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Wilson quirked a brow, peering down at the half burnt waffle he’d just been served.
“House, this is-”
“Fantasmal? I know.”
“I didn’t-”
“You might have to call Betty Crocker herself, or better yet, consider me her reincarnation.”
Wilson rolled his eyes, forking a shred of charred waffle into his mouth. “What I was going to say,” he laughed, "Is that this is great. Thank you.”
A comfortable silence passed between the pair before Wilson furrowed his brows, pointing his fork back toward the other. “Uh hold on, is that my dress shirt?”
House hid a smirk, turning away in order to scuffle off around the apartment. Radiators crackled and popped, making each room feel familiarly stuffy. He stifled along the carpet as slowly as possible. Not because he was tired, but mostly because he knew Wilson would hate it.
Frosted panes remained a glinting reminder of the outside world as he packed away his work computer with a grimace. But when he caught sight of burgundy fabric out of the corner of his eye, he felt momentarily refreshed. There on the table sat the pair of gloves Wilson always forgot.
He stuffed them away neatly and made his way back to the kitchen where Wilson clutched the morning paper in one hand, reading glasses pushed back into his hair.
It was completely impractical to read without glasses, but it was one of those little things that made House endear his husband that much more. Not that he’d ever admit it.
“Would you like some waffles with your syrup?” House huffed.
“Is this a diet lecture? Because if I'm remembering correctly, yours used to consist of coffee and Vicodin-“
“Uh, I’m a sobered man now James. Well, that was until you started smuggling in all those drugs from Afghanistan.”
Wilson shook his head, folding up the newspaper and dropping his plate into the sink. Fluttering clusters of snow drifted from the sky just beyond broad kitchen windows which House peered out of.
“It’s snowing, we should have the day off.”
“So you’re saying we should stop caring for sick people when it’s snowing?” Wilson questioned.
“Don’t you think?”
“Alright,” Wilson sighed wearily, deciding that was far too much to unpack, “Let’s roll.”
“Roll? What’re you, my grandfather?”
Wilson slipped into his jacket, winding up his wooly scarf with a restrained smile. “No, I wasn’t born in the Gilded Age.”
“Well, just add a top hat to whatever this outfit is, Frosty. You’ll sure look the part.”
“Are you kidding? It's a scarf!”
“I know,” House deadpanned, “That’s why you need the hat, It’ll make you come to life with all of its magical properties.” he quipped, fingers wiggling with mystical emphasis.
Wilson shook his head, pulling the back door open. Princeton’s biting chill greeted him immediately, accompanied by soft yellow light which spilled out of neighboring houses and contrasted warmly against the morning's navy sky.
“You got the car keys?” He shivered.
House nodded, holding them up with a jingle. “You are forgetting something, though.”
The brunette turned back with the roll of his eyes, smiling despite himself. He leant forward, pressing a kiss to House's scruffy cheek before treading out onto crunchy snow. Frost laden branches lifted lofty in the wind.
“We have to be there by seven, and the roads are icy-”
“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” House chided, throwing his husband his forgotten gloves, "But Thanks, Romeo.”
Wilson paused in surprise before laughing indignantly, slipping them on anyway.
“You just like to feel sly, you know that? You’ve got a complex, a slyplex.”
“Slyplex? Careful, you’re naming pharmaceuticals now. I told you that business in Afghanistan was a bad idea for you.”
“House! I have never been to Afghanistan.”
-
Blue emergency lights blinked dull against the gray gleam of the empty hallway. Twinkling ornaments and green tinsel still hung from the ceiling as House shifted uncomfortably beneath them, back cold against the glass partitioning of Wilson’s office.
To Wilson, the holiday decor seemed unfitting now. He sat in a similar position to his husband on the other side of the glass, gently opening and folding his palms over and over until House finally pierced through the silence.
“How many kicks do you think it’d take to break through this glass?”
It worked. Wilson relaxed against the glass and laughed, his jaw working in a way which revealed the dimple in his right cheek. House hid a satisfied smile.
“For you? I think we’d be here until society resembled Mesopotamia.”
“Mm, like we’ll ever see that again,” House hummed, “Think my spear will have a touch screen?”
Striding footsteps interrupted the pair as Cameron rounded the corner, Chase following closely behind. He snacked on packaged nuts, oblivious to the situation before him.
