015. Blue
Taking A Chance
"Bear in mind Cameron's probably the only female that can tolerate you. Wear the sky-blue shirt. It almost makes you look nice."
Cuddy's words from before his excruciatingly uncomfortable date with Cameron echoed around House's mind as he sat at the piano and played a few random notes. He snorted with sour amusement. She was probably right; Cameron probably was the only female that could tolerate him though not for reasons that made him at all comfortable. He wondered what Cuddy would have said if he'd told her that he didn't give a damn about Cameron. He snorted again; he wondered what Cameron would think.
The reason for his indifference was currently sitting on his couch, drinking beer and eating pizza…and making off-hand comments about his shirt. Hence the thoughts that were now rambling through his mind. He couldn't quite remember when his feelings for Wilson had gone from friendship to some more but he found it perfectly typical of himself that they would. He always seemed to want things he couldn't have.
"What's got you so preoccupied?"
Wilson's voice broke through his thoughts and he started, his fingers slipping and striking a few clashing notes.
"The Mets," he said sharply. "They're going to have a hell of a season."
"Uh huh," Wilson said, sounding unconvinced. "Wanna try again?"
"Nope," House replied, letting his fingers drift into the melodies of Moon River.
Wilson put his beer down and got to his feet, ambling over and leaning against the piano. "You were fine until I mentioned your shirt," he observed.
House ignored him, almost ostentatiously concentrating on what he was doing. Wilson's fingers drifted over House's shoulder for a second, making him draw in a small breath.
"Wasn't this the shirt that Cuddy told you to wear for your date with Cameron?"
House made an indistinct sound as he modulated into Nat King Cole's Unforgettable. Wilson snorted with amusement as he recognised the tune.
"I suppose it was," he said with a small smile. "Though not for reasons Cameron would have liked."
"She likes me because I'm damaged," House almost snarled, in contrast with the mellow music that was flowing from his hands.
Wilson let his hand rest on House's shoulder. "She's young. She'll learn."
"Not with me," House replied firmly.
"Good," Wilson muttered.
House barely heard it over the sound of the music and he stopped and stared at Wilson sharply. "What?"
Wilson froze and his hand tightly almost imperceptibly on House's shoulder. "Er, nothing."
House felt an odd hope rise in his chest and almost ruthlessly shoved it down again. "Why was it good?" he demanded softly.
Wilson stared at him, his face unusually blank, his eyes clouded. Then his face cleared and warmed, his eyes full of amusement and something House could only hope was desire.
"Why was it good?" he said. "Because I don't want you to be with her."
"Could have fooled me," House said letting that hope rise this time.
A small smile quirked Wilson's lips. "Had to give her…and you…a chance."
"She's had her chance," House said, a hint of challenge in his voice.
The smile widened. "Yes, she has. I guess it's my chance now."
House barely had time to acknowledge that before Wilson's lips descended on his, the kiss warm and tender. He felt Wilson's tongue flicker over his lips and he eagerly opened his lips before burying one hand in Wilson's hair and claiming control of the kiss, deepening it and increasing the intensity. They were both a fraction breathless when they broke apart and Wilson sank down onto the piano seat as though his knees wouldn't entirely hold him up.
"You'd better not like me because I'm damaged," House said, his face filled with affection and humour.
Wilson snorted and leaned against him. "You're irritating because you're damaged. I like you because you're you."
House snorted at that then sobered. "It's mutual, you know?"
"I kind of guessed," Wilson replied as he leaned in for a second kiss.