Archive of Our Own

Wilson’s fingers wrapped around the pill bottle, gently tugging it from House’s defeated hand. House was sitting against the wall in his apartment, wondering how Wilson had known he was there. He hadn’t told anyone he was leaving early, not even Cuddy. It was difficult to hide from Wilson for too long though, he always knew where to look. What a pain.

"House." Wilson looked at him, the empty pill bottle in his hand.
"Look, could you save me the pity and the lecture? My leg is killing me."
He should have figured it out. He could have saved that patient. The last piece of the puzzle had eluded him, eluded them all. But House was supposed to catch what others did not. That’s what set him apart from everyone else. It was his gift. He had done the autopsy himself. No more doubts about the diagnosis. But what had really killed her was his inability to find the answer.
Wilson glared at him. Good, House thought. Yelling would be faster than trying to get him to talk about his feelings.

"Do you think I want to hunt you down every time something goes wrong to make sure you haven’t choked on your own vomit?” Wilson yelled, throwing the pill bottle across the room.

House sighed, praying the drugs would work faster. He needed this to end. 

“Well, you haven’t missed a day yet! I think you get off on thinking that you’re needed. Why else would you hold the hands of dying children for a living?"
House had crossed a line, which was entirely the point. Wilson was furious now, one hand pointing at him and the other balled in a fist.
"Don’t you- don’t you act like you don’t need me. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the only idiot who willingly puts up with you! But that’s gonna stop the next time you decide to take this many pills!"
"Oh, really.” House cocked his head sarcastically.

 “I could have the whole pharmacy in my apartment and you still wouldn’t leave. I’m not another wife you can just divorce when things get too complicated.”

That was it. Wilson grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him off the ground, with no regard for House’s leg in the process, making it so they were face to face.
"Don’t do this House." Wilson spat. "Stop deflecting. You know I’m right, you’re screwed up and something has to change."
He paused, the grip on House’s shirt tightening. House could only stare, wide eyed, at his best friend.
"Don’t even pretend that you don’t need me, House! And don’t test me into walking away, because I know you’re terrified that someday, I actually will!”
Wilson’s face was flushed red with anger. He scanned House’s face for any sort of reaction.
He could blame it on the drugs. Or the drinks he’d had before them. There were plenty of ways to rationalize it, House told himself. To rationalize wanting to kiss Wilson. He could do it right now. Wilson’s face, flooded with anger, was only inches away. He knew Wilson was right of course. About everything. House was screwed up, he did need to change and he was scared. The last thing he wanted was for the only person that cared about him to leave. House knew that somewhere in the back of his mind, where logic and rational thought didn’t apply, he wanted Wilson closer. Closer than he should. But he couldn’t ruin everything. He looked into Wilson’s eyes as they searched him for a sign that he was even listening. In the past 20 years of their friendship, House could not remember the last time he had made Wilson this angry. It seemed he had ruined enough already. Why not push it all the way?
House steadied himself, standing against the wall. Wilson’s hand was still on his collar. He glanced down at it before looking his enraged friend in the eye. He put his hand over Wilson’s and lowered it slowly from his collar to Wilson’s side. But, much to Wilson’s surprise, he did not let go. House held onto Wilson’s wrist, shaking slightly. Wilson eyed him uncertainly. "Hou- ?"
House couldn’t let him finish his sentence, could not give himself the chance to remember why this was such a horrible idea.
"You’re right." He whispered.
House leaned down and kissed him. Briefly. Softly. Wilson’s eyes flew open and he staggered backwards, his arms raised as though someone had pointed a gun at him.
"I-I, " Wilson’s words were not forming.
House only stared at the ground, massaging his leg. It’s over now, he thought, heart racing. Now he’ll definitely leave. Wilson took half a step backwards, unsure of whether to bolt out of the apartment or to check on House’s mental stability. House smiled at this. He’d never seen Wilson so flustered before.
"I-if this is some kind of game. Some kind of strategy so that I’ll stop being mad.” Wilson stammered.

