House-fic: Days of Grace (4/4)

[silversolitaire]

*******************************
When House entered his office on Monday he immediately made a dash for his computer. He had made it a point to not come in on Sunday since he had needed the time to clear his thoughts and he hadn't wanted to come in on two weekends in a row since that would have roused suspicion quickly. Of course he had also wanted to let Wilson stew a bit longer, but that had just been a side effect.

So he had spent most of his Sunday brooding until he had succumbed and started picking up the bedroom, putting all the clothes that had been beyond salvation into the hamper and folding the others back up neatly in a way Wilson hopefully wouldn't find suspicious before putting them back into the closet. He had felt oddly at peace as he had taken Wilson's things out of the plastic bag again and put them back on their usual spots. He was ready now.

After the computer had finished booting and House opened his mailbox he was immediately greeted by a series of emails from Wilson. He opened the first one.

From: < jwilson66@hotmail.com >
To: < ghouse@ppth.org >
Subject: Any news?

I guess you didn't go in on Saturday this time. I didn't really expect you to anyway. It's the big day after all, isn't it? What are your plans for Chase? Dinner and a movie? Heh, of course it doesn't make sense that I'm asking you all this since you won't be reading this until after the fact.

I have to admit I was a little surprised when you said you'd be going out with Chase. I mean, we've both joked about his ambiguous sexuality and his perchance of landing in bed with colleagues before, but I didn't think you'd consider him dating material. But on second thought, it makes sense. He's young, slender, pretty, sensual lips, lithe body... probably great in bed... Oh God, please don't fall in love with him!

Jimmy
House's heart was thumping in his chest by the time he had finished reading the mail. It felt incredibly good to know that Wilson was worried about him falling in love with Chase. It meant that Wilson was jealous and that coming from a notorious philanderer just had to mean something.

He opened the next mail which had been sent a couple of hours later on the same day.

From: < jwilson66@hotmail.com >
To: < ghouse@ppth.org >
Subject: Update

Since I'm not really expecting you to mail me back any time soon I'm going to just write a quick message to keep you up to date. I took Grace to the hospital yesterday afternoon. She hasn't been doing so well lately, so I insisted that we drive in and have a couple of tests run. Looks like her tumor's remission has stopped and it's growing again. Grace is back on her pain medication, but because the dosage has to be stronger now she's not feeling well. I'm going to take her back in on Monday for more tests.

Jimmy
Closing the mail again, House thought about what he'd just read for a moment. He wasn't so sure how he felt about this. His emotions were too conflicted to really pinpoint them, so he moved on to the next mail.

From: < jwilson66@hotmail.com >
To: < ghouse@ppth.org >
Subject: How was the date?

So... it's late Saturday evening here which means... Oh crap, wait, it means you're probably still ON the date. The damn time shift is so confusing. Oh God... maybe you're doing it this very minute! You'll have to give me a detailed report, you hear me? Unlike you I want to know everything. I think that's only fair. After all I want to know what you'll be fantasizing about later.

I should probably go to bed, but I find it hard to rest. Upsetting thoughts are keeping me awake. Grace is sleeping now but she wasn't doing well at all earlier. Her body isn't used to her medication anymore and she's been throwing up a lot. I don't think it'll last very much longer...

Oh well, I hope you're having a great time. Really, I do.

Jimmy
House found himself smiling a little. He still hadn't decided what he was going to tell Wilson about the date. He opened the next message.

From: < jwilson66@hotmail.com >
To: < ghouse@ppth.org >
Subject: Bored...

It's Sunday now. Well after the date, I hope. Unless... Okay, not thinking about that. You'll remember to tell me how it was, right?

Things are getting kind of boring here. Not a lot of things to do on a Sunday and Grace isn't up for anything. I understand that of course. I'm trying to make her as comfortable as I can. I've called her brother to give him an update on her situation. When I called he thought I was going to tell him his sister died. That was a little awkward.

Not much else to tell. Still missing you. Dreaming about kissing you, making love to you... I hate to admit it, but I don't know how I'll take it if you tell me after all this that you don't want me in your life anymore. That's keeping me up at night, too.

Jimmy
That was the last message Wilson had sent. House stared at it for a long time, unable to really grasp the way he was feeling right now. It felt strange that now that he finally was at peace with himself and with this "thing" Wilson seemed to fall apart, no longer certain of his grand scheme. The term of poetic justice came to mind, but for now it just made him ridiculously happy.

He opened an all new message and began typing.

From: < ghouse@ppth.org >
To: < jwilson66@hotmail.com >
Subject: The Date!

Looks like you really were bored this weekend (with the exception of those complications with Grace which I'm sorry about btw). Well, I for one wasn't bored. I had a great time with Chase. Since you asked, here's the full report.

