030. Torn

(You Got Me Feeling) Torn To Shreds

House stared at the door, ignoring the curious looks from the three doctors in the conference room. Wilson had just laid it all down on the table and demanded a decision. For once, he had no idea what to do.

He'd never intended for it to go that far. Taking Wilson out to the new bar that had opened not far from his apartment had seemed like a very amusing idea. The bar wasn't precisely a gay bar but it was certainly…open to all. Wilson had done a very nice spittake when he'd seen the two men kissing by the bar and the resulting conversation had been nicely replete with all the appropriate banter and innuendo that House had become accustomed to with Wilson. He still wasn't entirely sure how or why he'd thrown that challenge out onto the table nor was he entirely sure why Wilson had accepted it.

House had long ago come to terms with his…well, bisexuality possibly wasn't quite the word for it. He didn't really consider himself a three on the Kinsey scale since he generally preferred women. It was just that, on occasion, he wouldn't exactly kick the right man out of his bed either. So maybe that made him a two, maybe even a two and a half if there was such a thing. Of course he'd been fairly firmly convinced that Wilson had to be no higher than a one on the Kinsey scale though the fact that Wilson had picked up his challenge and had eyed him with amused daring made him suspect that his friend had managed to successfully hide something from him. Which he kind of liked since underestimating other people was annoying but underestimating Wilson was usually quite fun.

So there it had stayed for a moment. The challenge thrown out and unexpectedly accepted. And House was never one to back down from a challenge.

The kiss had been tentative at first. Neither was entirely sure of what they were doing. But after a few seconds something had flipped in House's brain that he had never known was there. Whether that was true ignorance or wilful avoidance he didn't know. Whatever the reason, it led him to turn the kiss from something softly exploratory to something hot and wet and demanding.

He'd expected Wilson to pull away at that point; to laugh and toss a few more innuendo-laden remarks on the table and everything would resume as normal in their slightly odd friendship. But he hadn't. He'd gone with it. In fact not only had Wilson gone with it, he'd reciprocated in a fashion that not even the densest person in the world could have misread. The kiss rapidly became the kind of thing that had you saying, "Bed. Now." when it was done.

When they'd finally broken apart they'd received a smattering of applause from the grinning men and women by the bar and Wilson had blushed. House hadn't been able to do anything more than stare at his friend and he'd suspected that the world was about to come crashing down on them. Because what do you say when you've just shared the best kiss in your entire life with your best friend? Particularly when that best friend was someone whom you'd always thought was straight. Particularly when that best friend was also your only friend and screwing this up would be the worst thing that could ever happen to you and that was including the infarction.

So instead of saying anything, he'd stared at Wilson. For once, he wasn't going to be the first one to break the silence. Of course, the fact that he truly didn't know what to say kind of helped with that. What do you say when you discover that you want your best friend?

Wilson had known what to say. And much to House's surprise he'd drained his drink and said, "Your place."

House remembered nodding dumbly and levering himself to his feet. He couldn't remember how they got back to his apartment but he could remember what happened once they got there. There had been no awkwardness and apparently no second thoughts. He remembered what Wilson's skin felt like, tasted like. He remembered the noises Wilson had made and the ones that had been dragged out of him. He remembered what it felt like to be buried up to his balls in Wilson's warmth.

He also remembered what it felt like to wake up the next morning with Wilson curled around him. A few moments of deep contentment followed by confusion, fear and, on his part, a hasty retreat. He'd managed to avoid Wilson for three days. He didn't know what he wanted or what to think and he'd been hoping distance and time might sort that out. Wilson, it seemed, was no longer going to allow that sort of thing to happen. He'd stormed into his office half an hour ago and spoken his piece. House hadn't followed most of it but he'd gotten the salient points. Wilson wanted this, whatever it was that had suddenly grown between them, but he wasn't going to push. He wanted House to want it as well. And he was leaving the ball in House's court.

House wasn't stupid. He knew if he refused that their friendship would probably survive but it would be a frail mockery of what it had been before. He didn't want that but he wasn't sure if he wanted what Wilson was offering. He wasn't stupid. He knew why he was torn. He was afraid. The last time he'd had something like this it hadn't ended well. Between Stacy's betrayal and his own recalcitrance, it had been rather spectacularly destroyed. He didn't want that to happen to him and Wilson. Except that it looked like that might happen if he said no. And if he said yes it might not happen at all.

He took risks everyday. Sometimes small risks, sometimes large ones. But they were calculated risks. They had logic and reasoning behind them. This risk was purely emotional. There was nothing backing it up, no safety net. He hated those kinds of risks.

House stared out the door into the corridor then slowly got to his feet. He clenched his hand around the handle of his cane and slowly limped towards the door. He had to give Wilson an answer.