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The casual offer from his best friend to go over to his apartment was a welcome one to Wilson. He wouldn't admit it, but he was beginning to feel off without the usual presence of the unorthodox diagnostician roaming the halls of the hospital they both worked at. It was nearly two weeks after the man was released from care for taking two bullets, and he still remembers the flurry of emotions that hit him that day clearly. The blood that stained his friend's tired face as he slipped out of consciousness and was rushed to urgent care on a gurney had plagued his worried mind. He had felt impulsive to follow the man as soon as he saw. His worried mind wanted nothing more than to stay by his bedside until he was sure he was alright and then more, but Cuddy and even House's team urged him to go home and rest after he had fallen asleep in the waiting room. It had angered Wilson to no end that the man who almost took the life of his companion was still out there, unfounded and unidentified, but the anger had worn off into something of relief as he looks at House up on his feet now.
“You have the key you know. Unless you lost it? I know you must have dozens by now with the way you’re moving from patient to patient to sleep with.”, House jabs as he steps aside and lets the man in.
“Ever occurred to you that I may have thrown that key away after how much I suffered staying here?”, Wilson says easily as he looks at his friend. He’s too impressed with how House keeps himself up, easily walking over to the couch without so much as a limp or hint of pain to be upset by the comment. If it was anytime before he would have urged his best friend to get his cane, his extension of himself. But things weren’t the same as before anymore. House was walking about, eyeing Wilson as if taking in his reaction without being noticed, but Wilson notices and he smiles.
“Oh please. You loved it here. I would hardly call doing your fair share of dishes suffering.”, House says as he sits down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the table.
“I wouldn’t call it my fair share when we weren't even sharing the responsibility.”, Wilson says as he walks further in. He looks at the sink, expecting there to be a pile of dishes there as perusal and is shocked to see the bottom of the sink. He throws his hands up. “Well- I’ll be. Miracles do happen!”
“What are you on about now? I’ve always done the dishes.”, House waves off as he fiddles with the remote in his hands and puts on a show. The L Word. Now why wasn't Wilson surprised?
“And there isn’t even trash on the table! What happened? Has a girl worthy of you trying to clean up come over? I need a name.”, Wilson asks as he plops down next to House on the couch, their shoulders touching.
“Come on. You know I don’t clean for hookers. There’s no one.”, House says and sees the unconvinced look on Wilson’s face. He huffs. “So what? Maybe I have a little more time to tidy up the place now that I’m not a cripple and have time off. Happy? Now take a beer and shut up, this is the good part.”
“The TV is on mute.”, Wilson says with a hint of a laugh. He takes a beer from the case next to the table, noticing the bottle of vodka also there. “So I guess we have something to celebrate with all this booze here, yes?”
“No, my leg being healed and me not being an addict anymore is nothing worthy of a few beers, you’re right Wilson.”, House says sarcastically. Wilson rolls his eyes.
“Here’s to hoping you will be less of an ass now too.”, Wilson says.
“Don’t hold your breath.”, House says with a smile as he clicks his beer can against Wilson as a cheers.
He isn’t quite sure how the night devolved into this. It didn’t take even three beers for Wilson to get tired of House’s little charade of actually enjoying the show on the television, no matter how entertaining House’s arbitrary guesses about what was occurring on the screen were. Finally, exasperated, Wilson had enough. There was a fight for the remote, hands grasping for the object and a laugh between the two of them at how ridiculous it was.
“I was watching that!”, House tries to sound annoyed but the growing grin on his face says he is quite enjoying the scuffle.
“Watching it? You were practically playing a one sided game of charades!”, Wilson wheezes. He’s practically on top of the other man before he gets the object in a firm grip and holds it up triumphantly for a second before aiming it towards the TV and clicking the power button.
“Oh come on! They were about to do it.”, House throws up his hands with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
“Even more reason to turn it off!”, Wilson says. “Do you think I want to see you turned on House?”
“Well with the way you’re on me-”,
Wilson stills for a second, now finally noticing the way he was in fact on top of his friend. It was odd, the way looking down at House like this was appealing to him. The way he could swear he could feel the body heat of his friend underneath him. House had paused too, a quizzical look in his eye as he looked up at Wilson. Why didn’t he push him off? His mind wandered to images of him leaning down, capturing his friend’s no doubt chapped lips with his. Like a man possessed, he quickly hops off the couch and his friend. Wilson knew three beers was not enough to impair his judgment to this extent.
