A/N: Also in this one Thirteen doesn't ask for time off. I like her and I'm keeping her.

7.1—"Establishment"

The Dean of Medicine looked up to see Wilson about to knock on her door and gestured him in without waiting for it. She was surprised he was here already; it was early even for Wilson.

He strode in without a preliminary greeting and announced, "Cuddy, I'm calling in a favor."

She looked at Wilson and repressed a desire to pinch the bridge of her nose. "What do you need?"

"When House comes looking for me, tell him I called in sick...or took a personal day...or something. Tell him I'm not here."

She stared at her head of oncology. Even though it was first thing in the morning, his clothes were slightly rumpled and his hair mussed. It wouldn't even be a noticeable difference for someone like House, but Wilson usually kept so neat that it was slightly unnerving. She looked him over, wondering what could possibly make him so nervous. His eyes begged. "Please don't ask. It's important."

"All right," she agreed slowly, and then added a warning, "But you know you're only buying yourself fifteen minutes at the most."

Wilson grimaced. "Try to be convincing."

Cuddy nodded and went back to her paperwork. Wilson looked left and right before leaving her office. The best way to avoid House would be to go to a place he hated. Wilson headed off for his clinic duty.

[]

"House!"

It was Thirteen. He groaned and walked away, as fast as he could with a cane, but she inevitably caught up anyway.

"New case. Forty-one year old male–"

"–I don't care. Let Foreman handle it. I'm busy." He peeked into Wilson's office, but he wasn't there.

Thirteen gaped at him for a moment before continuing. "He's presenting with signs of–"

"–I said I don't care. I'm busy. Tell Foreman to take care of it." He headed off toward Cuddy's office. Thirteen threw her hands in the air and went back to the diagnostics room.

[]

"Where's Wilson?"

"He called in sick," she answered without looking up.

"He left the condo before I even got up. Besides, it's a hospital. If you're sick, it's all the more reason to come to work."

"House, I didn't ask. He's entitled to a personal day when he needs one."

"So you're in on it, but he didn't tell you what you were in on."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Don't you have a case?"

He inspected her.

She finally looked up. "House, he really isn't here."

"The clinic is too obvious, my office and the diagnostic room have glass doors, and either way it'd be too big a risk of running into me. If he weren't avoiding me, he'd just be in his office, but he's not. He can't be in any of my usual hiding places because he has patients. It'd make more sense to actually take a sick day than to just spend it in the morgue or–"

"–House, I don't know what you did to assume he's hiding from you, but he really–"

"–It must be the clinic. Thanks, Cuddy."

She sighed and shook her head as he left.

[]

Wilson pressed the stethoscope against the patient's back and instructed, "Take a deep breath."

As she breathed in, his pager went off. He glanced at it. 'He knows,' it read. Wilson sighed. "Crap."

"What's the matter?"

"Um, sorry, I've got an emergency with one of my other patients. I'll get another doctor to finish the examination. Sorry." He hurried out of the exam room, told Chase to cover him as he passed, and dodged into one of the empty exam rooms. He leaned his back against the door, panting.

Then his pager went off again. This one was from House. 'I no where u r.' At first, he shook his head because House couldn't know which room he was in, but then he heard House's voice, "Aha!" in the hall and realized how loud the page had been.

Wilson tried to barricade the door with his body with a minute before he realized how ridiculous that was. He stepped away from the door and House practically fell in.

"Well that was stupid," he said. "Now you can't even run away."

Wilson sighed. He was about to ask House what he wanted, but there was no point. He knew exactly what he wanted.

House surveyed him for a moment before speaking. "You can't just throw yourself on me and then freak out and run out the door."

"We don't need to talk about this. Just make a gay joke and then go back to your patient and we can pretend it never happened."

Wilson was avoiding his eye. House looked him up and down. Wilson just stared at the ground.

"So, how long have you been in love with me?"

"House, I'm sorry, all right? I made a mistake. Sam had just dumped me—again—I was upset, I was vulnerable, suddenly you were there–"

"–Why do people only kiss me when they're feeling vulnerable?"

"House, I'm sorry. Believe me. I am so sorry. Can you please just let this go?"

He finally looked up. His eyes caught House's, pleading.

"How long?" House repeated.

Wilson shrugged.

"Mayfield?"

"Before Mayfield."

"My father's funeral?"

"Before that."

"Before Amber?"

Wilson sighed and nodded. "Before Amber."

