017. Truth

Monolithic Walls

"You know one of these days you're going to have to tell me the truth," Wilson said from the couch.

It took all of House's self-control not to whip around and stare at the other man. He did stiffen though before he forced himself to relax and continue playing.

"What truth?"

Wilson sighed. "Never mind," he said quietly after a short pause. "If you can't even admit it to yourself then how the hell are you going to admit it to me?"

House winced at the tired, almost defeated note in Wilson's voice and his hands stilled. He turned slightly on the piano seat and looked over at his friend.

"Why?" he asked quietly.

"Aren't you sick of hiding?" Wilson replied. "Of ignoring it? Of living like this while I marry yet another wife?"

"I'm…bad at…at that," House said, a hint of a plea in his voice.

Wilson snorted. "And I'm any better? I'd like to think we could make it work though. We've made this friendship work, haven't we?"

House turned back to the piano without another word and he heard Wilson's sigh echo throughout the room.

"You're married," he said into the silence of the room.

"Not as of three o'clock today," Wilson replied.

House jerked slightly at that; he hadn't known but it did explain why Wilson had asked his question. He stared down to where his hands rested on his thighs.

"Why?"

"Because I'm tired of hiding," Wilson said. "I'm tired of ignoring it and I think three failed marriages is message enough for me." He paused then continued quietly. "Because I want this and I was hoping you did too."

House continued staring down at his hands and swallowed hard. The ball was most emphatically in his court now; the decision was his. He could let everything continue the way it had been going; Wilson probably wouldn't fight him if that was his decision. Or he could finally admit to himself…and to Wilson…what he really wanted and enter a brave new world where he couldn't see the horizon. He was still staring down at his hands when he spoke.

"Yes."

Silence vibrated through the room for a moment then House heard the small clunk of a bottle hitting the table and then the sound of Wilson standing. He didn't hear the other man cross the room and as such he started when a hand cupped his chin and pulled his head up. Wilson's face was suffused with delight, desire and promise and House felt a smile pull at his lips. Wilson returned the smile then leaned down and kissed him.

The kiss was warm and passionate, full of promise and intensity and House felt like he'd finally come home. When they separated, House shifted awkwardly on the seat then got to his feet. Wilson wrapped his arms around him to steady him. House froze for a second then, in an almost convulsive move, he clutched at Wilson and shuddered. Wilson held him and gently rubbed his back; House had spent so long constructing the monolithic walls that surrounded him that this kind of reaction to the knocking down even a fraction of them was understandable.

When House's shudders died down, he pulled back slightly and looked at Wilson.

"I'm going to annoy you," he said in a slightly choked voice.

"You do that now," Wilson replied with amusement as he reached for House's cane and pressed it into his hand. "Stop trying to talk both of us out of this. I want this, you want this, deal with it."

House let out a soft huff of laughter. "Pushy."

"When I know what I want," Wilson replied, his expression becoming intent. He leaned forward and captured House's lips in a passionate, intense kiss. When he pulled back both men were gasping for breath. "Now shut up and come to bed."

House laughed as Wilson turned and stalked towards the bedroom. He followed with uncharacteristic obedience and a very amused, "Yes, dear."