Title: The Perils of Coming Home Early
Author: Sy Dedalus
Pairing: House/Wilson with House/Cameron overtones
Rating: M, R, NC-17
Warnings: AU. One shot. First time.
Spoilers: "Love Hurts"
Summary: What if Wilson was still there when House got home from his date?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes/Credits: First fic I've ever finished & first slash fic ever, woo. kassrachel's pre-date fic "Relief" inspired this post-date fic. I highly recommend it. Read it here: httpcolon slash slashw w w dot livejournal dot com slash users slash kassrachel slash 306107 dot html

A/N: That angst stuff? Yeah. It's all well and good but what I really want to do is write porn. ;)

Seriously, though, this episode was begging for slash and despite the angst I can't seem to stop writing, I really do want our boys to be happy.

Please let me know if you'd like to see more overt slash like this piece, cause I'd definitely write it. :)

The Perils of Coming Home Early

House closed the door behind him, stiff, tired, and (dare he admit it?) not a little depressed.

"You're home early."

He started and saw Wilson come out of the kitchen drying his hands on a dishrag.

House stood in the doorway and looked at him, not sure what to make of coming home to Wilson in his kitchen, shirt sleeves rolled back like they were before he left, shirt unbuttoned and untucked now to reveal the white undershirt underneath. House noticed his feet were bare.

"You're still here?"

Wilson flashed him a boyish grin. "You got a problem with that?"

He turned and went back into the kitchen, leaving House standing there confused. He shifted his weight onto his left leg and shrugged off his jacket. His leg ached from the dress shoes he was wearing and his mind was numb. It had been a long evening. And Wilson was still here? He must have known.

"How'd it go?" Wilson called from the kitchen. House could hear him rummaging around in the cabinets like a raccoon.

"You're still here," House said, struggling with his tie, "you know how it went. You knew how it would go. Otherwise you wouldn't still—"

"—be here?" Wilson finished, coming out of the kitchen with a glass of scotch in his hand. He sat down on the couch and shrugged. "You didn't take the condoms."

"Just because I didn't want to bend her over the table and screw her raw with your souped-up rubbers, it went badly?" he said. He got his fingers tangled in the tie and tugged down angrily.

Wilson watched him. He was so sexy when he was frustrated. Wilson patted the seat next to him on the couch. "Come here."

"Why?" House said. "You gonna hold me while I cry? Cameron beat you to it in case you hadn't noticed."

"I'm going to take your tie off for you, you moron," he laughed. "Come here."

"How drunk are you?" House asked skeptically.

"Not very," Wilson said. "Probably less than you."

"What were you doing in my kitchen?"

"Do you have to know everything?" House gave him a look. "I eat too, you know. And once in a while I do the dishes." Wilson crooked his forefinger: "C'mon. Your ice is melting."

House limped over, wincing as he went. "I hate these shoes."

"Impressing the ladies hurts on occasion," Wilson said as House sat down on the opposite end of the couch and stretched his leg out on the coffee table.

"No shoes on the table," Wilson said and put his feet up too, wiggling his toes.

"You gonna get your fungal-ridden feet off my furniture or do I have to do it for you?" House said and started working on his shoes.

Wilson just smiled and handed him the drink. "Breakfast of champions. Drink up."

House gave him a funny look but took the drink, tossing his shoe across the room. He closed his eyes and took a long sip. Maybe between this drink, the wine earlier, and the two Vicodin he'd taken a few hours ago for courage, he'd be able to fall asleep tonight.

He put the drink down and leaned back with his hands behind his head, bringing his other foot up to the table and flexing it to relieve the tension.

Wilson leaned over and started working on his tie.

"Hey," House said, surprised.

"You can't get this knot out, trust me," Wilson said. His fingers worked quickly and he pulled the tie off after a moment, letting it fall to House's lap. "You're a free man now."

House grunted and untucked his shirt. "What's on tv?"

"Nothing good," he said. He looked House over: tired, tense, and a mix of seventeen kinds of sadness floating just under the surface of his carefully-controlled features. "What did she say when you told her?"

House sighed. "I don't want to talk about it. It's been a long day."

"Come here, then," Wilson said and patted the cushion in between them with his hand again.

