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Wilson is avoiding him.
After finding that fifty dollar bill on his desk late this morning, House had limped his way straight to Wilson's office and barged right inside, deciding it best to tell Wilson the truth sooner rather than later and attempt to fix things between them before everything gets too out of hand and it gets to the point where they can't repair anything.
But of course, Wilson was nowhere to be found in his office. That would be too easy.
So House then proceeded to drag himself down to the clinic with much reluctance, but upon peeking into each and every exam room to check (and getting berated for it), he'd realized that Wilson wasn't there either. Before House could leave the clinic to look elsewhere and avoid Cuddy, the devil herself unfortunately caught him in during his search and put him to work, so the next two hours were spent in exam room one with various different patients until he could manage to sneak away for lunch, hoping Wilson would be there eating so that House could ambush him.
But House didn't find Wilson in the cafeteria either, despite how they always have lunch together. That's what eventually makes House come to the conclusion that Wilson has decided to avoid him after what happened last night.
House doesn't blame him – he feels like he probably would have been avoiding Wilson as well if he weren't so determined to make things right and not lose what they have because of that kiss. If he doesn't try, then who will? He knows that Wilson probably won't because House has never made it easy for the man to do anything, and so he waited for House to be the one to say something last night, to reassure him or do something, and House kept his mouth shut like a coward and let him walk away. Let him think that it was all a stupid game or a mistake or something when it was anything but.
House swears he can still feel everything they did last night and he tries to block it out – Wilson's lips on his own, on his shoulder, his hand on Wilson's thigh that tensed when he came, their mingling breaths as they kissed like they'd done it a hundred times before then…
Fuck.
And he just let Wilson go after all of that when that was the very last thing House had wanted. Now he's being avoided, and it's starting to get annoying because he does want to fix it, but can't as long as Wilson is dodging him. And Wilson has every right to dodge him. All of this could've been avoided had House spoken up when he had the chance, but he didn't. He and Wilson could've been lying in bed together right about now, laughing and bickering and skipping out on work without calling in because strengthening their new relationship after such a big change to it would've been more important than anything else. If they would've had to suffer Cuddy's wrath for it, it would've been worth it – she would've had mercy on them later when she found out anyway. And then they'd only have to endure her silly speeches about taking care of each other and not screwing it all up.
If only it were reality.
House sighs – he isn't sure where else to look and he isn't going to attempt paging or calling Wilson, knowing all of it will only go ignored. So after leaving the cafeteria, he heads back to diagnostics to find his team having lunch at the table, a cluster of various Chinese takeout containers set between them. He heavily takes a seat at the end closest to the door, stealing a container from Chase on his right and one from Cameron on his left, smartly deciding not to bother Foreman's food at all (he's too far away anyway for it to be worth it, seated to Chase's right). They all stare at him as he wordlessly opens a stolen container and eats out of it, so he stares back until they lower their eyes and go back to eating as well.
"Shouldn't you be having lunch with Dr. Wilson?" Cameron questions after a bit, her eyebrows knitted as she pulls the rest of her food closer to her protectively.
"Nope," House replies as he slurps down some teriyaki noodles, wondering where else he could possibly check for Wilson at this point. He supposes he could always go and break into Wilson's car and wait for him in the backseat or something. He can't avoid House then – not unless he wants to find another way home.
"Trouble in paradise?" Chase asks teasingly. House wants to laugh – if only he knew.
"You could say that," he admits lightly, and Cameron gets that annoying concerned look on her face. House rolls his eyes at her, and then inquires, "Anyone seen him around? He's avoiding me."
His fellows look at each other like they're not sure what to say. Foreman simply goes back to eating and Chase stares at Cameron, who looks over at House. "Why?" she asks him, sounding confused before she gives him a disapproving look, narrowing her eyebrows as she jumps to conclusions. "What did you do?"
"Slept with his mother," House quips evasively, taking a sip of Chase's drink and swallowing to add, "And his father. And maybe one of his brothers too. Or was that his uncle…?" He feigns contemplation, then hums, "No, definitely his brother."
"Whore," Chase mumbles around a mouthful of sweet and sour chicken and snatches his drink away, setting it down between him and Foreman instead, far out of House's reach.
"Takes one to know one, slut," House says back and Cameron shakes her head at him, her arms crossed.