Interesting. He’d said “if”. As though there was another option. A more favorable one. House continued to look at the ground until Wilson gave up waiting for an answer. He turned around swiftly, fists clenching and unclenching as he headed for the door. House put one foot forward, the beginning of an attempt to go after him, but stopped. After all, it was over. His heart clenched. Over? Dammit, what had he done?
"Wilson." House said plainly.
No pleading, just a statement. A statement that he was real, that what had just happened was real. The room lurched back and forth and House felt seasick. Wilson froze on his way to the door. His stomach was tight, his face was hot and he swore he might throw up. His heart pounded and he felt overwhelmed with-what? Anger? Fear? There was something else too. Something he had stowed away so deep there had never been an instance of it reaching the surface. Until now.
"Dammit, House." Wilson swore as he turned around and marched back into the room.
He grabbed the sides of House’s face and he kissed him deeply. They broke away momentarily and stared at each other over the impossibility of what was currently happening. Then ,Wilson’s arms came up to clutch House’s shoulders, and House wrapped his around Wilson’s back, pulling him closer.
Wilson stopped and whispered with the most anger he could muster. "You’re such an ass."
House responded by kissing his neck, causing Wilson’s breath to hitch. He looked at House, taking in the reality of the moment. Then, seeing him closer, remembered just how many pills House had taken. He stepped away as House moved in for another kiss.
House stared at him, confused. "Don’t worry, I’ll say no homo when we’re done and you’ll have a clean slate."
"You’re stoned, House." Wilson took another step back, but his hand remained on House’s cheek. "You’re stoned and I…" He shook his head.
House’s face fell. Why couldn’t they have evaded logic for a bit longer? Wilson looked at him with a torn and slightly fearful expression.

"I’ll see you tomorrow." He said, voice shaky.
House continued to look at the door long after it shut behind Wilson. Then he limped to the kitchen and poured himself some whiskey, taking a long swig. Just like that, he had changed everything.

-------

It had been almost a week and Wilson still wasn’t speaking to him. Well, he was speaking to him, but strictly in a professional manner and only when absolutely necessary. He had even referred to him as “Doctor House”. As if formality would erase the fact that he had kissed his best friend.

“Is there something particularly interesting on the curtains that we should all be looking at, or do you want to get back to discussing the patient?” Thirteen’s sarcasm jerked House out of his thoughts.

“Well, I can tell you what she doesn’t have. Unless the patient transformed into a middle-aged woman overnight, Taub’s theory is just embarrassing.”

The differential ended and House’s team split off in different directions, leaving him in temporary peace. Half an hour later, Thirteen walked into his office, interrupting his DS game.

“I got the test results from Wilson. He says it’s not cancer. And that he’s known since this morning. Why didn’t you ask him earlier? We could’ve ruled out cancer during the differential and saved time.”

Damn. House shut off his DS. “Why would I do that when I could send one of my lackeys to ask for me?”

“Whatever you did to piss off Wilson, fix it, so we can stop endangering a patient’s life .”

She gave House a pointed, angry look before marching out of his office. He knew Thirteen was smart enough to pick up on the fact that Wilson was ignoring him, but disinterested enough to not care why. Still, she was right. He was distracted, unable to completely focus on the case without his thoughts making their way back to Wilson. It seemed impossible that Wilson could go on forever without talking about it. Even so, he worried that this time he’d finally pushed their friendship to the breaking point.

Twisting a rubber band with his hands, House contemplated what he should do. With a long sigh he picked up his cell phone and dialed a familiar number. He had a plan. Certainly not his best plan, but House was growing desperate.

-------

That night House and Wilson entered the lobby at the same time to leave work. Wilson refused to look in House’s direction, even as they pushed the glass doors open at the same time. As they walked off in opposite directions, House felt his heart drop to his stomach. He tried to calculate the odds of ever being able to fix this. It seemed slim at best. This plan had to give him something. It needed to.