We went to see the exhibition of Medical Horrors of the 19th Century. I really wanted to go see it with you, but it was nice with Chase anyhow. Afterwards we went to an Australian pub. Chase was funny, adorable and absolutely seductive. When I watched him suck his coffee through a biscuit I wanted to drag him to the restroom and take him right there. We kissed in front of the pub and his lips tasted like chocolate.

I took him back to my place where we talked a little and decided on some casual sex with no strings attached. He was fully understanding of my situation. You'd be surprised how perceptive he is in these matters.

I took him to my bed and caressed every inch of his body. I kissed his lips and was really turned on, ready to fuck his brains out. However, when I was about to I couldn't get it up. I bet you find that really funny now. Ha-ha.

Anyway, since I didn't want to leave the poor guy with a hard-on like that I gave him one of my special handjobs which I think you appreciate too. He definitely enjoyed it. When he came he was a beautiful sight. He left soon after and I spent the rest of the weekend alone.

There, are you happy now? This is exactly what happened.

I think this experiment is all but over. I for one have figured out what I need to know. Now it's your turn. We'll talk about this when you get back.

H.
After he'd sent the mail off, House limped into the conference room and poured himself some coffee. It was still early so he'd have at least half an hour before the team would start trickling in. He decided to spend the time surfing joke sites on the net.

When twenty minutes later the door opened and Cameron came in, House barely acknowledged it with a nod. He knew she'd start working through the mail first anyway. Soon after, Foreman strutted in, tossing an issue of Forbes on the table while taking off his coat. He heard them talk to each other in soft voices, probably sharing the details of their weekends with each other.

For a moment House amused himself with the idea of adding his own stories to the conversation, probably shocking them both into an aneurysm. It probably wouldn't so much be the fact that Chase had ended up sleeping with someone yet again, but rather that this someone had been their boss. Oh, the look on their faces would be delicious.

Still he decided against it. Part of him wanted to avoid the endless comments that would no doubt ensue. Not to mention the very probable complications of him having sex with one of his fellows, even though he probably would have been able to talk himself out of those. But another part of him wanted to keep the memory for himself, so he vowed to himself to abstain from any insinuation whatsoever. Now he only hoped Chase would see it the same way.

He soon got his answer when the door opened again and Chase walked in, casually taking off his messenger bag and putting it on a free chair. As he was taking off his jacket, his glance wandered over to House's office briefly and their eyes connected across the room.

If House had expected some kind of acknowledgement, something that would have hinted at what had happened between them, he was sorely disappointed. Chase barely nodded his usual good morning nod before focusing his attention on Cameron who had walked up to him with some kind of paperwork.

Shrugging, House directed his attention back at the level of Need For Speed which he was going to lose anyway.

*******************************
Wilson didn't write back that day. House didn't think much about it, assuming that Wilson needed some time to digest his email. Or maybe he was worried about what kind of conclusion he'd reached. Too bad for him, he'd have to wait until he got back to get the verdict either way.

That night, House got home late, ordered pizza and watched all the episodes of The O.C. he had TiVo'd. He fell asleep a couple of times while watching, but it didn't really seem to harm the plot. Around 2 AM he dragged himself into bed, now with a fresh sheet and void of scattered shirts, and fell asleep in his clothes.

He arrived late at the office the next day, but since there wasn't any mail waiting for him in his inbox anyway he didn't feel like he had missed anything. He spent the rest of the day dodging Cuddy who obviously had something important to talk about with him and riding Foreman about finally finding an interesting case for him.

When there still was no mail on Wednesday, House reached the conclusion that Wilson either was too occupied to mail back, or maybe he'd lost his online connection - along with his ability to pick up a phone and call - , or he had decided to cease all contact until they could talk face to face again. Either way, House stopped expecting mails.

This of course opened a whole new dilemma for him since now he was out of ways to pass the time. Binge boozing and irresponsible prescription drug combinations just didn't cut it anymore and calling the escort service for company wasn't an option either. He was through with meaningless sex. Of course he could always spend his time playing video games or tickling the piano keys, but even that had lost its appeal for some reason.

So he did something he'd never thought he'd do: he actually signed up for extra clinic hours. The obvious reason for doing that had been that he'd work off the hours he was still owing faster, but the actual one was that he just couldn't find any other way to keep his mind occupied and from going crazy from the weirdest things.

Like on a particularly nasty episode he had envisioned Wilson and Grace walking hand in hand into Il Duomo, requesting a special marriage permit to celebrate the fact that somehow the Italian air had done wonders on the cancer which was now in complete remission. The vision had been complete with them embarking on a romantic honeymoon to Venice, finding a cozy cottage somewhere on the countryside and then growing old together in movie fast forward with a sleuth of children popping up around them. It had been very scary.

