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For the first few days after Wilson's fake proposal to House in the restaurant, it goes unmentioned between the two of them. There was an unspoken agreement that - no matter how extreme it had been, even for them - it was just a bit, it was just another ploy in their game. And Wilson had won, big time.
Wilson should have known better than to assume House would brush it off, however. If House made fun of him for trivial things with no deeper meaning - how would he be able to keep quiet about a proposal? Wilson had sold it well, after all, with a proper ring and heartfelt speech in front of the whole restaurant. Just because he'd decided on impulse to go along with this last-minute idea to defeat House once and for all, that didn't mean he hadn't spent a good ten minutes beforehand hyping himself up.
So really, it shouldn't have been a surprise when a week later, he was awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of House singing loudly beside him.
"Neeeeear, faaaaar, whereeeeeever you are," House's theatrical tones roused him, "I believe that the heart does go onnnn..."
Wilson, annoyed and sleep-deprived, rolled over angrily. "What do you want?"
Clearly in the mood to piss Wilson off, House continued to obnoxiously hum Celine Dion. Wilson could hardly make out his figure in the dark but he was seriously debating throwing punches and hoping one of them landed.
"Hmm, what do I want? A million dollars, a new bike, a-"
"House."
"My, my, Wilson, you are grumpy tonight." House feigned shock, slamming his hands down in his lap, dropping them from where he'd presumably been fiddling with them. "Where'd you get the ring?"
Wilson rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Huh?"
"Your grand proposal the other day. Where'd you get the ring from?"
"Store down the road," Wilson sighed, settling back down against his pillows. As an afterthought, he added, "It was the only one that would let me buy one at such short notice."
House whistled. "A proper jewellery store? That must've cost a lot."
"I'm a doctor. I make a lot."
"Have you returned it now? Got your money back for it?"
"Yeah."
"No, you haven't," House scoffed. "I found it in the drawer in the hall."
"Oh." Wilson said dumbly, still half-asleep. "Why ask questions you know the answer to?"
"I was curious what you'd reply."
"Right," Wilson muttered pulling the covers higher over himself, feebly hoping to sink into the mattress and disappear forever. The entire situation had been humiliating enough, let alone House's probing questions now. It was only a matter of time before House started making accusations like "you're secretly in love me" that were uncomfortably close to home.
"I think it looks great on me."
House thrust his hand right in front of Wilson's face for him to see. A stray beam of moonlight that had snuck in from his windows reflected off of the gold band. Usually such an item would look out of place on House - the polar opposite to literally anything associated with the man - but something deep inside Wilson agreed. It did look good on him, unfairly so. If only Wilson had a matching one.
"Really?" he finally asked, realising he'd been quiet for too long. He prayed he could excuse it on the fact House had literally woken him up in the middle of the night. "You put it on?"
"Yup," House replied, and Wilson could just hear the shit-eating grin in his voice, "No takesies-backsies now, Wilson. Unstoppable force of my willpower meets immovable object of your commitment issues." He twisted it around a little on his finger. "So how'd you get my ring size?"
"Huh?" Wilson asked again, trying to buy himself time to come up with a reasonable excuse a man might have for knowing his best friend's ring size.
"The ring. It fits my finger perfectly. Play dumb all you like, but you knew my measurement."
"Oh. Yeah." Wilson knew he was failing miserably at casual. "It'd've kind of destroyed the act if I tried to put it on your finger and it didn't fit."
"But we didn't even get to that stage." Some clearly sleep-deprived area of Wilson's brain told him there was a hint of regret in House's tone. "Well, it's okay," House ploughed on, chipper again, "I'm wearing it now, and it fits amazingly, honey."
"Whatever." Wilson rolled over, his back to House. Please, can this just end already? "Good night, House."
"Night, Wilson."
Wilson felt the mattress dip slightly as House heaved himself up, heard the door close. He let out a breath. He was safe - until House started his interrogation again. And Wilson knew House had just let this go for too easily for it to be over.
