A/N: Okay, slash starts in this chapter, so if it turns you off, please read no further. I'd like to thank you all again for your reviews. If not for you, I wouldn't have continued this story.

Chapter 3

House was tired of waiting. He sighed loudly as he snatched his cane from beside his chair, leaned into it and pulled himself to his feet. He quickly limped towards the kitchen almost expecting to find that Wilson had gone out the back door. Fine…more beer for me, he thought. As he rounded the corner into the kitchen he saw that he had been wrong, and actually found himself feeling relieved. Wilson was sitting at the kitchen table, two bottles of beer in front of him. One hand was clutching a bottle while the other supported his chin as he rested his elbow on the table. As House entered the room, Wilson didn't acknowledge his presence.

The older man didn't say anything as he slowly took a seat at the table directly across from his friend. He was willing to wait until Wilson broke the silence.

"I drank your beer," Wilson said quietly, his eyes studying the wood pattern on the kitchen table.

"I noticed. Good thing I had my stash of Vicodin, otherwise things could've gotten ugly."

Wilson looked at the other man. "You think I'm overreacting."

"It's that time of the month isn't it?" House asked sympathetically while contemplating whether he needed to get himself a beer from the refrigerator.

Wilson absentmindedly traced his finger in small circles along the rough surface of the table. "I've never been alone before."

House folded his arms across his chest. "So do something about it."

The oncologist sat up straight and rested his palms on the table. "I'm not sure I want to."

House furrowed his brow. "I haven't had that many beers." He looked at the other man questioningly. "Have I?"

Wilson chuckled. "Are you saying I'm not making any sense?"

"I'm not saying anything. What are you saying?" House asked, scratching the side of his head lightly.

"I'm not sure."

"I'm glad we had this talk."

House stood and limped towards the refrigerator without using his cane. Opening the door, he turned to face Wilson. "You want another one?"

Wilson looked at the two bottles in front of him. "Yes…no…uh…. No."

House took two bottles out of the refrigerator and returned to the table. As he slowly lowered himself into his chair, he slid one of the bottles across the table to his friend.

"Thanks," Wilson said quietly as he opened the bottle and took a drink.

"If it makes you feel any better, your hair looks good," House said as he took a long swig of beer.

Wilson laughed softly. "New shampoo."

House studied Wilson's hair. "Does it feel as soft as it looks?"

The young doctor's head snapped in House's direction. "You tell me."

"You want me to feel your hair?" he asked, surprised by the question. He slowly placed his bottle down onto the table as he eyed his friend across the table.

"Do you want to feel my hair?"

House shook his head quickly as if he were trying to clear it. "Tell me we're not having a conversation about feeling your hair."

Wilson sighed. "What about me touching your stick? Or holding your yo-yo? Do you really want me to do those things?"

"Are we speaking English? Because if we are I think I need a refresher course."

"So, when you say these things to me…. do you want me to give you a clever reply? Or ignore you? Or are you hoping that one day I'll read something into those suggestive comments of yours and actually do something?"

"What's gotten into you?" House asked, raising his hands up into a question.

"Nothing ,…. nothing's gotten into me. I guess I'm just at a point where I've learned some things about myself that I never wanted to face before." Wilson glanced across the table at his colleague in an attempt to read his expression. It wasn't difficult.

"Okay, first you wouldn't admit to me who you were sleeping… or, as it turns out, not sleeping with. And now you're telling me about your life epiphanies. What happened to you between the living room and the kitchen? Or is there something in this beer I should know about?"

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. He knew this was also difficult for House and realized he wasn't making it any easier for him. He looked up at his friend. "Why do you think I've had three unsuccessful marriages?"

"No fair. You didn't tell me we were playing twenty questions." House had a distinct edge to his voice. He sighed. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Your problem, my young Dr. Wilson, is that you're in love with the idea of falling in love. You need that feeling…that rush….in your life in order to be happy. It's such an overwhelming feeling for you that you end up charging into marriage only to find the rush fades and it fades quickly. And the only way to get it back is to find another woman to fall in love with and the vicious cycle starts all over again." House stopped talking and studied the other man as he waited for a response. He didn't have to wait long.

"That's a bunch of bullshit." Wilson laughed bitterly, his eyes cast down towards the table

House was taken aback. "I take it that means you don't agree."

Wilson looked across the table inspecting his friend. "What do you think of me?" he asked quietly.

House shifted his eyes back and forth as he attempted to figure out what was going on with his colleague.

"Please just answer the question."

"I think you're a brilliant, accomplished, compassionate doctor who's suddenly gone a little nuts….."

"Stop." Wilson held up his hand.

"What? Did I hurt your feelings or something?" House asked with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"That's not what I meant."

The older doctor scrunched up his face. "How do you play this game again?

"It's not a game, House."

"I was afraid of that."

"Can we please have a serious conversation?" Wilson was leaning forward in his chair, rubbing his forehead with such urgency House was sure it would leave a mark.

"I thought we were having a serious conversation."

The oncologist slowly shook his head as he pushed his chair back and began getting to his feet. "Wait… sit down." Wilson looked into his friend's eyes as he slowly sank back down into his chair. House cleared his throat. "Obviously, I like you," he said, his eyes now cast down towards the table.

Wilson was caught off guard by that admission. "How?" he asked, hoping to hear what he wanted to hear, but, in truth, knowing better.

House was not prepared to have this conversation and he resented being forced into it. He sighed. "I don't think I want to play this game anymore."

"Why? Because you may have to admit something about yourself that you don't want to?"

He glared at Wilson. "No, because I don't like playing games where I don't know the rules."

The other doctor nodded his head in understanding. "I guess I've been somewhat vague here."

"Somewhat?"

Wilson sat upright as he folded his arms in front of him. "Alright, here are the rules." He looked at House. "Just say what you mean."

"Okay…you start," House said, leaning back in his chair as if he were challenging the other man. Which, in fact, he was.

The oncologist took a deep breath and forced himself to look into House's eyes. "I have feelings for you."

House shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable but didn't look away. He knew what Wilson was saying to him. In fact, he had spent several nights alone in his apartment thinking about his relationship with Wilson, this screwed up friendship that somehow seemed to work for both of them. But things had been changing between them for a while now…he had felt it and he knew his friend did too. He just never expected to be talking about it. So he dealt with it the best way he could…with sarcasm.

"So… when I asked you if you wanted to touch my big stick… you really wanted to?"

Wilson smiled. "Are you talking about your cane?"

"Nope."

"Ah, your other big stick." The young doctor tilted his head as he studied his friend across the table, his dark eyes glowing in the dim light of the kitchen.

House snickered. "Yep, the one that makes me happy in ways my cane couldn't even imagine." He leaned back in his chair again. "Are you gay?" He was aware of the enormity of that question, but justified it in his head by telling himself that he was just playing by Wilson's rules.

Wilson was startled by the question. It took him a moment to answer. "I never thought of myself as gay before."

"Your epiphany?"

Wilson nodded slowly. "Am I upsetting you?"

"Surprisingly, no." House thought a moment. "Well, actually, not surprisingly."

"Not surprisingly? And why is that?" Wilson asked, his eyes questioning.

"Because I do want to feel your hair."