DISCLAIMER: I do not own House MD or any of its writing credits.

Set before House's original team dissolved…

Just Breathe

Which Way Now?

On the mostly silent car ride to House's apartment, House gave a spectacular performance at giving no indication of the inward struggle he was dealing with at present. How could this have happened? Why did he feel this way? His instincts were now telling him to immediately reach for his Vicodin bottle for an immediate relief to the bombardment of new emotions he was experiencing for the person sitting less than two feet from him right then.

"You're really quiet." Wilson said, eyes fixed on the road in front of them.

"So what's your point? You are too." House immediately pointed.

"No point. Just wondering what's going on inside that head of yours, as usual." Wilson said as they pulled to a stop in front of House's apartment complex.

House got out of the car quickly and headed for his door while Wilson comfortably followed. Once inside, House moved to sit on the bench before his instrument so that he might bring order to the swirling masses of confusing thoughts and emotions through musical intervention.

As he began to play, not needing sheet music for his complex song choices, Wilson selected a book from House's dusty collection and seated himself on the couch in order to read. He loved to communicate with words, however, he understood that House was communicating right then, whether he knew it or not.

And so Wilson sat, reading and thinking about what point the conversation earlier had driven House to shut him out. He relaxed and relished in proximity to House's brilliantly effortless mastery of the keys beneath his fingers, not daring or wanting to interrupt. And House knew this. As long as he played, he could be in Wilson's company without having to deal with him at all.

When Wilson's eyes were fixed on the pages in front of him, House would steal short glances at him as he continued to sort out the new range of paths before him. From the moment at the park to the piano, he had come to terms with the fact that he now regarded Wilson as more than a best friend. The problems now were what to do with these feelings. Add to that the emptiness from before he felt when thinking of Wilson's eventual departure and he was at a crossroads. The easy thing to do, House thought, would be to bury these feelings, and never share them with anyone but himself. This would allow him to let things between them to proceed as they naturally would otherwise, and no one would have to be hurt or humiliated. So that's it then, problem solved, right? Why the discomfort?

…A tiny part of him now existed that clung to the lingering hope for Wilson to give positive reception to his feelings, and maybe even reciprocate them. He could find a way to tell Wilson how he really felt about him, and perhaps, just maybe, Wilson wouldn't ever need reason to leave.

House stopped playing. Wilson looked up from his reading and said, "That was really nice."

"Thanks. Glad you like it." House said getting up and heading into the kitchen to fish out two beers from the refrigerator. He limped back to the living room and sat on the opposite side of the sofa from Wilson after having placed the beer in front of him on the coffee table.

"Can you hand me the remote?" House asked Wilson.

Wilson grabbed it from his side of the sofa and passed it to House. House moved his legs up alongside Wilson who was sitting on the inside of the couch. They both stared at the tv as an old black and white feature started to play. About twenty minutes into the movie, House's leg started to irritate him from sitting in such a fixed position for too long a period. Every so often, he would try to shift it but there was not a great deal he could do about it with Wilson sitting next to him. Wilson noticed as House's face grimaced with pain while he was watching the movie as best he could without letting on that he was in so much discomfort.

House reached for his Vicodin when he felt hands on his throbbing leg. He looked over and saw Wilson still watching the movie, but working his hands over House's leg skillfully massaging away the pain. It was all House could do not to lean his head back and moan while he received such tender administrations from his friend. He tried to watch the movie, but his eyes couldn't help but focus on the face of the object of such kindness. He smiled and Wilson, who glanced just in time to see it, and so caught off guard was he that he froze mid movement.

"What's with you lately, House?" Wilson all but begged.

"Nothing! Look, I have to tell you something." House said, turning the tv off.

"Ok. Please, tell me anything." Wilson said, at full attention.

House looked down for a second, and when he looked up he said "I know I don't tell you this very often, and I know I should…"

Wilson didn't blink.

"I want you to know that I appreciate you. Very much." House said. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done…so how on Earth could he convey anything of greater depth than that.

Wilson looked perplexed and then smiled warmly, "Wow, House. I'm not sure what's brought this on, but thank you. I appreciate you, as well."

House nodded, "Okay. Great. Well then, I think I'm going to go to the grocery store really quick and get stuff for breakfast."

"So I'm staying here tonight then?" Wilson asked.

"Well yeah…you have to take me to work Monday. We left my car at the hospital, remember?"

"Oh that's right. So, do you want me to go with you then since you don't have a way to get there?" Wilson offered.

"That's ok, it's just around the corner." House said, his back to Wilson.

Wilson frowned; he didn't much like the thought of House limping back home in the middle of the night with a cane in one hand and groceries in the other.

"No, House I'm coming with you. You shouldn't have to do that by yourself." Wilson said, grabbing his shoes.

House spun around, "I DO NOT need your help, Wilson." House said, gruffly.

Wilson looked down hurt, "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean that you couldn't."

House eyed him, then replied as he opened the door "I'll be back. Won't take long."

Once outside, House heaved a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the door. He really needed to get away from Wilson for a while. Despite having figured out how he now felt for his friend, House was beyond helpless when it came to these matters. He realized that every ounce of his better judgment was telling him to walk the straight and narrow, avoid hazardous grounds, and leave things between Wilson and him as they were. And that is exactly what he now intended to do. Wilson was free to go when he wished.

Wilson returned to the sofa, and returned to the movie that he now had little interest in finishing. House truly was an oddity to say the least. When House wasn't ignoring him or avoiding him, he was smiling or yelling, and it was all exceedingly too close to being a roller coaster for Wilson's taste. He had to get to the root of it, somehow. That's all there was to it. Since House was away for a little while at least, he now had time on his hands to think things over.

He got up and went to the kitchen to dispose of his empty beer bottle. While in the kitchen, he opened House's cabinets to assess what tools were available for tomorrow's breakfast as he was confident that he'd be the one producing something out whatever House brought home. He smiled to himself, thinking of how much House adored the pancakes Wilson made for him. It really gave him so much pleasure to see House enjoy something so much that he, and he alone, could provide for him. With that he sat back down with the book he was reading earlier, still smiling with the feeling he had just entertained in the kitchen. And he stopped. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was characteristic of a normal friendship for him to want to be there with House in such moments more so than any other person in his life.

But was this a bad thing? House meant a lot to him, to be sure. They'd been in each other's lives for almost more than half of them now. And Wilson lived for the few times that House would be open with him, like tonight, and acknowledge that they did care for each other in spite of their pranks and their commentary over the other's life.

It was at this moment in Wilson's solitude that House returned. He breezed by Wilson wordlessly and dropped the groceries off in the kitchen and popped another pill. When he returned, he moved back to the piano bench and began to play with gusto. Wilson furrowed his brow, then brushed it aside. He got up and went to get the sheet and pillow that were designated specifically for his overnighters. And with that, the two existed in unbroken silence. Both unaware of the other's sea of thoughts coursing through both of their heads, and neither could fathom the growing feelings budding beneath their hearts.