Chapter Text
Wilson stopped by House’s office around midnight, after spending several hours napping on his couch while he waited for House to finish with his patient so they could go home. He’d driven House in that morning, and he hated leaving House to have to catch a cab so late at night. House sat in his darkened office, staring into space.
“How’s Ezra?” Wilson asked once he was sure he had House’s attention.
“Amyloidosis. Subtype AA,” House said softly.
Wilson closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Damn.”
“Let’s go.”
They walked to Wilson’s car slowly, House’s leg bothering him more than usual after 36 hours basically on his feet as he tried to solve the puzzle of his patient’s declining health. At his apartment, House nodded towards the building, asking Wilson to join him. Wilson grabbed his briefcase and followed.
They sat in the dark living room, not talking as they drank House’s best bourbon.
“He wanted me because he thought I’d help him end it all,” House murmured. Wilson nodded, taking a sip. “I couldn’t do it.”
“No,” Wilson agreed. “That’s not the kind of thing you do lightly.”
“I remember them all, Wilson. Every single one.”
“So do I.”
House refilled their glasses and leaned back into the couch cushions. “Five,” he whispered.
“Sixty-three,” Wilson volunteered. House reached out and put a hand on Wilson’s knee, squeezing lightly. For once, he didn’t comment at the physical contact from a friend who never touched anyone, feeling like it fit the mood they were in. “It doesn’t get any easier, no matter how much pain they’re in.” Wilson covered House’s hand with his own, needing that extra human contact.
“No,” House agreed. “It doesn’t.”
The silence stretched between them.
“Times like this, I wish I had someone to come home to,” House said. “Someone to touch.”
“Why do you think I got married so often?” Wilson squeezed House’s hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I love sex, but the comfort of having someone to curl up with in bed…” He sighed. “That’s what I really miss.”
House slipped his hand from between Wilson’s knee and hand. He leaned back again and sipped his drink. Wilson finished his and offered House a refill. House nodded, accepting the alcohol. They continued drinking, each lost in his own thoughts. They’d both shared more than was usual for them, and they needed time to regain their equilibrium.
House set his glass down and shuffled off to the bathroom without a word. Wilson didn’t mind. He was used to this kind of behavior from his friend. He stared into his empty glass and contemplated leaving. He sighed. He’d rather stay on House’s couch than go back to the sterility of his hotel. He knew where the blankets were, and it wouldn't matter to an empty room that he didn't stay there. A few minutes later House dropped a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on Wilson’s lap.
“If you promise not to go after the family jewels, I think my bed’s big enough,” House said. “Never shared with a guy before,” he added.
“Yeah, me, neither,” Wilson whispered, looking away. “I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he promised.
“Good.”
The sweatpants and t-shirt were a little too small for him, but Wilson appreciated the gesture even as he got changed. He had a spare shirt and tie in his car, so no need to worry about having to borrow one from House in the morning that wouldn’t fit him anyway.
House sat on the edge of his bed when Wilson joined him. Wilson went to the other side and climbed in, trying not to think about the strangeness of getting into his best friend’s bed.
“How do we do this?” Wilson asked, settling on his back. He knew better than to mention House’s leg, but they both knew that’s what he asked about. House pulled himself all the way into bed and started repositioning the pillows and blanket.
“If you’re on your back like that, I’d rest my leg on your thigh,” House answered. “If you’re on your side, I’d put a pillow between us to prop it up.”
Wilson considered his options. Was he able to relax enough to fall asleep with House’s leg thrown over his? What about if House were spooned against his back? Would he be able to sleep at all, in bed with House? If there was a pillow between them, the comfort they were trying to get from each other would be much more difficult…
“I’ll stay like this,” he decided.
House grunted and continued moving pillows. He took some Vicodin. When everything, including the distance between Wilson’s legs, was as he wanted it, House turned off the bedside light and lay down, rolling to his side and positioning his right leg on Wilson’s thigh. His leg felt heavier than Wilson expected. House scooted closer so that he was sharing the pillow with Wilson and put an arm over his chest. After a moment, Wilson shifted to put an arm around House, under his neck.
“Good night, James,” House said, his breath warm on Wilson’s neck.
“Night, Greg,” Wilson answered, hugging him briefly before letting his arm relax.
.
.
.
Though they woke up at the same time, House’s pain and his slowness in the morning made it so that he got to work a full hour after Wilson. He stopped for a coffee on the way, getting one for Wilson and bringing it by his office.
“What’s this for?” Wilson asked, eyeing the coffee suspiciously.
“Thanks for last night,” House answered. “I haven’t slept that well in weeks,” he admitted. “Not since the ketamine wore off.”
Wilson smiled and sipped the coffee gratefully. “You’re welcome.”
House nodded and turned to go.
“Has anything changed?” Wilson blurted.
“Don’t be an idiot,” House replied.
“Just wanted to make sure.”
House smiled. “Nothing would change even if we did it again,” he suggested. “As long as you remember the rules.”
Wilson chuckled. “Right. Keep the family jewels where they belong. I got it.” They both heard Cuddy’s heels walking with purpose towards House’s office at the same time. “Better get going. I’ll delay her a minute.”
“Thanks,” House said, disappearing out the door.