The mattress dipped again. How...?
Wilson's sheets rustled, giving away the very unmistakable sound of someone climbing under the covers, and then there was a warmth against his back. House loosely wrapped an arm around Wilson's waist, effectively spooning him.
"So, shall we have a summer wedding, or are you more of a winter kind of guy?"
For all he pretended to be annoyed at House's sudden affection - despite the ongoing taunting - Wilson didn't try to push him away. Didn't even think of it.
"Go to sleep, House."
-
If in the morning they woke up in each other's arms (they did), they didn't talk about it. As Wilson made coffee and House threw half of Wilson's clothes out of his closet (don't read too much into what that might symbolise), neither voiced aloud the fact that Wilson had rolled over at some point in the night, put his arms around House, and House had hugged him tighter. And certainly neither would mention how comforting it felt to wake up wrapped in the warmth and safety of the only one who ever truly understood each of them.
At work, Wilson didn't fail to notice House was still wearing the ring. Having been busing all morning, Wilson didn't get a chance to see House until lunch - when the panic-inducing thought struck him that all of House's fellows must have seen the ring. What must they have thought? Oh god. What would House have told them?
"You notice everybody's in a bad mood today?" House asked casually, throwing pieces of Wilson's salad on the floor when he thought he wasn't looking.
Wilson shrugged, too concerned with other - in his opinion, far more important - matters. "Not particularly."
"It's because PPTH's hottest bachelor is no longer a bachelor."
As if to demonstrate his point, House waved the ring in front of Wilson's face.
It was all Wilson could do not to run out of there.
-
Wilson came home late from work that night. He told himself he wasn't avoiding anything, he wasn't avoiding House. It was just really, really important that he triple check with all his patients that they were okay and in minimal pain and didn't need him to do anything more. And then there was that massive stack of paperwork on his desk that he'd been putting off for weeks... Maybe Cuddy's anger at him and House taking the apartment would be dampened when she recalled the record amount of files he had gotten through in a single night.
"You're home late," House commented as soon as he came through the door.
As much as it irritated Wilson, it was familiar, at least. Predictable.
"Had some things to catch up on," he excused vaguely and headed straight for the shower.
He spent an extra half hour under the hot spray. No matter how much he scalded his skin, he still couldn't shake the feeling of House's arms around him. His bed was going to feel awfully cold tonight. He imagined it would feel awfully cold every night for the rest of his life now. Now he knew what he'd been missing, what he could have had if...if things were just different.
Maybe he was gay. Maybe House was. He still hadn't fully decided himself if either of those statements had any truth to them. But even if hypothetically they were both attracted to men, that didn't mean they would be attracted to each other.
Maybe he was in love with House. Maybe House was in love with him. One of these he actively rejected. The other he rejected too, but with less fervour and more sorrow. But even if hypothetically they were both in love with each other, that didn't mean either could escape this game of not talking about their feelings, and actually ever initiate something.
Wilson noticed his skin was flushed when he stepped out the shower. House was sure to bring this up and psychoanalyse him for it. And get far too close to the truth. Wilson knew he was a bad liar and that anything he hid from House would eventually come to light. He couldn't have House even suspect this. If he lost House as a friend, he lost everything. House often talked about how he'd be alone if he lost Wilson, but Wilson knew he himself would be just as unhappy, just as pained. Something like this, though... It felt like the ultimate betrayal of their friendship and everything they had been through.
It would be even more suspicious if he went straight to bed after showering, no matter how late the hour, so clad in pyjamas, hair still damp, he sat down beside House on the couch.
He could barely focus on the screen. He was terrified, to tell the truth. All the horrors he'd experienced in his life came nowhere near close to this. House had been with him through everything. How could he get through this without House?
