This is the sequel to Upset.

073. Fool

He Never Shows His Feelings

House sat on the piano bench and stared down into the scotch in the glass in his hand with the most extreme case of self-loathing he'd ever indulged in. He'd made a fool of himself today and for once he had no one to blame but himself. He could only blame that fact that he was slightly unsettled by the self-revelation he'd had the previous night. He'd been off-balance and therefore susceptible to Wilson's demands. So he'd admitted what he felt for his best friend, not verbally but Wilson knew him well enough to read everything that had been in his face, and then he'd promptly lost his best friend. That was the reason he'd been driving everyone away during the day; he wanted enough time to figure out how to hide his sudden revelation. Unfortunately he hadn't had quite enough time.

He drained his glass in one swift motion then grabbed the bottle and filled it up again. The movement sent sharp stabs of pain flying up from his leg so he picked up the small pill bottle and shook out a single white pill. After a moment's contemplation, he shook out another then he swallowed them both with a shot of scotch. He put the pill bottle and the glass back down on the piano and ran his hands over the keys, occasionally pressing one and letting the single notes echo through the room.

No Wilson to play for tonight. No Wilson ever again if the man's reaction was anything to go by. House's chest felt heavy and numb and he swallowed hard and closed his eyes. When he opened them he began the task of slowly building his walls up again. He had no choice, he had to work tomorrow, he had a patient to fix. He just didn't have a best friend anymore.

He slowly drank the glass of scotch and poured himself another, the buzz from the alcohol joining the drugs to white out his mind a little. He blinked and foggily decided to slow down on the scotch. It would do absolutely nothing for him to overdose right now.

He'd just made that decision when there was a knock at the door. He turned his head and stared at it before shrugging and turning back to the piano. The knocking came again and House ignored it with a vengeance, resting his head on his arms on the top of the piano. With any luck whoever it was would go away fairly soon.

When he heard the scratching sound of a key in the lock, House's head came up sharply. The only people who had keys to his apartment were his parents and…Wilson. And since his parents were safely ensconced in their own that only left one person…

"House?"

Wilson's voice was tentative and unsure, even a little frightened, and House frowned slightly but didn't answer.

He heard the door close then the sound of footsteps approaching him. They came to a halt just behind him then a warm hand came to rest on his shoulder. House shuddered and tensed but the hand didn't move, it just tightened slightly.

"Greg…I'm sorry," Wilson said quietly, almost regretfully.

House felt something die inside his chest and he jerked his shoulder until Wilson let go.

"Apology accepted. Get out," he snarled, his shoulder hunching defensively.

Wilson sighed and House could picture him rubbing the back of his neck in his characteristic gesture. Then once again, Wilson proved that he truly did own a House decoder ring.

"I didn't mean it that way," he said, still in that quiet voice. "I'd…never thought about it. Well…I'd thought about it but not for a long time and never about you. I…never thought you'd…be interested in me…in that way."

House froze; he knew what that sounded like but after today he wasn't prepared to trust his instincts.

Wilson sighed again at his lack of response. "Greg, please, at least look at me."

House shook his head and his defensive posture increased. He heard Wilson sigh for a third time.

"Damn stubborn bastard," Wilson muttered.

House almost gasped when he felt warmth plastered to his back then he did gasp when wet heat engulfed his earlobe. He leaned back into the warmth and tilted his head back, making a sound he would deny to his dying breath was a whimper. The wet heat left his earlobe and he heard a soft chuckle in his ear.

"Thought that might get your attention," Wilson murmured with a smug satisfaction that House couldn't help but like.

House slowly turned on the bench seat, Wilson shifting with him then neatly inserting himself between his legs. He seemed just as smugly satisfied with that manoeuvre as he was with House's reaction just before.

By this stage House had managed to get his brain working past the drugs, the alcohol and the sudden squall of lust that had accompanied Wilson's action.

"You walked out," he said sharply.

Wilson had the good grace to look a little sheepish. "I know. I'm sorry. You startled me. You know I don't always react well when I'm startled. I need to think and it wasn't until I had that I realised how that must have looked to you." He smiled, a mix of warmth, apology and lust. "I just never expected you to…feel that way."

House scowled and looked past Wilson. "Still don't know what you want," he said in rather petulant tones.

Wilson gave another sigh, this one definitely an exasperated one. "I would have thought that was obvious."

House shrugged almost sullenly and he could see Wilson roll his eyes.

"Stubborn, impossible bastard," Wilson muttered before he leaned in and kissed House.

House froze for a moment then the reality of the situation sank in. He buried a hand in Wilson's hair, gripping tight and pulling the man closer before he took control of the kiss. He ran his tongue along Wilson's bottom lip, humming his approval when Wilson opened up to him. He then did his best to plunder the other man's mouth, tasting, owning, trying to ensure that this was his and his alone. Wilson didn't fight him. He moaned into the kiss and plastered himself to House's body as best as he could, burying one hand in House's hair and clutching at his shoulders with the other. In turn House let his free hand slide down until he was cupping Wilson's arse. He gave a small squeeze and smiled into the kiss when Wilson moaned and his hips bucked forward.

He pulled his lips away from Wilson's and gasped, "Bedroom."

"Yes," Wilson replied, his voice agreeably raspy.

Wilson stepped back then held one hand out. House eyed it for a moment, considered the amount of alcohol he'd already had then shrugged and grabbed the hand, letting Wilson pull him upright and then steady him. He lifted on hand and was surprised to see how unsteady it was. He gently caressed Wilson's cheek, smiling slightly when Wilson leaned into the touch. He let his hand run down Wilson's chest, stopping just at his belt.

Wilson looked at him with half-closed eyes. "You could keep going."

House smirked, feeling relatively normal for the first time since Wilson had walked out of his office.

"I could."

"Why don't you?" Wilson asked, as he did exactly what he wanted House to do.

House swallowed a moan as Wilson pressed the base of his hand into his erection. He grabbed at Wilson's wrist, holding it tightly.

"Bedroom," he repeated. "Bed. Very comfortable bed."

Wilson gave him a smile full of lust and desire then reached over for the cane leaning against the piano. He pressed it into House's hand then turned and started walking towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He stopped in the doorway and gave House an utterly ridiculous flirtatious look.

"Coming?"

House laughed. "I intend to."