"I am here," House said. "It doesn't get more here than where I am."

"Lie down," he said and patted his lap. "Put your feet up. You look tired."

"What're you doing?" House asked stupidly.

"Something nice for you, but this offer is going to expire in about ten seconds, so come on."

House sighed and rolled his eyes, but he carefully moved his right leg over until his foot was on the armrest next to Wilson and brought his left leg over to join it, lying back with his head on the opposite armrest. He made a small noise of contentment, idly wondering what had gotten into Wilson tonight.

Wilson lifted his left foot, peeled the sock off, and started kneading House's foot, going right for the pressure points. House's eyes fell closed and he made an indistinct noise that made Wilson's dick stir in response, despite the fact that he'd masturbated earlier after House had left.

"Did she like the corsage?" Wilson asked lightly.

"She did," House said. "I took your advice about the earrings and shoes. Complimented her."

"And then she figured out something wasn't right," Wilson said, working his soft hands over the rough sole of House's foot.

"And then she figured out something wasn't right, yeah," House repeated with a sigh.

"And then you told her." Wilson hit a pressure point and House's breath hitched.

"She asked," he said.

"And then?" Wilson prompted. He didn't want or need to know but he knew House would carry it around with him, making every step he took heavier and heavier until he let finally it out. Best to stop that before it started.

"We ordered and she went to the bathroom," House said as Wilson moved down his pants leg to his calf, skillfully working the muscles. "Oh, that's good. Where did you learn that?"

"You don't wanna know," Wilson said. The proximity, breathing in the scent of House, having his flesh under his fingertips—he felt himself getting hard and tried not to sound too strangled when he spoke again. "And when she came back?"

"Two very painful hours of small talk. We talked about you, Chase, and Foreman. How she was liking New Jersey."

"All the things you hate about talking," Wilson said. "That's why you're so tense."

House grinned to himself. "It wasn't the most relaxing evening, no." Somehow this seemed very right and he didn't want to question it. "What did you do?"

"Watched the Sox and A's game. Drank a few beers."

"Sounds nice," House murmured, feeling the evening fall away, the hopes and doubts and memories Cameron had brought up dissipating until it was just him and he was comfortable and almost happy. He'd expected to come home alone tonight, take a long, hot shower, and stay up watching tv until it was time to go to work again. This was so much better.

Wilson finished massaging his left calf and withdrew his hands. He hesitated for a moment before placing a hand lightly on House's right shin, feeling the fabric of his trousers. House opened his eyes and Wilson looked at him questioningly. He saw House think it over and then nod slightly, closing his eyes again. Wilson carefully lifted his right foot and took the sock off. House stiffened and hissed. "Who won?" he asked.

"A's." Wilson replied and started working on his right foot. House moaned a little and Wilson's dick jerked in response. That sound. Oh, that sound. He tried to concentrate on something else. The baseball score. "Four to seven," he said.


Wilson continued working on his foot, casting about for anything to say that would hide the helplessness he felt right now. "When was the last time you trimmed your toenails?" he asked.

House grunted.

Wilson chuckled. "Seriously, man, you're working on a world record here."

"Mmm…tomorrow's pick on the cripple day," he murmured and sighed as Wilson's hands moved down his leg to work on his calf. Below the knee, his leg was as normal as anyone else's—the muscles a little harder and more knotted maybe—but Wilson knew how hard these muscles worked every day and he slowed his pace and lengthened his strokes, digging deep into the tissue.

"Ohhh," House moaned, "why haven't you shared this with me before?"

Wilson didn't answer. His heart was in his throat and his cock was straining against his underwear. He tried to control himself as he rubbed the taut muscle warm under his hands.

He waited a moment until he didn't feel so shaky about the question he wanted to ask next. It was dangerous ground to tread on. His voice was steady when it came out. "How do you feel about…how it went?"

House sighed wearily and said nothing. Wilson started to think he wasn't going to answer when he said, "It's been a long time. Too long. I'm not ready yet."

Wilson took a breath, concentrating on the feel of House's muscles. "You may never be ready," he said.

If that shocked or bothered House, he didn't show it. "No," he said softly. "I may not."

"And you're okay with that?" Wilson said.

"For now," House answered.

