Chapter Text
“...Berman pairs his King on the flop. I keep calling, the river turns, I check. He can’t stand it. He goes all in. He’s sure he’s won.”
God, he’s adorable, I want to kiss him.
Wait, what?
House’s brain screeched to a halt. That was new.
The thought had come out of nowhere. One second he was thinking about his case while half-listening to Wilson, and the next he was overwhelmed by the urge to lean over the balcony and press his lips against the rambling oncologist’s.
A vision of himself running his hands through Wison’s hair as their lips met flashed before his eyes without warning. House saw himself moving his lips to the side of Wilson’s neck, sucking slightly, as he tore the other man’s shirt off.
He shook his head, blocking the image from his mind before it could escalate further. He could feel heat rushing to his cheeks as his heart began racing.
You’re just confused. It’s been an eventful night, you’re just caught up in the case. It’s distracting to you. Maybe this obsession is slightly disastrous. Obviously you don’t actually want to kiss Wilson. He’s your best friend. And straight.
The thought, however, did little to calm his pounding heart.
Wilson continued recounting the Poker game, unaware of House’s internal spiral.
House became aware of the fact that he’d been watching Wilson silently for too long and if he didn’t speak soon it would become suspicious.
“Pocket Aces,” He remarked while trying to bring the case back to the forefront of his mind.
Suddenly, the answer hit him. Erdheim Chester. It had been hiding all along.
He would deal with the Wilson thing later, he needed to talk to his team first.
By the time the pair made it back to House’s apartment, it was almost 4 am. After solving the case, House had assumed Wilson would have left already but instead he found the other man waiting patiently in his office.
“You’re still here?” House had asked, frowning slightly.
“I didn’t trust you to get home alone,” Wilson had replied with a small smile, “I was worried you might go on a victory bar crawl. You finally caught your white whale.”
“Unlike Ahab, I survived,” House had said in response, trying carefully to avoid staring at Wilson for too long in case of any more ... .thoughts like the one on the balcony.
His plan had nearly succeeded. The two had caught a cab together and spent the ride discussing the events from the tournament that House had missed out on. It was a casual and familiar exchange. House could almost sink into it and forget about the rest of the night.
Almost.
Their friendship wasn’t normally overtly tactile, but House was cautious of both his and Wilson’s body language during the exchange. He purposefully leaned away anytime Wilson moved closer. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much but the younger man didn’t seem to question anything.
After arriving back at the apartment, House had grabbed a change of clothes and locked himself in the bathroom. Partially because he knew it would annoy Wilson, and partially because he needed time to think.
The feelings he’d been repressing for the past few hours came flooding back into his mind. He screwed his eyes shut, desperate to somehow stop thinking about Wilson, but it was futile. The image of his best friend excitedly rambling about his win, was engraved into his win. He could still see the spark in Wilson’s eyes, the wide smile, the wink, and that finger gun thing. God, that finger gun thing. House couldn’t get it out of his mind.
It was corny, but it was so Wilson. If anyone else had done it, House would have likely rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help but smile affectionately while picturing Wilson.
House groaned slightly. This could not be happening. Sure, he knew Wilson was an attractive guy. And he knew his relationship with him was different than with anyone else. And he knew there were numerous rumors about them. But he’d never thought about the other man in a romantic sense before.
They were just friends. Very close friends, but friends nonetheless. There was nothing else there…right?
He definitely did not have feelings for his straight best friend who was about to get divorced for the third time and was currently sleeping on his couch. It was such a ridiculous thought.
Wilson was just different from everyone. He was special. That’s why House liked being around him. There wasn’t anything else.
