Chapter Nine

Lisa slowly decided to let the matter go. They spent their evenings together after they got home from work, sometimes cuddling on the couch while watching TV, other times just sitting in companionable silence while reading or working. They made love nearly every night, sometimes in the mornings, and they kissed often mornings and evenings. House thought he was doing a good job of making her feel loved, even though it wasn't the same kind of love he felt for Wilson.

And he wasn't acting. When he held her, when he kissed her, when he smiled at her, it was because he was thinking of her and the fact that he loved her.

It was a typical night a couple of weeks after House had told Lisa about Wilson. The couple had been watching TV on the sofa, but during a commercial House happened to turn toward Lisa and got distracted by just staring at her, and when she'd turned to look at him he'd kissed her.

That was ten minutes ago, and now they were both shirtless, though she still had her bra on, and he was leaning over her on the couch, kissing her neck and collarbone while she was working to undo his belt and take off his jeans.

Lisa's cell phone rang.

"Fuck, it's the hospital," she muttered, pushing House's face away from her chest so she could shimmy out from under him and reach for her phone. "Hello?"

House was not to be deterred. They were sitting up now, but he kissed the back of her neck while she listened to the caller, sliding an arm around her to feel one of her breasts through her bra.

"What happened?" At the answer, she sighed frustratedly into the phone. "All right, I'll be there in twenty minutes," she said, and House growled his disapproval.

"Thirty," he muttered at her as she hung up the phone. "We could make this quick."

"Greg, I'm sorry," she said, extracting herself from his grip and heading to the bedroom to change. "A bridge collapsed just a few blocks from the hospital, the ER is flooded and they need me."

"How many people can there be out driving on a bridge at this time of night?" he asked moodily, grabbing his cane and following her.

"I don't know, enough," she said with a sigh, pulling on a set of scrubs. "I'll try to be back before morning, okay? If I'm not, then I'll just see you at work tomorrow. I love you," she added as she pulled on shoes and headed out the door.

"Love you too," he muttered at her on his way into the bathroom.

After he'd taken care of himself, he went back to the living room, put his shirt back on, and turned on the TV.

The news already had coverage of the bridge collapse, and House watched the nighttime reporters talk about the number of people that had been on the bridge as well as possible causes for its collapse.

He didn't even realise he'd dozed off until his cell phone blared Tata Young's "Sexy, Naughty, Bitchy," and it jolted him awake. It was Lisa.

"Hello?" House said groggily, shutting the TV off to hear better.

"Greg," she replied, sounding worried.

"What's the matter?" he asked immediately.

"Greg, Wilson's here," she said. "He was on the bridge."

House felt his internal organs seem to freeze in place. It felt like his heart had stopped beating, his lungs had stopped moving. Time itself froze. No, it couldn't be...

Lisa was saying something about him being stable and going to be okay, but that didn't mean anything to him. Wilson was hurt and House was here and needed to get there, to the hospital, see him, be with him. What if Wilson died and House wasn't there?

No, Wilson wasn't going to die, Cuddy'd said he'd be all right, but House still needed to see for himself, see what had happened...

He didn't remember hanging up the phone. He didn't remember getting up and reaching for his cane, but his feet, without his knowledge, had taken him to Rachel's room and he was picking her up out of her crib. It was the middle of the night, the toddler had absolutely no desire to wake up, and it was very challenging for House to make it to the garage with her in one arm and his cane in the other. However, there was absolutely no time to call for a babysitter, and even if Lisa was friendly enough with some of the neighbours that she could ask them to babysit at midnight, House certainly wasn't.

A few weeks into their relationship, House and Lisa had gotten into an argument because she'd wanted to put an extra car-seat in his car in case of emergencies, and he didn't want to. Now he couldn't even describe how grateful he was that he'd let her win that one. He strapped his girlfriend's daughter in and climbed into the front seat.

House's leg hurt with every step toward the hospital, mostly because he was carrying twenty-five pounds of dead weight, but he couldn't think about the pain because he was too busy thinking about Wilson. He was sure that if he'd stayed on the line Cuddy would have told him the extent of his injuries, but he'd been too impatient to get to the hospital and see for himself. To his relief, he found Lisa in the ER and she hurried over to him to take her sleeping daughter.

