4

He opened his eyes to find Wilson staring at him from the chair. With one eye still half closed, "How long have you been watching me sleep?"

Wilson completely ignored the question. "Two weeks. I'll stay…for two weeks."

Moving to an upright position, House asked, "And…then what?"

"I don't know yet."

"So…I'm just supposed to take the chance of falling in love with my best friend, having him for two weeks then just losing him because he doesn't even know if it's something that will work for him?"

The answer was simple. "Yes."

House ran a hand over his face. Wilson was asking him to risk. He took risks every day, with patients, his job and even other people's feelings. But he never risked his own feelings. He never risked being hurt himself. To figure this out, though, he was going to have to risk…himself.

He had choices. He could tell Wilson no and probably watch him walk out now, deny his feelings and just take the two weeks to get himself back to their old relationship, or he could risk his heart and figure out what his real feelings were. The only problem was that all three led to the possibility of losing his best friend again.

Since the previous day, he had used the truth as his standard, no matter how much it hurt. The truth was he had two weeks to figure out his true feelings. That also meant he had two weeks to convince Wilson that those feelings were something that would work for them. It was a puzzle; a puzzle he wanted to solve.

"Okay."

Wilson watched the struggle as House had made his decision. It was the same struggle he'd gone through to decide if he could even go through with this. He had been married three times, to women. He had loved all of them, yet all three marriages had failed. They had failed because none of them really knew him. House knew him better than anyone. Wilson had barely taken the time to get to know any of his ex-wives. He knew House better than anyone. In all of his previous relationships, there had been secrets. He and House had no secrets. Every relationship had failed because most of the time, he would have rather been with House, and a lot of the time he was. After every relationship had failed, he always went to House. The one constant person in his life was House. Without revealing it to his best friend, he wondered if he even understood his own feelings.

The silence was long, but necessary for the two men to process their thoughts. Wilson stood to go make them lunch, returning with two sandwiches and two beers. He took a seat next to House on the couch and waited for him to take his first bite before asking, "So, does this mean we're dating?"

House began to laugh. It was a chuckle at first, but then turned to a deep, rolling laughter. Wilson joined him, glad that the tension had broken. With tears brimming in both sets of eyes, House answered with a question, "Is that okay with you?"

Wilson looked at him then. He searched his eyes and found sincerity in the question. He spoke without thinking. "I'm not used to you caring about my feelings."

House never broke their gaze. "I know. I'm going to change that."

He didn't know what to say to respond to that, so he went back to the question. "Yes, I'm okay with that."

"I don't wanna screw this up, but I probably will a few times."

Wilson looked away and took a sip from his beer. "I know."

The rest of the day, they simply spent together. They played video games, watched television and neither spoke of their feelings toward each other. They had made an unspoken agreement to let everything just sink in.

At nearly eleven, Wilson yawned and stretched. "You must be exhausted. You haven't had a good night sleep in a few nights. Why don't you go to bed?"

"Are you offering your bed to me again? What are you going to do?"

"Yes, I am. I have some stuff to do on my computer."

Wilson stood and shoved his hand through his hair. House could hear the annoyance in his response. "So you're sending me to bed so you can watch porn."

Remaining calm, House stood and faced him, mere inches separated them. "I said I would probably screw up a couple times, but I didn't say I was a complete moron. I am not going to watch porn. I have 13 days to fix us. In those 13 days, I would like to have plans which might include booking things or buying tickets. That's what I'm planning on doing. If you'd like to stay up with me, you can, but I wanted to surprise you."

He was ashamed. "House, I'm sorry. I'm a jerk."

House smirked, "No you're not. You're just used to me being one. And for that I am the one that's sorry." Slowly, he reached his hand up and touched Wilson's cheek. Their eyes connected and he spoke in a whisper, "Go to bed, Jimmy. I'll see you in the morning."

The morning came with the scent of pancakes and bacon. House loved how Wilson got up and ready and never bothered waking him. It wasn't until breakfast was nearly ready that he woke.

After a stop in the bathroom, House joined Wilson in the kitchen and sat down at his prepared plate. After his first bite, "This is great! How'd you sleep last night?"

"Great. How late were you up? Did you get everything done?"

"Pretty late and…yep."

Wilson chuckled. "So, what are the plans for today then?"

He pointed with his fork across the table. "You are going to take me shopping."

"For?"

"A suit…or maybe two. And you'll need to get yours, wherever they might be."

His brow furrowed. "Mine are in storage and you don't where suits."

House shrugged. "I do now. We have tickets to see a play tonight and dinner reservations, both of which require a suit."

"So we have a date." It wasn't a question, but House nodded in agreement anyway. "Huh. No one has ever taken me out on a date before. What play are we seeing?"

"Phantom of the Opera."

Wilson's breath caught. "Phantom? How did you get tickets? They've been sold out for months!"

"I remember you said once how much you wanted to go. It wasn't easy, but I found some, balcony seats."

"I didn't even think you were listening when I told you that."

"I listen to more than you think." He finished his breakfast and got up. "I'm going to take a shower. We'll leave as soon as I'm ready."

The afternoon went by quickly and House only complained a couple of times at the amount of suit jackets Wilson made him try on. Eventually they had left with two suits, several dress shirts and a couple ties, all of which Wilson had chosen. A quick stop to pick up Wilson's things brought them back to the apartment to get ready.

At the theater, House had spent more time watching Wilson than he did the actors, shocked by his enthusiasm. A few times he'd seen tears come to his eyes and more than not, he was captivated by the stage. With dinner came comfortable conversation, Wilson jabbering on about the play and House listening nearly intently as he was watching the joy he had brought his friend.