*******************************
It was early Friday morning when the phone finally rang. It yanked House out of a fantastic dream involving Cameron Diaz and copious amounts of vanilla pudding so it took him a moment to focus and realize the disruptive noise was the phone. He fumbled for it in the darkness, knocking over an open bottle of pills in the process, sending them skidding all across the floor.

He picked up with a curse.

"Uh... I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" Wilson's voice sounded distant and empty.

Clutching the phone tighter to his ear, House rose into a sitting position. He flicked a quick glance at the alarm clock and grimaced. "It's 4:30, Phileas."

"I'm sorry," Wilson repeated. The line went quiet, just the faint hissing of a long-distance connection between them.

"Don't worry," House said after a while. "I have Ann Coulter's latest book to help me go back to sleep in no time." The comment didn't result in the usual laugh that House would have expected. Instead, there was more silence.

With the pose putting uncomfortable strain on his thigh, House shifted around, switching the phone to the other ear in the process. That way, he almost missed the next thing Wilson said.

"Grace is dead."

House froze for a second. "What?"

A sigh of exasperation could be heard on the other side. "Don't make me say it again. It's over."

What did you say in situation like this? House never knew. "Okay," he said.

Another stretch of silence.

"So, when are you coming home?"

More silence.

"I've..." Wilson sighed. Every single word seemed to cause him pain. "I've called her brother... He's making the arrangements. It's... it's in his hands now." House could hear Wilson rub his hand across his face. "I'm taking the next available flight. I'll arrive Saturday at 8:43 PM at Philadelphia International."

"I'll be there," House said before he even had the chance to think about it. He heard Wilson exhale in relief on the other end.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." House waited for Wilson to say something else, but instead he heard the click of the line being cut, followed by the dial tone.

*******************************
House walked into the arrival area of the airport shortly after nine o'clock. It's not like he had tried to be late on purpose, but somehow everything seemed to have decided to work against him that day.

The Friday had been surprisingly easygoing with clinic duty offering a couple of interesting, but not too longwinded cases he had been able to take care off without needing to deal with the hordes of coughing and sniffling kids that always seemed to populate the waiting rooms close to weekends, because that's when the parents finally paid attention to their kids. He'd called it an early day and returned to the apartment to give it a last look-over, preparing everything for Wilson's arrival.

Saturday morning still had seemed harmless at first, too. He had slept in, then enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in front of the TV with some of the foodstuffs he had bought the day before in expectation of Wilson's cooking. It had been a nice and quiet morning.

But then things had gone downhill fast. First, the doorbell had rung and some overweight guy with a Brooklyn accent had informed him that they needed to turn off the water for the entire house since the guy upstairs needed some plumbing fixed and House hadn't even had the chance to shower yet.

Then his beeper had gone off, calling him in for an emergency with an alleged case of Hirschsprung's disease which turned out to a common gastroenteritis instead. That hadn't kept the patient from vomiting all over his shirt though.

With his apartment's water cut off, House had had no choice but to shower in the staff's changing room, scrubbing his body with medicinal soap for lack of options. Of course he hadn't thought to bring in clothes to change, so he had been forced to grab one of Wilson's shirts which he kept in the closet in his office.

By the time he had managed to get everything done, it had already been half past eight, so he had had barely time to grab snack from the vending machine, find Wilson's spare keys in his office and then locate his car in the garage.

He had had no time to double-check the route to the airport, so of course he'd taken the I-95 in the wrong direction first. An accident on Bartram Avenue had delayed him further and then when he had finally pulled into the parking garage at the airport he'd realized that he hadn't brought his disabled parking badge, so he had been forced to cruise around for a parking space for another ten minutes.

When he had finally parked and gotten out of his car, he'd banged his thigh on a stray trolley and missed the elevator down, delaying him for another five minutes. It was around that time that he had realized that he didn't even know the flight number or terminal, so he had spent another five minutes perusing the Arrival tables to find a flight matching the arrival time, only to find that it had landed twenty minutes ago.

Now as he limped into the area bustling with people handling their baggage, hugging each other and chatting, he felt irritated, sweaty and in pain. Downing an emergency pill from his jeans pocket, he scanned the arrival area.

"I was just about to call a cab," a familiar voice rang out behind him.

House spun around. Wilson rose from his seat, surrounded by his blue Samsonite and black carry-on bag. He looked exhausted with his hair in disarray and dark shadows under his eyes. He didn't smile, but House could see the warmth in Wilson's brown eyes which he suddenly realized he'd missed so dearly.