"Where is he?" he asked, looking at her but not really seeing her.

"Greg, it's all right, he's going to be just fine," she assured him, adjusting Rachel on her hip before taking House down the hallway.

He didn't answer her. The most important person in his world had been in an accident; nothing was all right until he saw with his own eyes that he was okay.

"His car fell into the water and he wasn't breathing when they found him, but the paramedics performed CPR and he regained consciousness," she filled him in as they walked. "He's got bruising on his chest from the seatbelt and grade one whiplash, but nothing's broken. Really, Greg, compared to some of the other people who came in, he got off pretty easy."

They made it to Wilson's room, where House could see him lying in bed, asleep. He looked fine, like Cuddy was saying, and House felt relief course through his body. He was going to be okay, but...

House didn't go in right away; he stood at the door, staring at Wilson.

He could have died tonight. He could have died and House hadn't even spoken to him in weeks. He could have died and they'd never been lovers, now they weren't even friends. He could have died and the two of them would never have had the chance to have a life together, to hold each other at night, to whisper 'I love you' when no one else could hear, to kiss...Wilson could have died and they'd never kissed.

Wilson didn't die. Wilson almost drowned but he didn't, he was stable, he was only sleeping, and he would wake up and be all right.

They did have a chance to have a life together.

House stared through the glass hospital walls at the man he loved, the man who had come so close to having his life snatched from him, and he knew he could not pass that chance up. He only wished it hadn't taken a near-tragedy for him to open his eyes and realise what he'd been giving up.

He turned, slowly, to look at Cuddy who was still standing next to him, holding Rachel.

She was so beautiful, even with her hair a mess and wearing the scrubs that weren't at all flattering, and his heart ached for her. But not nearly as much as it ached for the man in the hospital bed. He gave the room a quick longing glance before turning back to his girlfriend. Yes, he loved her and he would miss her, but if he could have Wilson...then that didn't matter.

If he could have Wilson, then nothing else mattered.

"Greg, are you okay?" she asked, putting the hand that wasn't holding Rachel on his arm.

House shook his head. "I..." he said. His voice sounded gravelly and he swallowed. "I changed my mind."

Lisa hung her head, looking incredibly saddened but resigned. "Go," she murmured. "Go on in. He..." her voice broke and House wanted to put her arms around her but he didn't. "He asked for you."

House nodded and she turned away, hitching Rachel up on her body and using both arms to hold her as she walked. He pushed open the door and slowly made his way into the room, staring down at the sleeping Wilson with a reverence.

He sat down in the chair by the bed, leaning his cane against the wall and taking Wilson's hand in his left hand, using his right to touch the side of his face, his hair.

The sleeping man slowly opened his eyes, looked over at House, and broke into a small smile.

"Hey," Wilson said softly. "I wasn't sure if you were going to come."

"Jimmy," House breathed, his fingers threading through Wilson's, which he held with both his hands. His eyes gazed into Wilson's, love and sorrow shining through. "Jimmy, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Hey, it's okay," Wilson whispered back, lifting the hand House was holding to his face so he could stroke the older man's cheek. "I'm just glad you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere," House promised, staring into Wilson's impossibly beautiful brown eyes. "Wilson, I swear. I..." his voice started to break and he looked away. "God, I've been such an idiot!"

"It's okay," Wilson repeated, using his thumb to rub circles against House's stubble.

House didn't think there were any more words to describe the regret he felt for not seeing sense sooner, for choosing Cuddy when what he felt for the woman couldn't even begin to compare to the adoration and passion that he felt for his Wilson...So instead of trying to speak, he stole the younger man's hand from the side of his face and quickly kissed his knuckles. "You..." he said, looking back at Wilson. "You still want me? Even after I–"

"–House," Wilson cut him off, and gave him half a second of a semi-stern look before it became one of tenderness. "Listen to me. I will always want you. You're more than just my best friend; you always have been. I can't stay away from you. These last few weeks have been...so hard..."

"I'm sorry," House repeated. He didn't usually tell people he was sorry, but he wasn't usually this regretful of his actions, and he needed Wilson to know. "I...if I could do it over again, Jimmy, I..." He trailed off and brought Wilson's knuckles to his lips again. Wilson traced the older man's mouth with his thumb, and House let him before kissing that as well.