“Oh come on. For a moment I thought I was going to get some!”, House says quickly in that same joking tone that makes Wilson let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. What the hell was that? Sure him and House joke relentlessly about being together, about having sex, but that..It wasn’t a joke. It was a moment shared.
“Well if you’re not going to let me enjoy my show, then drink up and I’ll play some tunes.”, House says as he opens up the vodka bottle and takes a long drink before holding it out to Wilson. He robotically takes the bottle. He should say something about how barbaric it is to drink straight vodka. He should mention how it isn’t good practice to not even get a cup for each of them. But this was the man who devoured his half eaten sandwiches without a second thought. The man he had just thought of kissing.
He is very aware of the indirect kiss as he takes a long drink of his own, the liquid burning and almost unpleasant down his throat. He sets the bottle down as House puts something on his radio, some sort of upbeat song that Wilson hardly recognizes.
“I should get going. At this rate I’ll end up not being able to drive home.”, Wilson says as he stands, looking for a solid way out to think about what just happened alone.
“Come on, the night is young!”, House argues.
“Unlike you, I have work tomorrow! And you should be resting anyway.”, Wilson tries to argue back, but something about the smile on House’s face and the music between them makes him hesitate.
“Resting? Aren’t you the one who keeps reminding me that I should be exercising my leg?”, House chides.
“In physical therapy”, Wilson says with a roll of his eyes. He notices the sway of his friend which he almost mistakes as him being drunk, but he sees how he moves to the rhythm of the music and almost laughs. “House, are you seriously dancing? At this hour?”
“Well, why not?”, House shrugs. “Isn’t the night for lovers?”
“Uh, and where are the lovers?”, Wilson says as he looks around mockingly. House takes his hand, dragging him over closer to him, away from the couch and into the clear patch of space in the living room.
“Come on. You have to lure those cancer patients of yours in somehow. Show me your moves Jimmy.”, House says as he takes Wilson’s hand. Wilson looks down, sees the two of their hands worn by age and the jobs they lead and thinks they look almost perfect together.
“So you want to dance?” He knows he’s saying the obvious, and he expects House to say such, but the man doesn’t. He looks at him, waiting for Wilson to move. Wilson sighs, blaming the alcohol in his system for heightening the ridiculous blooming feeling in his chest whenever he's close to the man. He reaches out, grabbing House’s waist and pulling him closer, almost cursing himself for not minding House’s leg before he remembers why they were celebrating tonight in the first place.
“There we go!”, House says almost encouragingly. Wilson should be upset by how easily House manages to wring nearly anything he wants out of him. Sure, Wilson always pretended to put up a fight, but it always ended like this. But..He can’t even pretend to be upset by this outcome.
It’s too easy to move House along to the beat of the song, almost too easy. He feels so right in his hands, like he was always meant to be there. He’s had plenty of experience dancing, he can’t admit that House got that part right. With his three wives there was always some formal event to go to, always something where he had to pull another body along, but this felt wildly different. Maybe it was the alcohol content in his blood. But he swears it’s the way his friend moves along with him, not hiding the fact he’s enjoying this despite being oh so wrong with his steps.
“Have you ever danced before, or are you just trying a new method to amputate my foot?”, Wilson asks as House steps on his foot for what must be the fifth time in the chorus alone.
“Well, if only I had someone better to lead me through this mess.”, House says, but the smile on his face matches his own.
“You’re the one who wanted this.”, Wilson says, trying to sound annoyed. He grins before he plants his hand more firmly on House’s waist, the touch of the lower back almost scalding against the palm of his hand even through the layers of clothes as he dips House over, not expecting the barked out laughter that escapes the older man. Wilson is in hysterics too.
When was the last time he saw House this happy? Has he ever? He doesn’t even bother to run through the countless images of memories he has shared with his friend, because he knows it would be a fruitless search. Even before the infarction in his leg he had all his walls up. The lines of stress and constant scowling that usually decorate House’s face are nothing compared to the laugh lines there now. Wilson’s so in awe of the smile there, loud and large, that he almost topples them both over when misplacing a step himself.
“Hey!”, House scolds despite Wilson keeping balance between them both, not letting the man in his arms fall. There’s an attempt of annoyance on House’s face but the smile betrays his friend horribly. No, Wilson can’t even pretend to care about his friend’s grumbling about being a lousy dancer when he can see so many of his friend’s teeth. He’s never seen this many teeth in his life.