-------

Wilson, though guilty on several counts of infidelity, had never paid for sex. It had always struck him as morally questionable, not to mention dangerous. So when he entered the sleaziest strip club he could find, Wilson only expected to watch the strippers. He had tried distraction upon distraction all day. Ignoring House all week had done nothing to get him off his mind. Wilson started his Saturday morning by turning on the Spanish soap channel, which worked fine until Rafael leaned in to kiss Maria and the feeling of House’s lips on his had flashed uninvited through his mind. He’d tried rereading his favorite novel, until the protagonist tenderly touched her lover’s cheek, and then he was remembering House’s stubble under his palm and slamming the book in frustration. It was impossible to ignore that warm feeling underneath the undying anxiety he felt each time he remembered.

He spent the rest of the afternoon driving around aimlessly, hoping he’d have a House-like epiphany on what to do. Regrettably, none came, and he ended up back at his apartment, restlessly trying to distract himself with paperwork. Wilson rubbed his eyes until he saw spots and sighed. After changing, he grabbed his keys and went out the door. Clearly thinking wasn’t the solution. Maybe he needed to do the opposite.

-------

One desperate phone call and 12 hours later, House found himself parked across the street from Wilson’s apartment in an ice cream truck with the world’s most annoying private investigator. The already laughable disguise was made worse by the fact that it was mid-November.

“You know, since he managed to get over you killing his girlfriend, I never thought I’d have to spy on Wilson again.” Lucas said as he sucked on a red popsicle. “What’d you do to screw up your friendship worse than that ?”

“I did not kill his girlfriend. And how about instead of trying to analyze me, you actually do your damn job.” House motioned at the binoculars Lucas hadn’t touched.

“Well, analyzing you is part of my job. That way I know what to look for, and what’s irrelevant. And for you to call me , especially after I flirted with Lisa Cuddy, it’s gotta be something bad.”

House merely rolled his eyes. It was impossible to stop Lucas once he began his line of questioning. He was relentless and worse, actually good at what he did. It was hilarious to watch his team be subjected to but incredibly annoying to experience personally.

House opened the box in front of him and pulled out a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle ice cream bar, taking off the wrapper to reveal a deformed turtle head with melting gumballs for eyes. House took a bite and tried to ignore Lucas.

“You’re not gonna give me any clues? Ok. Here are some main reasons why friends fight: borrowing money- clearly if that was an issue Wilson would’ve been outta the picture a while ago, stealing a girlfriend- again, can’t be that since you’re both alone, jealousy- doubtful since you make similar salaries, and you’re a miserable drug addict.”

“Never one to mince words, are you.” House said, trying to cut off Lucas’s prying.

“Which leaves you saying something insensitive, but that would just blow over, no need to call me in. Friendships can become complicated by romantic feelings or actions, but this is also unlikely, since neither of you have shown interest in men. Although, my information on Wilson on dates back about twenty years, so I guess it’s possible- ”

“Of course it’s not, ask any of his wives or mistresses. Are these useless explanations the best you can come up with? Maybe I should’ve hired a new PI, one with better insight. And disguises.” House watched as a car drove past them and slowed, the driver staring at the obviously out of place ice cream truck.

He’d tried his best to seem sincere but House could feel his cheeks burning from Lucas’s suggestion. Lucas was good but House doubted he would notice. It was a highly unlikely explanation after all. A moment of silence stretched on while Lucas stared at him, which was definitely a bad sign. House watched as a car pulled up and Wilson got out of it, unlocking his door.

“You know, ordinarily I would expect a sarcastic remark about how you and Wilson are totally doing it. But that seemed more . . .like a deflection?”

House refused to make eye contact. The last thing he needed was Lucas’s opinion on any of this.