House was going to notice. Maybe he had already noticed, and was designing some clever way to draw it out of him, for maximum impact. A slow, torturous game. Maybe in his fear that House would notice, Wilson would make it more obvious, and then he would definitely notice it. He'd rolled over, for God's sake, hugged House back! House could joke like this all the time, even spoon Wilson for a joke - but Wilson, Wilson rarely played along. But in the depths of the night, he'd dropped his guard. And risked everything.
Ruined everything.
House was going to leave him.
House was stood in front of him now, staring at him. Yep, he'd noticed. Time to pack his things, time to get out of here, Wilson, run, run as far as you can. But his legs wouldn't move, why wouldn't they move, goddamn it-
And House was coming closer now, kneeling in front of him, boxing him in so he couldn't escape, blue eyes never once leaving his, oh God, what's he going to do-
"Wilson. Wilson."
Wilson, I hate you. Wilson, you're disgusting. Wilson, you've hurt me. Wilson, I'm going to leave you all alone. Wilson, it's all your fault.
"Hey. Hey, Wilson."
House was shaking him by the shoulders now.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Wilson.
"Wilson, breathe. Come on, breathe with me. You're having a panic attack. Just breathe with me now."
Wilson blinked. Suddenly he was all too aware of everything around him all at once: the choked breaths strangling his throat, House's warm hands firmly gripping his shoulders, the sweat dripping down his back, the aching pain in his chest.
"I'm sorry," he coughed out, eyes welling up. House hated him. As a doctor, he couldn't ignore his duty to get Wilson out of his panic, but once he was calm again, he was going to tell him to leave, or he was going to leave himself, maybe he'd shout at him beforehand, tell him things even his antidepressants could never drown out-
"No, no, Wilson, breathe. It's okay." House lightly shook him, still trying to catch his eye. "Come on, one, two, three."
Better bite the bullet, Wilson. It's going to happen regardless.
And then he was shakily breathing one, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
House was still here, but for how long?
One, two, three. One, two, three.
"House-"
"No." House gently squeezed his shoulders. "Don't talk yet. Just keep breathing with me."
With me. Keep breathing with me. You can't do this on your own. Pathetic.
They stayed like that for as long as it took for Wilson to finally calm down (physically, at least), his breathing evening out at last. House, at some point, had moved one of his hands to feel the pulse in Wilson's wrist, and he himself visibly relaxed as it began to slow.
"Much better," he murmured, looking back up at Wilson with eyes full of something unfamiliar. It was like concern, but who, Wilson reasoned, would be concerned about such a filthy traitor?
"Hey," House said, softly, thumb lightly stroking Wilson's wrist. "Stay here, okay?"
Then he got up. He was going to leave. Going to make sure Wilson wouldn't follow-
House came back with a glass of water and gently pushed it into Wilson's hands.
"Drink."
It was, undeniably, an order, but with none of his usual bite.
With no energy left in him to fight, Wilson brought the glass to his lips, and sipped it until House seemed satisfied. House sat down at his feet, one hand not-so-casually brushing against his calf, moving up and down soothingly.
"What the hell was that, Wilson?" House asked, apparently assured enough that Wilson's heart wasn't about to fail to bring it up. He looked down at the floor. "You really scared me there."
Wilson shook his head. Something was rising in his chest again. He couldn't do this. If House knew his secret, there was no point confirming the story. And if he didn't know, better to keep it that way. Either way, in this state, he wasn't talking about anything.
"House, I- it- I can't-"
"Okay. It's okay." House moved his hand up to Wilson's knee, lightly rubbing there too. "We'll talk another time."
Something sat heavy in Wilson's stomach. We WILL talk about this, Wilson. About how much I hate you for this, about how much you hurt me-
"Wanna go to bed?"
Wilson stood up abruptly. House dropped his hand in surprise.
"I don't need your pity," Wilson told him - he wanted to shout it - if House was going to shout at him anyway, there was no point delaying the inevitable - but it just sounded like he was going to cry. He probably was, once he got under the sheets and shut himself away from the world.
House rose too. "This isn't pity." There was an edge to his voice, a warning, as if he were insulted Wilson thought this was just that. As opposed to... "Let's just go to bed."