Wilson sighed inwardly. He hated to see House give in so easily. "You should've taken the condoms," he said. "Having them on you…makes you feel freer, more bold."

"I'm sure she uses birth control," House replied.

Wilson lessened the pressure he was putting on House's muscles. They were relaxed by now and his hands were starting to ache. The next part…did he dare?

"You said her husband died when she was what, twenty-two?" Wilson said.

"Twenty-one," House corrected.

"Maybe it's been a long time for her too."

House sighed with annoyance. "I don't need another push today," he said, shifting on the couch. "You, Cameron, Cuddy, Foreman. Enough. I can't do it again. Not right now."

"Why do you assume every relationship will end in failure?" Wilson said, lightly brushing House's skin now.

"Because I'm 0 and 11," House said.

"So you're just giving up?"

"I said I'm not ready yet, not that I wouldn't try again."

"And I know you. You say that and one day you turn around and it's been five years."

"Rub it in, why don't you," House grumbled.

"You're right. We got off-topic," Wilson said and started to slowly run his right hand past House's knee.

House's eyes snapped open and his hand flew up to stop the progress of Wilson's. Desperation gleamed in his eyes and…was that realization? "Don't—I don't—know—"

Wilson gently rested his other hand on top of House's and looked deep into his eyes. "Trust me," he said.

House stared at him for an excruciatingly long moment before he withdrew his hand. Wilson rubbed his outer thigh through his pants, right hand resting motionless against the tender skin of House's inner thigh.

With Wilson's hands on him, the warmth of his arm resting against his bare leg, his solid presence and the way he had just looked at him, House felt himself come to life. He didn't know where this was going or where he wanted it to go, but right now it felt so good; he didn't want Wilson to stop.

Then Wilson's right hand started moving very delicately along the muscle that was left, pressing down just hard enough to relieve the tension, and House moaned deeply: it was so much better than he'd imagined. How did Wilson know what to do? He was hard now and starting to squirm, breath quickening as Wilson's hand went further and further up his leg.

Wilson saw House's pants bulge and tingled with desire. House had worn regular underwear instead of boxers tonight and Wilson was nearing the hem, fingers inching forward.

"Stop," House said suddenly, eyes flying open, terror and doubt on his face as he looked at Wilson. "Do you—does this—do you want this?"

Wilson gave House the most seductive look House had ever seen and bucked his hips up to brush the tip of his erection against the back of House's knee. House's breath hitched at the contact and what it meant, but all doubt was erased when Wilson's hand moved forward to touch the soft skin where House's leg met his body. House's eyes slid closed and Wilson began toying with the pubic hairs sticking out from his underwear.

House gulped, "If I'd known you wanted to feel me up, I—oh God," Wilson pressed down a few centimeters from the base of House's penis, "you could have just said something."

"I like this way better," Wilson said, voice husky. He ran his fingers through the forest of curly hair and brushed against House's balls. House whimpered and Wilson's cock jerked, pre-cum wetting his underwear. Suddenly he couldn't stand it any longer and withdrew his hand from House's pants leg.

"Hey, what? Don't—" House said.

"I'm going to move, okay?" Wilson said, voice low and rich. "That's all."

House saw the look in his eyes and stopped protesting. He moved his left leg to the floor and started to sit up.

"No," Wilson said, his hand on House's chest gently but firmly pushing him back down. "You stay. On three I'm going to lift up and slide under. That okay?" House nodded. "One…two…three." They both lifted House's damaged leg and Wilson deftly slipped under it.

House eased it back down with a grunt. Wilson got on his knees on the couch, one knee in between House's legs, the other barely on the couch. House took in the sight of him, rumpled and wild with desire, erection straining against his pants, and went painfully hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a guttural moan. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hard.

"You okay?" Wilson asked, keeping his balance with a hand on the back of the couch.

"Not if you don't come here right now," House said and grabbed Wilson's free arm, pulling him down. Wilson knelt forward and supported himself with his right knuckle. He caressed House's stubbled cheek with his left thumb and before he knew it House's hand was on the back of his neck, pulling him down, and House was reaching up to kiss him.

House moaned against his mouth and Wilson opened his lips. House did too and they found the right rhythm, kissing and nibbling and sucking, each making little noises of pleasure and desire and need.

