Chapter 4

House poked his head through Wilson's office doorway.

"Do I have to pay for lunch this time?"

Wilson looked up from his work at his desk, midway through writing a sentence, pen still held aloft. As he looked at the comical appearance of House's head popping through the doorway, he smiled slightly and then continued to read over his paper.

"Come in, House," he said cheerfully, and immediately heard the sound of his door creaking open, allowing House to enter, and then the sound of the door sliding shut.

As House stood at the front of Wilson's desk, Wilson felt his hands begin to shake with newfound nervousness and underlying excitement. With House's newfound taunting passion and openness, Wilson never seemed to know what was in store for him. He placed his hands in his lap to hide them from House's view.

"Are we going to lunch or not?" House asked impatiently, leaning slightly on his cane.

"In a minute," Wilson said, enjoying the opportunity to drag House along, "I'm not done with this patient's paperwork." He continued writing while House threw his head up at the ceiling, spun in a small circle and began to pace Wilson's office.

"How long does it take to file out paperwork?"

"The fact that you don't know means you were able to find someone in your new fellowship to pay this time."

"Very funny. But seriously, hurry up," House whined, clutching his stomach for an extra effect.

"Take a seat," Wilson said, still not looking up from his work, "gaze out the window, admire my wonderful couch. If you want lunch, you're gonna have to wait."

"Fine," House moped, throwing himself onto Wilson's couch and settling into it, folding his arms across his chest like a child sent to time-out.

They sat in silence for several minutes while Wilson's pen scratched at the paper, making the only noise in the room. At last, Wilson put down his pen with a clatter and sighed, gazing at House who was busy staring out the window at passing birds and cars. Wilson silently slid out of his chair and walked over to House, sitting down at the edge of his couch by House's knees. The couch let out a sigh as air escaped in order to fit the extra weight of Wilson.

House tore his gaze from the window to look at Wilson.

"Done?" he asked hopefully.

"Hungry?"

"Eh, not as much as I thought," House shrugged from his seat, adjusting himself so he was reclining entirely on his back.

"Well..." Wilson felt his left hand attempting to rest on top of House's right knee. House winced slightly from the pressure, and Wilson's hand fell between his partner's legs. He quickly attempted to pull his hand away, blushing slightly from his clumsy "blunder". House squeezed his legs together tightly, trapping Wilson's hand as he gave a Wilson a look which clearly conveyed the message, "Oh, no you don't."

"You still wanna go eat?" Wilson suggested.

House took a deep breath through his nose and sat up, his ankles now on either side of Wilson's hand rather than his mid-thighs.

"Not yet," House said quietly, not quite looking Wilson in the eye as he spoke. Wilson raised his eyebrows in concern.

"What's wrong, House?" He did not even attempt to guess that something was wrong: he knew.

House gave Wilson a small, sad glance and then gazed at his lap awkwardly. Wilson slid himself forward, closer to House's face so that he could raise his left hand to his wonderful, rough, unshaven face. House felt Wilson's deep, brown eyes piercing him, filled with compassionate concern and underlying worry. As he felt Wilson's fingertips run along the side of his face, he took in the sheer simplicity and peace that the moment brought, and sighed deeply. He stole fleeting glances at Wilson's compassionate face, squirming slightly in his seat as he attempted to prepare himself for breaking the news to Wilson.

"Amber's... coming to visit," House finally grumbled.

"'Visit'?" Wilson asked, stopping momentarily from sliding his hands around that familiar face. "As in, pick up her check and leave or, as in stop by and see how I'm doing three days after the break-up?"

House exhaled heavily, placing his left hand over his eye and rubbing it intensely. "Probably the second one," he muttered.

"How courteous," Wilson said sarcastically. "Has she... found out about us?" he asked the dangerous question with bated breath.

"Her greed serves her well," was all House could answer. Wilson raised a single, confused eyebrow.

"She... stopped by earlier to pick up her check?" he then interpreted House's vague comment. His eyes widened as he was able to connect the dots. "Oh God," he said, collapsing his face into his palms. As his eyes were shrouded in the darkness of his hands, Wilson heard House sliding around on the couch, his weight shifting from across the couch into a formal sitting position next to him.

"Did you seriously expect her not to find out one way or another?"

"I don't know what I was expecting," Wilson said, his answer muffled by his hands.

"Obviously not this," House sighed, placing his forearms along his thighs, lowering his head in thought.

"What should we do?" Wilson asked, his voice still muffled by his hands.

"Are you seriously asking me this?" House asked, half laughing.

"Who else am I supposed to ask?" Wilson exclaimed, finally pulling his face away from his hands as he turned to face House.

"Well, technically you could ask Cuddy," House paused, "but that's not the point."

