013. Alter
Change Must Come
House had never really seen any reason to change his behaviour. He had his way of living and it suited him very well. It was perhaps vaguely self-destructive but given everything that had happened to him, he felt he deserved to have a little fun.
But as Wilson stalked out of the apartment, that fun seemed to turn a little sour.
House was never quite able to define the pattern of when Wilson was going to pick at him about his addiction or what form it was going to take. If it happened once a month or once every couple of months then he could plan for it, construct some kind of distraction to take the wind out of Wilson's sails until he was sufficiently side-tracked. But instead Wilson seemed to build up to some kind of critical mass that was impossible to predict…and impossible to see coming.
The form was usually the most predictable thing. It normally fell somewhere into the range of worried nagging or even just a few concerned words. House could handle that; a few snarky remarks and a scandalous speculation or two and Wilson would back off, usually with a look of amused exasperation. The weeklong detox had been Wilson's most inventive effort and only the look of horror on the younger man's face when he'd seen the mess House had made of his hand had stopped him from revealing that yes, he did know who was behind that stunt and it certainly wasn't Cuddy. She just had the better bait at the time.
This though…now this was a new one. Of course, it probably only fell into the category of new because it was the first time Wilson had reached his critical mass since they'd started sleeping together but still…it was new. Ferocious argument and angrily storming out of a room weren't usually Wilson's modus operandi. He usually chose a more 'softly, softly' approach which was, oddly enough, more effective. House always blamed the eyes.
But as effective as Wilson's 'softly, softly' approach usually was, this was showing signs of beating it hands down. House absolutely did not want to categorise the tight, uncomfortable feeling in his chest but he did know he wanted it to go away. He just wasn't exactly sure how to make that happen other than the obvious and he wasn't sure he wanted to go down that path either. But he was well aware that you could only push people so far…and that even Wilson's patience had its limits. He was also aware that things had changed between them; no matter how well he might deny it, he knew it had happened. He'd been happy to let sleeping dogs lie, as such. As long as nobody pointed out that things had changed then he didn't have to do anything more than tacitly acknowledge it, leave it alone and hope that nothing ruined it. Except now it looked like he was going to ruin it.
House grimaced and took a deep breath. He clench his hand around his cane as he stared at the floor then he slowly got to his feet. He limped towards the front door and hesitated a long moment before opening it. He gave a start as he realised that Wilson hadn't exactly left and was leaning against the wall between the two apartment doors in the small foyer. He was staring at the door to the street, his expression pensive. As House watched, Wilson turned his head and looked at him expressionlessly.
House was silent for a long, uncomfortable moment. "I'll try."
The shy, pleased smile that broke out on Wilson's face was worth the effort it had taken to say those words and House stepped back, wordlessly asking his lover to come back. Wilson pushed himself off the wall and walked in, pausing in front of House and gently brushing one cheek with his fingers.
"Thank you."