"Seriously, House – what happened?" she demands, then softens her tone. "I mean… is everything okay?"
"Peachy," House tells her, returning to his noodles, but suddenly they no longer are appealing. "Now, have any of you seen Wilson? I feel like I've checked everywhere." House reaches for some of Cameron's chicken and she slaps his hand away, so he glances at Chase for an answer, and his fellow only shrugs.
Cameron sighs and offers up, "I saw him making his rounds not too long ago. I figured he would be joining you for lunch afterwards, but…"
"But I'm here pestering you and eating your food, so clearly not," House finishes for her. He looks at Foreman. "You?"
"Haven't seen him," is all Foreman says, using his chopsticks to push around the rice in his container.
Chase swallows his bite of food then to speak up. "Actually, I did see him leave Cuddy's office earlier this morning," he recalls, sounding thoughtful, "when I was working in the clinic. He had a weird look on his face as he went, and he was quick, too, like he had somewhere to be. Or someone to avoid, I suppose." He pauses, then asks, "You two actually have an argument or something?"
House sighs, appetite fully lost at this point. "Or something," he says in confirmation and sets down the noodle container, getting up from his chair. "Thanks."
With that he limps out of the room and away from his team, moving swiftly down the hall and into the elevator. Next stop: Cuddy's office.
—
Cuddy's on the phone when he walks into her office, but when she sees him, she gives him a sympathetic look and quickly ends the call as soon as possible. There's an awkward tension in the air, and nobody says anything at first.
"Finished with your clinic duty for today?" she asks conversationally after some time. House stops in front of her desk, wondering what Wilson possibly could've said to her that's making her look at him the way she is right now. Like he's a pathetic mess that she can't help but to feel bad for.
He cuts to the chase. "Wilson was here," he states matter-of-factly, like it's an accusation, and Cuddy doesn't look fazed in the slightest to hear it. House leans heavily on his cane, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
"Okay," Cuddy responds slowly, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. "You're right – he was. And?"
"What did he want?" he forces himself to ask, though he's pretty sure he already knows what the answer is.
"To talk," she answers vaguely, which pretty much confirms his suspicions that it was about what happened. She leans back in her seat as she studies House and then adds, "He needed a friend. Seems like you could use one, too."
House stares at her but doesn't respond again, wishing Wilson would've just grown a pair and come directly to him to talk instead of dragging Cuddy into this – whatever this is. He wonders what exactly was said, but doesn't dare to ask – Cuddy would never really spill the beans. Not when they're Wilson's beans to spill, anyway. She likes him too much to betray him, especially to someone that she's as ambivalent about as House.
"House, you should just talk to him," she tells him kindly. "Fix this. Apologize for whatever you screwed up. Work something out with him. Just do something." She sighs as she looks at him, and he stares back at her tiredly. "Look, he didn't go into detail about what happened between you two, but whatever the hell it was… I think it's really affecting him. And apparently you, too. You're both acting like idiots, coming in here to me instead of going to each other."
"He's avoiding me," House informs her, feeling frustrated because she just doesn't seem to understand. "Can't talk to someone when you can't even find them anywhere you look because they don't want to be found."
"Then I'll try to see if I can talk to him again, I guess," she says with a shrug. "Maybe… try to convince him to say whatever it is he needs to say to you to get over this so that you two can be friends again. Or whatever you want to be. I don't know – it seems complicated."
She stands after a moment, moving around the desk until she's in front of House. She gently touches his arm, and he resists the urge to roughly pull away from her and stalk out of her office. "It'll work out," she insists with a small smile, "just give him some time and he'll come around. And when he does, talk to him, or apologize, or… whatever it is you need to do, just… don't push him away, House. I know you really care for him underneath your prickly barbed wire exterior and behind those 'keep out' signs you've put up around your heart to protect yourself, and I think… whatever you two could have after this would be good for you. I think that you could be happy with him."
She pauses momentarily, letting her hand drop back to her side as he lets her words sink in – it feels strange to be having this sort of discussion with anyone that isn't his mother, but especially Cuddy. "I know you're probably not going to tell me about anything that happened or what you're feeling either, but I'm here for you too, you know. If you need someone."
House takes a breath, his jaw set. He feels frustratingly helpless right now, wanting nothing more than to make everything right as soon as possible. He doesn't want to wait, to let this weird distance between himself and Wilson grow. But what else is there to do?