“He’s finally home, can we focus on actual spying now!” House gestured toward the window in a last ditch attempt to make Lucas stop investigating him. But he knew it was already too late.

Lucas looked at him wide-eyed. “Woah. Woah.”

Shit. House took a deep breath and licked his lips, unintentionally remembering how soft Wilson’s were. He continued to look at anything other than Lucas.

“The why doesn’t matter. I need to know what he’s up to. Do you want to get paid your ridiculous fee or not?”

“Wow! You hooked up with your best friend. That’s risky and unexpected, even for you! Was he drunk? Were you drunk? Oh man.” Lucas giggled and House had a sudden urge to strangle him. 

“And yes, seeing as you still owe me from last time, I would like to get paid.” Lucas added.

Before House could retort, Lucas started looking through the binoculars. 

“He just got changed, and now he’s about to leave. Dinner plans, maybe?”

“There was nothing on his schedule.” House spoke finally. 

“How fast does this thing go?”

Lucas blinked. “You can’t be serious. You want me to tail Wilson in an ice cream truck?”

House said nothing, only glared. A few minutes later, they were on the road a couple of cars behind Wilson. The sun was starting to set and puddles from an earlier storm reflected the glowing sky. House estimated that Lucas had not stopped talking for longer than six seconds, and he was starting to  seriously consider swerving into oncoming traffic.

“So, seriously, was it like an awkward, drunken mistake? I didn’t even know you were interested in men. I mean it’s cool, I had a friend go through a similar situation.”

“You did?” House asked skeptically.

“No, but I was hoping if I made myself seem more relatable you’d give me some details and I’d understand why we’re in this ice cream truck still. This is gonna cost you extra, by the way.”

“I’ll put it on Wilson’s tab. It’s his fault I had to hire you in the first place. If he would stop being such a baby about this I wouldn’t need you.”

“So do you like him then? Like him, I mean.”

“Did I miss the part where we went back in time to the seventh grade? He’s my friend. I don’t want to ruin that.” House grew quiet.

“Okay, are you interested in him? There’s only a few reasons why friends make a pass at their friend. Actually-”

“Would you cut it out with your ridiculous lists! I’m trying to tail someone!” House yelled as he took a sharp left turn.

Lucas shrugged. “The fact that we’re even doing this right now answers most of my questions anyways. It’s obviously your biggest fear.”

“What is?” He asked, simultaneously wanting and not wanting to hear the answer.

“Losing him.”

-------

Five drinks later Wilson sat, mouth gaping, as a stripper with curly brown hair gave him a lap dance. He felt a dizzying amount of lust as her breasts neared his face. Her fingers barely grazed his wrist.

“Nice watch.” She paused for a moment, before whispering in his ear. “I like you. Wanna take this upstairs?”

All Wilson could do was nod dumbly against any greater moral reservations he’d had before walking into the strip club. He wanted this. She led him up the stairs and he watched her hips sway in front of him. As she closed the door behind them he felt an unmistakable pit form in his stomach. The all too familiar feeling of doing something regrettable, of hitting a new low. He recognized the feeling for what it was and put it aside, unwilling to turn back now. He wasn’t new to illicit sexual behavior. He had enough failed marriages as evidence. But as her lips met his, even his drunken mind knew it felt off. Her mouth opened too wide, he was leaning down when he should have been tilting his face up. It wasn’t what he had hoped for. Despite this cutting realization, Wilson continued, kissing down from her neck to her stomach, the music from below pulsating through his numb mind.

-------

House walked into the dingy club, greeted by loud, thumping music. It was the sort of place he would frequent himself, but knew Wilson would view with scorn. He scanned the familiar scene; deadbeat, middle-aged men with booze on their breath and cash in their hands, hungrily watching sleepless women. As he looked around the depressing scene, House locked eyes with a tall, stern looking man, who continued to watch House after he looked away. Sweeping the room again, House spotted Wilson who was following one of the strippers toward the back of the club. He stepped forward, ignoring the urge to yell Wilson’s name, when a hand reached out and stopped him.

