036. Smell
The Morning After The Night Before
The first thing Wilson noticed when he woke up was the scent of a cologne that definitely wasn't his. Underneath that he could smell sour cigarette smoke, beer and sweat. But he couldn't smell Julie's perfume. He then became aware that his head was pounding, his mouth felt like the bottom of a bird cage and his eyes were not about to co-operate with him and came to the conclusion that he was rather stunningly hung-over. It was further evidence that he was hung-over that it took until now for him to realise that he was naked, various interesting muscle groups were sore and there was also the scent of sex in the air.
He buried his face into a pillow that definitely wasn't the one on his bed and tried to remember exactly what it was he'd done the previous night other than obviously drink more than was really good for him. And have sex with someone who definitely wasn't his wife and from all the existing evidence was a man. He wasn't overly worried about the last; his affairs hadn't been exclusively with women though that was something most people wouldn't guess about him. He wasn't overly worried about the former either which spoke volumes for the current state of his marriage.
In fact he now remembered it was his marriage that had prompted the drinking last night. Julie told him the previous night that she wanted a divorce and he hadn't been able to find it within himself to argue with her. But he had wanted to get enormously drunk to celebrate, if that was the word, his third strike out in the marriage stakes. So he'd talked House into coming with him and they'd headed for a bar they occasionally frequented and he had proceeded to get thoroughly tanked.
Wilson sighed wearily into the pillow and contemplated finding out exactly who it was he'd gone home with the previous night. He could vaguely remember that the sex had been good but the memory of precisely who it had been with was definitely rather hazy. He was sure he was going to hear all about it from House and he'd probably better have some kind of ammunition, poor as it was likely to be, to return fire with. He took a deep breath and rolled over on his side, prying his eyes open and propping himself up on one elbow then pausing momentarily as he waited for the pounding in his head to subside somewhat. When it had faded to a dull roar, he looked over towards the man lying sprawled asleep on his back beside him in the bed and his brain stopped.
When it slowly began working again, he closed his eyes tightly then opened them and looked again. Nope, the man hadn't changed in appearance and Wilson ventured to look around the bedroom. Oh yeah, he knew this room and yes, there was the cane sitting propped against the bedside table. It was real. He looked back down to the sleeping figure of House and slumped down onto the bed.
Some vague, half-arsed plans for smothering himself with the pillow wandered through his mind but he quickly put them aside. Not because he didn't think they were valid but because he'd read somewhere that it was actually impossible to smother yourself. Instead he desperately pummelled his brain to try and dredge up the memory of precisely how he had ended up having what his addled brain kept on insisting was extremely good sex with his best friend.
He remembered going to the bar. He remembered drinking though his memory did provide him with the information that House did not match him in the drinking stakes in any way, shape or form. But after about the fifth beer, his memory started getting very hazy and in some places non-existent until the somewhat blurred memories of the sex started. Had he seduced House? That was the question burning through his brain. Had House really wanted to have sex with him? Had he been humouring his very drunk friend? Had he forced himself on House?
No, he couldn't believe the latter. For one his memory was being quite forceful in reminding him that the sex was good. That they'd both enjoyed it. But that didn't explain why he'd ended up having very good sex with his supposedly very straight best friend who was supposedly still in love with his now-married ex. But now that he thought about it, that 'very straight' appellation for House might not be all that accurate. If his memories weren't playing him false, House had been no blushing virgin in the matters of sex with another man. In fact, if his memories weren't playing him false, House had been quite the active participant…well, active by his standards and taking into account the limitations his leg placed on him.
Wilson propped himself up on his elbow again and stared at the sleeping House curiously. Considering his own feelings and how he knew he got when drunk, it was entirely possible that he had, in fact, made a probably very drunken attempt at seducing his friend. He cared about House. Hell, he loved the man, sarcasm, misanthropy and all. That was why he usually didn't get that drunk around him. Excessive consumption of alcohol lowered the inhibitions and he knew what his subconscious would want to do if he ever gave it free reign in the presence of House. What surprised him about this whole situation is obviously House had let himself be seduced. Wilson just wished he knew why. House had not been drunk, he was sure of that much.
He reached out with one hand and gently caressed House's cheek, wondering what was going to happen when the other man woke. He gave no thought to getting out of bed and leaving. For a start, he doubted he'd be welcome in his own home and he didn't want to test that theory out. The hospital was probably not a good idea either. He was supposed to have the weekend off and he really didn't want any rumours starting about why he was suddenly present. But the main reason he stayed was because this would be a bad thing to let fester between the two of them.
House shifted slightly and Wilson pulled his hand back hurriedly. As he watched, House slowly woke up. Wilson could tell the exact moment when House became fully aware as that was then he tensed and grimaced as the pain from his leg made itself known. He could also tell the exact moment when House became aware that he was not alone in the bed.
"It's…uh, me," Wilson said quietly, deciding to circumvent things a little.
"I know that," House growled, his voice gravelly with sleep.
"Uh…you do?" Wilson stammered as House's eyes opened.
Wilson couldn't help but smile at the withering look House gave him.
"I wasn't the one so drunk out of my skull last night that I don't remember where I ended up," House replied sharply. "Besides I do recognise your voice. I'm not deaf."
Wilson was silent as he tried to marshal his thoughts. This wasn't exactly how he'd thought this was going to go. As he tried to string a few words together, House reached out and grabbed the small orange bottle that was sitting on the bedside table. He swallowed one of the pills then put the bottle back before giving Wilson an amused look.
"Last night…" Wilson's voice trailed off uncertainly.
House smirked. "You're a pretty friendly drunk, Jimmy. At least with me you were."
Wilson licked his lips nervously. "Should I…be apologising to you? Should I…leave?"
The smirk disappeared and Wilson saw a few of House's walls go up.
"You regret it," House said flatly.
"No," Wilson said after a short pause, hoping he was saying the right thing. "I just wish I could remember it better. The memories I have are pretty hazy."
He saw the walls go back down and House leered at him almost ridiculously.
Wilson laughed at that look then sobered. "What about Stacy?"
House rolled his eyes as he tucked one hand behind his head. "She's married, James. Remember? Mark, the guy with porphyria?"
"You still love her," Wilson replied calmly.
House was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I guess. In some way. But I'm not in love with her. She's moved on." He paused and the smirk reappeared. "And apparently so have I."
Wilson blinked. "You have?"
House's expression practically screamed 'give me strength!' "Do I really have to answer that question? Last time I looked, I do not run around having sex with anything that moves. If I did, I would have slept with Cameron."
Wilson's mouth dropped open for a moment then he snapped it shut. "I…you…we…"
"Very good," House said sarcastically. "Slightly caveman in style but you summed it up well."
Wilson shut his mouth again, not quite able to process the fact that he seemed to be getting what he wanted. House rolled his eyes and reached out, grabbing him around the back of the neck and pulling him into a heated, possessive kiss. Wilson gave into the kiss, still slightly confused, still not quite believing his good fortune and still vaguely wondering whether this was all a dream but deciding that since he liked it, wanted it and was apparently getting it, he wasn't going to argue.