Wilson was nice, but not boring-nice. He was just the right amount of nice. And he could be mean too. House loved angry-Wilson. Just not when he was angry at him. He could be just as spiteful and petty as House when he wanted to be, he just hid it better. He was funny, and despite how ridiculous some of his jokes were, more often than not they made House laugh. House probably laughed more with Wilson than with anyone else. Not to mention, Wilson was the most loyal person House had ever met. He’d stuck by him after the infarction. And their friendship had now outlasted two of the oncologist’s marriages. Sure, sometimes his sense of righteousness and morality was annoying, but it was somewhat endearing.
Everything about Wilson just fit him. Unlike with everyone else, there was nothing House wanted to change about him. That didn’t mean he had feelings for him, it just meant Wilson was…special.
They were friends. That’s all they were. That’s all they would ever be.
He definitely didn’t want to kiss Wilson, of that, House was certain. It was just a strange thought. His mind was elsewhere and it was entirely possible some part deep in his subconscious took advantage of his weakened defenses to scream about how attractive Wilson had looked in the moment. It didn’t mean anything. He was simply overthinking it because it had caught him off-guard, but it didn’t actually have any significance.
Wilson was an undeniably attractive guy and House’s brain, in a moment of weakness and confusion, had chosen to highlight that fact. He’d found guys attractive before without wanting to fuck them. Sure, he had ended up sleeping with most of the guys he found attractive, but Wilson was different.
They were friends. That’s all they were. That’s all they would ever be.
That’s all House wanted them to be.
Right?
“House!” The sound of Wilson’s voice cut through his thoughts, “Come on it’s been ten minutes!”
He had to stop thinking about this. Enough was enough. He just needed to sleep and by the morning he’d have forgotten all about finding Wilson attractive and things would go back to normal.
Grumbling, he shouldered passed Wilson who was leaning on the doorway waiting for House to leave, the oncologist’s eyes were half-shut and his hair seemed fluffier than normal, his exhaustion evident. As House took in the younger man, he could feel his chest tighten slightly. He felt the urge to reach out and pull Wilson’s exhausted form against him. To breathe him in.
No, not this again.
“Soooo impatient,” House mocked with an exaggerated eye roll, “No wonder all your marriages failed.”
“I was never impatient with my wives,” Wilson said with a sleepy yawn, “They, at least, gave me a reward for my waiting.”
Normally, House would have retorted with a remark about how he could also make Wilson’s patience pay off, but given that he had just spent the last ten minutes questioning the very nature of his relationship with Wilson, he chose to remain silent as the bathroom door clicked shut.
He flirted with Wilson all the time, this time shouldn’t have been any different. Yet, it was. The thought of even jokingly insinuating that he wanted to sleep with Wilson had rendered him speechless for an unknown reason.
He bit his lip in confusion, taking note of the dryness in his mount and his heartbeat once again speeding up.
House desperately had to fix whatever was wrong with his brain. It was interrupting his favourite habit of making sexual comments about his best friend. It was a travesty.
He flopped onto his bed, not even bothering to slide under the covers. The exhaustion from the night and all the emotions associated with the case finally hit him. For the first time in the past few hours, House didn’t have to force himself not to think about Wilson. Instead, his mind began to drift into the darkness as he welcomed the sensation of sleep washing over him.
“This is a crime to my people,” House said with mock disgust as Wilson spooned a serving of what appeared to be some sort of curry and rice into a bowl.
“And what people would that be?” Wilson rolled his eyes as he passed the bowl to House before filling an identical bowl for himself.
“The monster truck people,” House exclaimed, “One does not eat curry and rice while watching oversized trucks crash into each other. One consumes cheap beer and pizza.”
“It was a gift from a patient!” Wilson replied, “I didn’t feel like cooking tonight and I told you I wasn’t going to keep paying for dinner. So either cook something else, buy yourself your own food, or shut up and eat the curry.”
“You forgot the fourth option,” House grinned, setting his bowl back on the table.
“And that is...?” Wilson cocked his head.