“Where do you think you’re going? Yeah, I remember you. Thought I told you to stay the hell outta here?”

House sighed in frustration, unable to remember when he had been here or what he had done to be kicked out, and tried to step past the man.

“No I’m not- I’m here to get my friend!”

“Like hell you are! Hey!”

House continued to protest as a security guard began to escort him out.

“Watch the leg! Cripple here!” House waved his cane as the security guard pushed him out the door.

House grimaced in defeat, looking around the parking lot for the absent ice cream truck.

“Dammit.” He swore, flipping open his phone to call for a cab.

The thought of Wilson and the stripper made his jaw clench. That idiot. He thought. As if sleeping with the first woman he could find would undo anything. The cab pulled up and he climbed in, feeling defeated.

He unscrewed his bottle of Vicodin and swallowed several pills as he stared out the cab window into the dreary night.

“Weather’s been shit all week.” The cabbie said, to which House offered no response.

-------

The next day House cornered Wilson in the parking lot, racing in front of him on his motorcycle before Wilson could reach his car.

“What the hell House! You could’ve hit me!”

House removed his helmet and stepped off his bike. 

“Nice of you to acknowledge me, Doctor Wilson.”

“House, please. I’ve had a long day and I just want to go home.”

“Long day or long night? Still basking in the afterglow, Jimmy?

Wilson’s face flushed. “What are you talking about?”

“Could you have chosen a more cliché way to deal with your sexuality crisis?”

Wilson’s heart began to race. How could House have known? And why would he bring it up so blatantly while they were still at work?

“House, I don’t want to do this right now.” He said nervously.

“That’s surprising! The queen of talking about everything doesn’t want to talk about sleeping with a stripper!” House said sarcastically. 

“I need to know if we’re okay.” House gripped his cane and stared at the ground, the edge to his tone gone.

Wilson put his hands on his hips and shouted. 

“Who I sleep with is none of your business! And I don’t need you digging into my personal life because you’re jealous.”

House felt his cheeks burn and his hand tighten around his cane as he recalled what he’d seen at the strip club. Wilson’s arm around the brunette’s waist as they walked to the back of the club, her whispering in his ear before leading him upstairs. He could feel a wave of unwelcome jealousy wash through him and he despised himself for being so obvious.

“Jealousy?” He deflected, “Don’t pretend this is a one-sided deal. If I remember correctly, you’re the one who waltzed back into my apartment and- ”

“House! Shut up!” Wilson glanced around, hushing him.

House leaned both of his hands on his cane and looked directly at Wilson, forcing him to confront what he had been avoiding all week.

“I was under the influence. What’s your excuse?”

Wilson hesitated, looking for a way out when there wasn’t one. Like it or not, they were having this conversation.

“That you’re a manipulative son of a bitch.”

“Oh what, I manipulated your lips to my face?” Wilson flinched at the word lips, but House continued. 

“Grow up Wilson. I didn’t make you do anything- especially not something you didn’t want to do.”

The confidence in his accusation was false. House felt it was far more likely that what he’d really done was cause his best friend to hate him. He had no idea how Wilson felt about him and it was terrifying.

Wilson squirmed under his gaze, but said nothing. House suddenly seemed too close, and the parking garage too small. After a stretch of charged silence, House picked up his helmet and got back on his motorcycle.

“Get on.”

“What? No.” Wilson looked bewildered.

“Get on.” House repeated more firmly.

“Why?” Wilson hesitated.

“Because you’re buying me dinner. I spent an absurd amount of money spying on you.”

Wilson opened his mouth to answer but said nothing. Going with House would be surrendering, admitting that everything he’d said was right. But not going would signify that their friendship was beyond repair. Maybe if he rode away with House that would be the end of it. They could leave it all behind, a mutual agreement of silence over what had taken place. Surely their friendship was more valuable than this bizarre mistake?

