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“You are not well-adjusted,” House declared, handing Wilson a bottle of beer as he sat on the couch next to him, referencing Wilson’s comment from earlier in the day when he’d been ransacking the pharmacy for colchicine. Wilson smiled.
“Neither are you,” Wilson responded, laughing amiably. House seemed to be in a good mood, which had been rare of late. He wanted to encourage it. Plus, it was fun to be around a happy (or at least not totally miserable) House.
“Never claimed to be.”
Wilson sipped his beer. “Why am I not well-adjusted today?” he finally asked.
“You’ve been flirting with me all week.” Wilson choked on his beer, not expecting the verbal acknowledgement. “No one who’s well-adjusted flirts with me. You also showed no interest in the kid’s hot young girlfriend.”
“She’s young enough to be my daughter!”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
House rested his feet on the coffee table and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I was right.”
“About?”
“Colchicine. Small yellow pills, no letter. The cough medicine had a letter on it.”
“You solved the case. Twice. Will you let it go?”
“Will you back up your flirting?”
“Back up my —“
House lowered his feet to the ground, snaked his free hand around the back of Wilson’s neck and tugged him forward. Wilson went easily, letting House pull him closer and closer until they were a hair’s breadth apart. They both closed their eyes and waited, breath intermingling between their faces. House’s hand moved to rest on Wilson’s shoulder.
It was a familiar game between them. Who could outlast the other? Who would break down first and lean away? Would one of them finally take the plunge and kiss the other?
They’d been playing the game for years.
The first time they played was seven years ago. Wilson lost a bet to House and they’d gone to a gay club so Wilson could pick up a man, then leave him wanting. Neither of them expected House to be the man in question, not when he was undeniably with Stacy. That Wilson was with Bonnie was a moot point. He’d lost the bet, after all, and House knew about the nurse he was seeing on the side.
They spent the night flirting outrageously with the men around them, but more often with each other. They ended up on the dance floor, shoved together by the boisterous crowd, their bodies pressed together and Wilson breathing hotly onto House’s ear. House turned to him, staring at him in the strobe-lighting, feeling the base through their feet and knees and hips. They watched each other, ready, each waiting for the other to make the next move, to kiss, to grab, to grind.
That was probably the only place and time they’d have been able to acknowledge their attraction to each other, Wilson reasoned later, once the game was in full swing.
“Gotcha,” Wilson whispered, his tongue slipping out to run along the edge of House’s ear, pulling away as soon as he’d done it. Wilson sashayed away from a gobsmacked House. Part of him had really wanted to kiss him, but the other part couldn’t stomach the idea of what that would do to their already screwed-up relationship. Make it more screwed up? He wasn’t willing to take that risk.
Nor was he willing to risk the fallout to his marriage and House’s relationship with Stacy.
Later, they defined the rules. They didn’t talk, of course, but it became clear that whenever they flirted, the game would happen within a day or two, and whoever pulled away first had to buy the next round or six-pack. Sometimes, there was a whisper, or a puff of air on the ear of the winner. Occasionally, very occasionally, there was that hint of tongue.
It took Wilson three years to realize that he was the only one pulling away, and another year to decide what that meant and that he was actually ok with the implications, his initial reticence gone. After six years, Wilson had enough practice that he outlasted House about a third of the time, though he’d started to wonder what would happen if they actually kissed in a real way. By seven years, it was half-and-half, and Wilson would wake up in the middle of the night with an erection and House in his dreams.
Seven years of flirting and almost-kissing. Seven years of near-torture, to be so close and yet unable to respond the way his body wanted, because if he were being honest, his body had always wanted it, ever since they met. Seven years of wondering what it would actually be like to kiss his best friend, a man, the only man Wilson could imagine kissing. He loved the game, though. He cherished it. He thought House did, too. There was always a particular sparkle in House’s eyes afterwards, no matter who won.
Wilson felt House’s fingers twitch on his shoulder and knew the game was done for the night. It was a subtle signal that House was about to move away, the one tell Wilson had been able to figure out. He lunged forward as House moved back. That was part of the game, too. If the winner moved forward and managed to keep their lips from touching, he won a second round. They’d become expert at dodging each other this way, able to calculate exactly how far to lean forward or back to avoid the kiss. And how fast to move.
Sure, lips had landed on cheeks, but that meant that the winner was the loser, and had to buy three rounds for his arrogance.
Wilson expected House’s resistance. He counted on it. He counted on the fact that neither of them would actually take that final plunge and kiss the other. Who knew what would happen then?
Probably the Apocalypse.
So Wilson didn’t worry as he moved forward to try to kiss a retreating House. They were both too good at the game.
Only this time, House didn’t move back, and they were kissing, and House’s hand was in his hair, and he was straddling House to get the upper hand, and —
“About damn time!” House exclaimed, kissing him harder. Wilson felt overcome by the sensations. Stubble against his cheek. Hard muscle under his hands. An erection that wasn’t his own. He never wanted it to end, but he desperately wanted it to end so he could put down the beer in his hand and get back into it. House dropped his own bottle to the floor, taking Wilson’s and letting it fall. Wilson could hear the beer fizzing as it poured out of the bottles, but he didn’t care that they’d no doubt step in it on the way to the bedroom. He also had no doubts that they’d make it to the bedroom, now that they’d taken that final step and kissed. House moved, and Wilson found himself on his back with House on top of him, kissing him and trying to get his shirt off at the same time.