"Wait, wait, wait," Wilson said, holding his palms towards House. "Cuddy know about us?"

"Apparently we had a balcony audience this morning," House said. Wilson groaned slightly, but suddenly felt himself laughing as he was simultaneously struck with a brilliant idea.

"I'm guessing Amber was part of this audience, too?" he asked, preparing House for his brilliant scheme.

"Probably," House said, "why?"

"Let's put on an Act Two," Wilson suggested, entering a House-like metaphor.

With a deep intake of breath, House replied, "I couldn't have said it better myself." He then rose from his seat on the couch, preparing to head out the door and down to the cafeteria. He then paused.

"Actually, I'm surprised I'm not the one who said it." He threw Wilson a sideway smirk.

"You're my inspiration," Wilson shrugged from his seat on the couch.

"Aw, how touching," House said, turning away from the door and walking back to Wilson. He stopped right in front of Wilson's seat, gazing straight down at his partner, maintaining his small smirk. Wilson craned his neck to look up into House's eyes and Wilson suddenly felt a wave of temptation which he had not felt the nights before.

In a bizarre wave of passion, Wilson had leapt up at House, wrapping his arms tightly around him as he pulled him into a passionate kiss. Wilson felt House gasp slightly as his lips initially met his, but the reflexive tension immediately receded as House's lips relaxed and began to respond to Wilson's passion.

They stood at the foot of the couch, feeding off of each other's desires and passions which had been contained for so many years. Wilson felt House's unshaven face brush against his lips and cheeks, taking in the beautiful power of the moment in an overwhelming wave of sheer happiness as he continued to press his lips firmly against House's. Suddenly, he felt himself being gradually pushed up against his couch and falling slowly backwards onto the cushions with a soft plunk.

He scrambled to maintain any sense of balance he could as he fell, lightly tugging House's shirt collar as he fell. House allowed himself to be tugged downwards, focusing only on the emotions of sheer accomplishment and glee that were flooding his mind. Somehow, he'd broken through Wilson's initial hesitation and now, here they were. The looming terror of Amber's presence somewhere throughout the hospital temporarily vanished as Wilson continued to kiss House's face and lips, distracting House entirely from reality.

House felt himself being transferred from his current position atop of Wilson, half on the couch and half on the floor, onto the couch entirely, slowly becoming sandwiched between the soft cushions and Wilson's light, familiar body. He immediately pulled Wilson closer, running his hand through Wilson's dirty blonde hair as he continued to kiss every inch of him within his reach: his neck, cheek, earlobes, eyelids, forehead – everywhere felt wonderful and welcoming against his lips.

Wilson's left hand found the back of House's neck, and he began to softly stroke House's dry, wiry grey hair. He could not remember any time kissing any other individual where he had felt as entirely blissful and passionate as in that point in time. He had never wanted anyone as badly as House. He had never searched for someone's mouth as greedily as he did now and had never been as wholly satisfied by the contact of another person's lips against his own.

After what felt like an hour, perhaps even a day, Wilson felt himself grow tired as he pulled away from House's rough face and lay his head on House's chest, panting heavily. House slid up slightly, his head supported by the armrest of the couch. He sighed heavily, his chest heaving from equal exhaustion. He began to slide his hand slowly along Wilson's back. It seemed as though Wilson's body could simply meld into his own, becoming one entity as they lay there, breathing nearly in unison as their excited hearts continued to beat rapidly.

They continued to lay there, perfectly content with one another for another several minutes until, at last, Wilson sat up, resting atop of House's legs. House groaned quietly from Wilson's shifting weight.

"I'm hungry," Wilson announced, beginning to act as though nothing had happened as he began to try standing up. House simply bent his legs upwards, forcing Wilson to comically slide towards him, now settling on his hips. He grabbed at Wilson's tie, pulling him forwards into one last, deep kiss. Wilson stumbled forwards, catching his fall with his hands on either of House's shoulders, taking in House's lips one last time. Suddenly, House finished kissing, opening his eyes slowly to look at Wilson.

"Yeah, let's go," he said, sitting up and pushing Wilson gradually off of him. Wilson groaned out of soreness as he stood up, rolling his shoulders and straightening his tie. He scratched the back of his head, blinking his eyes heavily multiple times.

House, on the other hand, simply rolled so that his right arm was extended towards the floor so that he could pick up his cane. He rolled back onto the couch, then slid off of his seat, supporting himself with the familiar weight of his cane as he rose. He quickly scratched his head and pulled at his shirt as he stood. Wilson simply waited patiently, his hands at their typical position on his hips.

"You're paying," he scolded, raising his index finger at House as he grabbed his office door and held it open.

"As long as you don't eat onions," House grinned, exiting the historic landmark of his first kiss with Wilson.