"Yeah... sorry. Traffic was murder," House offered as an explanation, not really feeling like getting into detail. He noticed Wilson's look flicker to his jacket which he had unzipped during his marathon through the airport hallways.

"Are you wearing one of my shirts?" Wilson asked, nonplussed.

House groaned inwardly. "Long story."

Shouldering his bag, Wilson said with a faint smile, "Guess we've got something to talk about on the ride back then."

*******************************
They didn't talk much on the ride back home. Reluctantly, House had offered his account of the events which had led to his lateness and strange apparel. Wilson had laughed in response and for a moment everything had seemed normal. But then the space had expanded between them and House hadn't known how to fill it. So they had completed the rest of the drive in silence.

Back in Princeton, House parked in front of his apartment and walked around the car to open the trunk. Wilson appeared next to him, looking hesitant for a moment. Then he said, "No, leave the baggage in the car."

House shot him a surprised glance. "Don't you need your stuff?"

Wilson sighed. "I... think it's best if I take a room in a hotel for now."

Hoping the disappointment didn't show on his face, House nodded curtly. "Okay." He hesitated. "But you know that my door is always open, right?" House wanted to whack himself for saying such a cheesy line.

Burying his hands in his pocket, Wilson scraped his heel across the asphalt once. "I know... I just..."

Sparing Wilson the trouble of explaining, House took a step back from the trunk and handed Wilson the key. "I'll see you around then, I guess," he said. He lingered for another moment, seeing as Wilson did the same.

"Yes..." Wilson replied. He turned towards the car and House felt cheated out of the great reunion that he had secretly expected. But then Wilson stopped mid-motion, the key dangling loosely between his fingers.

"Jimmy?" House asked.

Wilson didn't turn around at first. He just stood there, staring out in front of him. Then he suddenly spun around, almost colliding with House who had stepped behind him. His arms went around House's body to steady him and then their lips met in a short but sweet kiss. It was over before House had a chance to react.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Wilson whispered firmly. Then he got into his car and drove off, leaving a stunned House behind.

As House watched the car disappear around the corner, the feeling of disappointment reared up once more. Bent on not letting that faze him, he took the two steps up to his front door and let himself in.

He went straight for the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. His eyes fell on the colorful bunch of flowers he had picked up on whim at that street merchant the other day. He grabbed it and tossed it into the trashcan.

Washing down a Vicodin with his beer, he limped straight to his bedroom, kicking off his shoes on his way through the hall. He dropped the rest of his clothes as he approached the bed until only his briefs and the shirt were left. He finished off the beer, put the bottle haphazardly on a stack of books on the night table and rolled up in bed.

As he waited for sleep to come, tormenting questions were spinning in his mind. Why had Wilson been so distanced? Which conclusions had he reached while he had watched his girlfriend die and was there still room for him, for them, in his life now? Merciful sleep stopped him from trying to find the answers that nobody but Wilson could give him.

*******************************
The scent of freshly brewed coffee rose House from his sleep. He was awake immediately. As he swung his legs out of bed, he heard the clinking of plates coming from the kitchen. Warily, he left his bedroom and padded down the hallway, cautiously peeking around the corner once he reached it.

He found Wilson move around in the kitchen, carrying a plate with toast. As if he had sensed his presence, Wilson looked up and smiled when he spotted him. "Good morning," he said.

Frowning, House looked at the evidence of prepared breakfast in front of him. "I seem to remember that you drove off to take a hotel room last night."

Wilson sighed. "I just needed some time to think." He scanned House. "Okay, you're sleeping in my shirt. This is getting creepy now," he commented dryly.

House looked down on himself and realized he was still wearing the shirt he had taken from Wilson's office the other day. "Uh... I just didn't feel like changing last night when I got to bed," he said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Pouring coffee into a mug, Wilson shot him a reproachful glance. "That's a bad habit, you know that."

Refusing to say anything in reply to that, House took the coffee and took a deep gulp. His tongue rejoiced at the taste. Somehow Wilson's coffee always tasted better.

"Your place is less of a chaos than I would have expected," Wilson continued, unfazed by his silence. He motioned towards the cupboards. "There's food in the storage, fresh produce in the fridge..." He dropped his hand. "Looks like you didn't miss me at all."

House could have sworn he'd heard a hint of sadness in Wilson's statement. Circling the mug with his hands, he looked into the black liquid, watching the little foamy island spin. He wanted to say that it wasn't true, but somehow it wouldn't leave his mouth. He took another sip from his coffee.

"I've gotten the last bits of my things from Grace's apartment. I left the key there, as arranged with her brother. Good thing that most of my stuff is in storage anyway." He handed House a slice of toast with peanut butter. When he took it without a word, Wilson sighed in exasperation. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Standing there with the toast in one hand and the coffee mug in the other, House felt incredibly vulnerable for a moment. "I'm still waiting for the good parts," he said before biting off a piece of the toast.