“Please tell me you have condoms,” Wilson said with a gasp as House started nipping at his neck.
“In the bedroom,” House answered. He managed to get Wilson’s shirt open. “Fuck if I can wait that long,” he added, running first his hands then his lips over Wilson’s nipples. Wilson gasped and arched his back, pushing his left nipple into House’s mouth. House sucked enthusiastically.
“House.”
House grunted and continued what he was doing. His hand found its way between their bodies to cup Wilson’s erection.
“House!”
House pulled off the nipple with a slurp. “What?”
“Bedroom,” Wilson said as firmly as he could. “Condoms.” House rolled his eyes.
“Fine, but you’re buying the next box.”
“I can live with that,” Wilson replied with a grin, kissing House once more before making them get up.
For a man with chronic pain, limited mobility and a general lack of flexibility since his injury, House was remarkably limber when it came to sex. They wrestled. They struggled to see who would be on top. They laughed and kissed and came rutting against each other impatiently, not bothering with the fussiness of an inexperienced blow job or the care and finesse of anal sex.
Afterwards, House lay on his side and painted Japanese characters on Wilson’s stomach with his cum.
“What are you writing?” Wilson asked softly.
“Wilson ga suki,” House answered absently, putting the finishing touches on the kanji.
“Ski?”
“Suki. It means — well, it means something.”
“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is?”
“Wilson’s got a great ass and if he doesn’t get a second wind so I can fuck him he’s in for a life of pain because I’ll throw you to the jackals?” House replied with a half-heartedly nasty smile that was belied by the happy sparkle in his eyes.
“That’s not what you wrote!”
“You don’t know that,” House retorted.
“There’s no way you wrote all that!”
House chuckled and wiped away the writing. They lapsed into silence.
“Do you really want to fuck me?” Wilson blurted.
“Um, yeah,” House answered, making it sound so obvious that Wilson should have known the answer. He had, of course, but he wanted to hear it from House. “I’ve been saving myself for you.”
Wilson snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Seriously, I had a kid in the clinic this week who wanted me up his ass. I told him to wait for Cuddy.”
“Um…okay…”
“He had an MP3 player stuck up there, idiot! He wanted it out.”
“An MP3 player? Why?”
“Vibrating bass, I suspect. He wasn’t too keen on answering that question.”
“Ah, well, I’d appreciate no foreign objects,” Wilson commented dryly. “Your dick, though, I’d try that.”
“Heh. I bet you will,” House responded smugly. They both chuckled.
They fell silent again. Wilson rolled over to look at House. “So. You were waiting for me to—”
“Do we have to talk about this?”
“Do you want me to leave my wife?”
House pulled back, startled. “You’d —“
“It… It hasn’t been good lately.”
“It won’t necessarily be good with me,” House said. He rolled to his back. “I pushed Stacy away.”
“She hurt you. She broke your trust. I wasn’t even there.”
“I’ll find another reason.”
Wilson sighed and sat up. He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned in disgust at the drying fluids he left there. “I’m borrowing your shower,” he declared, throwing off the sheet that had been covering his lower half. He could feel anger pooling in his stomach the way his orgasm had, only this would simmer and explode rather than smooth the rough edges of everything.
“Wilson…”
“Look, House, if you’re going to doom us from the start, why should I bother? Why should I try when you’re convinced it’ll fail no matter what? I might as well stay with my wife.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“What did you mean?”
“I’m in love with you!” House barked. “The only other person I loved crippled me. How do I trust that you won’t do the same?”
Wilson paused, standing in the middle of the room. “You — did you just say — What?”
House shook his head and pulled his knees to his chest, the sheet coming with him. Wilson felt much more naked than he thought he should, even with House’s groin covered and his exposed to the air. He put his hands on his hips and resisted the urge to cover himself. House would tease him if he did, and then he’d never get a straight answer out of the man.
“I don’t know,” House said. “I’m not good at this!” he exclaimed. “Look at us. We’ve barely had sex and we’re already fighting. How on earth would a relationship between us work? How long could it last?”
Wilson lowered his hands and moved to sit on the bed next to House. “We’ve spent years pretending this wasn’t a part of our relationship,” he started. “We’ve flirted, and fought, and we’ve been friends throughout. Does sex change things so dramatically?”
House shrugged, looking away. Wilson tilted House’s chin so he had to look at him.
“I stuck with you when Stacy left. I supported you when you were a complete asshole to everyone, and even more of one to me. I’m not going anywhere.” He bent and kissed House on the lips. After a moment, House responded, pulling him closer. “If you’re scared… If all you want is a friends with benefits thing…”
House tugged on Wilson’s hair to stop him from talking.
“James, I said I’m in love with you. What do you think that means?”
“Not just sex?” Wilson asked hopefully.
“Not just sex,” House agreed.
Wilson smiled.
“Jesus, you’re pathetic. Look at you: Completely filthy and grinning like a fool.”
“I love you, too,” Wilson said. “Insult me all you want, but it’s true.”
“Just for that, I get the first shower.”
“We can’t share?“
“Too awkward with the leg,” House interrupted. “It gets slippery, it gets dangerous. I don’t want to take us both down our first night together. Maybe later.”
“So romantic!” Wilson teased.
“Idiot,” House retorted, reaching over for a kiss. “Change the sheets while I’m in there.”