"House, look at me," Wilson requested. He obliged, but when he did Wilson looked away for a second. "Too many times I've put a woman I cared about a fraction as much as you first. We...we're even."

The diagnostician nodded in agreement, closing his eyes and keeping Wilson's hand by the side of his face. The younger man cupped his cheek, and House was not ashamed to lean into the touch. He'd waited for it too long.

"Did you tell Cuddy?" Wilson asked without letting go.

His eyes still closed, House nodded.

"How'd she take it?"

"I told her I loved you a while ago," he admitted. "She's upset, but it didn't really come as a shock to her." House sighed and opened his eyes to look at his friend, now his lover. "I think she's been waiting for it to happen, just trying to keep me as long as she could."

"I don't blame her," Wilson murmured, giving a small smile and a loving look that was almost overwhelming. Then he yawned.

"You should sleep," House suggested, remembering it was almost one in the morning and Wilson had had a physically and mentally exhausting day. "I'll be here when you wake up," he promised, placing a last kiss to the oncologist's fingers.

Wilson closed his eyes and smiled, letting his hand rest beside him on the bed where House still held it in his.

.

The oncologist slept through the rest of the night and most of the morning while House dozed on and off. He stayed in Wilson's room, getting up and walking around every now and again so his leg wouldn't cramp up.

When the younger man did wake, past nine in the morning, they sat and chatted for awhile, with House even going so far as to ask how Wilson was feeling which, Wilson pointed out, was a first.

House looked at the ground with half a smile on his face. "Things are a little different now," he explained softly, playing with Wilson's fingers.

Wilson squeezed his hand. "And it's about damn time, too," he added with a smile.

"Hey, don't blame me," House replied with a smirk. "If you'd responded to any of the advances I've given you over the last year we could have had this sooner."

"'Advances'?" Wilson repeated. "I think I would have noticed you hitting on me."

"Jimmy," the diagnostician said with an eye-roll. "I broke into your neighbour's apartment just so I wouldn't have to leave yours. I drugged you and stole your pants so you wouldn't fuck up your career and I even complimented you in your little essay with you standing right there. When I thought Cuddy invited me to Thanksgiving dinner last year, I told you you should come as my date. I used the word 'date.' A few weeks after that I serenaded you with George Michaels's Faith. Then you decided to be an idiot and donate your liver, and I said to you, 'If you die, I'm alone,' but I came to your surgery anyway and didn't even leave your bedside afterward. I effectively prevented you from starting anything with Nora. I tried to prevent you from starting anything with Sam, and when you two were broken up temporarily the first thing I did was ask you out to dinner. Not to mention all the flirting. Seriously, Wilson, how much clearer can you say, 'I want to get in your pants'?"

Wilson just chuckled, squeezing his hand again. But a few minutes after that they were interrupted by one of Wilson's doctors, who needed to give him a quick examination to make sure he was okay to be discharged. While he was being looked over, House went down to grab some breakfast from the cafeteria. Afterwards, House met his now-boyfriend in his office, where the younger man had changed into the spare clothes he kept there in case of emergencies.

"Hey," Wilson said, seeing him come in and giving him a warm smile that made the diagnostician's heart thump louder and faster to announce its delight with the situation.

"I see they've cleared you," House replied, looking over Wilson's body with interest now that it wasn't torture for him and he didn't have to be subtle about it.

"Yup. My neck still hurts and I don't think I'll be driving over any more bridges for awhile...or swimming...but I'm all right. I was just about to call a cab; do you want to ride to Cuddy's with me or just take your bike?"

House shook his head. "Bike's still at her place, I took my car here last night. She left me home with Rachel and the motorcycle doesn't have room for a car-seat."

Wilson gave a shudder, most likely at the thought of House riding on his motorcycle with Cuddy's daughter strapped to the back, and then smiled at him. "You actually put a car-seat in your car?" he asked, a slight chuckle in his voice.

"It was Lisa's idea, not mine," he defended, smiling back in spite of himself and following Wilson down to the parking lot.

Wilson imitated the sound of a whip cracking and House jabbed him in the shin with his cane. "Hey!" Wilson protested, but he was still smiling so House knew it couldn't have really hurt. Things were starting to return back to normal. Only better.