Once home, they both flung their jackets over the chair and loosened their ties before settling on the couch with a couple beers to watch a random television show that House chose. At some point in the show, House moved his free hand and placed it on Wilson's thigh.

Wilson never moved, but couldn't focus on the television screen in front of him. It was the simplest touch, but the largest distraction for him. The hand on his cheek had been easy to recover from. It had only lasted a moment and he escaped alone to go to bed. But this touch was anything but brief and he had no escape.

"Are you going to say something or just stare at my hand on your thigh all night?"

A blush rose to his cheeks. "Sorry…it just takes some getting used to."

House removed his hand without argument. "All you had to do was say something."

The spot that had just been covered with a warm hand now felt ice cold. He instantly filled with regret. He swallowed hard before speaking. "I didn't say I wanted you to move your hand."

House looked at him. "Then what do you want?"

"I-I don't really know."

"It's late. Why don't you head to bed?"

"You take the bed tonight. You haven't had a good night's sleep in a while. I'll take the couch."

By the next afternoon, House informed Wilson that they would be going to a jazz bar that night for dinner with a live jazz band. Wilson knew this was something a little more up House's alley. The atmosphere was more casual, although they still wore slacks and dress shirts.

Dinner was pleasant and House enjoyed the dim lights, music and Wilson's reaction to it. At one point, the music slowed and couples got up to dance. He watched a spark in Wilson's eyes as he watched the dance floor. The music changed pace again and couples headed back to their seats. House ordered another round of drinks, making his a double scotch for courage.

Eventually the music slowed again. House took one last gulp of his drink and leaning across the table. "Do you want to dance?"

Wilson's eyes grew large. "Excuse me?"

House rolled his eyes. "Do you want to dance?" When he got no reply, he stood and stretched out his hand.

Wilson stood and took his hand, already feeling eyes on them. "You do know we're in public right?"

He was very matter-of-fact. "Yes."

Still shocked, "Are you drunk?"

"Nope, just a guy who would like to dance with his date." When Wilson made no move he continued. "People are already staring at us. Pretty sure actually dancing would be better than standing here looking like we're arguing."

Wilson's nod was miniscule. House led him to the dance floor, not caring about the eyes that were burning holes in them. Slowly, he pulled his date toward him and swayed back and forth. With his leg, a lot of dancing was out of the question, but this was within his range. Eventually he felt the tension start to loosen in his dance partner. He was just beginning to relax when the song came to an end.

They made it back to their seats and Wilson quickly reached for his glass of wine. House was concerned, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." Moments passed before he added, "It was actually…kind of nice."

With a half-smile, House turned his attention back to the music and waited for the next slow song. When it came, he looked across the table and asked, "Jimmy, will you dance with me?"

The walk to the dance floor was different this time. There was no tension and Wilson quickly entered House's arms. They swayed back and forth and to the older man's shock, the younger closed the distance between them, bodies pressed together, cheeks touching. House let his hand drift, hovering just above Wilson's waistband. Suddenly, the world around them did not matter. Lost in the music and his partner, he had found his answer. He loved his best friend.

Casual conversation was easy for the rest of the night, both having gained a new comfort level. When they returned to the apartment, both taking their usual place on the couch, Wilson sat closer than normal.

In the middle of the movie, Wilson spoke. "Play for me." House glanced to the side with a nod and stood to move to the piano. Wilson turned the television off and listened to the notes House formed on the keys with his fingers.

The song came to an end and Wilson stood. As he walked to the piano, "Play another song." Without hesitation, he began another song. He never faltered when he felt the hands fall upon his shoulders or the body brushing his back. He closed his eyes, letting his fingers find the notes on their own while he cherished the moment he was lost in.

As he brought the song to its end, he lowered his cheek to the hand on his shoulder, savoring one last moment. Each minute seemed so precious to him, not knowing where they were headed or if he would be able to repeat any action. He felt Wilson move behind him and followed suit, rising from his place on the bench.

He took a step away from the piano only to be stopped dead in his tracks. "I need to know what you're feeling." He was frozen, speechless. "What happened tonight on that dance floor? Just now, when you were playing, what were you thinking about?" His fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. So many questions; questions he knew the answers to but was terrified to respond to. "House, please talk to me."

Without turning, "I am afraid my answers will push you away." There, he'd said it. He was afraid.

He heard the footsteps behind him before the words. "Look at me." With a gentle tug at his arm, he turned to face the man he was so terrified of losing. "I told you I would stay. I will not leave you. Please tell me what you are thinking."

He locked his eyes with the ones he longed for and took a deep breath before giving everything he had. Raising one hand, he placed it on the cheek in front of him, brushing his thumb over smooth skin. "I was thinking that I didn't want the moment to end, that I was afraid I'd never get to repeat it, and I want to. I want every song I play to be for you."

In slow motion, allowing plenty of time for rejection, he closed the distance between them. His eyes drifted closed moments before their lips met. It wasn't a kiss filled with passion, but lips gently brushing, testing the other pair.

Quicker than they had met, House moved away as to not press his luck. Wilson's face was flush and he couldn't hide the hint of desire that shown in his eyes. With a little hoarseness in his throat, Wilson spoke, "I think it's time for bed. I'll…uh…take the couch."

House gave a curt nod and headed toward his bedroom, slightly disappointed. He was stopped by a voice as he entered the hallway. "I need more time."