025. Strangers
Question
It felt like they were strangers again.
Even though Wilson was sitting no more then four feet away from him, House felt like he was in the company of a stranger. It felt odd, unsettling, uncomfortable. In fact House was sure it hadn't even felt like this when he'd first met Wilson so many years ago. They'd just seemed to click in some strange way from the moment they first met; Oncology's latest wunderkind and the sarcastic bastard from Infectious Diseases. That connection had only gotten stronger over the years, especially after the infarction when Wilson had been the only one he hadn't been able to completely alienate.
"You bastard," Wilson said into the tense silence that had descended onto the room. "All I wanted was one single straight answer. Hell, you only really had to say yes or no. But you couldn't even do that. You have to play games all the damn time. I thought we were friends. I thought I was more than just another puzzle to you. I thought you actually gave a damn about me, about what I think. I wish that just for once you'd prove that to me. That'd you'd stop lying to me and to yourself. Or is that too much for the great Dr Gregory House?"
House swallowed hard in the abrupt silence that fell at the end of Wilson's diatribe. He was becoming aware that they had reached some kind of watershed. That his response now would be the difference between Wilson staying or Wilson leaving, perhaps forever. The ball was most definitely in his court, never something that was designed to make him comfortable; not before the infarction and most emphatically not now. But it was his decision to make and from the expression on Wilson's face, he didn't have much time to make it.
"Ask the question again," he said hoarsely.
Wilson's eyes narrowed and just for a moment House thought he might get up and storm out of the room. But then he nodded his head and his lips thinned.
"I'm getting a divorce," he said in clipped tones, deciding to repeat his entire speech. "And I've decided that I need to stop denying what I really want. It's only making me and my ex-wives miserable. I've been attracted to you for a long time, Greg, and I think I'm in love with you. I think that if our friendship has survived all the crap that's been thrown at it over the years, it could survive us becoming lovers. And that's what I want. I know you've been with men before I met you so I guess the only thing I really need to know now is: do you want this?"
Some idle part of House's mind noticed that on the second recitation the speech had lost all of the stammering and blushing that had accompanied the first effort. He drew in a deep breath and banished that thought for later consideration then he slowly, as though with the weight of the world, raised his face to look Wilson in eye.
"Yes," he choked out, mentally hearing the sounds of his well-buttressed walls falling to the man sitting opposite him.
Delight and triumph flooded across Wilson's face and the tense, terse air in the room faded into nothing. As House watched, Wilson got to his feet and…prowled over to the armchair he was sitting in. He moved forward until he was standing with his legs on either side of House's outstretched legs then he leaned forward and rested his hands on the arms of the chair. He continued to lean forward until their noses where almost touching.
He paused there, silent and intent, then he slowly moved forward again until their lips met. The kiss was sweet and light and chaste until the exact moment that House parted his lips. Wilson seemed to take this as his final acceptance and he suddenly shifted the kiss to something fierce and intense, passionate and possessive.
House moaned at the sudden assault and one hand almost convulsively rose to slide into Wilson's hair. Wilson climbed onto the chair, straddling his legs and while he was careful, House noted with the few brain cells that were still working that Wilson wasn't going out of his way to avoid his leg. That was something unexpected and it pleased him that Wilson wouldn't be overly solicitous in these circumstances.
Just then Wilson slid one hand down between them and cupped his erection and those few brain cells of House's gave up the ghost. He groaned into Wilson's mouth and bucked up as best as he could, barely feeling the flash of pain that movement engendered. He whimpered…actually whimpered… when Wilson pulled away then gave a half-hearted scowl at the other man's chuckle.
"Bed. Now," Wilson said with a heated smile as he climbed off the chair.
House grabbed his cane and hauled himself to his feet. House limped towards the bedroom as best as he could with Wilson all but pressed up against him and he smiled. They weren't strangers anymore.