They broke apart for air, breathing raggedly, and looked at each other. House's mouth was wet and the look on his face—Wilson had never seen anything like it. House saw how young Wilson was and how much he wanted this. Somehow House got harder, and he thought if he got any harder than this his dick would explode.

"Does this mean I get to see you naked?" House said thickly, panting.

"Oh yes," Wilson said and leaned in for another long kiss. He felt House's hands on him, moving underneath his t-shirt to explore his chest. They broke apart again and Wilson went to work on House's neck, amazed at how right stubble felt against his lips.

"James," House said playfully feeling his muscled chest, "you've been working out. You shouldn't have." He was practically purring.

"Mmm," Wilson moaned against his neck. "Shut up and take your shirt off." He said and for emphasis positioned his hips and thrust forward, rubbing his penis against House's. They both groaned.

"Do that again," House panted, "and this'll be over too soon."

Wilson kissed House hard on the mouth again. "Don't tempt me," he said and ran his tongue along House's lower lip. House kissed him back and they both went to work on the buttons of House's shirt, fingers working furiously, mouths meeting furiously. Wilson got the last button undone and pulled House's undershirt out of his pants, greedily running a hand under the shirt and over House's chest now. He wanted the shirts off, though, and grabbed a fistful of House's shirt, pulling him up a little. House got the message and pushed himself up, shrugging the blue shirt Wilson loved so much off and then pulling his undershirt over his head. He dropped them on the floor and laid back, skin sweaty against the leather couch, Wilson panting above him.

Wilson raked a loving look down House's chest and back up.

House was suddenly jealous and wanted Wilson's shirt off too. "Why do you get to—"

Wilson shut him up with another kiss. He had moved down to House's neck again and was nipping and sucking his way to House's collarbone when he felt House's hands on his belt. Wilson got harder as House unbuttoned his slacks and carefully unzipped them until they dropped to his knees. Wilson moaned against House's neck and House slid his hands up the backs of his legs and under his briefs to squeeze his butt.

"Nice ass," he muttered, arching his neck to give Wilson better access as Wilson instinctively thrust forward in House's hands.

House squeezed again before letting go and moving to the front of Wilson's underwear, moving the flap of cotton to free his erection. House touched him and Wilson's entire body jerked. He made a deep moaning sound into his neck that House wanted to hear again and again. He ran his thumb in a quick circle around the head of Wilson's penis, feeling pre-cum leak out, and Wilson shuddered then pulled away.

"No," Wilson said as he sat back on his heels out of House's reach, "not yet."

"It has to be soon," House panted out, eyes rimmed with desire as he looked at Wilson. Wilson was wearing only his underwear, penis slick and sticking out, pants pooled around his knees, and House was in awe of how much the sight did for him.

"I know," Wilson said and his hands went to House's belt, slowly and deliberately unbuttoning his slacks, meeting House's stare, and unzipped them. House's eyes rolled back into his head as Wilson pulled the underwear over his erection and his hips bucked. Wilson slid the pants and underwear down and out of the way, then sat back on his haunches and soaked in the sight of House spread out before him, half-naked, sweaty, and panting. All for him. Wilson watched House's eyes go back into focus and look at him raw and hungry, and his dick leaked more pre-cum. He looked down and saw House's dick do the same. He brought his eyes up to meet House's again and was astounded: he had never seen anyone so naked or so beautiful before.

He leaned in again and kissed him, gently and lightly this time. House opened his mouth for more but Wilson had other plans. He batted House's hand away as House tried to grab him again. "Not yet," he said into House's chest where he was kissing his way down. House groaned in frustration and Wilson reached down to squeeze his balls, then House groaned for a different reason. Wilson suddenly stopped.

"James, please, decide," House said, but Wilson was already sliding down the couch and going for House's erection. He paused in mid-air, mouth open inches above his goal and looked up, hot breath on House's cock. House looked down at him with absolute need and squirmed. Wilson wickedly licked his lips and bent down to run his tongue from the base of House's dick up to the tip. House tasted salty on his tongue. He wrapped his dexterous left hand around House's penis and began stroking him, tongue playing circles around the head. He had never done this before; he was going on what he knew he liked, and he knew he could only take so much teasing when it came to blow jobs, but doing it to House now and the sounds House was making made him want to tease and tease and tease.