"I'm fine, thanks," he mutters, and hurriedly turns to go as fast as his cane will allow. Cuddy watches him go and makes no move to stop him.
—
After a little while more of being unsuccessful at tracking down Wilson, House heads home early, stopping at the DVD rental shop on the way back to return that stupid porno he and Wilson watched together. He eats leftover pizza when he gets in and pops two Vicodin, his leg aching worse than usual since he woke up this morning, like it's getting worse somehow.
Wilson would tell him that it's just in his head.
Wilson would probably be right.
House finds himself staring at the couch. They were just there last night, touching themselves and watching porn and kissing and House doesn't even know why it happened in the first place, why he was so eager to get Wilson out of here and why Wilson was so determined to stay. He supposes he had just wanted to be alone to deal with yesterday's events and Wilson felt uncomfortable abandoning him despite anything House said, but the longer that things went on, the less he wanted Wilson to leave anyway – he turned out to be an even better distraction than House had planned for the evening.
But of course, House managed to screw it up in the end. All it would've taken was a couple of words, some reassurance, a "you don't have to go", a kiss… anything. But he said nothing and let Wilson walk out with things being weird and uncomfortable between them. Now he's got Cuddy giving him advice and sympathetic looks as Wilson keeps his distance and House is tired of it already. How long can he keep it up? He can't avoid House forever. Sooner or later, he's going to have to face him, and when he does, House will talk to him then. He'll tell Wilson the truth, no matter how hard it is – he'll tell him everything he felt last night.
House takes a seat on the same cushion he'd been sitting on when it all happened, propping his legs up and turning the TV on, trying not to think of Wilson anymore for the rest of the night.
(He fails spectacularly.)
—
For the next two days, House is kept busy with a new case. He doesn't see Wilson around at all on these days, nor can he find Wilson's car, and he starts to wonder if maybe Cuddy had given him some time off to get away from House and think or something. House is unsure if she's spoken to Wilson again like she said she would, or if she's waiting to do it, or what, but he eventually decides that it doesn't matter and he tries to put it out of his mind to focus on his patient.
On the third day, Foreman is the one who figures out what's wrong with the patient – he has cancer. Now, if only there were a certain head oncologist that could help with that. Unfortunately he chose to run away, so they're forced to settle for a different oncologist that House has never liked (nor filthily kissed on the mouth while they jerked off to porn together) to look over the scans and make sure it is in fact cancer that they're seeing, and to confirm if it's even treatable or not. It is, and Foreman decides to be the one to break the news to their patient and get him started on the treatment. Another life saved, another case solved.
House returns to his office afterwards and drops into the chair at his desk, pulling out the Vicodin bottle from his coat pocket and dry swallowing two pills with practiced ease. Without the case to distract him, his mind drifts back to Wilson.
Maybe he's going through some kind of sexuality crisis – some kind of internalized homophobia or something, trying to figure out what it is that he really wants and what kind of people he's really into before he faces House. Or maybe it's something else. Maybe it's House himself that's the issue. If that's the case, would Wilson just want to try to forget it all happened and remain friends with him? Or would he want to embrace that it happened and become something else, something bigger?
House already knows what he wants and has his answer, but Wilson is still a mystery. It's been a couple of days and they haven't spoken or even seen each other, so… surely he should have his shit figured out by now? Surely it's time to bite the bullet and finally face the problem?
House is tired of wondering if they'll be okay. He can pretend to forget about the kiss and everything if that's what Wilson wants, but he can't stand the silence. He would tell the world what happened, shout it from the fucking rooftops, if it meant that Wilson would finally speak to him – even if it's only to yell and order House to take it back and tell everyone it's all a lie he made up because he's an asshole that likes to say anything to embarrass his best friend. At this point, House would take any kind of attention from Wilson, whether it's negative or positive. He doesn't like having Wilson avoid him. He doesn't like not knowing where they stand. He doesn't like missing Wilson so much.
He drags a hand over his face, feeling exhausted. He supposes he could go home – it's long after five and the sun must be beginning to set by now. He glances over his shoulder to look at the door leading to the balcony to confirm that to be the case, and that's when he finally sees the man that hasn't left his mind since they jerked off to porn together and made out.