Wilson rolled his eyes at him and starting drinking his own coffee.

House took the moment of silence to look around the kitchen island, noting with satisfaction that Wilson had brought croissants and fresh tangerines. But as the silence dragged on, he started to feel it weighing down on him as well. "So, when are you going to say the important bits?" he asked, chewing on his toast slowly.

"Such as?"

House swallowed. "Well, for example which great wisdoms you have brought home from your journey of self-discovery. Any noteworthy revelations, insights I should know about? Are you a better man now?"

Wilson stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. "I could be saying the same. You said in your last mail that you've reached some conclusions. Now I'm dying to know what they are. How was your romp through the beds of the hospital staff and what did you find out about yourself while you stroked your handsome employee to orgasm?"

Feeling his cheeks flush a little at the memory, House said with a defiant note in his voice. "I want you to say it first though."

"Why should I say it first?" Wilson exclaimed.

House shrugged. "It was your idea after all. We've only gone through this because of you, so I think I have the right to preserve at least that last shred of my dignity."

Wilson crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Oh, you mean so you can change sides in case I'm saying something else?" When House didn't say anything in reply, he suggested, "We could say it at the same time."

Getting annoyed with Wilson's delaying tactics, House shouted, "Don't be ridiculous. Just spit it out already!"

Slumping his shoulders in defeat, Wilson sighed. "Fine..." He took a strengthening breath and looked House firmly into the eye. "I really want this. Us. During those past weeks I have come to realize quite a few things." He hesitated for a moment. "One of them is that I want this thing we've got... I want it to happen. Maybe more than I've ever wanted anything else in my life."

House released a long breath and leaned against the counter, weakened with relief.

Noting his response, Wilson gave him a small smile. "There are so many things I want to do. I'd like to start by focusing all my needs to nurture and coddle solely on you now, if you don't mind."

Trying to keep the emotion out of his voice but failing miserably, House said softly, "Not at all." Then he added more firmly, "As a matter of fact, you can start right away by slicing me up one of those tangerines."

Wilson laughed. "Not quite what I had in mind, but okay." He took one of the tangerines and started peeling it. House watched him pick the fibers off the flesh, then separate the slices and put them on a plate. Wilson offered the plate to him, but instead of taking it, House opened his mouth.

Rolling his eyes with a grin, Wilson stepped closer and placed one tangerine slice into House's mouth.

"So, does that mean that you and me... there's potential?" House asked casually as he chewed.

Wilson released a shuddering breath. "God, House..." He put the plate aside and put both hands on House's shoulders, looking him deeply into the eyes. "What I'm saying is that I'm ready to commit to you, completely. If you'll still have me, that is."

Basking in the look of insecurity in Wilson's eyes, House took a moment to chew down the rest of the tangerine slowly before wrapping his arms loosely around Wilson's waist, pulling him close. "That is fortunate," he murmured close to the other man's mouth. "Because I happen to have reached a similar conclusion."

"What, that The O.C. is only half as funny when it's been dubbed into Italian?"

"Yes, that and that I can't imagine what we've got with anybody else. I've tried it out, I've looked around... and I've reached one startling conclusion."

"And that would be?" Wilson's breath tickled against his chin.

Sighing, House placed a tender kiss on the other man's lips. "Not only have you made me gay for you, you've also made me not gay for anybody else." At Wilson's confused look, he chuckled. "You know Cuddy. She's a babe, but somehow she just didn't do it for me. When I was in bed with Chase and had that unfortunate bedroom malfunction, it wasn't because Chase wasn't hot or turning me on. It was because I just couldn't help but think about doing these things with you."

House could see the look of smugness spread on Wilson's face, but he didn't care. "You've ruined me for everybody else. So you better own up to your responsibility. As an act of fairness I think you should give me lots of sex anytime that I want from now on, considering I haven't really had a single fulfilling experience over those past three weeks."

"Not counting the blowjob from the hooker," Wilson threw in casually.

"No, that one doesn't count. It was awful," House replied spontaneously. When he saw the gleam of triumph in Wilson's eyes, he added grudgingly, "Let's not talk about that one, please. I shouldn't have..."

Wilson leaned in quickly for another kiss. "It's in the past. Let's talk about the future now." He started opening the buttons of House's shirt. "So why don't you start by taking off my shirt and then we go to your bedroom and start negotiating about just how much sex you'd consider 'lots'..."

"Hmm... that sounds good," House sighed, enjoying the feeling of Wilson's hands on his body. But as his chest was slowly revealed, a nagging thought became louder and louder in his mind and he put a halting hand on top of Wilson's groping fingers. "There's one more thing we need to talk about first, though."