Wilson could only nod. Maybe as soon as House said night and closed his door, he'd rush to start packing. Leave Wilson in the middle of the night, without a proper goodbye.
You don't even deserve that, Wilson, let alone me.
He wandered towards his bedroom in a daze, that post-panic hit settling in where nothing quite felt real. He almost walked into his doorframe before crawling under the covers and wrapping himself up in them suffocatingly tight.
Then they were being peeled from him. House slid in next to him, reaching away only to turn off the lamp Wilson had knocked on without realising. Then he pulled Wilson into his arms, in a more depressing mirror of the previous night, and tucked the covers around them.
-
When Wilson awoke in the morning, he felt ready to panic all over again. House was still firmly encompassing him, brows furrowed even in his sleep.
Wilson guessed he really had worried him. A deep sense of guilt rose up in him. House didn't know, of course he didn't. But he'd had to deal with even more shit from Wilson - and he had no idea of what was to come when he found out about how Wilson really felt about him.
He really needed to stop putting House through things. Sure, House put him through stuff too, but that was House, that was...
"I can hear you overthinking already," House murmured, eyes still closed. "Don't."
"Sorry," was all Wilson could say.
House looked at him then, really looked at him, calculating. Wilson felt like he was naked and on display. He'd forgotten how to cover everything up.
"Stop being sorry about everything. Whatever you think is your fault - it isn't."
Wilson shook his head, resolute. "You don't know that."
"Wilson." House sighed. "Out of all the thousands of things I've ever known you to blame yourself for, maybe two of them were your fault. Numbers don't lie. So, yeah, I'm pretty sure it's not."
"You don't know what this is. It's worse than-" Wilson stopped himself. No. He couldn't invite a conversation about this. He couldn't exactly expect it to be instantly dropped, either, but this was spiralling out of control already.
House didn't seem to have a reply to that - or deemed any potential replies as unhelpful - so raised a palm and gently stroked through Wilson's hair.
He was still wearing the ring. Wilson could feel its light scrape against his scalp, the smooth metal a reminder of everything he wasn't allowed to want.
Why was House still wearing it?
Had he forgotten to take it off? Was he preparing to continue to joke about it? Was he-
"You still have the ring on," he commented, tugging House's hand away to stare at it. The soft morning light betrayed just how expensively well-made it was. And reminded him once more how good it looked on House, like it had been there for years.
"I did some research yesterday," House began, and there were a million different topics he could be about to bring up, Wilson thought miserably. "It's legal in Connecticut. Only a two and a half hour drive."
Wilson stared at him.
"Same-sex marriage," House elaborated.
"Okay," Wilson said slowly, feeling as if he was missing the punchline of a badly-timed joke. "And?"
House raised an eyebrow, then seemed to dismiss it. "I quite like this ring. We'd have to get you a new one. It has to be just as expensive, of course, and-"
Wilson swallowed thickly. This could not be happening.
"This isn't funny, House."
House paused his ramblings and now it was his turn to stare. "Who said I'm trying to be funny?"
"You're not?" Wilson asked faintly. He felt lightheaded.
"You need me to spell it out for you?"
"That would be quite helpful, actually."
House shifted, pulling the covers around them a little tighter. "Ok then. Your fake proposal got me thinking. I want to marry you and I think you're okay with it too. So I'm suggesting we go to the nearest state it's legal at the moment and do it. I want to keep this ring - it's the one you proposed to me with, after all, I don't care if it's fake - but obviously we still need to get you a ring before we do it. And then we can embarrass each other on our honeymoon in Hawaii or somewhere. And I think we should use my bedroom as a storage room so we can stay in here forever." He cocked his head. "You disagree with any of that, you let me know."
Wilson suddenly felt very stupid. What had he been panicking about again?
"If this is, uhh-" House cleared his throat- "if this is bad timing after last night, it's fine. I mean, I kind of guessed it might have been something about this with me waving the ring in your face all day." He shrugged. "Maybe it's something else. I don't know. Sorry either way."