Wilson stands out on his side of the balcony, leaning on the railing and looking out at the view. House watches him for a moment, torn between going out there to attempt to speak to him and running away like a coward.
Well, he can't actually run, so… attempting to speak it is.
He gets up, moving slowly over to the door. He keeps his eyes on Wilson, wondering if the man will bolt if he hears House open the door and step outside. Only one way to find out, he supposes.
Wilson doesn't immediately take off as soon as House begins approaching, so that's a good sign. He even briefly glances over, and he looks as tired as House feels. House comes to a stop beside him on his side of the balcony, separated from Wilson by only a railing. He follows Wilson's line of sight to the view of Princeton in the distance, waiting for something. When it seems unlikely that Wilson is going to break the silence, House guesses it's up to him to do so.
"Hey," he says eventually, keeping his tone light and casual. He doesn't want to scare Wilson off now that they're finally within proximity of each other for the first time since the incident.
"Hey," Wilson replies after a beat. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, palms placed flat on the outer railing. He seems tense. Nervous.
"Are you done avoiding me?" House questions, getting straight to the point – there's no use in beating around the bush and making small talk.
Wilson clears his throat. "I wasn't–" he begins, but then cuts himself off and huffs. "Yes."
House nods. He wants to look over, but he can't make himself do it. "So… we're good then?" he asks, and there's a weighty silence that follows that question.
Finally, Wilson says, "I think we should probably talk first. See where we're at."
"So… we're not good then," House concludes, and Wilson pinches the bridge of his nose, looking as though he'd rather not be here right now.
"House…" he murmurs with a sigh and trails off, frowning. "Don't do that to me. Can we just talk? Please? I'm not asking for much."
House compresses his lips together, shrugging. "What do you wanna talk about?" he asks, feigning ignorance, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Wilson whip his head around to stare at him as soon as the words leave his mouth.
"Oh, don't be deliberately obtuse," Wilson tells him and throws his hands up, clearly frustrated. "You know what I wanna talk about. Stop making this so difficult."
"Fine," House mutters, eyes dropping towards his feet as he taps his cane on the ground impatiently. "Then talk."
Wilson lets out a breath and House waits for him to decide on what to say, preparing for anything that might come out of Wilson's mouth. He's honestly afraid – his heart is pounding and his hands are sweating, and he almost wishes he had just gone home instead of coming out here and having this uncomfortable conversation. He has no idea where it's going to go and he feels helpless.
"I spoke with Cuddy a few times recently," Wilson says after a long moment passes, then hastens to add, "I didn't… tell her anything in any kind of detail – I kept it all kind of vague. I just… I needed to talk to someone and figure all this crap out." House hums at that, deciding to keep quiet for now. Wilson audibly swallows. "She kept telling me to just talk to you about it, but frankly… I don't even know what to say."
"If you're just worried about things being weird between us, after…" House begins, but trails off, his eyes still downcast, "…well, you know. Then don't – it'll pass. We'll both forget about it soon enough and… things will just go back to normal eventually."
Wilson doesn't say anything right away. "Is that… what you want?" he asks carefully, and House thinks there's a hint of fear or hurt in those words, but he can't be sure. "To forget about it?"
He still can't make himself look at Wilson as he asks back, "That's what you want, isn't it?"
Wilson gives a humorless laugh and turns his gaze away, back to the skyline. "No," he admits. "Not at all."
House finally looks up at him. "Then what do you want?" he asks simply. Wilson just shrugs and shakes his head.
"I don't know," he answers sincerely, then amends, "I mean… I want to know how you feel, I guess. About what happened. About… me. Us."
House blinks and then reaches into his pocket and pulls out the fifty bucks that Wilson had left on his desk. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and Wilson accepts it before staring at the bill in between his fingers with a confused expression.
"If I would've just told you a couple of days ago," House explains before Wilson can speak, "I think you wouldn't have ended up leaving that night, so… it's only fair that I give you your money back."
He leans over with his forearms on the railing to look down over the edge. The ground looks so far away from here, and he almost wishes it could swallow him whole. He's so bad at all of this that it's kind of laughable. Wilson pockets the fifty bucks and then mirrors his posture, leaning over as well.
