Precisely two hours, forty-nine minutes, and fifty-one seconds after Wilson knocked on House's door, the two men found themselves standing, once again, on the steps in front of 221B. Deciding that their short dinner hardly sufficed as an unforgettable first date, House had passed up Wilson's own apartment and instead drove them both back to his place. Wilson hadn't objected. In fact, he hadn't even commented as the car sped past his door. House briefly wondered if the other man had been expecting it.
Once inside, House tore off his jacket and tossed it aside, not really caring where it landed. He heard Wilson sigh behind him as the younger man closed the front door, but he didn't comment. Instead the oncologist slipped his own jacket off and hung it over his right arm, shifting his weight slightly uncomfortably. House ignored him at first, his attention focused primarily on tearing off the constricting tie he had been coerced into wearing. However, in his hurry, he merely succeeded in tightening it almost painfully around his neck. Seeing his struggle, Wilson grinned and shook his head slightly before stepping in front of his friend and batting his fumbling hands away. In a matter of seconds, he had the tie expertly loosened, untied, and hanging around House's shoulders.
"Thanks," House said with his version of embarrassment clear on his face, his eyes carefully avoiding the other man's.
"Any time," Wilson responded, grin never leaving his lips.
It was at this moment that both men realized exactly how close they were standing to one another. A familiar tension filled the air, magnified a thousand times by their proximity. It wasn't as if they hadn't stood close to each other before. In fact, they seemed to always be shoulder to shoulder wherever they went. House's personal space and Wilson's personal space became their personal space whenever they were together. It was a natural progression, a reflection of their friendship. But those had been different times. They were times of deep friendship, unspoken caring, and not so innocent flirting; times when everything was hidden beneath the surface in the subtext of the pages. However, they were now standing, face to face, breathing each other's air, only minutes after their first real "romantic" date. This time was different.
"You know, I've been looking for that tie for months," Wilson reprimanded jokingly. House returned his mischievous grin.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied with feigned innocence while quickly turning away and heading toward the kitchen. Wilson's grin disappeared as he did so, and the young man sighed, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get the beer."
"Right. Thanks," was Wilson's…did House hear disappointment in that response?
"Turn something on," House called as he leaned into his refrigerator and grabbed two bottles in the same hand as Wilson plopped into his regular seat on the lumpy couch. "I Tivoed 'Much Ado About Nothing' earlier. You like Shakespeare, right?" Wilson turned in his seat to give House a surprised look as the older man made his way over.
"Yeah, but since when did you?" he questioned suspiciously.
"Since yesterday," House answered, holding out the beer so that Wilson could take one and making sure that he 'discretely' emphasize that it was, in fact his right hand that he was using to complete this task. Wilson smiled proudly, understanding the silent gesture, but their conversation did not go interrupted.
"Why yesterday?" the oncologist was still confused.
"Cause that's when I started planning this whole thing," House responded simply, plopping himself down to the left of his best friend, perhaps slightly closer than usual.
"Ah," Wilson replied while popping the cap off his beer and starting the movie.
"Besides, I really do like this movie," the diagnostician defended.
"I trust not for its literary significance or hopelessly romantic moral?" Wilson asked in a sarcastically rhetorical manner.
"Well, all of that's good, but have you checked out that Emma Thompson? She has got the ass of a goddess! And feisty too, boy. Let me tell ya," House waggled his eyebrows as he took a swig of beer. Wilson rolled his eyes dramatically.
"You sure know how to charm a girl on the first date," he commented, his voice still dripping with sarcasm.
"Oh, did I hurt poor wittle Jamie's feelings?" House questioned in mock concern. Wilson gave him a pointed look, and House inwardly smiled. "Don't worry. I'd take your ass over hers any day." Wilson raised his eyebrows questioningly. "For one it's realistically attainable, and secondly it's nearby and easily accessible."
Wilson laughed at this, but House didn't miss the slight blush that came over his face as the young man turned to face the television once more. House's mouth quirked at the sight. Things were not only changing but had changed already. It had not occurred to him before that this one date with his best friend would change their relationship so dramatically. Gone were the days of unacknowledged and harmless flirting as they drank and watched old British comedies together. The attraction was now acknowledged. It had been brought into the daylight, and they both knew that it would not recede back into the darkness quietly and without wounding them both. The only question was what happens next?
