031. Sunrise

Night-time Confessions

The morning sun shining through his bedroom window woke House. He frowned as he blinked at the light, wondering blearily why the curtains were open. Then he realised that he wasn't alone in the bed, that someone was curled up against his back, spooning him, one arm wrapped around his waist. As he slowly became more alert and awake he realised that the person holding him so lovingly was a man and they were both naked then the memories of the previous night came rushing back.

The day had been nothing short of horrendous. Cuddy had been furious at him for upsetting not only his own patient's family but also for sending no less then three patients in the clinic out in tears. Stacy had lingered around and in his office until he'd told her take a hike in no uncertain terms then he'd had to deal with her subsequent coolness and irritation when she was called in regarding his patient's family. Foreman was frustrated that his suggestions about what was affecting their patient had not panned out and had been taking that frustration out on Chase and Cameron which of course had led the those two snapping back.

On the whole when Wilson had turned up in his office just after five, looking drawn and telling House he owed him twenty dollars, House had been glad of the excuse to get the hell out of the hospital. They picked up beer and Chinese on the way to House's apartment and had settled in for an evening of forgetting their day when Wilson's cell phone had rung. He'd answered it blithely but had soon tensed up and stalked into the kitchen. House had only caught bits and pieces of the conversation from Wilson's side but he could make an educated guess about what was happening.

"Troubles with the little woman?" he asked archly when Wilson had finally emerged from the kitchen. "Going to scurry off home?"

Wilson had scowled at him as he dropped back down into the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. "It seems I no longer have a home," he said abruptly.

House blinked. "She's kicked you out?"

All of the tension and irritation flowed out of Wilson and he sighed, scrubbing his face with one hand.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Seems her boss and his wife were coming over for dinner tonight. She said it was the final straw and that if I preferred spending my time here with you then I could just stay here." He gave a single, quiet laugh. "The thing is I can't remember her ever telling me about the dinner tonight."

"You think she lied?" House asked curiously.

"No, I think she probably left a note and I didn't see it," Wilson replied with a shrug. "It was our most common form of communication the last month or two. But you know I don't remember things well if you write them down. You have to tell me things."

"You'd think your wife would have known that," House observed, taking a swig of his beer.

"She does," Wilson replied. "I just don't think she cares anymore."

"No, really?" House said sarcastically. "Maybe that's why she kicked you out."

Wilson just rolled his eyes. "Just as well I have a change of clothes in the car. She's graciously allowing me to go over tomorrow to get my things though."

House nodded. "Just as well it's Saturday tomorrow. You'll have plenty of time. I suppose you'll be cluttering up my place again?"

"You don't mind?" Wilson asked.

House shook his head. "Where else are you going to go? Just don't complain about my couch. You already know what it's like."

"You're making me sleep on the couch?" Wilson said, raising an eyebrow. "My back'll be seized up in about six different places tomorrow."

House snorted. "Last time you slept in my bed you moved around more than I thought humanly possible. You slept but I didn't."

"Oh," Wilson said, looking nonplussed. "You didn't say anything."

"Never got a chance," House said with a shrug. "I got paged in to the hospital at about five am and just forgot about it what with all the problems with that patient." He looked at the slightly forlorn, slightly guilty expression on Wilson's face and rolled his eyes. "Fine! You can sleep in my bed. But if you do the same thing again, I'm kicking you out."

"Whatever," Wilson said with amusement and they settled back into watching the baseball and drinking their beer.

They finally stumbled off to bed just after midnight, performing the usual before bed rituals with surprising ease then making sure Wilson took the side of the bed that meant he wouldn't bump House's bad leg during the night.

Wilson watched as House swallowed his final Vicodin for the day and turned out the lights. He lay on his side, facing his friend and debated whether or not to say anything.

"If you tell me I'm taking too many pills, I'll kick you out," came House's voice out of the dark.

"How did you know?" Wilson said with surprise.

"You think very loudly," came the dry reply. "Besides I saw the look on your face before I turned out the light. You only get that disapproving yet worried look when you're thinking about my addiction."