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The idea of being that physically close to his friend was as uncomfortable as it was enticing. The feelings he’d kept long buried had gone into overdrive since the incident at House’s apartment. Pretending nothing had ever happened would be hard, but it was worth it to salvage their friendship.

House was still looking at him, expectantly, almost fearfully before his eyes flickered to the ground

“Just dinner?” Wilson asked cautiously.

“Just dinner.” House agreed.

“I’m absolutely going to regret this.” Wilson said, sighing deeply as he sat down behind House, who could barely contain his smirk of success.

Wilson placed his hands lightly on House’s shoulders, already feeling a knot of nervousness form in his stomach. House rolled his eyes and grabbed his hands, wrapping Wilson’s arms around his torso. Better, House thought. Wilson blushed, thankful that House couldn’t see his face. They sped away with a loud roar and Wilson prayed House wasn’t going to kill them both.

Nervousness melted away as Wilson allowed himself to enjoy the ride and his closeness to House. It was probably the longest they had ever been that close and Wilson typically liked to savor these moments. He was deeply aware of how pathetic it was, but as they raced through town, sun breaking through  the clouds as the stormy weather finally came to an end, it didn’t seem to matter. Especially since the tension Wilson had thought was one-sided, House had essentially admitted to feeling too. Whatever this was between them, it was real. Yes, they were going to ignore it, but it was still comforting to know he wasn’t going crazy. That House was affected as well. That House might actually be human.

-------

Dinner was going smoothly, considering the circumstances. House had opted for a Chinese buffet and Wilson had readily agreed. They gossiped over their second plate of dumplings, disagreeing over whether or not the new nurse in radiology had gotten a boob job.

“Believe me, I’ve slept with enough hookers to know. Definitely fake.”

“Oh no, c’mon! It is possible for a woman to naturally grow into having such
large . . .breasts!”

House chuckled and reached for another dumpling. “Really? Is that what Bonnie told you?”

Wilson stammered, unable to come up with a retort quick enough, while House just laughed. Once their plates were empty, House asked a waitress for the check.

“Together or separate?” She asked.

“Separate, despite what he might think.” House answered with a fake grin.

Wilson’s eyes narrowed as he waited for her to walk away. “Go to hell House.” He said, putting on his coat and walking out of the restaurant.

House quickly threw down some cash for a tip and followed Wilson out to the parking lot.

“Hey! It was just a joke!” He called after his friend, who reeled around suddenly, cutting him off.

“You couldn’t leave it alone could you! Everything was going fine, normal , and you just had to- ” He stopped, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

“Sorry, haven’t had my night with a stripper yet to erase my gay memories!” House spat.

“Oh, you think it was that simple, that I’ve just forgotten what happened?” Wilson’s voice raised louder in an uncharacteristically public display of anger.

“I’m sure it helped reaffirm your fragile masculinity.”

“I don’t care about that. I just-” Wilson stopped, glaring at House with pursed lips.

“…Yes?”

“It just can’t…I- Forget it.” Wilson finished weakly, throwing his hands up, “Can we just forget this?”

“If you were really willing to put this behind us, that little joke wouldn’t have pissed you off so much.”

“So it was a test.” Wilson rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“And I was right.” House for once sounded unsatisfied while saying those words.

There was an awkward pause before Wilson spoke again. 

“So then how do we…fix this?” He said finally.

“Well. You could spend the night at my place?” House half joked. He was just glad that Wilson believed fixing this was even possible. 

“Ha. No.”

“Then,” House stepped forward, leaving little space between them. 

“We let it go. For real this time. Pretend nothing ever happened. And nothing will ever happen again.”

It was difficult for Wilson to concentrate with House standing so close, almost daring him to disagree. He searched House’s face for any sign of a joke, but his expression was entirely serious.

It seemed like the best option so Wilson agreed. 