“We have to be careful. He may seem happy now, but he could easily fall into a depression again if he doesn’t find a way to replace his addiction with something else.” The memory of Cuddy pulling Wilson aside into her office rings in the back of his head.
“You still with me Wilson?”, House asks and snaps Wilson out of his recollection. Wilson swallows, smiles, and leads them through the dance again as best as his drunken feet can handle, anything to get that blessed smile to stay put there.
“Of course buddy. Always.”, He says as he pulls House just a little more closer against him.
He ends up sleeping on the couch that night, and in the morning when he leaves and drives to work he hums the song that they shared.
It was damning, the way the entire world seemed to fall as House’s recovery sank down as the weeks went on. Wilson had turned a blind eye to it at first. He saw House in pain a few times when the other thought no one was looking and had mistaken it for simple cramps caused by House’s sudden increase in exercise.. The unsure look House gave him when he had said so should have rang alarm bells off already.
It was easy to misguidedly believe that things wouldn't go back to how they were in the heat of the summer sun as he watched his friend continue to try and fail to do tricks on his new skateboard. It was easy to think that his friend who had his life plagued with constant pain would have less to worry about. He had entertained thoughts of House even changing. He could almost imagine that damned smile that he had a glimpse of on their shared drunken night might appear more. It had felt like a cup of ice water splashed onto his face when the man had come into his office one day, a grim look on his face as he asked for a prescription for vicodin.
He had been so quick to refuse. It had been months since House’s recovery. Months and still that wasn’t enough time. House deserved years without pain. If you asked Wilson, his asshole companion deserved the rest of his damn life without the needles in his leg. The universe couldn’t be so cruel yet again to his friend. It just couldn’t.
A week had passed. The oncologist sat at his desk mindlessly filling out some required paperwork before it hit him with a frown. House had not gone to visit him that day. He looked over at the clock and saw it was late in the evening already. If House had no active case to work on he would already be home by this time. He tries not to think too hard about it. House was the clingy one, not him. The other was the one who insisted on stealing his lunches daily and pestering him about his currently non existent love life. Hell, the man hasn’t even come to bother him with a consult for a case. He thinks back to the last time he saw him yesterday. The man seemed normal enough besides a split moment where the familiar grimace of pain showed on his face and he muttered something about his leg. Wilson had brushed it off, assuring him it was all in his head.
“You’re being ridiculous..”, Wilson mumbles to himself with a shake of his head. He had already stayed later than usual and didn’t need to be distracted by thoughts of House. House was House. He would be fine, and despite the constant barbs they dished out to each other, they never got truly upset. Right?
Deciding his work was done for the day, he gathers his things before he picks up his paperwork and turns it in for the night. If he takes the time to pass House’s office on his way out he wouldn’t admit. He glances through the glass. The blinds were shut, but one just slightly out of place revealed the lights on inside. He was still there. Shrugging, he opens the door without knocking as House has always done to him.
“This is a surprise, you’re not one to stay at work late.”, Wilson tests the waters. He sees his friend sitting alone by his desk, his favorite red ball being fiddled with in his hands. “Well..Guess you finished a case if your team is not here.”
“Wow. Are you applying to become a detective?”, House says drly. He doesn’t look up at Wilson.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to since you’re not telling me what’s wrong.”
“Who says something is wrong?”, House says. “I’m never sunshine and rainbows. Should I be doing a song and dance? Because it’s way too late for that.”
“Didn’t stop you last time.”, Wilson says. House hums but the way his shoulders almost grow stiff at that causes Wilson’s eyebrows to furrow. He steps closer, leaning on the edge of House’s desk. He’s tempted to take the ball away from House’s hands just to get him to look at him, but he’s been friends with him long enough to know that little motions like that keep House sane.
“Alright. I’ll guess. Something went wrong with a case today?”, Wilson asks almost cautiously. House shakes his head.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?”, House changes the subject, but Wilson shrugs.
“Well, I could be sleeping if you just spat out what’s bothering you already. Or I could just leave you to sulk in silence.”
“I’m not sulking.”, House says pointedly.
“Definitely sulking.” The corner of House’s mouth goes up by just a fraction, a victory Wilson takes in stride. “Get rejected? Lose a bet with Foreman again? Or maybe you actually set Cuddy off just enough today?”
“Three strikes, you’re out Jimmy.”, House says. He exhales a breath. “Isn’t this normal? Me being upset. I thought you wanted to knock me down a peg anyways.”