House's hand was in his hair and he was trying hard not to push Wilson's head down. Wilson kept stroking him and licking him, but not going all the way. "Oh God," House groaned, "please."

Wilson stopped lapping him and looked up again, a devilish grin on his face. "Well," he said, running his hand up to the head and rubbing it hard with his thumb, "since you asked nicely," and he bent down again and took House in his mouth. House gasped and moaned as Wilson's lips closed around him, nearly coming then and there.

Wilson started sucking and licking, hand stroking what he couldn't fit in his mouth, and they figured out the rhythm, House panting and his breath hitching. Wilson reached down and started stroking himself, short and quick, in time with what he was doing to House, using pre-cum as a lubricant. House was shaking and biting his lip and trying hard not to thrust into Wilson's mouth.

Wilson sucked him languidly but deliberately for a few minutes and House thought he was going to die of pleasure when suddenly Wilson sped up and started sucking as hard as he could. House was making the same inarticulate noises Wilson recognized from his own experience of receiving blow jobs: they meant that House was very close. He sucked faster and his hands moved faster, one on House and one on himself. House grabbed a fistful of Wilson's hair and squeezed, gasping. Wilson moaned into his cock and House couldn't hold back any longer. He came harder than he'd come in a long time, a strangled cry escaping his throat. Wilson sucked him as he came, swallowing the hot, thick cum, hand still moving franticly on himself. House squeezed Wilson's hair hard, dick jerking out spurts of cum, and relaxed and let go as the last twitch came and went.

He panted and moaned in post-coital bliss. Wilson gave his dick a final swish with his tongue and let it go, unfolding his knees and leaning back until he was resting on the other arm of the couch, carefully moving his left leg until the sole of his foot was on the arm beside House's head, knee bent, making sure he wasn't putting any pressure on House's bad leg, and sliding his right leg under House's left, foot on the floor. He pulled House's left leg over until it was resting on his shoulder. He kept stroking himself, inches away from House's left thigh, and watched House come down from his orgasm. He couldn't help it: he moaned and closed his eyes and started stroking faster. He ran his right hand along House's left leg and started kissing and sucking his calf.

House opened his eyes and took in the scene before him: Wilson masturbating with abandon, eyes shut and panting, balls a few inches away from House's softening penis, going to town on his left leg.

"No, stop," House said and reached out to put his hand on Wilson's dick, scooting forward a little so that his penis touched Wilson's balls. "I want to— It's my turn."

Wilson's eyes flew open and the way House was looking at him, he nearly came, shuddering. House tried to grab him and stop him. "No," Wilson breathed, "I'm almost there. You watch and you can—ohhh—get me back later."

House stopped trying to grab his hand and met Wilson's eyes. They were thick with desire and his mouth was red and wet. They stared at each other for a moment, Wilson panting and wild, and House half-lidded, drunk, and relaxed. Then House turned his head and started kissing Wilson's leg, right hand running along it, and left hand reaching into Wilson's underwear to play with his balls. "Mmm," House said between kisses, "you're so sexy," and gently squeezed his balls. Wilson was close but he held out. It felt so good, House's hands on him, mouth on him. He wanted it to last.

House stopped kissing him and fixed a hard stare, full of desire, on him. He let Wilson's balls go and rubbed his thumb on the little patch of sensitive skin between his balls and his anus. Wilson's back arched and he came hard into the air, getting cum on himself and House. House watched his penis jerk and cum spill out until he was done and went lax against the couch. After a moment of seeing him blissful—more blissful than he'd ever seen anyone—House reached over and trailed his forefinger along the still-hot cum on Wilson's stomach. Wilson opened his eyes with the same drunk look House had given him earlier and watched as House slowly slid the finger down along the trail of cum that had gotten on his underwear to the base of Wilson's penis and then bring it to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lap the cum off. Wilson just stared, awed, unable to say anything.

They lay there for a moment, still, taking in the sight of each other. Then House laughed.

"Oh God," he said, "why haven't we done that before?"