“Fine. Like it never happened.” He said, suppressing the part of him that was screaming in disagreement.

House nodded, twirled his cane and limped away.

-------

The agreement worked surprisingly well. Life between them returned to their screwed up version of normal. House stole Wilson’s fries at lunch, they argued over House’s mistreatment of patients, watched monster trucks on TV and made each other the usual combination of happy and miserable. They had managed to save their friendship. That moment in House’s apartment- whatever it had been- might as well have never happened at all.

It was going well and House hated it. He was an expert at suppressing emotions, rationalizing them and storing them away so they couldn’t cloud his judgment. He’d started this and he knew it, but that didn’t change the fact that Wilson had reciprocated. The knowledge that Wilson felt the same way was almost unbearable. But none of that mattered now. They’d made their choice.

“Saturday night, that new Kung-Fu movie comes out. Probably gonna suck. You in?” House sat across from Wilson’s desk, watching him scribble paperwork.

“Can’t. I’ve got plans.”

“Plans?” House raised his eyebrow. 

“You mean with the new blonde in Radiology?”

“No, House. For once in my life can I turn down plans without having to submit a formal excuse?”

“Okay.” House said too innocently as he got up to leave.

Wilson sighed, he was willing to bet House was already terrorizing his secretary.

---

Saturday night turned into House watching “The Karate Kid”  (one of Wilson’s favorite movies, which he found equally annoying and endearing) with plenty of Vicodin and beer to keep him company. So it was a surprise when he heard a knock at the door.

“Go away!” House shouted.

Wilson walked through the door. 

“I texted you but you didn’t answer.”

“Busy.”

Wilson glanced at the TV to see Mr. Miyagi demonstrating the proper way to paint a fence. 

“Uh, right. Well I need my green shirt. I left it here last month after that conference.”

House jerked a finger towards his room and Wilson walked down the hall.

“Interesting.” He noted a few minutes later when Wilson left the bathroom with his green shirt on.

His eyes lingered a fraction of a second before turning back to the TV.

“It’s not interesting. It’s just a shirt.”

“Yeah, a shirt for dates.”

“It’s not a date House, for god’s sake.”

“The shirt says differently.”

“If you must know,” began Wilson, unsure why he was suddenly so irritated, “I agreed to have dinner with Julie.”

House stared in disbelief. “Cheating bitch of an ex-wife Julie?” He shouted incredulously.

“ This is exactly why I didn’t tell you! We’re just two mature adults catching up! No romantic intentions!”

“Like hell you are” House got off the couch. 

“No romantic intentions? You’ll have a ring picked out by the end of the week. Oh, unless you still have the old one.”

Wilson chuckled and wheeled around, pointing a finger at House. “I’m going to dinner and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He began to put on his coat.

“I was the one who had to pick up the pieces last time, remember that! She’s not right for you!”

“You don’t get to decide what’s right for me!” 

Wilson headed for the door and House tried to stop him, their hands landing on the doorknob at the same time. They stood a mere inch or two apart and stared at each other.

“You don’t want her.” House’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

It was the first time either of them had veered from the agreement. Wilson stood paralyzed. House, with a stretch of courage he didn’t know he possessed, slid his hand completely over Wilson’s.

“Well I can have her.” Wilson spat, abruptly opening the door and slamming it behind him.

-------

Wilson was surprised to find that Julie looked remarkably the same. She responded with a “you too,” when he told her she looked good. Wilson doubted that she meant it. It was just a thing people said when they hadn’t seen each other for a while, a formality. Something House would scoff at. Trying to push any thought of House away, Wilson sat down across from his ex-wife and opened the menu.

They made small talk, and Wilson quickly found that Julie still had the same habits that had annoyed him when they were married. Asking how his day had been only so she could cut him off and talk in depth about hers. Using the same fake laugh each time he said anything even remotely humorous. Wilson’s heart sank as he ordered the steak and Julie made a passive aggressive comment about his weight. This wasn’t going nearly as well as he’d hoped.