He hadn't much time to ponder the situation, however, as a sharp pain suddenly wrenched him from his contemplation as he let out a distressed yelp. His still full beer fell clumsily to the ground before both of his hands instinctively latched onto his right thigh. Remembering that pain was no longer suppose to be a part of his life, House began to panic. There was always a chance that his pain would return, but he had never really prepared himself.
"House!" he heard Wilson shout from beside him, fear evident in his voice as he instinctively lay his hands over top of his friends. "What's happening?"
"It hurts," was all House managed to choke out as he dug his fingers harder into his damaged leg.
"Let me see," Wilson coaxed, gently attempted to remove his friends hands.
"No!" House resisted, afraid that letting go would only allow the pain to intensify. Wilson's grip on his hands tightened.
"House? House, listen to me. You've gotta let me see your leg," he once again attempted to remove House's hand, but his friend let out an uncharacteristic whimper and refused to relent. Deciding a new plan of action was needed, Wilson let go of House's hands and instead placed them on either side of the frightened man's face. "House, look at me." No response. "Greg, open your eyes and look at me!" Upon hearing the strict tone in his friend's voice, House did as he was told, his eyes opening to meet Wilson's. James was taken aback by the fear he saw inside his best friend's breathtaking blue eyes, and he shuddered unconsciously. It had been an all too familiar sight six years before.
"Jimmy," the young man recovered quickly at the weak, pleading tone House put into this one word.
"Listen to me, Greg. Everything's gonna be all right, but you have to let me look at your leg," Wilson told him in what he hoped was a very confident voice, careful to keep any and all fear out of his own eyes. House watched him for another few seconds before cautiously releasing his grip, allowing Wilson to unbuckle his pants and throw them off, his socks flying halfway across the room with them. James' hands immediately came to rest on the scarred tissue of his right leg, assess the possible sources of Greg's sudden pain. House's own hand had transferred to the throw pillows that lay on either side of them, gripping them so hard he thought they might rip.
"How long has it been since you've used your cane, House?" Wilson questioned quickly.
"Just make it stop!" House begged, only hearing his friend's voice and not comprehending the words.
"Greg, I need you to focus. When did you last use your cane?" James continued patiently.
"I d-don't know. I-I can't remember," House gasped. His breathing was hard and fast.
"Greg, listen to me. You've gotta calm down, all right? You're panicking. Listen, it's just a cramp. You're making it worse by tightening up like that. I need you to slow down. Take a deep breath and try to relax. You're okay. It's okay," James soothed as he gently massaged his fingers into his friend's mutilated thigh, attempted to loosen the assaulting flesh. "Just breathe. Breathe through it. It'll all be over soon. Take a deep breath. Come on."
Slowly but surely, Wilson began to feel House's muscles loosen beneath his fingers as the older man's body relaxed. Although, he was still shivering, whether it was from pain, fear, or exhaustion, James couldn't tell.
"That's it. You're doing good. Just relax. You're okay," Wilson's voice was practically a whisper now. Even as Greg's muscles eased backed to normal, the two doctors stayed in their positions, neither daring to move just yet.
"All right, Greg, what do you say we get you into bed where you'll be more comfortable?" Wilson asked as he felt his own muscles begin to tighten from squatting in the same place for so long. House said nothing, but nodded his agreement. Carefully, Wilson placed House's arm over his shoulders and helped him limp into the nearby bedroom. They paused for a moment for Wilson to rather strategically bend to pull back the covers before allowing his friend to collapse onto the soft bed. House let out a pained groan as Wilson moved his legs up onto the mattress for him but didn't protest. This alone was enough to worry the young man. "You okay?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to sound as though he were coddling the other man. House nodded his head in response, his eyes still closed.
"I was just…so scared that it was all happening again – that the pain had come back for good," House choked out in a manner very unusual for him. "As soon as it started, I could see myself in that place again."
"What place?" Wilson questioned in that same soothing tone, his hands still massaging House's bad leg.
"Purgatory," House replied hauntingly. "Hanging between life and death and not really giving a damn about either one. Does that sound stupid?"
No," Wilson replied honestly. "Frightening, but not stupid."
"I'm tired, Jimmy," House changed the subject abruptly. Wilson allowed himself a slight grin. That was more like House.
"I'm not surprised," he told him, stilling his hands' movement and bringing his left one up to stroke House's hair away from his sweaty forehead. "Go to sleep. I'll be here." House nodded once more, and his right hand moved down to rest over as much of his brutal scar as possible as he suddenly found himself oddly self-conscious. It was pointless, of course. Himself excluded, no one had laid eyes on it more times than James Wilson.