Wilson looked up to him, arousal clouding his brown eyes while his hand was still playing with his chest. "Mmh? What else?"

Pushing Wilson gently away by the shoulders, House said, "Whereas I'm usually all for using sex as a means to avoid annoying conversations I think in this case we still need to talk about this last one and then we'll never mention it again."

Sobering, Wilson dropped his hands. "Fine. Let's talk about Grace then." He turned around, leaning with his back against the kitchen island. "During the past weeks I've come to realize quite a few things. Not just about us, but also about myself. What I've experienced... it has changed me."

He didn't look at House as he spoke, very softly. "I've seen people die before, have accompanied on their road to death, tried to make them as comfortable about it as possible. But this time it was different. It was closer, more personal. And in a way this is what I'd wanted. I wanted to see how I'd deal with this, how I'd feel of the person was close to me. And now I know. It's not as great as I thought it'd be." He sighed again, rubbing his hand across his face. "After a while, I've started to feel disgusted with myself. With taking advantage of this situation for my own personal satisfaction..."

Turning around, Wilson returned House's even look. "I won't lie, I enjoyed being the focus of all her attention, of being the only one who could make her feel better. It was great to know that I was doing a good thing, making her... her final days as pleasant as possible. It was important. And still... after a while I just got bored with it all."

Sadness crept in his voice as he continued. "It was terrible to realize that I was getting bored with something that usually should have been a dream come true for me. It wasn't so much her fault but mine. I gave her everything I had until I was empty and then she still needed more. More than I could give."

His voice broke and he paused to compose himself. "But I held up my end of the bargain," he whispered softly. "I was with her till she died. I held her hand when she drifted off and I was there when the EKG flatlined. I'm free now."

House looked at him for a while. Then he asked quietly, "So, are you done with this now?"

Wilson gave a shaky laugh and nodded. "Yes, I'm done."

"No more needy girlfriends and dying patients that will whisk you away from my side past your usual office hours?"

Another nod. "No more."

"No unfinished business, issues left to deal with, extra baggage..."

This time, Wilson didn't say anything anymore, just nodded weakly. Suddenly he froze mid-motion and clasped his hand over his mouth, stifling a sob. A shudder rocked his shoulders as he was struggling for his composure.

House watched him closely, waiting for Wilson's final reply. When it didn't come and he just stood there, locked in a silent combat with his inner demons, House put a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder.

This gesture seemed to have snapped Wilson's self-control like a brittle twig and he threw himself into House's arms, pressing his face against his shoulder. "I'm sad," he choked out.

Although House had expected some kind of outburst, he still felt a little at a loss now. "I know," he said softly, rubbing one hand slowly across Wilson's back. He felt another shiver rake through his body.

"I'm sorry..." Wilson whispered after a while as he pulled back, his eyes gleaming with uncried tears.

"At least I know you're human now," House replied, letting his hands drop down casually on the other man's hips.

Wilson laughed. Then he sobered abruptly and looked at House. "I love you," he said. He must have noticed the stunned look on House's face, because he added quickly, "You don't have to say anything in reply. Just..." He took a step towards him and sealed his lips with a kiss.

House sighed gratefully and wrapped his arms around Wilson's body, pulling him closer.

They kissed idly for a while, simply enjoying having the other one close. But soon House noticed the subtle changes in Wilson's behavior, the quickened breath, the urgent pulls and encouraging sighs, and felt his body respond. He pressed his hips tightly against Wilson's to show him the extent of his arousal.

Wilson pulled back and looked at him hungrily.

"Oh-oh..." House said teasingly. "Maybe I spoke too soon. Right now you very much look like you're about to sink your teeth into my flesh."

"Oh, I could definitely unleash my unholy desires on you," Wilson replied huskily. "But it's not exactly your blood I'd like to suck right now."

House shuddered at the unspoken promise. "Perhaps we should take this to the bedroom then."

"That sounds like a good idea." Wilson took him by the hand and led him along. In the bedroom, he immediately sat down on the bed and reached out for House who evaded him smoothly.

"I've got different plans," House murmured and pushed Wilson back on the bed. He silenced the protest with a kiss while he began working on the fly of Wilson's pants, slid open the zipper and reached inside to take his cock into a firm grasp.

Wilson moaned into the kiss and pushed his hips against House's fist. His moan turned into a surprised cry when House pulled away, moved down his body and took his cock into his mouth without an introduction.

"God, House!" Wilson arched his back when House let his tongue flicker across the swollen head of his member. "Don't... ah... don't you think we're rushing things? Shouldn't we at least get undressed?" he asked between pants.