“I’m surprised you had the night free. I figured you’d already have plans with House.”

“I think he’ll live without me for a night.” He said sarcastically, annoyed that Julie felt the need to bring him up, since her and House had always hated each other.

“Don’t bet on it.” Julie took a sip of her drink. 

“Sometimes I think you should’ve married him instead of me.” She said nonchalantly.

Wilson laughed, but it was forced. He could tell just by looking at her that she was implying exactly what he was afraid of. At that moment Wilson realized just how transparent he was. How transparent he’d always been. Hell, he’d once left her alone on Christmas night to be with House instead. Had she planned this just to test him? To confirm her suspicions? His reddening face was definitely a dead give away.

Small talk continued, but they both could feel that the atmosphere had been ruined. He wanted nothing more than to leave. The second they had both finished their meals Wilson flagged down the waiter. As they parted ways Wilson smiled weakly, wondering who Julie was going home to. Was it the same man she’d had an affair with? Did it matter, really? He drove away from the restaurant, hand gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t be without House but he couldn’t be with him either. All of his other relationships had failed one way or another. House was the only constant throughout the past god knows how many years. Maybe it was time to stop seeing that as a bad thing. To stop fighting it. Wilson made an abrupt left turn and turned up the radio;

“For once I wanna be the car crash
Not always just the traffic jam…”

-------

Somber piano music filled House’s apartment. Dark and desperate emotions he couldn’t face came out through the melodies. House remained alone in the dark as the sun began to set, stopping only to pour himself another glass of whiskey. He always gave Wilson what he wanted, and if that was to be a complete idiot, to push this all away and go running back to the woman who had broken his heart well…House could fight it but he couldn’t stop him. He’d never been able to stop Wilson from going off with various damaged women. This was no different.

Minutes melted into hours as House’s fingers danced over the keys uninterrupted,  until Wilson suddenly barged through the front door. He stopped playing, resting his hands on the keys, but said nothing. House watched as Wilson marched to the fridge, grabbed himself a beer and plopped down in the middle of the couch. Wilson flipped through channels with a blank expression, settling on a rerun of Law and Order: SVU. Clearly the non-date had gone poorly. But why would he come back here? The simplest explanation is usually the right one, House considered. But still…

House picked up his glass and settled onto the couch next to his friend, purposefully sitting close enough that their thighs were touching. Testing the waters. Wilson sipped his beer and did not look away from the TV when he finally spoke.

“You were right.”

“I often am. Wanna be more specific?”

“About Julie. She’s still a bitch.”

Wilson turned to look at him, but it was House’s turn to keep his eyes glued to the TV.

“House.”

Reluctantly, House shifted to face him. Wilson raised a shaky hand to the side of House’s face, causing him to exhale sharply and avert his eyes. House couldn’t bear to see Wilson so expectant and afraid. It was like seeing his own vulnerability reflected back at him. 

“You can’t fix me.” House whispered.

“What?”

“I’m not one of your wives you can do this to,” he motioned at their current closeness, “then get bored and move on from. I am unfixable.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I’m attracted to more than just the shine of your neediness.”

Wilson smiled and kissed House cautiously, lightly tracing the stubble on House’s jaw with his thumb. He was surprised still at how soft House’s lips were, how gentle it all was. It was difficult to remember the last time a kiss had made his heart soar like this.

“Seriously though,” House pulled away, “ No proposing.”

“Oh, shut up.” Wilson smiled and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

House smirked and, in what could have come straight from one of Wilson’s fantasies, pushed him down onto the couch cushions and kissed him without any of the previous restraint. As they made out like a couple of middle schoolers, Wilson decided that maybe all of the years of bullshit he’d put up with from House were worth it after all. Then House began kissing his neck, his collarbone, and then...

Definitely worth it, Wilson sighed.