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“If he had been a woman, I would have married him.”
Wilson was not jealous. Not even a little bit. In fact, when he saw that House had a friend other than him, he was happy. Wilson has plenty of friends, why shouldn’t House? Why does he have to be House’s only friend?
But maybe it bugged him— just a small bit, that Dylan Crandall was friends with House first. Just a smidge. It wasn’t even worth thinking about.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?
Maybe it was his ego, but he’d grown to enjoy the comments he’d get for being the only one who could put up with House. For being the only one that stuck around, and the only one House kept around.
He obviously knew that House didn’t stay in touch with his old college friend. In fact, he had never mentioned Crandall before. That didn’t mean it didn’t still bother Wilson. But again, he was NOT jealous! He wasn’t! Even when he saw that Crandall and House seemed to get along great, and knew each other so well, after all of these years apart. It was no big deal.
-
Wilson watched the two of them talk from a distance, he was far enough that he couldn’t make out what they were saying, but close enough that he could still easily read House’s body language.
“How long are you going to stand here and watch them talk?” A sudden voice appeared from behind him, startling Wilson. It was Cuddy. He sighed and turned around to face her.
“I’m merely observing House’s friend. Maybe he’s sick. You know, always gotta keep an eye out as a doctor.” Wilson muttered, desperately searching for a plausible excuse, but failing miserably. What could he possibly say? Cuddy's grin widened knowingly.
“It’s his daughter that’s sick, but you already know that.” Cuddy laughed, watching Wilson gulp and turn a deep shade of pink. “House is laughing,” she added with a teasing smile, and Wilson spun around quickly to look.
House was laughing. Someone else was making him laugh? Getting him to smile was difficult enough, but laugh ? Only Wilson ever managed that.
“So what?” Wilson tried asking nonchalantly, as he turned to walk away. “It’s probably nothing, maybe House is making fun of him or something. Being an ass always makes House laugh.”
“If you say so.” Cuddy replied, her smile still wide on her face. Wilson was jealous. She loved it.
It was hard to focus for the rest of the day. Even as Wilson talked to patients, he couldn’t get House laughing with Crandall out of his mind. Stupid. You’re being stupid.
-
When Wilson found out that House had solved the case the next day, and that Crandall would be leaving, he felt an immediate sense of relief. Things would go back to the way they should be. House would be his best friend, and he would only laugh at his jokes.
“You have a what with Crandall?” Wilson asked, his jaw practically hitting the floor. He quickly snapped his mouth shut, trying to regain composure. They were sitting across from each other, eating lunch, as they always did.
“A date. You know, when two people get together and-“ House began sarcastically, enjoying the puzzled look on Wilson’s face.
“I know what a date is,” Wilson snapped, rolling his eyes. “But…” He lowered his voice, almost whispering, “…I thought you were straight?”
“Nope, just a closet case.” House quipped, taking another bite into Wilson’s sandwich.
“Oh. Wow.” Wilson said quietly, licking his lips and furrowing his brow. He wasn’t homophobic. It was 2005, for God’s sake. But House? He’s known House for 11 years, and not once did he ever see him romantically involved with a man. It didn’t make sense.
“I’m joking . We’re going out casually to a bar, as friends. I just wanted to see how you would react.” House grinned, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Your reaction was boring.”
Wilson froze, unsure of how to react. Normally, he’d laugh it off, but this time his ‘prank’ bothered him. Because now he was thinking about House with Crandall, in a completely different manner. And for some reason he couldn’t decipher, that definitely made him jealous.
“It wasn’t funny.” Wilson said quietly, the tips of his ears turning red. He grabbed his sandwich back from House’s hands and standing up. “But um… could I come with?”
“Of course. If you let me finish that sandwich.” House bargained, pouting at the fact that Wilson took it from him.
Wilson rolled his eyes and gave him the sandwich back. “Alright, just let me know when and where and I’ll meet you there.”
-
Wilson knew it was stupid to go. But House’s joke, for whatever reason, rattled him. I guess somewhere deep down, he thought that if House were to date a man, shouldn’t it be… him ? It was the only thing that made sense. They’d known each other for 11 years, and had even lived together at one point. Why not him? It’s not a date, idiot. He told you that. Get over it. You’re straight, anyway.
They had only been at the bar for an hour when House grumbled, “You’re being possessive today”, downing the last sip of his beer. Crandall had gone to the bathroom, leaving just the two of them sitting together.
Wilson choked on his drink. “Possessive? What are you talking about?”
House rolled his eyes and called over the bartender. “Any time Dylan tells a story about us, you always try to one-up him—Just one more, please.” He asked, holding out his empty glass. The bartender complied.
Wilson scoffed incredulously. “I do not!”
“Oh yeah?” House started, and then began to mimic Wilson. “One time I filed through his cane. One time we met Angelina Jolie-”
Wilson’s cheeks began to feel warm. “I didn’t mean it like that... I was just—"
“Trying to one-up him, I know,” House stated matter-of-factly. “And don’t get me started on whatever this is.” He gestured toward the closeness between them. “Christ, you’re like a whiny toddler clinging to my leg. Might as well start calling me Daddy.”
Wilson blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re jealous .”
Before Wilson could respond, Crandall reappeared. “Everything alright?” he asked cautiously, clearly sensing the tension in the room. Wilson’s face was bright red, the kind of flush that could put tomatoes to shame, while House wore a scowl. He wished Wilson would just admit it.
“Everything’s fine.” The two of them blurted out at the same time, which unsurprisingly did not convince Crandall.
“I should go, anyway.” Wilson stood up, grabbing his jacket. He had never felt so humiliated in his life. “Goodnight, both of you. It was nice to meet you, Crandall.”
House couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he watched Wilson leave. He was right, Wilson was being possessive and was definitely jealous, but maybe he didn’t have to word it so harshly. In fact, he couldn’t deny the jealousy that stirred within him whenever he saw Wilson flirting with another nurse—or, even worse, a patient.
“Why don’t you just tell him that you love him?” Crandall asked, letting out a sigh and sitting down at the seat Wilson had just unoccupied. House scrunched his face, taken off guard by the sudden question. “Oh come on, House. Even after all these years, I know you. You were looking at him the same way you looked at me when we were young.”
House took a sip of his beer, staring into the glass as if it held all the answers. He knew he couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, and besides, he was drunk enough to talk about it for once. “He doesn’t know. I’ve never told him that I—”
“That you’re bisexual?” Crandall interjected, finishing the sentence for him.
“God, I hate that word,” House muttered, a grimace twisting his features. “Actually, I almost told him today, during lunch. But the way he reacted... I backed out and said it was a joke.”
Crandall gave him a pitying smile. He knew House wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings—or anything personal, for that matter. Hell, Crandall knew House was only opening up now because Crandall was leaving the country and wouldn’t be back anytime soon. “He feels the same way about you. He just doesn’t get it yet.”
“I know,” House replied with a nod, his voice flat. It was true—he always knew. He never missed the way Wilson’s eyes would linger on his lips for a fraction too long, or the way he got possessive whenever someone showed even the slightest interest in House. First it was Cameron, then some random patients, and now Crandall.
He was okay with waiting. He’d wait until Wilson figured it out himself—whenever that might be.
“I was mean to him.” House muttered. “He was obviously feeling jealous, and I mocked him for it.”
“I’d suggest you go apologize to him.” Crandall smiled. “It was good seeing you again, Greg.”
House shook his head, his stomach hurting at the thought of apologizing . “Yeah. It was good seeing you too, Dylan.”
-
Somehow, House had made it to Wilson’s new apartment. He was still drunk, but just sober enough to know exactly what he was about to do. How hard could it be to confess your love? He knocked on the door, the anxiety building with each passing second that Wilson didn’t answer. For a moment, he actually considered turning around and heading home—until the door finally creaked open.
“House?” Wilson asked, confused on why he was here. “I thought you were with Crandall.”
“Can I come in?” House asked, flashing his best puppy-dog eyes. Wilson rolled his eyes and let him inside.
And then, House paced—well, more limped—back and forth across Wilson’s living room, clearly trying to figure out what to say. Wilson watched in disbelief. Five minutes had passed, and House still hadn’t explained why he was here. He couldn’t help but notice the intense concentration on House’s face, as if he were working through a complex puzzle. Wilson glanced at his watch and sighed. It was late.
Then, abruptly, House stopped. The sudden stillness was jarring, and Wilson found himself at a loss for words, unsure of how to fill the sudden silence.
“Well?” He finally managed out. He couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes, his gaze softening as he waited for his friend to speak.
House stepped towards him. Wilson had that look—the one he always wore when he thought House was in pain, or worse—suicidal. It was the same look he gave his cancer patients. That stupid, “Are you okay?” look that drove House crazy. Soft. Caring. Pitying. He didn’t deserve it.
“Sorry.” House finally said, and Wilson couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief. That was it? That was what House was trying so hard to say? House had managed to wipe the pitying look off Wilson’s face. Instead, Wilson settled into a look of annoyance—a look House found far more tolerable.
As Wilson started to turn away, House’s hand shot out, grabbing his arm and pulling him back, forcing Wilson to meet his gaze. Wilson’s brow furrowed, irritation on his face, but before he could speak, House’s other hand wrapped around Wilson’s lower back and pulled him in closer. In one quick motion, he leaned inward, gently pressing his lips to Wilson’s before either of them could stop it.
Wilson froze, eyes wide with surprise, but something in him softened. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t know if it was out of shock or something else, but for that moment, he let himself feel it. It was brief, hesitant, but sweet. When they pulled apart, neither of them moved immediately. Wilson blinked, still processing what happened. He was afraid that if his heart beat any louder House might hear.
Just when House was going to say something, Wilson slammed his lips against his. This time, instead of it being hesitant and brief, it was desperate— as if they had spent the last 11 years longing for each other, without even knowing it themselves.
They stumbled backwards until House was pressed against a wall, his cane abandoned on the floor. Wilson opened his lips ever so slightly, and House took it as an invitation to let his tongue test the waters, and he felt the younger moan against his lips.
“Fuck.” House murmured, and he felt Wilson’s lips form a smile against his own. Wilson stepped back, his hair tousled from House gripping onto it. Both of their mouths were wet with saliva, but neither of them dared to wipe it off.
“Does this mean you’re a closet case too?” House smirked, recalling their conversation from that afternoon.
Wilson, breathless and flustered, paused for a moment, trying to collect himself. “I only found out just now.”
“Explains why you were jealous.” House couldn’t help but tease.
“I wasn’t jealous.” Wilson grumbled, walking away to grab House’s cane off of the floor. It was just an excuse to avoid eye-contact.
“Sure you weren’t.” House shot back, as Wilson handed him his cane.
“I wasn’t!”
“Yeah, okay. We’ll go with that.”
The two of them continued to bicker back and forth, but the smile’s on their faces betrayed them.
“Okay. Maybe I was a little bit jealous.” Wilson finally admitted, and House began to laugh.
It was the laugh that from now on, now that Crandall is out of the picture, only Wilson will have the privilege of hearing.
“Shut up and kiss me.” Wilson grinned foolishly, and House gladly obliged.
For the first time ever, Wilson wasn’t the only one blushing.