House pulled away and grinned up at the other man. "You're welcome to shed your clothes. I've got my hands - and mouth - full down here." Then he sucked Wilson's erection back into his mouth, working on it mercilessly.

Soon, Wilson's hand dug into his hair, trying to push him away. "House... House, stop, I'm going to come! Ah..."

Plucking the hand out of his hair, House pushed it up until it was resting right next to Wilson's head. He was about to pull his own hand back, when Wilson turned his face and captured one of his fingers between his teeth, biting down on it.

Moaning in surprise at the pain, House refused to let that distract him from his efforts and he clung onto Wilson's hips, continuing to work his cock with his mouth until the other man came with a loud groan. His teeth's clasp on his finger intensified for a second as the convulsions of his climax shook him, but then he relaxed and let go of House's finger.

Sighing inwardly with relief, House continued suckling gently until Wilson's cock was soft and spent and slid from his mouth. He briefly checked out the bite mark on his left ring finger before moving upward to kiss Wilson.

The other man was still breathing heavily when House pulled away to look down on his flushed face.

"Why did you make me come?" Wilson asked between pants, half accusingly, half dreamily.

House smiled and rubbed a thumb across Wilson's moist cheek. "I thought that was the idea of giving head."

Wilson laughed shakily. "Well, there's this crazy thing called foreplay, in case you haven't heard."

Leaning in for another quick kiss, House said, "You seemed like you needed a quick release to get your mind off things. Besides, you think just because you've gotten your rocks off now we're done? No way, José. It's been three weeks. I still got plenty of activities planned for us."

He flopped on his back and took off his briefs in one fluent motion, tossing them carelessly to the side. "For starters, you're going to fuck me now."

Wilson pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at House as if he'd grown an extra head. "But, House, I've just..."

Unbuttoning the shirt and shrugging out of it, House exclaimed, "Oh, ye of little faith... Why do people always think that fucking means moving your cock inside someone else's body until you come? There are so many ways..."

Wilson shot him a fiery glance. "Well, I'm glad you've done such extensive studies! And ew!"

"Don't be such a pussy and get over here." House gave his erection a seductive stroke. "Now is the time to drop your pants, by the way."

After a moment's hesitation, Wilson slid off the bed and started taking off his clothes under House's hungry stare. By the time the last article of his clothing fell, House had finished rolling on a condom and was now rubbing lube onto his cock with slow, deliberate movements.

"Time to get in the saddle, cowboy."

Wilson laughed softly as he got on the bed and straddled House's hips. "If I had known this was your great plan we could have saved ourselves a lot of talking." He grabbed House's cock and brushed a bit of lube off it which he used to prepare himself.

Watching him do this almost took more self-control than House was able to fake. He forced himself to keep his hands off Wilson by crossing them casually behind his head. "Oh, don't worry. You'll definitely be the one who's doing all the work. I intend to just lie here and enjoy the view."

"We'll see how far you go with that resolution," Wilson said with a mocking smile while he slowly eased himself onto House's cock. He released his breath once he was fully sheathed and just sat like this with closed eyes, getting used to the feel and occasionally rocking his hips a little bit.

"How about a little more hip action?" House asked through gritted teeth when Wilson still didn't move after a while.

Wilson opened his eyes and gave House an amused look. "Hey, you said it was my turn so you'll need to contend yourself with my pace."

"Yeah, until I flip you over and fuck you through the mattress," House growled, but didn't do anything to interfere. His discontent was soon swept away when Wilson lifted his hips and started the first thrusts with smooth ease.

House groaned gratefully and moved his hands down to dig them into the sheets in order to keep himself from grabbing Wilson's hips and driving himself faster into his warmth. He didn't want to betray just how turned on he was by the sight of Wilson's lithe body moving on top of him.

After a short while, House gave up on his resolve to not get involved and reached out for Wilson's hips, only to find his hands captured by the other man's and pressed against his own chest.

Wilson gave him a slow smile as he leaned in to kiss House passionately.

With a snarl, House freed his hands, pulled them out from between their bodies and clasped them around Wilson's body, fusing it against his chest as he began thrusting upwards to meet the maddening roll of Wilson's hips.

Wilson moaned into his mouth and his face slipped sideways, coming to rest in the moist bend of his neck. "Oh God, House..." His hands went around House's shoulder and he intensified their union as he clung on, his muffled moans vibrating against House's skin.

"I don't... remember you being... so vocal," House panted into Wilson's ear.

"Shut up," Wilson moaned as he rose to his hands, grinding himself into House's cock hard and fast.

As he watched the passion distort Wilson's handsome features, House felt the brush of his newly awakened erection against his stomach. With a grin, House grabbed it and began stroking it in time with Wilson's powerful thrusts. "See? I told you this would work," he murmured triumphantly when he heard Wilson bite back a gasp.

