House pulled back, breathing heavily, with his heart racing, pounding so much it felt as though his chest was about to crack open. He stared at Wilson, watching as his eyes fluttered open. "What the…why did you do that?"

"I thought you…I mean…you wanted to know!"

"Words would have passed on the message just as effectively." House dryly, shuffling back to his end of the couch.

"Oh and that's why you decided manipulate me by throwing yourself at me? Either you knew, or you had no idea and just happen to enjoy close bodily contact." Wilson felt sick. The butterflies that had been in his stomach sprouted razors on the end of their wings. Anger welled up in him when he recalled House's taste, though at House or himself he could not tell.

"I suspected. I didn't think you actually…I mean, I didn't think you would…"

Wilson laughed harshly. "Don't tell me that you, of all people, actually have a problem with this."

"I think most people would have a problem with their best friend's tongue being in their mouth." House's head span a little bit then. His best friend had just kissed him…Wilson had just kissed him. Lips. Wilson's lips, his lips. Wilson's hips…no, wait, why his mind going there all of a sudden? He felt a faint flush start to creep over his face and broke eye contact. First the slumber party, now I can't look at him. It's official; I'm a thirteen year old girl.

"Right, of course." Wilson stood and tried to walk out past House, who thwacked his cane against Wilson's chest. He turned to go the other way and his foot collided with a leg of the coffee table. "Fuck!" His beer had fallen and was rapidly spilling out all over the floor. He bent down and hit his head on the corner of the table.

He heard a soft laugh behind him. "Screw you, House."

"You wish." He chuckled louder. He couldn't think of any other way to react. This was ridiculous, a completely absurd situation.

"It's not funny!" Wilson rose again, this time hitting his knee. "What the hell did I ever do to you?" he yelled at the coffee table, his shoulders shaking, half way between laughing and crying.

House hauled himself out of the chair and stood behind Wilson, who appeared to have turned into a quivering wreck in the middle of his living room. He laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly, "Take a breath, Jimmy."

Wilson shrugged his shoulders, a weak protest at House's proximity. House just squeezed briefly. Humiliation washed over him, looking down at the spilled beer now forming a dark patch on the red carpet, his shoes haphazard by the door where he had slipped them off as he came in, his jacket slung over his suitcase, still by the door. Above his suitcase, which contained the few things that seemed relevant to his life, was the mirror – a silver circle in an angular frame. He could see himself, trembling with hunched posture and streaks down his face which suddenly alerted to him that he was crying. This was what he amounted to; the bags, the pathetic person in the mirror. And the warmth from the hand on his shoulder. "I'm alright," he whispered.

"Yeah, I know." House whispered in return.

Wilson felt House shifting behind him, and heard his hand rubbing against his thigh. He hadn't heard the rattle of a Vicodin bottle since House stood up, and now they'd been here…Wilson didn't know how long, but his own muscles were starting to stiffen so House must be in pain. He peeled open his eyes, not that he had been aware that they were closed. Salty deposits irritated in the corners and he rubbed them away. "House?"

"Yeah?" His breath ruffled the hairs on the back of Wilson's neck.

The house suddenly seemed so quiet. "I…ok, I think we should sit down now." The hairs ruffled again on the back of his neck when House exhaled in a short, silent laugh.

They sat at the kitchen table, facing each other with the pizza box between just as it had been earlier. It seemed a lot colder now. House spoke first. "You could have said something sooner. You should have."

"Yeah, 'cus who would want to delay going through this?"

"So…you've been through numerous-" House raised his eyebrows as he wrapped his tongue around the word "numerous" – "relationships with women, and now you've decided that you're gay?"

"I haven't decided I just…it's become something I'm interested in exploring."

"With me?"

"With you."

"Ok." It all felt fake. Filling in the lines that were expected, asking the predictable questions…not saying what you wanted to. Not saying the thing that was constantly pushing to the front of your mind, the one sentence that forever sat on the tip of your tongue. "You realise how much this could screw up our friendship?" What? I wasn't even thinking that.

"I know; it would be a risk. I don't even know if I want to do anything, but the feelings are there." Wilson sounded like he was reading from a script. "Do you…feel anything?"

"I don't know." Don't lie, Greg.

"Ok." Wilson laughed uneasily. "This is awkward."

"Yeah." They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I think there's something wrong with me. I mean, sure I might be gay butI know what you're like and still want to be with you? That's just messed up."

"Can't argue there. Of course it's not like I relish the idea of dating the man who hasn't been able to be faithful in a relationship for longer than it takes most people to consider a proposal."

"Yeah, but admit it, you'd love to tell Cameron that you're gay." Wilson smiled, and House smiled back.

"I must be tired – it's actually starting to sound appealing."

"It's like…" Wilson checked his watch, "2 a.m. Sleep now?"

"Yeah and look…we're friends. Probably best to leave it at that for now."

Wilson slept on the couch, under rough blankets and on a too-soft pillow. He knew he would wake intermittently throughout the night; that is if I ever got to sleep in the first place. House slept in his bed, familiar sheets and pillows, the same ones he sunk into every night, and just like every night, he could not sleep. Usually his leg kept him tense for a couple of hours, now he replayed the events of the evening, going over and over the conversations. Not one word was true.