029. iPod
I Don't Belong Here
Wilson walked into House's office and was surprised to find the room empty. He'd seen House's team leave about half an hour ago and had assumed that House was holed up in his office ignoring the world. They had already planned to go to House's place tonight for beer, pizza and some really bad horror movies that House wanted to have a laugh at. He'd accepted with a certain restrained eagerness, not wanting to go home to an increasingly distant Julie.
He dropped down into his usual chair, deciding to wait for House here rather than go back to his own office. He stretched his legs out in front of him then saw House's iPod sitting on his desk. He smiled to himself and picked up, curious to see what House was listening to at the moment. He put the earpieces in and pressed the play button as he did, the start of a slide show caught his attention and he brought the tiny machine up and watched.
As the song began he frowned; the lyrics were familiar and he quickly placed it as a song House had taken a liking to a few years ago. It was the song Creep by Radiohead but this version certainly wasn't being sung by them. It was being sung by a woman and in such a heartfelt and almost melancholy manner that he frowned slightly. He'd never heard this version and he wondered what had prompted House to choose it. It was then that the slide show caught his attention.
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
The pictures were old ones of himself and House. They were from the tennis games they used to play; from the time they'd gone hiking together, from the time House had dragged him cycling one weekend and in between each one of these pictures was the same photo. One that had been taken at a Christmas party and showed the two of them with their arms around each other's shoulders, laughing and looking at each other.
Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special...
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo,
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.
I don't belong here.
The lyrics resounded through his head as the pictures changed again, this time to photos he hadn't even know had been taken. These ones dated to after the infarction and he wondered who had taken them. As he stared harder at them he realised they had been taken at various work functions; mostly ones that he'd had to drag House along to but each of the photos featured the two of them and House was at least not scowling in them. In a couple he even had a small smile on his face.
The song came to an end and Wilson fumbled with the iPod, replaying it and letting the lyrics wash over him as he watched the photos scroll again as he tried to work out why this song, why these pictures. Did House think he, Wilson, was special? And did that mean House thought that he was a creep, a weirdo? That he somehow didn't belong?
He gasped as the iPod was suddenly plucked out of his hand and the earpieces pulled out. He turned to find House limping around to his chair, his face opaque as he shoved the iPod into his jacket pocket. House sat down and flicked a quick glance at him before almost nervously flipping through the papers on his desk.
"Why that song?" Wilson said firmly. He'd almost let the matter drop but House's evasive actions decided him on this course of action. "Why those photos?"
"What does it matter?" House said sharply, clearly wanting to avoid the topic.
"Those photos with that song and you want me to just leave it?" Wilson asked. "Not a chance in hell."
House pushed himself to his feet jerkily and started to limp back and forth. "It doesn't mean anything."
Wilson snorted and watched House closely. "Bullshit."
"Such language. Your mother would be so disappointed with you," House said sarcastically.
"Stop trying to change the subject," Wilson replied. "Why that song? Why those photos? What's it meant to mean?"
House stopped pacing and gave him an intent look that Wilson couldn't read. "You really want to know?"
The tone and that intent look had Wilson hesitating for just a moment then he nodded once. "Yes, I think I do."
House stared at him for a moment then limped forward. When he got to the chair, he ran a hand through Wilson's hair and tipped his head back, bracing himself on his cane and leaning down to kiss him. Wilson was startled at first; he'd always wondered about that occasional glimpse of desire and lust he'd seen in House's eyes, whether it truly was directed at him as he'd often suspected. Then he realised that House was starting to pull away and in a sudden flash he knew that if he allowed that to happen then their friendship would likely fracture and fade, let alone anything else that might happen. He also realised that he'd felt more during that simple, almost chaste, kiss than he had at any time during any of his marriages. He quickly reached up, curling one hand around the back of House's neck and pulling him back down. He deepened the kiss, making a bold exploration of House's mouth then moaning when House suddenly returned the favour. This time when House started to pull away, Wilson let him go.
"Who says persistence does pay off in the end?" he said, smiling up at House.
House seemed startled, even shocked. "You're married," he said, almost absently.
"Probably not for much longer," Wilson replied candidly. "I think Julie's having an affair. I don't blame her really. I spend more time at the hospital and with you in a week than I do with her in a month."
House blinked. "You seem…awfully cavalier about that."
"I wasn't," Wilson admitted with a wry smile. "Until you kissed me. Now it seems that…maybe I've been looking in the wrong direction." He stood and moved close to House, gaining a tiny indrawn breath when he stood close enough to feel the heat pouring off the older man. "Maybe I've been ignoring what's been right in front of me all the time." He grinned. "Maybe you should have made a move before I married Julie."
He was relieved to see some of the shock fade from House's face and the more familiar sardonic expression replace it.
"And precisely how many men have you slept with, Dr Panty Peeler?" House asked archly.
"One…in college," Wilson admitted. "But it didn't seem that…great. That kiss…has kind of convinced me that maybe I didn't do it right last time."
A slow smile curved House's lips and he leaned in and kissed Wilson again. Wilson wrapped one arm around House's waist, letting the other rest lightly on top of House's on the handle of the cane. The kiss was full of intent and promise and Wilson moaned lightly again.
"You like that," House said softly when they separated again.
"Yeah," Wilson replied with a smile. "Take me home. Feed me beer and pizza. I've got a crazy urge to neck on the couch like a teenager while crappy horror movies play on the TV."
House laughed and pulled away completely, limping over to where he'd dumped his bag that morning. "Sounds better than the original plan."
