Put away my black book
Within a week, Wilson's "I'm going to your place tonight," became synonymous with "Let's have sex." Since things were going so swimmingly, House decided that it was time to try pulling at the plug—better now than later.
The T.V. was on, so that they could pretend that they were watching an Everwood rerun. What they were doing what House fondly remembered from his college days as 'necking.' When Wilson's hand started to snake up his shirt, House held it down. "You should know."
"Your parents will be home early?" Wilson suggested, biting at his ear.
"If we do this thing long-term, you've got to mean it."
Wilson pulled back, and House saw that he was grinning like one of those plastic clowns you can punch and punch and punch, and they'll bounce right back, every time, with that maniac grin still there. Great. "Well, I'll be. Are we really having this conversation?"
"On second thought, no, let's skip it and get back to the making out."
"Oh, no you don't! You started it-- let's lay down the law, establish the rules of this—" and House could tell that he was savoring what was coming next, "relationship."
"Sorry, changed my mind, it's over."
Wilson kissed him, all demanding and annoyingly hot, and dammit, he I was /I one of those clowns, coming back for more. That persistency of his made it very impossible to get rid of him. "I'm sorry too," he breathed. "You're not getting away that easily. Admit it, you wanna go steady. Lay it down, what's your condition?"
House sighed, then gave in. "No cheating."
Oh, so it was possible to knock him down, as long as he had the right weapon.
Wilson slid his hands out of House's shirt. "It's not going to be an issue. I won't."
House jabbed him in the ribs. "How many women have heard that one?"
Wilson jabbed him back. "Allow me to kindly inform you that the most recent of my marriages was ended by her infidelity. I don't mean to repeat my mistakes."
The jabbing became tickling, and House doesn't know how they could joke around when they were talking about such serious Weighty Important Things—none of his ex-girlfriends would have stood for it—but within minutes most of the cushions had been flung off the couch, and he was on his back, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. Bastard.
"Convinced?" Wilson asked, and unable to pull in the air for words, House kind of wagged his head. "Good."
He got air back into his system—still on his back, Wilson was straddling him, no getting up—and said, "I don't think you'd be so stupid, anyway."
"My stupidity does have its limits," Wilson admitted, "but—" and he started to unbutton House's shirt, slowly, as if he weren't terribly interested in seeing him naked, "I get to set some rules of my own."
"I'm not giving up the Vicodin," House defended, "or lowering the dosages."
"Wouldn't dream of asking," Wilson assured him. "No, I want to move back in." House got impatient with Wilson's pace, and undid the last set of buttons himself.
"You're the one who moved out."
"That a yes?" And Wilson was smiling again, the clown, but not for long, because they were kissing and it's hard to do both at the same time.
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Author's notes: And thus ends the story-- or this part of it, anyway. "Take Two (to Tango)" is actually the first in a (completed) trilogy and the chapters of the next part, "Familiarity (Breeds Contempt)", will start going up tomorrow.
Thank you for reading this far, and thank you for all the kind comments!