"So she was a proxy."

"She was a woman that I happened to fall in love with that happened to share some qualities of your personality. It probably would have worked out with her, and maybe that's because she was like you. But I loved her for her."

"But you loved me first."

He shrugged again, looking away.

House sighed, leaning on his cane. "How come you've never said anything?"

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you don't reciprocate?" Wilson suggested.

"I don't not reciprocate."

"What the hell does that mean?"

They looked at each other again. "It's not like I've never thought about it," House pointed out. "We both knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. We've never been just friends."

Wilson's eyes narrowed. "You never talk about this kind of stuff."

"You've never kissed me before."

Wilson's pager beeped again. He glanced at it and sighed. "This one's a real page. I gotta go, House."

For a moment House continued to block the door, but then he sighed and stepped aside. Wilson brushed past him as he left.

[]

His team was sitting in the diagnostic rom. They'd brought out the white board again in his absence.

"Up," he commanded.

"You said–" Foreman started.

"–It's not your case anymore. I'm back. You and Taub, check out his place and his office–"

"–He's spent the last twelve years in a mental institution."

"Do I look like I care? Check for environmental causes, check for secrets, do whatever it is you do. You two, there's been a change of premises. Up."

Chase and Thirteen looked at each other before following House out of the diagnostics room and into Wilson's office.

"What are we doing in here?"

"We're diagnosing a patient. Sit." He gestured at Wilson's couch, seating himself behind the desk while rubbing his thigh.

"Patient history. Go."

[]

Wilson opened the door and stared at the fellows sitting on his couch.

House looked up from Wilson's desk. "Okay, treat for myocardiodystrophy. Go."

Thirteen and Chase got up immediately, looking back at Wilson and House.

They looked at each other.

"You're the one in my office," Wilson decided, gesturing at House. "You can start."

"What do you want me to say?"

"What's on your mind?" Wilson sat down on his couch, surveying House. The oncologist seemed exponentially calmer than he had been before.

House studied him. "What's different? You get to tell an eleven-year-old her cancer's gone?"

Wilson smiled. "A nineteen-year-old. But also I've decided you're not gonna kick me out of the condo."

"Wilson, it's your condo."

"Even so." Wilson smiled at him.

"So what happens now?"

"We can…go back to the way things were and not bring up the...what happened last night."

House surveyed him. "You'll be miserable."

Wilson laughed. "I'm not miserable. I loved our life together, House, just the way it was. You were right about Sam; I'm not gonna try the same things over again and expect a different result. I've been happiest when it's just you and me, the way it's always been. I couldn't ask for anything more."

"But you want more."

Wilson shrugged. "If more was offered, I wouldn't turn it down. But I'm not expecting anything. I didn't plan on kissing you, House. It just happened."

House looked at him. "But I kissed back."

"I know you did, House. But it doesn't need to mean anything."

House stared. "Wilson, do you want me or not?"

Wilson stared at him in silence.

House's pager went off. '911.' "Congratulations, you just bought yourself some time." He got up and hobbled around Wilson's desk. "In case you need help with your decision…" He leaned forward close to Wilson and gently kissed his mouth. They looked at each other for a second before House limped off for his patient. Wilson ran his fingers over his lips.

[]

Wilson stormed into House's office. "What the hell was that about?" he demanded.

"What?" House asked innocently.

"You…that…stop screwing with me, House!"

"What do you want from me, Wilson?"

"I just said, I want you to stop screwing with me."

"I'm not," House insisted, clutching his leg and getting up from his chair. "I'm trying to give you an opportunity to get what you want. Next time think of the consequences before you kiss your best friend."

"That's just point, House," Wilson sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I didn't think. I was upset, and I just saw you–"

"–And you were overcome with a fervent desire to–"

"–House, please stop."

House looked at him. "Why can't you just accept the fact that I'm saying yes?"

"Because it's not a rational decision."

"It's a perfectly rational decision. We've known each other for years, we put up with all kinds of crap from each other–"

"–House–"

House put up a hand. "–And neither of us wants to die alone." He gestured at Wilson with his hand, indicating his turn to speak.

Wilson chuckled humorlessly and ran a hand through his hair again. "That's your reasoning? That's why we should get together? 'Neither of us wants to die alone'?"

"That and the other stuff."

"I can't believe this. House, people don't get together just because they don't want to die alone."