Wilson looked at him, still breathing hard, "I didn't know whether you wanted it."

"I did want it," House said.

"Good," Wilson said, closing his eyes and relaxing, "good."

"Mmm," House said, "but I think you got jizz on my couch. We're going to have to work on that."

Wilson smiled contentedly. "And Cameron?"

"What about Cameron?" House asked lazily.

"Are you going to try again?"

"Does it matter?"

Wilson opened his eyes and looked at him soberly. "No," he said truthfully. "No, it doesn't."

House leaned his head against Wilson's leg and nuzzled him, smiling. "Good," he said. He moved a little until their flaccid penises were touching and bucked forward, his dick bouncing against Wilson's. "Rematch in the morning?"

"You have a patient," Wilson said, caressing House's left thigh.

"I'm an early riser."

"Why Dr. House, was that a double entendre?" Wilson said smiling.

"Is there anything else?" House said and bucked forward again.

"I'm gonna need a rematch tonight if you don't stop that," Wilson said playfully.

House kissed his leg and sat up. "You still have those condoms, right?" He grinned wickedly.

"Don't leave home without 'em," Wilson said sitting up too, mindful of House's bad leg. He sat on the edge of the couch and let House swing his leg to the floor until they were sitting side by side.

"Good," House said, "we're gonna need them. You don't know where I've been."

"Uh, considering that you just came in my mouth, I think that's a non-issue right now," Wilson said.

"Yeah, why did you swallow?" House said. "That was gross."

Wilson shrugged, grinning. "Seemed like the thing to do at the time," he said. "You weren't complaining. And just so you know—tastes like chicken."

"Don't spoil the surprise," House said and pushed him. Wilson pushed him back and House kissed him. Wilson kissed back and then pulled away, semen getting cold on his stomach. He reached for House's undershirt, which had ended up on the coffee table, and wiped himself off. He passed the shirt to House.

House surveyed the two of them and the area around the couch. "I haven't done anything this messy since high school," he said.

"I haven't done anything this kinky since high school," Wilson said.

"What, none of your wives wanted to watch you masturbate?" House said playfully.

"It never came up, no," Wilson said laughing.

"Their loss," House said and kissed him quickly, looking him over.

Sweat was drying in Wilson's hair and it was sticking out in odd places. Wilson's genitals were still hanging out of his briefs and his pants were around his ankles, but he still had his shirt and a very wrinkled, semen-stained undershirt on. House's underwear and pants were around his ankles too and he didn't have to look at his neck and shoulder to know that he had little red bite marks running down his right side.

Wilson laughed at the way they looked and tucked himself back into his briefs, kicking his pants off. He stood up and stretched, shirttail falling around him. "I don't know about you," he said, "but I need a shower."

"Damn straight," House said and stared at Wilson's chest. "Next time you don't get to keep your shirt. In fact, take your shirt off right now."

Wilson shrugged. "You're the evil genius," he said and took off his shirt.

"Both of them," House said, sitting back. "And dance while you do it. We'll come up with your stripper name later."

"And walk around in my underwear?" Wilson said feigning shock. "What will the neighbors think?"

"They'll think I've got the best piece of ass in the state," House said. "And they'll be half-right. You've got the best piece of ass in the state." Wilson grinned at House's familiar egotism and started swinging his hips, doing a very bad striptease and finishing by throwing his shirt at House.

"Never dance again," House said laughing. "I hope you don't fuck like you dance."

"One more comment like that and you may never find out," Wilson said and picked up House's cane, half-dancing back across the room.

"That's an abomination," House said, sliding forward. He took the cane, planted his left foot, and stood. He took a tentative step forward without it and smiled to himself, resting it against the couch. "I don't know if it was the massage or the blow job, but it's feeling pretty good tonight," he said looking down at his leg. It was never a sight he wanted to see but right now it didn't bother him so much.

"Probably the blow job," Wilson said. "Repeat as necessary."

"Your lips would fall off," House teased.

"That sounds like a challenge," Wilson said, eyes gleaming.

"Shower first," House said and limped toward the bathroom. After a few steps, he turned and didn't see Wilson following. "Coming?"

Wilson had his arms crossed over his chest and he looked amused. "Just admiring the view," he said.

