, fidgeting.
"You know," he said, "most people would run away in screaming terror from your blunt forwardness."
House stepped closer to him, his gaze intense.
"But you got used to it years ago."
"Yes," Wilson agreed, swallowing visibly. "I did."
House closed the gap between them and gently pulled Wilson in by the waist. Gentle, because he was still afraid of hurting him.
Their hips brushed, Wilson's slightly above his own despite the fact that he was taller of the two. After running a hand through his brown hair reassuringly, their lips met.
It soon turned into all of the pent up desperation and need of the past few weeks. Years.
Shifting his weight onto his good leg, House shuffled them forward until he had Wilson successfully pressed against the wall next to the front door.
One hand moved up to grip the back of his neck, while the other remained where it was, squeezing his hip.
And then, without warning, Wilson pushed him away.
House managed not to protest (or fall over), but stared at him in open confusion.
"What have we been doing?" Wilson asked, sliding into a panic as if it were a greased rubber glove.
House's stomach plummeted. This was exactly what he'd been anticipating. Dreading. Wilson was coming to his senses at last.
"Aw," he whined. "Don't break our rule."
"What rule?"
"We're not supposed to talk about it. It's unspoken."
"But we need to," Wilson said, still leaning back against the wall.
"Okay," House said slowly, as if he was speaking to a two-year-old. "I'm blue, you're red. Let's make purple."
"It's not that simple and you know it."
"Sure it is," House insisted, determined that he was not going to let Wilson get away this time. "We are two human beings who have always cared for each other. We care about each other. It is natural, at some point, to want to take care of each other."
He had no idea if he was really making much sense, but he was willing to do or say anything to save the situation. Wilson was, at least, fixing him with a rather encouraging expression.
"Don't even think about saying, 'You're my best friend,' or, 'You're a guy,' or, 'What will people at the hospital think?'. What do you want?"
Their eyes were locked. House was pleased to see Wilson look taken aback.
He didn't answer.
House took a tentative step closer to him.
"Wilson...what do you want?" It had suddenly occured to him that maybe he wasn't ready for sex, which was perfectly understandable. But he had certainly seemed ready for it days ago. "Is it this?" he asked, gesturing between them. "You're not ready for this yet?"
"I - I don't - you're asking me what I want?" Wilson stammered in a joking sort of tone.
House gave a half-smile. "Answer the question."
Wilson glanced down at their feet and back up. "I just want us to be normal," he admitted quietly. "Normal like we've always been - uh, kind of. Friends. But we've always been more than friends, haven't we?" Their eyes locked once more.
House had never in his life felt such affection for someone. Here Wilson was, having put himself back together, only to come undone again.
"Yes," he agreed. "But I don't want to talk about what we've always been. I want to talk about what we are. What we're becoming."
He left it at that, knowing that Wilson would pick up and say something profound.
He watched as his friend took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
"House - somehow you manage to make me feel ridiculous over things that are really very important."
House frowned, not sure how to interpret that statement.
"The thing is - I can't decide whether you really care, or if this is just another game to you to see how I react," Wilson told him, staring determinedly, a hint of apology in his eyes.
House felt his breath catch in his chest.
"I must be one hell of an actor," he snapped. "How do you not know something like that?"
"Well, you just - " Wilson began, his tone now apologetic. "Everything's a joke to you."
"So, according to me, the past twenty years have been one huge comedy sketch?" House asked, furious, hurt, and bewildered.
"I thought you didn't want to talk about what we used to be."
House rolled his eyes impatiently, and turned away, limping to the back of the couch.
"No, listen, I'm sorry - that was cruel - I know you care. But do you care enough to take it a step farther without pushing me away in the process?"
House whirled around. "God, you're an idiot."
"What? Why?"
He ran a hand down his face in frustration. "You don't seem to get that you are the only person I've never tried to push away. I don't want to push you away! I pushed Stacy, and Cameron, and Cuddy away because they were not you. I had an affair with - " he stopped.
He had never told Wilson about the woman he'd found during his stint in Mayfield.
Wilson abandoned the wall to come stand directly in front of him. His brown eyes had softened and had a slightly dazed look about them.
"Who did you have an affair with?"
House wanted to reach out and touch him - he was so close. His arm, his hair - whatever, but he held himself back. If Wilson didn't understand...he cleared his throat.
"In Mayfield," he said grudgingly, "I met a woman named Lydia. Keep in mind - this was after you hung up on me. She was married, but I slept with her because she had these huge, beautiful...brown eyes."
Wilson blinked. "House - "
"Forget it," he said harshly. "Apparently, it all means nothing. It was all a joke. Sorry I screwed with you for so long."
He was going to stop there, but another wave of anger overtook him, and he continued, "No, actually, I'm not. You're a bastard." - He ignored the hurt expression on Wilson's face at these words. - "I was there when your first wife left you - bailed you of a damn jail in New Orleans - I let you stay with me when your third wife cheated, rised my life so that you could be happy with Amber, and then you gave up our friendship - "
"Because I was so ashamed that I almost killed you too! And scared of losing you one day - " Wilson interrupted, raising his voice. "You pointed that out yourself."
"And you risked your life, knowing that I would be alone if you died, just to help your self-important jerk of a friend that you refuse to even speak to anymore!" House nearly yelled, dismissing his comments.
"You know that's not fair," Wilson told him. "He would have died."
"You could have died."
"But I didn't."
