Wilson awoke that morning from the scent of something rancid filling his nostrils and a deep weighted pressure in the centre of his chest, what the hell? As panic and potential causes and diagnoses ran through his head as cause for this. Upon opening his eyes however, he looked down and saw House's head pressed over his heart… with his mouth slightly open and mouth breathing heavily directly inline with Wilson's nostrils as he slowly was rousing from sleep. Wilson let out a heavy sigh, lifting his free arm that wasn't currently being squashed, and ran his fingers gently through House's hair.

This is pretty much how I imagined it Wilson thought fondly, gently tousling House's curls, which was slowly awaking House from his slumber, "huh?" House mumbled sleepily and proceeding to yawn exaggeratedly. Except for that, Wilson thought as the stench of clearly unbrushed teeth and rotting alcohol from the night before refilled his nostrils. Nope, nope, nope; he shoved House off him with a gasp as House sat up leaning his weight through his arms; "what?"

Resisting the urge to pinch his nose, Wilson just pointed to the door, growling; "I can't believe I have to say this to another adult. Go, brush your teeth. Now,"

A wickedly cheeky grin crossed House's face and Wilson could see the flash of cunning in his eyes before he muted it; only managing to get out a single crying word of "no," and flailing one arm in rough direction of the bedroom door before House body slammed Wilson, winding him in the process, and proceeding to crawl and claw his way up Wilson's chest; barraging his face in a flurry of light and then deepening kisses; huffing as he did so in order to douse Wilson in his morning, boozed up breath. Wilson tossed his head from side to side to avoid being again drenched in his wretched stench, God, it's seeping out from his pores. He's just sweating rotten alcohol! But internally, Wilson couldn't help but smile; he had been certain that for a long time, deep under House's cruel words and walls of defences- stood a man who was actually very lovey-dovey and romantic, and this single gesture proved so. Stacy had made suggestions and points of reference at it before in short, private conversations with Wilson; most of them being after the infarction. How House had been before, earlier in their relationship. He'd still been, well House before; but he'd been less of a caricature of his current self. He was more fun loving, outgoing, open to new ideas, and spontaneous without being reckless, which is how he usually bordered on nowadays. He'd been like this.

Wilson wondered if this was a new sign of recovery in House, that he had miraculously turned a corner overnight and was now this entirely new man, or if he was still the same old House as he was before. He knew the most likely answer was that this was simply an opportunistic attempt at grossing him out, and unlikely to be anything else; but still, Wilson decided to relish in this experience.

After a couple of minutes of playing around, Wilson allowed House to win at his little game and relinquished an open mouth kiss to his new boyfriend, who passionately lapped it up. Hearing the deep, possessive, excited growl rumbling from House's throat as he lightly clawed Wilson's neck and chest, slowly pulling himself on top. Clearly House wanted a more intense make out session than what Wilson originally had in mind, but his mind kept flashing back to the thoughts of last night; how scared and even downright terrified House had been.

Is he doing this, now, just to appease me? The thought continued thundering through Wilson's mind as he half-heartedly returned House's advances, but with his mind clearly elsewhere as he did so, is he only doing this in order, so I don't leave? Surely not considering that I was the one who suggested and put forward the idea of a relationship in the first place, but still. It does match up pretty perfectly with his behaviour right now.

"House," Wilson muttered with a hint of laughter as a gentle kiss and nuzzle fell on a ticklish spot on his jawbone below his ear, followed up by a more forceful and non-laughing "Greg!" which certainly caught House's attention and he stopped immediately.

"Alright, alright, I get it," House muttered, standing up, grabbing his cane and going to head for the door. Wilson let him go, just in order to get him gone and cleaned up. Considering that he might as well get up by now, he staggered out, grabbing some of House's spare clothes, pausing slightly at the underwear drawer, do I want to borrow his underwear? I don't know if I would ever borrow my partner's underwear anyway, and we haven't even had sex yet. His thoughts immediately went to a vision of himself standing awkwardly in an extra tight pair of flirtatious, flouncy, bright pink underwear; maybe Greg would enjoy that, he thought with a smirk and laugh to himself, or he'd just laugh hysterically at my stupid self….