Cameron quirked a brow. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you also in your office for the lockdown announcement?”
House considered this, glancing back toward the sheer wall. “Because, I like to observe Wilson like he’s a zoo animal. Now quick, do that trick with the ball.”
Wilson only scoffed in disbelief, raising his hands for clarification. “I’m under quarantine. I was exposed.”
“What? Up here?” Chase gaped.
“Yeah,” House started in, “Only big kids are allowed to quarantine up here, so you’ll have to find another tree-house.”
“I was in the west wing,” Wilson began, "I came up here before the announcement went off. We’re just waiting for the CDC people now, which could take a while..”
Cameron pressed her fingers to her mouth worriedly. “Do you know what it is?”
Wilson shook his head, shifting away from her gaze with an anxious swallow.
Chase continued to crunch on almonds, package rattling.
“What- give me those.” House griped, ripping the packet out of Chase's hands.
“Hey!”
House and Chase, far too engrossed in their own animosity, barely noticed Cameron’s ever increasing expression of determination.
“Look, we’ll go downstairs and see if we can find out what’s been spreading,” She began, “You should come along, House. You’ll be more likely to get an answer than either of us.”
House opened his mouth but no words came out, almost as though he’d been caught. He looked back at his husband and for the first time ever, the team thought House seemed disarmed. Small, even, as he shifted against the glass.
Cameron’s lips parted in realization. “You don’t want to leave his side.”
Chase scoffed, “That’s bizarre."
House furrowed his brow. “Bizzare, sort of like that time you got a buzz cut? It was like looking at an alien for a week.”
Chase turned, half a mind to leave when Cameron stopped him. The two began bickering and House tuned them out, continuing to eat the almonds he’d pretended to be so perturbed about.
“Seriously?” Wilson laughed.
“I’d ask if you want some but, you know.”
“You should just go. I don’t need you here to hold my hand,” Wilson paused, glancing toward the glass, “Not that you could anyway.”
Instead of replying, he stewed in silence.
“House.”
“Fine!” He snapped, “Just don’t die while I’m gone.”
Wilson scoffed, “You make it sound like I’m an iPod.”
-
“Alright, go talk to that woman over there.”
Chase quirked a brow. “Who is she?”
“The director of emergency management. I think she’d rather talk to you, despite all my strapping young charm.”
The blonde rolled his eyes, ultimately accepting the task as he strode off in the other direction.
“Is that your actual plan?” Cameron began.
“No. I was just tired of looking at him.”
Cuddy caught wind of his voice and shot him a sharp glance, paving her way through the crowd. When she reached him, House was about two steps away from murdering someone.
“Does anyone down here actually have a medical license? Or did the hospital just drive to downtown Jersey and pick all of them up in a white van?”
“Okay, I don’t have time to deal with this. Can someone call Wilson and tell him-”
“Oh, my husband who’s been sitting up there for three hours while waiting for one of your fake CDC members?”
She looked over her shoulder confusedly, then Chase came rushing up. “That lady- She told me they just sent somebody up!”
“What?”
He took a deep breath before continuing, “Said it was an emergency..”
House set off, clacking along while ignoring Cuddy's calls and the jogging ducklings who chased after him. Approaching the elevator, he pressed a cool glowing button and everyone filed in wordlessly.
-
“So,” Foreman started, “You’re saying the stairwell he went up didn’t meet the exposure threshold?”
“No sir,” The CDC member assured enthusiastically, “He should be absolutely fine.”
“Should..?” Foreman questioned, glancing back at the sleeping Wilson.
“Sorry, he will be absolutely fine.”
“Reassuring,” Foreman nodded, though he smiled doubtfully.
The CDC member pulled a brownie from his coat pocket. “The book club was handing these out,” he announced delightedly.
“The what?” Foreman questioned.
Before he could reply the trio interrupted him, House rounding the corner first. Upon seeing Wilson’s sleeping form his face darkened.
“You’re CDC?”
“Uh, yes-”
“Well, get in there and do something!” He barked, “Preferably something other than standing around with a brownie.”
The scientist backed away from him as he continued to approach rapidly.
“Unless of course you plan on saving him with the power of an easy-bake oven?”
