Chapter 5

Wilson followed House out of his own office, down the hallway and into an elevator as its doors began to slide shut. As Wilson pressed the "lobby" button and the elevator began to slowly slide downwards, he stole a glance at House. From his peripheral vision, he saw House slowly bringing his fingertips to his lips, running them slowly back and forth with a reminiscent look on his face. He could've sworn he saw House break into a small smile from behind his fingertips, causing Wilson to feel a warm pang at his heart as he looked away. Obviously, that passionate scene had meant more than fulfilling physical pleasures to House, and it pleased Wilson that so far, their relationship was everything he'd envisioned it to be.

He felt himself break into a smile as he raised his hand to his own lips, copying House's meaningful motions. As his touched his wet lips, he recalled the beautiful feeling of House's unshaven skin against his own, and the emotional, passionate pressure that had emulated from House's lips.

Wilson bit his lower lip as he became lost in thought, causing him to jump a moment later as he felt a hand at his right shoulder, turning him to face the center of the elevator rather than the display of elevator button. House's blue eyes blazed in front of him as his left hand continued to rest on Wilson's shoulder. He then felt House's hand travel upwards, along the side of his face into his hair.

Long, familiar fingers buried themselves in his brown hair and Wilson felt shivers running along his spine as House continued to cheerfully caress his face. There was an intense moment of anticipation as House's eyes locked with Wilson's as Wilson continued to shiver slightly from House's touch. House scanned Wilson's soft complexion, pausing at moments to stare at his slightly quivering lips and then at his deep, brown eyes which were begging for House to kiss him again.

"Hm," House chuckled quietly, his lips forming a very slight smile. "Should we risk it?" he asked in a low, quiet voice. It was not a whisper - Wilson had never heard House whisper - but his tone was even more seductive than any whisper could be. Wilson felt himself foolishly nodding, closing his eyes in anticipation once again.

House's movements suddenly became agile and swift, as almost immediately, he pressed his lips in an encore against Wilson's, urging Wilson to kiss back. Wilson's reflexes were weaker since it took him a moment or two to finally respond. However, as soon as he felt himself quickly moving his lips against House's, the pressure of House's lips vanished, leaving Wilson to recover from his moment of kissing the air.

"Almost to our floor," House said cheerfully, acting as though nothing had happened and gesturing with his eyes towards the buttons across the top of the doorway. The level one button was glowing.

Wilson could only give House a look of complete surprise, raising his eyebrows and holding his hand out as if to say, "What the hell?!"

"You'll thank me in a moment," House said ominously as the elevator hit the ground floor with a slight thud and a ding.

"Oh God," Wilson whispered as the doors clanked open. He felt his hand held out in surprise travel quickly to his face. He pinched his nose as he squinted in anxiety, debating whether he should ever open his eyes again.

"James!" Wilson heard a sweet, feminine voice call to him from the elevator doorway which revealed not only a very familiar figure, but the rest of the lobby which now appeared to be the most dangerous location on earth. At last, Wilson sighed, removing his hand from his face as he opened his eyes. Of course, he truly did not have to open his eyes to know that his ex-girlfriend Amber Volakis stood before him, wearing a gleaming white smile and sporting her typical, shoulder length blonde hair.

"Amber," Wilson muttered, allowing himself to throw a quick, knowing look at House before turning to look at Cut Throat Bitch again. House simply stood alongside Wilson, gazing at the floor with as much intensity as he could allow himself. As Wilson had given him a fleeting glance of fear, House gave a small nod of encouragement.

The elevator doors began to close since the duo had been standing too long in the elevator. Amber quickly held out her hand to stop the heavy doors, giving Wilson and House their cue to nonchalantly step out of their cage.

"H – how are you?" Wilson asked as the doors closed behind him. He raised his hand nervously to the back of his head where he began to rub his neck. House stole the opportunity to roll his eyes at Wilson's politeness.

"I'm doing well, thank you," she said, giving Wilson one of her typical, devious looks.

"I don't mean to be rude," Wilson began, speaking slowly from hesitation, "but what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just wanted to drop by, see how you're doing," she said, still maintaining a ridiculously fake, polite tone.

"You could've called," House spoke bitterly.

"But then I wouldn't have been able to invite you to lunch, James," Amber said, acknowledging House's comment, but not his existence.

"Lunch?" Wilson asked, entirely confused.

"It is 12:00," she explained, "and I know how busy you are, so I figured now would be the best time."

"Well, House and I--" Wilson began.

"Already ate," House cut in.

"How about coffee?" Amber said, throwing House a furious stare. House furrowed his eyebrows as he began to face Amber in a staring contest. At last, as the heat seemed to glow from their eyes, Wilson stepped in, looking from one to the other.