"Well, there's not much I can say to that is there," Wilson said with a sigh.

"Not if you don't want to sleep on the couch," House replied.

There was a moment of silence then Wilson heard House sigh.

"I have been being more careful when I take them," he admitted reluctantly.

Wilson smiled in the dark. "Good. I'm glad."

"I'll bet you are," came the sardonic reply. "Damn! I forgot to close the curtains."

Wilson heard House shift around and he put a hand out to stop him. "I'll do it."

House stilled and Wilson heard his sharp, indrawn breath. He realised then that his hand had come to rest on House's stomach and that the muscles there were quivering underneath his touch.

"Sorry," he whispered but for some reason he didn't remove his hand. Instead he let his fingers trail up towards House's chest. He hadn't got too far when his hand was gripped tightly, almost painfully, and brought to a halt.

"What are you doing?" House's voice sound tense and curious with just the barest hint of hope.

"Touching you," he said calmly.

"Why?" came House's tense response.

Wilson paused to consider the question. Part of him was aware that his answer was probably one of the more important things he would ever say. The wrong thing would probably not only see him kicked out of the bed but likely also the apartment and House's life. Of course now he had to find the answer within himself. Why was he touching House? Because he wanted to was the most immediate response but he knew he'd need more than that. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard and the answer came to him in a rush. He knew without a doubt that he wouldn't be contesting this latest divorce in any way, shape or form. He wanted to touch House. He wanted to do more than just touch. In the darkness, honesty seemed easier and honesty had just smacked him up the back of the head with a length of two-by-four.

"Because I want to," he said intently in answer to House's question. "Because I can. Because I'm fairly sure you want me to." He paused and gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "And because maybe I've finally gotten old enough and smart enough to admit what I've wanted for a long time."

The silence at the end of that was almost deafening and Wilson could almost feel the confusion, the disbelief, the suspicion flowing off the other man. He pulled his hand free and ran it lightly up House's chest until he reached his face. He cupped House's cheek, finding the feel of stubble under his hand odd but strangely exciting, then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to House's. The other man was deathly still for a moment then, in a lightning quick move that Wilson could have sworn House wasn't capable of, he was on his back with House lying partially on him being kissed with a fervour he'd only ever dreamed of. Just as he was really enjoying the kiss, House pulled away slightly.

"Are you sure?" House said hoarsely. "Really sure? If you've got the slightest doubts, say so now because…"

Wilson cut this impassioned pleas off by pulling House back down and kissing him. House took that as all the consent he needed and finally took what he'd wanted for so long.

House blinked into the morning light again and turned onto his back. Wilson didn't wake at the move, merely settled into a more comfortable position with a sleepy murmur. He almost hesitantly brought one hand up, running it down Wilson's shoulder and back in a gentle caress. This did wake the younger man and House let his hand fall back onto the bed as Wilson blinked his way awake. As House watched, a frown creased Wilson's brow then his eyes widened as he too remembered what happened the previous night. House felt something inside him clench at that reaction then as he continued to watch, the surprise faded and a smile grew on his lover's face.

Wilson shifted and looked up at House, not overly surprised to see the closed and wary expression on the other man's face.

"Morning," he said calmly and with a continuation of his earlier smile.

House relaxed, for the first time aware of how tense he had been and he saw Wilson roll his eyes.

"I don't have many friends," was all House said, asperity tinging his words.

"I know," Wilson replied with fond amusement. "But I think I'm perfectly capable of saying no if I don't want something to occur. And did I say no at any point last night?"

House finally smiled slightly and pulled Wilson as little closer, liking the feel of the other man against him as the morning sun shone down on them. "No, you didn't," he admitted. "But that didn't mean you weren't going to wake up this morning thinking you'd made a huge mistake."

Wilson snorted and he settled down comfortably again. "I think marrying Julie was the big mistake," he said sourly. "Last night was an experience that I'd like to repeat…many, many times."

House's breath caught then he swallowed hard. "I think that can be arranged."