“When have I ever wanted to do that?”, Wilson frowns.
“Lying about the case? So I don’t lose my wings?”, House repeats his words back at him.
“Are you actually upset about that?”, Wilson asks genuinely. Sure, maybe it was an asshole move for him and Cuddy to lie about House not actually curing a paralyzed patient a while ago, but he hadn’t expected it to actually get under House’s skin.
“No. I’m not.”, House looks at him for a moment before he puts the ball down on its rightful place on his desk. “Go home. You’re wasting your time.”
“How about a ride back?”, Wilson offers.
“You know if I weren’t mistaken I’d say you’re trying to pick me up.”, House says. He stands, gripping the edge of his desk as he does, a motion Wilson doesn’t ignore.
“Sounds to me like that’s what you want.”, Wilson says back.
“Oh please. You might be a handsome devil, but you didn’t quite lure me all the way in with those moves you had.”, House says. Wilson can’t help the smile on his face at those words.
“Still thinking about that night? It was weeks ago House.”
“You mentioned it earlier, don’t be so full of yourself.”, House scoffs. If Wilson wasn’t mistaken he’d even say his friend almost looked embarrassed. “Besides, your moves were so lousy it’s hard not to think about in horror still.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you were the one tripping.”, Wilson says. The memory of them together had stayed in his mind since the night it happened. He found himself thinking of the way House’s laugh sounded like when he was pulled so close to him. He remembers the way House smelled like beer and cologne as his sneakers scuffed his work shoes. It almost made him have to look away when he thought of the way his hand fit so perfectly on House’s waist. He looks over at House’s desk and spots the familiar portable radio that usually was placed there. Before he can think about how his actions might betray himself, he goes over, turning the contraption on and letting a pop song fizzle through the speakers and play between them in the quiet room.
“What are you-”
“Dance with me.”, Wilson interrupts. He smiles, hoping it’s as charming as House always jokes it to be. “I have to prove you wrong somehow. You don’t have any excuse to hide behind now. We’re both sober.”
House stands there frozen, and Wilson curses himself at how stupid he must look. House would never let this one go. But the snark remarks about being a desperate lovesick fool don’t come. The unreadable stare of his best friend bores into him, making him feel almost concerned.
“Are you mocking me?”, House asks. The cutthroat severity in his tone makes Wilson’s outstretched hand flinch.
“Where are you getting that from? I’m serious House.”, He says. House shakes his head with a bitter laugh.
“No excuse? My leg. I’m afraid my dance career is over.”, House says, but the words still hold a heavy weight despite the joke. Wilson blinks. Oh..He was an idiot.
He goes over, shaking his head with a slight smile on his face that makes House’s frown deepen, but Wilson takes his hand in his own, positioning them right and is almost surprised when House makes no effort to even push his gentle hands away.
“You think that can stop me? Or you?”, Wilson says while looking him in the eye. “Lean all the weight you need against me. If it still hurts, then you can kick me in the leg and call me an asshole.”
House considers him, still frozen but not moving away. And then suddenly, there’s a small nod that makes all the breath in Wilson’s lungs leave before an almost giddy laugh escapes him. Gently, slowly, he starts to move. He feels the extra weight against him as they move, a small pinched look on House’s face there for a second before Wilson firms his hand on House’s back. He feels House relax more against him, much closer than before as they move their feet. The trust his friend puts in him makes his heart want to explode in his chest. For a second he can’t help but wonder if House can feel his heart through the layers between them with how intensely it beats.
They’re a neat mess of entangled limbs as they move, the steps much more precise and less hurried than the frenzy of the other dance before, but it still makes Wilson feel like the luckiest man in the world. He feels like he might cry when he feels House lean down, his breath tickling Wilson’s neck when he buries his face in the crook of Wilson’s shoulder as they move. When had things gotten to this point? His chest aches. When the hell had his friend become his world? When had he fallen in love with House?
“This is so stupid.”, House mutters half heartedly which causes Wilson to laugh softly.
“I don’t know, you seem to be enjoying yourself.”, Wilson says almost too confidently.
“You’re an idiot.”, House says against him. Wilson smiles fondly, holding him closer. How the hell was he going to explain later that he just couldn’t let go?
“Yeah, yeah. Your idiot.”, Wilson says. He swears he feels House smile.
The two sway together in the room alone, even as the song tippers to an end and some horribly loud commercials start to play.