"So you - you really want to do this?" Wilson asked thickly.
House's features softened, where they had tensed before. "Yes, you idiot. We're too old to keep pretending something isn't going on here. Everybody knows roommates is code for lovers." He reached out to stroke Wilson's hair again. "So, will you do it? Will you marry me, Wilson?"
Wilson grinned, arms reflexively tightening around House, having to check this was really happening. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times."
"Great. And I'll marry you." He paused. "On one condition."
Wilson tried very hard to push down the panic that all too easily rose inside him. "Which is...?"
"You have to promise me you'll believe me when I say this isn't your fault, and that I don't hate you, and that I want nothing more than for us to be two dumb middle-aged losers in love."
Wilson lightly prodded him. "One of us a little more middle-aged than the other."
House granted him a smile at that. "Yeah, yeah. Promise me, Wilson."
"I promise," Wilson vowed, and surprisingly he didn't feel like he was lying. He might just believe it. He'd need a lot of reassurance and reinforcement in the future, but House had basically just declared his undying love for him. Things didn't get much more comforting than that.
-
They both skived off work that day to drive up to Connecticut, politely informing Cuddy and hanging up before any screams of "what the hell are you doing?" and "I'm going to fire both your asses" could reach them. Idiots would say they were rushing into it, but the wise would know that this had been a long time coming.
"Fourth time's the charm, eh?" Wilson joked as they walked, hand-in-hand, into the registry office.
They'd decided to skip a big romantic ceremony in favour of getting the legal stuff over with, and then spending the day in a way that pleased them. After all, their whole bond had been built on defying norms and finding happiness elsewhere.
True to their word, they'd acquired a ring for Wilson, too - and House, for the first time in perhaps years, paid. They'd managed to find a design that matched House's astonishingly well, so nobody would doubt whom each of them were married to.
"Do you, Gregory House, take James Evan Wilson to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and support him, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do. Enthusiastically."
"And do you, James Evan Wilson, take Gregory House, to be your husband?"
"I do."
"I never want to live without you, Wilson. I promise I'm never going to let you go."
"And I promise to always be here by your side. Always."
"By the authority vested in me by the State of Connecticut, I now pronounce you married. Congratulations."
They shared their first public kiss, with House definitely trying to slip in some tongue and Wilson happily accepting it. It was so natural and authentic that anyone watching would never have guessed that their first kiss at all had been less than twelve hours prior.
To celebrate, they immediately headed to the most expensive restaurant in the city they could find, mentioning to every waiter and waitress who came past that they'd just got married (their rented tuxedos really sold the piece, if there had been any doubts). They ended up getting the entire meal free. It had absolutely nothing to do with House very loudly telling the story of the "homophobic" judge who had only allowed them two sentences of vows each when they were prepared to recite entire heartfelt speeches to each other.
Afterwards, they drunkenly stumbled down the street together, arms entwined, squinting at all the signs in the street and trying to figure out if any said "hotel".
As they were finally booking a room with an incredibly patient receptionist, House's phone rang with a call from Cuddy.
"I hope you two have had a fun day bunking off work," her sarcastic tones bled through. "You have a new case waiting for you when you get back, House."
"If we're back in time," Wilson coughed, in the tone of someone giving the game way without realising they were giving it away.
Cuddy did not sound impressed in the slightest. "Oh, Wilson's here too, is he?"
"Oi!" House shouted into his phone as if the metal object could make up for his annoyance at Cuddy. "That's my husband you're talking about."
There was a pause on the other end. "Why does something tell me you're not joking?"
House giggled and handed the phone to Wilson, who couldn't stop grinning either. "We've got matching rings and everything, Lisa."
They could worry about the impending chaos breaking out at PPTH (no way Cuddy was keeping this to herself) when they got back. For now, they were giggling all the way as the elevator went up to their room, without a care in the world except for each other.