070. Storm
Without Words
Outside the apartment, the storm sat sullenly over the city. The rain pounded down, interspersed with rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning. The temperature was chilly and the weather was threatening to worsen.
Inside the apartment, it was warm and cozy. In the living room, a single lamp was on, illuminating the silent piano and the discarded beer bottles on the low coffee table. It also illuminated the sofa and the empty blankets that lay on it.
A single light was also on in the bedroom, giving a low amber light that shone across the two men who lay naked on the bed.
Wilson lay on his back and stared at House through half-lidded, sated eyes. The last thing House had said to him was his name – "James" – said in such tones of half-hidden longing and despair that he'd been standing almost before he'd known what was happening. When he'd walked over from the sofa to stand in front of House, the older man hand raised his free hand and gently brushed his fingers along his cheek and Wilson had been lost.
House hadn't said a word since then but he hadn't needed to. His hands had said everything that needed to be said.
They'd said 'I want you' when they'd fumbled with Wilson's clothes, pulling them off.
They asked 'Do you want me?' with the hesitant brush against his face.
They responded with delighted caresses at Wilson's affirmative.
They said 'I need you' as they touched and held and pulled and stroked.
And now, as they both lay sated and sleepy and the storm thundered and raged outside, those hands caressed and gentled and said what House would never say out loud…they said 'I love you'.