It's quiet again. House isn't sure what else to say, and apparently Wilson doesn't know either. He isn't any better with words now than he was just a couple of days ago, when his silence led to Wilson walking out. He doesn't know how to talk about this. He doesn't know how to be vulnerable and tell Wilson the truth about how he feels. How do people do this?
After some time, Wilson says softly, "You kissed me, House."
And House just nods in response, figuring that he was the one that caused this mess. He knows that he can't deny it, nor does he really want to. "I know," he murmurs. "And you kissed me back."
"You kissed me and you meant it," Wilson states – it isn't a question at all. "It wasn't just a part of the game at that point. You… you kissed me because… you wanted to. Didn't you?"
House feels uncomfortable being put on the spot like this, but he isn't going to lie. "Yep," he says slowly, popping the 'p', and it feels so strange to admit it aloud, yet at the same time, it's incredibly freeing. "I guess I did."
Wilson looks at him, eyes burning with a mixture of curiosity and hope and fear that House only sees when he looks back at him. "So… what does that mean?" Wilson questions. "What do we do now? Where do we go from here?"
House takes a breath and swallows around the stupid lump in his throat, glancing away. "I don't know."
Wilson exhales, seemingly unsure of how to reply to that at first. It takes him a while, but eventually he says something.
"Do you want… more than just a friendship with me?" he asks, point-blank. He moves until his body is turned in House's direction, moving as if trying to see his face. "Or not? What do you want, House? Because I need to know. I need to know if… we want the same thing or not."
House takes a breath. "I wanted you to stay," he admits after a moment of silence, eyes watching as the sun finally dips below the horizon. "I just… didn't know how to tell you that before. I didn't know how to tell you that I liked what we did and don't want to forget it, that I liked… kissing you. And… I wanted to do it again."
"You should've," Wilson tells him boldly, and House looks over to find him smiling a little. He shrugs and adds, "You still can. I wanted it, too."
House straightens up at that, his eyes never leaving Wilson's face. He moves until his legs are pressed against the railing that divides the balcony in two, and Wilson does the same, getting closer.
For a moment they just watch each other, like they're not sure who should make the first move.
House leans in and kisses him.
It's soft and chaste and exactly what House needed after the last couple of days of worrying over everything. Wilson kisses him back, tries to pull him closer in spite of the railing in between them. He gets his arms around House anyway, grabbing at his coat, and House lets Wilson hold him close. He doesn't want to be anywhere other than here, where nothing matters but them.
It's miles better than their first kiss, because this time they're both so sure. They both know that it isn't just some spur of the moment thing – a mistake or an accident. They both want this and mean it and they both know what this means for them now. There's no wondering – everything is so clear.
They kiss until they have to break apart to breathe. They hold each other close, and Wilson laughs a little.
"I was so worried," he admits, shaking his head. "I was so worried you would want to stay just friends. I spent the past couple of days completely freaking the hell out because I had to come to terms with how much I wanted this, wanted you, but I wasn't sure what you wanted and it was so terrifying because I didn't know if we were going to be able to stay friends if we didn't feel the same way about the situation. I honestly had no idea what you really felt. I kept thinking that you just made a mistake, that you didn't mean to kiss me and didn't want this like I did. Cuddy suggested otherwise when I spoke to her earlier today, and I'm just so glad she was right and that I decided to listen to her."
"Of course I wanted this," House says easily, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. "I wanted to fix all of this days ago but you kept fucking dodging me and I didn't know what else to do besides wait for you to come around, like Cuddy said. I honestly couldn't tell if you wanted to be with me or not – one second I would think you did, and the next I would be doubting it and listing all the reasons why you wouldn't in my head. But I knew what I wanted since before you even walked out the door that night. I've wanted it for so much longer than even then, I just didn't realize it until that night. Everything I've been shoving away came to the surface and you're right, it was terrifying."
"Well, then I guess we're on the same page about things now," Wilson responds, smiling. He presses another kiss to House's mouth, and oh, House doesn't think he could get tired of this.
"Finally," he gets out against Wilson's lips, then pulls back, softly adding, "I'm just glad that we're okay. Well, I'd say we're more than okay now, but you know. I'm glad we're… this. Whatever this is."
"Me too," Wilson tells him, and House reconnects their lips, kissing him thoroughly and keeping him close.
Later, there will be a time for them to do and say everything that they've been holding back over the years. But for now, there's just this. And it's enough.
—