"Erm," he hesitated, "coffee's okay with me."

House broke his angry stare from Amber to look at Wilson with sheer horror on his face. Wilson twisted his mouth in an uncomfortable manner, sending wordless apologies to House which he immediately understood as he turned away from his partner.

"Great!" Amber said, also breaking away from the staring contest. "My treat."

With that, Amber turned a full 180 degrees and led the parade through the lobby and out the doors of Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. Wilson trailing behind like a dog with his tail nervously between his legs, walking alongside the sulking figure of miserable House, the victim left to reprimand his partner for his lack of backbone.

"Thanks a lot," House whispered out of the side of his mouth. Wilson could only raise his shoulders in a strong cringe for his response: he knew he was setting himself, as well as House, up for a lunch of sheer hell. Unless...

Wilson briefly stopped in his tracks, struck down by an idea as strong as lightning: was Amber homophobic? Just what was her intention of inviting them out to lunch, especially since she knew they were a couple? Wilson briefly remembered the malicious, yet wonderful idea he had had while in his office with House: Act Two. Was Amber anticipating it with a twisted form of pleasure, or was she testing his new relationship? Wilson wasted no time in assuming the latter idea: Amber would want to know for herself if Wilson had truly moved on or not. If he hadn't, it meant she had the opportunity to win him back and more importantly, win back Wilson's high connections within the medical world.

In this whirlwind of thoughts, Wilson could therefore only arrive at one conclusion: he would have to publicly prove his romance with House in order to save himself, as well as House, from Amber's potential, evil wrath of jealousy and greed. His heart fluttered at the idea, eager for the kissing session implied in this plan, yet he could not help but feel slightly afraid. Wilson was not entirely ignorant, nor naive; he knew that homophobia continued to rage as a rampant social disease. Furthermore, he knew that with Amber's potential help, he – as well as House - could easily become a new target for the hospital and local area.

Wilson exited Princeton Plainsboro, sighing heavily as he held open one of the many doors for House, who continued to hobble behind him, sulking. Amber had not waited for either of them as she continued to walk down the street towards the familiar coffee shop that stood at the corner. As Wilson closed the door behind House, he ran a hand across his face in his moment of stress, his other hand resting on his hip. While he stood, still lost in thought, he felt a soft, gentle hand at his behind and he jumped slightly.

"House!" he hissed, although he could not deny the physical, fleeting pleasure he'd felt from House's touch. His face contorted into a look of one who has just heard fingernails against the chalkboard.

"If you want her to leave us alone, you're gonna have to get used to that," he smirked, referring to his hand which remained on Wilson's backside. Wilson babbled for a moment and then let out a deep breath of air in a signal of understanding. House had obviously already thought of those key concepts Wilson had been in the middle of mulling over.

"Thanks, Sherlock," Wilson sharply responded.

"Well?" House said in a low voice.

"'Well' what?"

"You ready?"

Wilson took one long, deep look at House, followed by a fleeting glance at the fast-paced figure of Amber striding ahead of them. He thought of all of the risks, the danger he could place House in if they became an obvious item. He imagined the worst possible hate crimes and mounting tension which could arise throughout the hospital if fate decided to make their relationship turn out for the worst. But as Wilson looked into House's eyes, he knew that none of that mattered.

The most beautiful part of their relationship – whether romantic or not – derived from the fact that Wilson always loved House for House. A part of House's personality defined him as a man very minutely impacted by society, which made him very difficult to deal with at times. However, this characteristic now appeared to be very crucial in their given situation. More importantly, Wilson knew in his heart that none of the fears he currently possessed would intimidate House. It was impossible for House to be deterred from continuing to be romantically involved with Wilson because of what other people thought about it. That was the strange, almost ironic beauty of House: no one else's opinion mattered. House had always maintained a bizarre form of self-acceptance which prevented him from fearing rejection by the rest of society.

With a swelling feeling in his heart, Wilson knew that his situation with House would continue to be this way: nothing could destroy what they had, because they personally had challenged it a thousand times on end. A person can be their own greatest enemy, and Wilson understood that now. If he could break past his own emotional fears for House, they would be more than capable of taking their world by storm, one step of tolerance at a time.

Wilson took a long, calm breath as he found House's familiar face beside him. House's hand had drifted from his behind to between his shoulder blades, and was discreetly caressing his back.

"Sure," Wilson finally brought himself to speak.

"Got your make-up on?" House asked.

"And my dress, of course," Wilson said, rolling his eyes.

"Good," House said, starting to walk forward, dropping his hand from Wilson's back, "you're gonna need it."

Chapter 6