"No, they stay together because they don't want to die alone. They get together for different reasons, but when they can't stand each other anymore, that's why they stay. And we can still stand each other, so we're already ahead of the game."

"House, don't you get it? I don't want you to be with me because you don't want to die alone. I want you to be with me because you care about me."

"You know I do."

"That's not what I mean."

"What, then?" House's eyes pierced him. "Tell me what you mean."

"I want you to be with me because you're in love with me. But you're not," he added quickly. "So…end of story. No more kissing, no more talking about us as a couple. Just…back to before. This…never happened. The kiss never happened."

They looked at each other.

"Fine," House agreed shortly. "The kiss never happened."

"Thank you," Wilson said, bowing his head as he left House's office.

[]

The sun was starting to set when Wilson made his way toward the hospital's exit. He smiled at the nurses as he passed, with a sinking feeling because even if he found one he liked he wouldn't be able to pursue a relationship with her. Unless it was just for sex. Maybe that was what he should do, date women just for sex. Until he inevitably became emotionally attached and wanted to married again. He sighed. Maybe House had the right idea, just using hookers for sex. What other options were available, now...

"Wilson!" House called down the hallway to him, interrupting his thoughts.

Wilson stopped and waited for him, hoping despite his sex dilemma that things could finally just go back to the way they were before and that House wouldn't bring up the stupid mistake of a kiss. Either of them. But when he looked at his friend, he felt a different sinking feeling in his stomach. This wasn't over.

House approached him. "Don't think you're getting off the hook that easily."

"House, you said–"

"–I lied."

House's eyes studied him. Wilson didn't know what he wanted.

Finally House spoke again. "Why don't you ever just let yourself be happy?"

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked defensively. "I try hard to be happy, House–"

"–No, you don't," the older man cut in. "You're an oncologist, first of all, you spend your days telling children they're going to die, and then nights you don't want to be alone so you find some woman you know will eventually hurt you. You constantly accuse me of pushing people away but you're the one that kicked your only friend to the curb, lucky for you I forgave your stupidity. And then when you finally reveal to said friend you want a relationship with him and he agrees, you freak out and run off. What are you afraid of?"

House's eyes had not left his during this entire time, and Wilson didn't know how to respond. Eventually he decided to point out the tiny hole in House's argument. "I never said I wanted a relationship, House."

"Actions speak louder than words, Jimmy," House retorted instantly.

Wilson just looked at him for a moment, not responding, not knowing what would happen now or what he was supposed to do. Not knowing what he wanted.

After an eternity House stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He hooked his cane over his elbow so he could put his hands on Wilson's waist, and for some reason Wilson let him. He closed his eyes and felt House's lips not just brush his but press against them and coax them open. House's tongue slipped around his mouth and his hand tightened around his waist. Wilson just stood there, letting House kiss him. He slid his tongue around House's a bit but other than that didn't kiss back. He kept his eyes closed and breathed through his nose, trying to get comfortable with this new unusual amount of closeness. And he waited for it to be over so he could try and read House's face, figure out what he wanted.

When House finally pulled away, Wilson heard his words echo in his head. "Actions speak louder than words, Jimmy."

Wilson looked at House, whose expression was neutral, waiting for Wilson's reaction before he responded with one of his own. Wilson ran a hand through his hair and then allowed himself to smile. "So, how long have you been in love with me?"

House wasn't looking at him. He was looking over his shoulder. Wilson looked back too, and became aware of all the other doctors and nurses and orderlies staring. Even everyone on the mezzanine level had stopped in their tracks to gape at their kiss.

"Don't you all have medicine to practice?" House shouted with just a hint of a smile on his face.

Slowly, somewhat guiltily, they started moving again. Orderlies pushed patients in their wheelchairs, nurses went to check on patients, doctors resumed their discussions. House caught Wilson's eye for the briefest of seconds before looking away again. Wilson remained silent. He could wait.

It was another minute before House finally answered, but he did. "A long time."

Wilson was taken aback. "I wasn't expecting an honest answer," he said without thinking.

House half-shrugged, almost smiling. "It was time."

Wilson nodded, subconsciously running a hand through his hair again. "Are you going to ride home with me?"

"I can come back for my bike later."

Wilson waited for House to fall into step next to him, on his right, and then slowly reached over and took his hand.

House jerked away, rolling his eyes at Wilson. "It doesn't mean you need to be a girl about it." This time he smiled, though, and this time it reached his eyes.