"Didn't know we'd gotten to the 'raiding and stealing each other's underwear' stage of the relationship yet," to which Wilson jumped in surprise to turn around and see House standing in the doorway, drying his hair with a towel until it was still half wet, just not dripping, and spiky; before throwing the towel at Wilson; "you're up," he said, turning around and heading out to the kitchen.

"Do you have a-" Wilson started.

"Nope!"

"You don't know what I was about to ask!" Wilson cried out.

"No hair drier, no hair straightener, no hair food, no hair anything except a 3 in 1 shampoo and a brush!" came the causally shouted reply.

"Really?" Wilson muttered, staring down at the half damp towel in his hands with some mild disgust.

"Really, really! You'd think that the fact that we're two men sharing a bed and soon to be using each other's assholes in-lieu of a woman's vagina," Wilson pulled a grimaced face with his tongue poking ever so slightly out from behind his teeth at the graphic and unnecessary statement of their relationship, "would state to the world that we're gay enough, but apparently not!" the mumbled noise of the television filled the apartment- stating that the conversation was over.

"No wonder you're balding," Wilson muttered.

"What!"

"Nothing," he grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom.

"Good afternoon, princess," House grinned from the couch as Wilson walked in, "how was your wakeup routine?"

"I woke up to a handsome man asleep on my chest who showered me in kisses, so it didn't start out too bad," Wilson answered cheekily, "unfortunately this same man doesn't share my bathroom habits,"

"Sounds like my type," House grinned back, "you'll have to introduce me,"

"Hahaha, and you said 'afternoon'?" concern filling Wilson's voice.

"That's right,"

"What time is it?" panic rising and a sickly feeling filling Wilson's stomach.

"About 2:30, 3:00ish. Want some coco puffs?" House thrust the box towards Wilson that he'd been digging around in and eating the dry cereal while watching music videos on MTV; My God, it's like dating a ten-year-old.

"Do you think those are real? If they are, there is absolutely a God," House pointed to the screen where a young woman's voluptuous, bouncing, giant breasts filled the screen, to which Wilson just knocked him on the back of the head, "hey!" followed by a whimper and silently rubbing the base of his head, "bisexual, remember? There's no reason why I can't appreciate the female form while still worshipping you as my lover!"

"Not while you're with me, you can't," Wilson muttered, snatching the box of coco puffs from House's grasp and stomping into the kitchen to stash the box away on a bottom shelf that he knew House couldn't easily access, and feeling jealousy rising inside himself as the song with the bouncing woman continued to fill the air before Wilson felt something inside him snap, "I said to turn that off!" to which he heard a hurried grasping for the remote and the channel changing, and felt a little rush of exhilaration; he's actually listening to me! I could get used to this.

Monday came around all too quickly, and Wilson had spent most of Sunday moving his few belongings that weren't already at House's home into his apartment. House hadn't seemed particularly excited with the idea, raising concerns at Wilson being 'pushy' and 'rushing things' but considering that in Wilson's mind it had already been since Friday and he was yet to experience more of House than a mere kiss, it was absolutely the right time to start moving his things into the apartment. It had resulted in a small fight with House refusing to be helpful in any way; but Wilson had quickly ended that argument; and House had begrudgingly begun to help once Wilson had brought up that there was no need to continue paying rent on a room while he was staying here, and there was no need for them to be apart now that they were together. They'd agreed to keep their relationship under wraps for now. Wilson's hair dryer now had permanent prime real estate on the bathroom sink.

Wilson was sat behind his desk when his office door creaked open; "House, I said 'no'" he muttered believing it to be his boyfriend returning to argue his point further on a pointless, and sort of fun, disagreement they'd had earlier that morning over breakfast, not looking up from his stack of papers on the desk.

An awkward throat clearing that was certainly not House made Wilson glance up to see one of House's fellows; Foreman, standing awkwardly in the doorway, "do you have a moment, Dr Wilson?" he queried, the fact that he glanced outside both ways suspiciously told Wilson that House both didn't know he was here, and probably didn't want him to be here. Wilson nodded towards the chair opposite his desk and Foreman hurried in.