Soon, Wilson was arching his back, his entire body stiffening above him. A strangled cry rose from his chest and House felt the evidence of Wilson's climax warm and wet on his stomach. Squeezing the twitching erection tightly, his other hand dug into Wilson's hips and held it in place as he drove upwards one last time before finding his own release with a satisfied groan.

Wilson's body went slack and molded against his chest. House wrapped his arms around the other man's exhausted form and closed his eyes, waiting for his breathing to slowly return to normal.

After a seemingly endless while, Wilson slid off his body, slick with sweat and come and rolled to the side, reaching for the Vicodin bottle on the nightstand. He shook one pill out of the container and slipped it into House's mouth..

House swallowed the pill gratefully. "You're only doing this so we can go for another round later," he accused Wilson teasingly.

Pushing himself up on one elbow, Wilson grinned. "Of course. My nurturing instincts are inherently selfish, didn't you know that?" Rubbing his face into the stubble of House's cheek, he pressed a kiss on his chin and murmured, "Besides, I love your docile mood caused by Vicodin mixed with post-coital bliss."

Smiling softly, House ran his hand idly across Wilson's arm. His glance fell on the bite mark and he lifted his hand to inspect it. "Didn't think you were into biting," he said casually, turning his hand.

Blushing, Wilson murmured, "I'm sorry."

"A little lower and I could have cracked a wedding band joke."

Wilson leaned in with a chuckle.

They kissed for a long time, hands casually exploring the other one's body in the twilight of the darkened bedroom. When his lips started feeling sore from all the kissing, House asked Wilson to prepare some lunch for them while he went to take a shower. Ten minutes into the shower, Wilson joined him and another make-out session followed which ended in House coming against Wilson's stomach and the spaghetti boiling to a mush in the kitchen.

The rest of the day was spent alternating between talking, laughing and sex. They both knew that once real life caught up with them, the days free of care were over and they'd soon fall back into their old patterns, so they tried to make the most of it now. But something was different now. For the first time in years House felt at peace.

As it slowly turned dark outside, they were sitting on the couch together in perfect harmony, watching one of Wilson's film noir DVDs which he had had in his car. A couple of moderately edible sandwiches that House has slapped together were sitting half-eaten on a plate on the table. House's hand was resting casually in Wilson's lap, their fingers entwined in a way House would always deny if asked about, while Wilson's hand was playing with the back of House's neck.

"So, you're moving back in," House said, his eyes glued to the TV. It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah," Wilson replied impassively. He turned to look at House. "I'm not going to sleep on the couch though."

House shrugged. "I didn't think you were."

Satisfied, Wilson nodded and turned his attention back to the movie. "You'll need to clear out some space for me in the closet," he said after a while.

"I've already moved in most of your stuff that you've left here."

Wilson shot him a surprised look, then he nodded with a smile.

When the movie was over, Wilson got up and stretched with a yawn. "I'm going to bed, if you don't mind. Jetlag's a bitch sometimes." He leaned in and brushed House's mouth with a tender kiss, then grabbed his bag from the hall and walked into the bedroom.

House listened to him unpack his things into the closet, heard the clinking of different body care products being lined up on the shelf in the bathroom and he imagined his toothbrush and Vicodin bottle being moved to the side to make room for Wilson's stuff. He waited for half an hour after the sounds had stopped before getting up and walking into the bedroom.

He saw Wilson curled up on the bed in the soft light filtering in from the living room. He was lying on the right side of the bed, as he usually did when they shared it, knowing that getting out on the left side was easier for House's thigh. Wilson sighed softly when the mattress sagged under House's weight as he slipped under the covers.

Pulling the other man close to his chest, House closed his eyes. He had no intention of sleeping yet. He just wanted to enjoy this. He felt Wilson press a sleepy kiss against his arm and smiled.

Then he thought about the night ahead of him, of numb limbs and stolen blankets, disruptive snores and annoying coughs, of beepers and alarm clocks going off at the wrong time, blow dryers buzzing in the morning, occupied showers when he needed to leave early and arguments about his clothes lying around.

He predicted fights about his poker nights, his days of silence when he was busy thinking, his inability to remember important dates and his reckless driving, drinking and Vicodin dosage. He imagined the evenings together in front of the TV in dull monotony with nothing exciting ever happening except the occasional brush of a hand which led to kisses and making out.

They would spend the rest of their days like that, tumbling around between camaraderie, togetherness, wanting to tear each other's throats out, watching movies, going to sports events, annoying the hell out of each other, knowing what the other was thinking without saying a word, ranting about work and TV shows, playing pranks and having spectacular sex.

And he was okay with that.

The End