Chapter Text
When Wilson showed up at House’s door, the older man had been a little reluctant to let him move in. It wasn’t anything against his best friend, he was just never one for roommates. Alas, he offered up his couch and his patience, on the terms that it was temporary. Now it had been over a month, and it didn’t look like Wilson was planning on leaving anytime soon. And, strangely, House didn’t seem to mind. The house was always clean, and Wilson would cook him elaborate and hearty meals, always making sure he was fed and taken care of. To be honest, he’d sort of gotten used to the sickenly domestic feel of it all. It was kind of like being gay married, but without the married part. Or the gay part.
***
James was grateful for the safety of his friendship with House, but he was keeping a secret that could crumble it in an instant. He was trans. He’d thought about telling his best friend plenty of times, but always chickened out. Over the years, House had been known for making a few insensitive jokes about trans and gay people, so of course he was afraid to tell him that he was both of those things. Well, technically he was Pan. All his past wives had been trans women, and he hadn’t had a boyfriend since he was a teenager. He had top surgery a long time ago, and his scars were light enough that he felt comfortable taking his shirt off around House, and none was the wiser. Despite this, dysphoria still liked to kick him in the ass sometimes.
On this particular day, he’d run out of clean clothes and had to borrow Greg’s. The boxers were loose in the front, and the familiar feeling of dread and discomfort began to creep up on him. He grabbed a pair of balled socks and shoved them in the front, rubbing his face as he tugged on loose blue jeans. Just as he was doing up his belt the door to the bathroom opened. He jumped, instinctively covering his chest, even though he hadn’t had actual boobs in over a decade.
“I’m changing!” He hissed. Greg just rolled his eyes.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” the older man unzipped and started taking a whizz. James sighed, turning away to finish buckling his belt. That comment struck something inside him, but he brushed it off.
“Plus, I thought we were on an open door bases now ever since you took a piss while I was in the shower last week,” Greg finished and started to wash his hands.
“You were in the shower?!” Wilson squeaked with embarrassment, his face turning red. “But the water wasn’t on?”
“I was about to get out when you made yourself comfortable. By the way, I noticed that you sit down to pee, so that makes you gay, wich, is probably why your wife left you-"
"Just get out!"
"Alright, fine. But lock the door next time, I almost caught you with your pants down," he pursed his lips, before hobbling off and leaving the door open.
“You didn’t flush!” James called after him with annoyance.
***
House knew Wilson was keeping something from him. He had been for a long time. He’d never pried though, knowing it would get him nowhere. That was, until he walked in on Wilson giving himself a needle.
It was a Friday night, and he’d come home early.
“Honey I’m home!” He called overly cheerfully, dropping his bag by the door.
A shepherd’s pie was in the oven and wine was waiting in two glasses on the counter, but the man of the hour was nowhere in sight. He sipped the wine, kicking off his sneakers and shrugging off his jacket.
“Jimmy?” He called out, making his way down the hall. The door to the bedroom was ajar, and, curiosity getting the better of him, he peeked quietly. He was secretly hoping the other man would be naked, so he could take a mental image for his wank bank. What, even bisexual old men get horny all right? But what he saw was not that at all. He didn’t have a shirt on, but that was the line for nakedness. A little bottle was on the nightstand beside him, and he was pushing a needle into the soft flesh beside his belly button, wincing. House furrowed his brow, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Could it be drugs? Was his best friend secretly an addict? But he couldn’t think of any drug that went into that particular spot. At least normally. He squinted, stepping a little closer to try and read the bottle. His cane tapped the door by accident, and he gasped, turning and hobbling away quickly.
Wilson’s head shot up. No one was there. He tried to settle his nerves, waiting the ten seconds before pulling out the needle and putting the cap back on. He put a bandaid over the spot, and tugged his shirt back on. Taking his testosterone had become more of a secret operation then anything after he moved in with House. He had fond memories of Julia helping him do it sometimes, soft touches and gentle words. His eyes filled with tears as he pictured her beautiful face, soft lips and rosy cheeks. He shook away the feeling, packing up his T and putting it back in the little box he’d been hiding it in, shoving it back under the bed.
***
House was hunched over his computer, a cup of coffee beside him and his reading glasses perched on his nose. He’d been up all night doing research. He was scribbling notes on a pad, his brow furrowed in concentration.
When Wilson woke up to an empty bed, he sat up. He rubbed his face, before yawning and standing up. He softly padded down the hall to House’s study, knocking on the door frame. House looked up, taking off his glasses.
“You coming back to bed?” James spoke softly, leaning against the door frame.
“In a while. Get some sleep,” House looked back at the computer screen.
“Greg. Back to bed.” He spoke, firmer. House sighed, his hands hovering over the keys.
“Please,” he softened. House couldn’t deny the hold his best friend had over him. He stood, grabbing his cane and following Wilson back to bed. As they crawled back in together, House chewed on the inside of his cheek, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.
“James, I know your secret,” he said quietly. Wilson’s eyes shot open.
“What?” He spoke, trying to keep his composure.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to judge you.” House rested his hands on his stomach. Wilson sat up a bit.
“So, you're ok with.. it?”
“Hah! I knew you were hiding something,” House grinned triumphantly. Wilson groaned, dropping back onto his pillow.
“Are you going to tell me what it is?” He asked.
“Tomorrow,” Wilson mumbled, feeling sleep taking him again.
“Ok, tomorrow.”