"If you're worried about House finding out you're here- that" pointing to the glass door leading out to the balcony, "is actually where he usually comes in,"

"He comes in through the back door?" Foreman frowned.

Wilson had to glance down at his papers and bite down on his knuckle to stop himself from laughing at Foreman's awkward, but unintentionally hilarious question, keep it together, James, you're keeping this under wraps, remember?

He simply nodded while continuing to busy himself; "Wilson, I need to talk to you and ask you something serious," Foreman stated, "about something concerning,"

"Of course, you can talk to me," Wilson looked up, giving his full, undivided attention onto Foreman.

"I need to ask you a question," Foreman started, in a slightly conspiracist tone.

"I'm all ears, what's it about?" Wilson asked.

"It's about House,"

"Well, sorry, then no, I can't help you," Wilson shut him off and grabbed his pen in his left hand and began to restart filling out his paperwork.

"Dr. Wilson, this is serious," Foreman took on an almost pleading note to his tone, even placing his hand over Wilson's wrist, halting it.

Wilson froze and narrowed his eyes down at Foreman's hand, but he didn't remove it; instead, he just met Wilson's eyes. Swallowing down the lump of frustration in his throat, Wilson cleared it and gave Foreman a plastered-on smile that he hoped did not convey his irritation; while Foreman wasn't his fellow, he was still a subordinate of Wilson's, and this was certainly not the first time that Foreman had pushed his luck and his boundaries with Wilson. "Sure, what is it?"

"You promise you won't tell House?" Foreman asked flatly.

"I'm not promising you anything, Foreman. If confidentiality for what is surely gossip is what you're after, about House- I'm not the person to come to. I don't participate in the constant gossip train that runs about this hospital about my best friend," Wilson growled, trying to pull his wrist away; which Foreman just grasped tighter, leaving Wilson with the almost uncontrollable urge to slap Foreman silly. How dare he? I am his SUPERIOR! He can't behave like this to me!

"Wilson, this is serious," Foreman hissed to which Wilson just sighed shakily, rolling his shoulders back to roll off some of the anger and fury he felt and nodded, feeling too much frustration, rage, and annoyance at the insubordination and downright rudeness that Foreman was showing to speak while trusting himself to not speak too much.

"Ok, good. Umm, this is a little awkward, but was House… abused? As in, as a child?" Foreman stage whispered.

Wilson leant back, blinking a few times. He knew that House had not had the ideal childhood growing up, but this was a repeat of the same thought he'd had in bed just a few nights ago, when House had had that panic attack when Wilson had wanted to go further.

"I don't know, Foreman, I'm sure if House wants you to know, he would have said something- one way or the other," Wilson responded noncommittedly.

"Oh, come on, Wilson! You know the man better than anyone else in this hospital, you know he wouldn't tell anyone anything even when he needs to! He has the emotional maturity of a child!"

Wilson felt himself prickling up again at Foreman's words, but let it slide; "what makes you think that he was abused? Abused how?"

"It was a comment he made this morning. Cameron asked why House is always apparently seeing cases of sexual abuse in children before anyone else sees it; and House responded with," Foreman raised his fingers in air quotes; "'I had a funny uncle, and my dad was a bit weird too'. But when Cameron followed it up asking if he was abused in this way; he just changed the subject. I thought if anyone would know what was going on, or know about House's past; it'd be you," Foreman looked deeply into Wilson's eyes; he had the same look that House gets; that dogged, 'must get the answer at all costs', hyper focused stare.

Wilson sighed, shaking slightly, but shaking himself into a shiver to throw Foreman off that he was so spooked by what he'd just asked. "I don't know Foreman. It's nothing that House has told me; and even if it was, I wouldn't tell you anyway,"

Foreman nodded curtly; "yeah, I figured as much. Well, thanks for your time, Dr. Wilson," he released Foreman's wrist and headed for the door.

"Oh, and Foreman; you need to just drop the subject and leave it alone. It's not any of yours or anyone else's business. You need to respect House's privacy and not talk to anyone else about this, and tell Cameron and Chase not to either,"

Foreman smirked, "yeah, I figured you'd say all that too,"