“That’s. The. Option. Where,” House started slowly, placing Wilson’s bowl to the side as well, “We. Skip. Din-”
“Don’t do the slow talking in a seductive voice thing, you know-”
Wilson was cut off by House pulling his tie and pressing their lips together forcefully , Wilson let out a soft moan, causing House to tighten his grip on the oncologist, unwilling to let him cut the moment short.
House began walking the pair backwards without removing his lips from Wilson’s. If his leg protested from the pain of the movement he didn’t feel it. He stopped moving once Wilson was pressed against the wall, trapped between it and House.
“God…House,” Wilson finally broke away, panting slightly.
House smirked at the sight of how red the other man’s lips were. He had no doubt his matched.
“Just House will do,” House said in a low voice, he loved Wilson like this. It was one of his favourite sights in the world.
Their lips met again, House pressed with slightly more force this time. Wilson let out a low moan, signifying his approval. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but it was perfect.
House shot up with a gasp. He was breathing rapidly and could feel the sweat clinging to his shirt and pants.
What the fuck was that?
He took a few deep breaths, attempting to steel himself, Wilson had definitely never appeared in his dreams in that capacity before.
His eyes landed on the bedside clock, the numbers 5:24 blinked back at him. He’d only slept for an hour and a bit but he didn’t feel tired. In fact, he felt more awake than ever.
The image of dream-Wilson after dream-House kissed him was seared into his mind. If he had a pencil he could draw the exact shape of Wilson’s lips, the tautness of his muscles under his collared shirt, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. He slammed his eyes shut, unsure if he was trying to preserve the image or get rid of it.
Various images of Wilson began flipping through his mind.
Wilson rambling about the poker tournament, Wilson with patients, Wilson marrying Julie while wearing the cufflinks House had gifted him for his birthday, Wilson cooking dinner, Wilson at his hospital bedside after the infarction, Wilson’s in New Orleans the first time House saw him, Wilson wearing one of House’s band shirts…
…..Wait.
That one wasn’t real.
“Differential diagnosis,” House muttered to no one in particular, trying to ignore the return of the tightening sensation in his chest, “Romantic dreams about platonic best friend / temporary roommate. Unable to stop thinking about the aforementioned best friend. Creating false memories of best friend. Rising heart rate at various intervals. Tightening sensation in the chest area also occurring at random intervals.:
There was only one possible diagnosis, but that wasn’t a possibility, was it?
If he truly did have feelings for Wilson, surely he’d have realized much earlier. House knew he was bisexual, he wasn’t in denial about his sexuality so why would he not have realized his feelings for his best friend if they actually existed?
His friendship with Wilson was the same as it had always been. Him as a roommate couldn’t have changed anything too significantly.
They still bickered. House still mocked him and stole his food. They still watched monster trucks or crappy tv shows and movies together. Nothing had changed in their relationship since Wilson moved it.
Unless constantly being around the other man was having more of an effect than House realized? The oncologist was the first person House saw every morning and the last person he saw at night. They were always together.
It was possible that increased exposure could be a leading factor in the dreams and uncontrollable thoughts, but the impact shouldn’t have been drastic. Mere exposure couldn’t have caused the racing heart or tightening chest.
So that just brought him back to his original theory which also didn’t work. He’d have known if he was romantically attracted to Wilson. He definitely wouldn’t have watched the other man get married to two different women if he did have feelings for him.
Maybe….
He wasn’t sure if it was just the exhaustion making him exasperated, or maybe he was actually losing it, but House began to slightly entertain the possibility of there being something for Wilson.
But what could possible signs be?
Sure, Wilson was perhaps the only person he never got tired of being around and he was the only person he could listen to talk without getting annoyed. And House was typically in a better mood when the other man was around. In fact, just being in his presence often helped House solve his cases. And yeah, House sometimes got jealous when Wilson was flirting with nurses or talking excessively with patients, but that was just because it cut into his time with Wilson. And it was true that Wilson often acted as his moral compass. And House cared more about Wilson’s opinion on a matter than anyone else, but….
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck.
House was in love with his best friend.