"Turn out the light," he demanded.
"What's wrong?" Wilson questioned, wondering what had brought about the sudden burst of anger.
"Just do it," he responded impatiently, his fingers spreading in a feeble attempt to cover more of the damaged flesh. Confused by the strange movements, Wilson's gaze shifted to House's leg. Seeing what the older man was doing, he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Opening them once more, he took his friend's hand in his own and held it gently, stroking House's fingers with his thumb. He then brought his left hand down to delicately soothe the torturous scar. He felt House shudder at the touch but did not stop.
When his friend did not protest, Wilson gained some more confidence and gently move his hand from House's leg to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up smoothly to reveal the wounded man's stomach where yet another gruesome scar marked his once flawless skin. James moved his hand to caress it as well, watching Greg's face closely for any sign he'd had enough. He felt his friend begin to tremble all over at his touch now but still he did not stop. Sliding his hand upward, Wilson found the last, small deformity that marred House's once faultless neck.
"Open your eyes," Wilson softly cajoled his shivering friend. Reluctantly, Greg did as he was told, almost afraid of what he might see. Already on the verge of tears, House felt his eyes sting even harder when he finally looked into his best friend's eyes. Never in his entire life had he seen such pure love in any being's eyes as he did in James Wilson's at that moment. It was ridiculous, really, that such an emotion should be wasted on someone like him. This should have been his cue to remind the foolish young doctor of this, but he found that the shock of it had left him speechless.
"You don't have to hide," James whispered softly, his fingers lightly tracing the mark on House's neck. "Every mark, every scar is a part of you. They're a part of who you are. Each one is a story, one small chapter in a very long book." Without even thinking about what he was doing, the oncologist leaned down and gently brushed his lips over the scar on the other man's neck. House gasped in a deep breath and held it, staring straight up at the ceiling as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that James Wilson, his best friend for over ten years, was kissing him. Receiving no objection, his friend then moved back to his stomach, pressing his lips down several times in succession onto the slowly healing wound, obtaining another, larger shudder as Greg swallowed roughly. Praying he wasn't completely misinterpreting signals, Wilson moved his right hand back down to stroke House's right thigh. Greg was trembling all over now, attempting to stay in control.
"I love you," James whispered, and for the first time in his life, he knew it was really, honestly, completely true. House choked and hated himself for it. He knew it was stress from the panic attack that was making him so sentimental, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. However, his mental self-berating was cut short by the sensation of James' soft lips connecting with his mangled thigh, and he closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to pull it together. The kiss was long and lingering, as were the several that came after it. House's hands clenched the bed sheets as he lost the battle not to let his stress-induced tears fall. "I love you so much," James whispered in between caresses. "I won't let you go to that place again. I promise. It'll never be like that again." House winced as he felt something cold and wet on his leg and realized that he was not the only one allowing their inner pre-menstrual woman take control. Slowly, James made his way backup to House's stomach, stopping to plant another quick kiss there, and then to his neck, his lips brushing over the distorted flesh there before leaning up to watch his best friend's face once again.
For a long moment, House did nothing, unsure of what to make of whatever it was that had just happened. But the feeling of Wilson's hands on his face, wiping away the tears brought him back to the present. Slowly, House opened his eyes to see Wilson once more, and his heart wrenched when he saw that the young man's face was red and wet with his own tears. Right now would be exactly the time that House would make a rude and inappropriate yet undeniably funny comment and the moment would be ruined. However, to his surprise, he found that he felt no compulsion whatsoever to spoil anything at that time. Instead, he simply reached over and pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed. Wilson, understanding the gesture, kicked of his shoes, socks, and pants before climbing in the bed next to him.
Reaching down, Wilson pulled the covers up to both their waists. House did not object as his oh so much more than friend scooted closer and wrapped one arm around his waist. He did nothing as he felt James lift his head before laying it softly on the diagnostician's stomach. James merely made a small sound of contentment as Greg wrapped one arm around his shoulders and brought the other down to stroke his hair slowly and rhythmically. Neither spoke another word as they drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Neither moved from this position once during the long autumn night.
Exactly twelve hours, thirty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds after House fell in love again, he skated into the conference room, cane in hand this time, sickeningly happy.
YAY! Hope you enjoyed chapter 3! Chapter 4 is coming soon! Thanks to all the few but proud reviewers! Remember, everyone, reviews are what fuels my House/Wilson fire! Just don't flame the fire. That's just mean.