“House,” Foreman warned, “Wilson’s fine. He fell asleep waiting.”
The CDC guy nodded in agreement, backing away tearfully before scrambling out into the side stairwell.
“You know, you’re lucky. Last time I did something like that, he stole my nuts!” Chase called, pausing abruptly, “I mean, my snack nuts!”
The man was already gone as Wilson cracked an eye open. “What in the hell is going on?”
When Foreman assured everyone that Wilson had been outside of the exposure zone, the room let out a sigh of relief. Wilson approached his office door as Cameron clicked it open, nearly jumping back when she hugged him with a cheek squished against his chest.
“I- alright,” he laughed, patting her on the back with the reassurance of a weary father.
House furrowed his brow, leaning forward in fascination. "What're you two having an affair or something?"
Wilson laughed, shaking his head. "We talk."
"About what? Mutiny, adultery-"
"We have a lot in common!" Wilson countered.
"Like what." House groused.
Wilson threw his hands up in exasperation. "We go to book club.”
"It's called books and brownies.'
Wilson looked to House guiltily. The other man only quirked a brow, seemingly unsurprised.
"Wait," Chase began, "Do you get food for free?”
Why?" House taunted, "Not thinking of joining, are you? You'd need reading comprehension abilities or that."
With that, Chase took an official leave of absence and House directed his attention toward Cameron.
“And you. Do you hug all the contaminated patients, or just the ones you like?” House questioned, “You know, the big doe eyed ones with irresistibly patchy rashes?”
Wilson shot her a sympathetic smile and Foreman got the message, all three students successfully warded off down the hallway
Wilson stepped closer, the pair alone now. “Jealousy is a cancer of the mind, House.”
“That’d almost sound seductive, if it weren’t for the fact you were itching to bring up cancer again.”
“Right. I forgot how much gloom I bring into this relationship. But I do recall you saying that my eyes were doe-y!”
“I didn’t-”
“Ah! You said it,” Wilson chided, pointing to House with conviction, “Can’t deny it now.”
“If only I could turn back time.” He huffed, attempting a grimace. But Wilson knew full well it was only meant to obscure his smile.
When Wilson’s pager blinked at his hip, he halted with the squeak of his shoe.
House paused, a momentary expression of disappointment flickering across his face. “Already getting called back into war?”
Wilson nodded with a slight frown, before adding, “Oh, hey, are you driving us after work today?”
“No. I’ll be flying, so prepare for take off.”
Wilson dropped his arms to his sides, watching as House continued to limp down the hall and back toward his own office.
A certain warmth curled within his chest as he watched the other go. “That’s.. not what I meant!” He called.
House only peered back over his shoulder with an amused expression.
-
Many hours later, the soft glow of lamplight lay over their bedroom like an orange blanket. House stirred relentlessly, searching for a position that didn’t leave him freezing. Wilson rolled his eyes, he had always seemed resistant to the cold, or at least less susceptible to its lasting effects. House envied him, and so that’s why he’d invade his personal space soon.
“Why do we have all of these pillows, what’s your obsession?”
“I want about twelve more,” House decided, “We’ll have to place them on your side of the bed.”
Wilson laughed, “Why mine?”
“No space left over here.”
Wilson shook his head. “It’s good to know that if I had died, you'd've just replaced me with a pile of pillows.”
House laughed, shifting his gaze across the ceiling. He imagined the alternate version of today in which Wilson didn't come home, one where he didn’t laugh at his jokes and shuffle into bed, warming the space beside him with ridiculously tattered sweatshirts.
“I couldn’t replace you.” He admitted, voice flat and hushed.
Wilson paused, smile softening.
“Huh, maybe the grinch’s heart did grow three sizes.”
“Please. He would’ve had a stroke.”
“Quick, do you smell burning toast?”
“Maybe don’t compare me to a scrappy green creature.”
“Sorry, you’re right. You’d be a scrappy gray creature.
House laughed. “Goodnight, James.”
Somewhere deep within their apartment, a clock House had bought for Wilson many years ago ticked rhythmically, the beat swaying Wilson into sleep.
Just to be sure, House pressed his hand to the brunette's forehead. He was only resting.
Reassured, House smiled fondly, tucking his head into the space between his husband's neck and shoulder. He still smelt of burnt waffles and morning snow.