House sighed. "Damn it, Wilson. You know me. You know how I am. If I can't be myself and trust you to know what I'm really saying - "
"I do know," Wilson assured him. "House, it never occured to me that you might feel that way. You're so cold and distant that it's easy to forget that you have real emotions just like the rest of us. But haven't I always been the one to catch the hints? Better than most people?"
"How could you have missed one as big as, I care about you so much that it causes me physical pain?" House asked, wanting nothing more than to punch sense into the man in front of him.
Wilson shook his head, a tiny smile threatening his serious features. "I'm sorry. Maybe I was just afraid to believe it because thinking about it made me feel something I didn't think I ought to be feeling." He gently grabbed House's hand as if he knew exactly what was on his mind.
House flinched at the contact.
"No," Wilson said firmly. "You were all ready to jump my bones a minute ago."
"That was before I realized you were blind," House responded, avoiding his gaze. "Blind people aren't usually attractive."
"Oh, come on. Be a big boy," Wilson told him, leaning forward. Before House could stop him, he had pressed his mouth into the crook where his neck met his collarbone.
Wilson then let go of his hand to push the flaps of House's jacket aside. He snaked both arms around his middle and continued the movements of his mouth.
House could barely breathe.
Suddenly, the reality of the situation they had gotten themselves into hit him.
This person, kissing his neck, was Wilson.
The knowledge overwhelmed him, and all he could do was wrap his arms around Wilson's shoulders and bury his face in his hair.
Wilson placed one more kiss to the side of his neck before returning the gesture.
They embraced as if seeing each other for the first time in twenty years, and swayed slightly in time with their pulses.
Finally - finally - they were together.
No more jealousy to cope with, or relationships to destroy. Wilson was his. In what universe was this possible?
"Just so we're clear," House said softly into his ear, "no more girlfriends."
The kiss Wilson laid on him then expressed just how clear they were on that statement.
"No," he breathed back. "No more girlfriends."
House rested his forehead against Wilson's, sliding his palms down the length of his arms after removing them from his own waist. Their fingers linked.
House kissed him. Wilson squeezed his hands.
"Do you understand - ?"
Wilson nodded against him. "I should have realized when...you told me that you loved me."
"Why?"
"Because there's no way you'd have said that without..." Wilson stopped, blinking in what appeared to be revelation. He didn't continue.
"What?" House prompted.
Wilson blinked again, and stared at him intently. "You're right. I'm an idiot. That was a huge moment! You - you never would have dreamed of saying that if you didn't mean it."
"Well, of course I - "
"Wait. But to say it, you had to have been sure that it was all going to work out. Because - and don't deny it - if you thought that we were going down the tubes one day, you would have been scared to death of saying it. Which means that you know it's going to work, which means that you trust me. And you trust yourself, which means that - " Wilson's expression transformed into pure wonder. "You've changed, House."
House smiled an uncharacteristically tender smile. "I haven't changed. I'm still an ass. I'll still do and say horrible things to you."
"But you trust me," Wilson said. "That's what's changed."
"I've always trusted you."
"Not with relationships. How do you know I won't give you up for the next leggy blonde who blinks in my direction? How do you know this won't ultimately ruin our friendship?"
House pretended to think hard about this, then feigned figuring out the answer. "Ooh, I know, I know - um, because you love me too much?"
Wilson laughed. "See? You've definitely changed, House. In all the ways that matter."
"Mm," House murmered, kissing him. "If you're the result, then I'm okay with it."
"Wow," Wilson whispered, grinning. "What happened to you?"
"I learned something in Mayfield."
Wilson raised an eyebrow.
"If I'm not honest with the people in my life - I'm not happy. Simple as that. You should try it."
"I am honest with people," Wilson said indignantly. "I never had the insane desire to shut them out and turn into a hermit."
House pressed his lips to Wilson's forehead, letting it linger, and replied, "Right now. Be honest with me."
Wilson looked up into his eyes, confused for a split second. Then he seemed to catch on. He smiled lop-sidedly, displaying his nerves again. "I'm - not ready yet."
"Okay. You want to watch TV?"
Wilson responded by slowly running both hands through his thinning hair, watching his face in what looked like fascination, then engaging him in a deep kiss.
When they parted, House asked breathlessly, "Are you trying to make me jump you?"
Wilson kissed him again - and again - then pulled back. "No. Sorry. Um, I still have a surprise."
House frowned. "Must be a good one if you'd rather think about that than - "
"It has to do with that actually," Wilson said hastily.
House raised both eyebrows, honestly surprised and no doubt, intrigued. "You bought a sex toy. Jimmy, m'boy!"
"No, I did not buy a sex toy," Wilson refuted, looking scandalized at the very idea. "Listen, I'm - I'm thinking about moving into another apartment."
House stared.
"This ones - well, I mean, this one's...old."
House scoffed, his interest instantly peaked. "Yeah. Now, the real reason." He almost heard Wilson roll his eyes.
"Well, I think we could both use a change and some more space. Bonnie said that - "
"Bonnie?" House asked sharply. "Cuddy mentioned Bonnie. She and Lucas are looking for apartment too...You're going to buy it out from under her, aren't you?"
Wilson sighed. "That was the plan. She told me to stop by there any time today or tomorrow before seven to check it out."
House lifted his wrist and checked his watch. "It's already six-fifty. That leaves us plenty of time to cuddle on the couch tonight."
Wilson snorted.
House grinned, but never broke their gaze.
"Oh you're - you're serious?" Wilson realized. "Alright then. Might as well put in The Notebook."