"Did you just hit on me?" House said, feigning shock.

"You're awfully slow tonight," Wilson said. He walked over and slapped House on the ass. "That's hitting on you."

House squared on him. "No," he said putting a hand on Wilson's shoulder for support and leaning in, "that's a lawsuit. This," he grabbed Wilson's crotch and squeezed, "is hitting on you."

Wilson gasped and his eyes slid shut. "House," he said, voice breaking, "Shower. Now."

House squeezed again and let go. "Whatever you say." He limped toward the bathroom again. Wilson shuddered and followed him.

They managed to shower without incident, soaping each other and enjoying the warm water, both relaxed and sated. They took turns admiring each other and exchanging playful and meaningful glances with raised eyebrows, finally kissing long and slow until the water started getting cold. House turned the shower off while Wilson got out and found two towels.

They dried off and stood close to each other in the steamy room. House draped his arms over Wilson's shoulders and gave him a look that Wilson couldn't read.

"I want to kiss you," House said, "but if I do that, it might lead to other things and I'm sad to say that I'm done for the night."

Wilson nodded and leaned in closer, his arms going under House's to rest on his back. "You want to know a secret?" he said, eyes gleaming. House raised his eyebrows. Wilson kissed him once, quickly, and pulled back, impish grin on his face. "I jerked off in here earlier. I'm done for the night too."

House grinned. "Naughty boy," he said and kissed him. "Do you have any idea how hot that is?"

"Some idea, yes," Wilson said kissing back. He pulled away after a while. "Come on," he said, "bed time."

"Do I have to?" House asked with a whine.

"Patient," Wilson said. "And the sooner you sleep, the sooner you wake up."

"Well," House said wickedly, "If you put it that way." He let Wilson go and limped into the bedroom.

Wilson followed. "Can I borrow some boxers?" he asked.

House gave him a funny look. "You don't sleep naked?" he said.

"Not after the first date," Wilson said smiling. "First fuck—that's negotiable."

House shrugged. "Second drawer from the top," he said.

Wilson rummaged through House's underwear drawer and pulled out a pair of black silk boxers. House watched him step into them and pull them up. "That's my favorite pair," he said.

"Then you won't tear them off tomorrow morning," Wilson said.

"You don't have to wear them, you know," House said.

"Maybe I want to."

"If you keep saying things like that, we're never going to get any sleep," House said. "It's almost one."

"Don't care," Wilson said and kissed him again. He pulled back before it could get deep. "Go to bed," he said and turned toward the door. "I'll be right back."

House gave him a questioning look but limped over and slid under the covers all the same. "Hurry up," he called, "the sheets are cold."

"Coming," he heard Wilson say from far away. He leaned back against the pillow, hands behind his head. He hadn't felt so good in a long time. The date with Cameron, the way he felt about it and her, the past it dredged up, all the things that had gone so wrong—he pushed them away and focused on the image of Wilson in his black boxers instead. What did tonight mean? He didn't know and he was too relaxed and comfortable to think about it.

Wilson came back with two glasses of water and House's pills. House sat up and immediately felt a mixture of love and shame. He knew how Wilson felt about them and yet here he was serving them up on a silver platter. What did that mean?

Wilson put one of the glasses down on his side of the bed and climbed in, handing the other glass and the bottle to House. House took a drink of water and set it aside, then regarded the bottle in his hand. Wilson had slipped under the covers and was lying on his side, head propped up with his hand, watching House.

House looked from the bottle to Wilson and then back. "I took two earlier," he confessed with a slight tinge of remorse in his voice.

"I know," Wilson said.

House's eyes darted at him. How did he…? He shook the bottle in his hand and heard the pills rattle. It was almost empty. He would need Wilson to write for him again. They both knew it was earlier than it should be for a refill.

"Why?" House said, voice wavering.

Wilson took his free hand and kissed it lightly, then ran his thumb in small circles over it. "I don't like it," he said. "You know that. And I wish you'd cut back. You know that too." He sighed and looked down. "But I also know that you need them. Maybe not as much as you take," he blew out an unsteady laugh before getting serious again, "but…I know it hurts." He kissed House's hand again quickly and let it go. It upset him more than he wanted to let on. He lay down and closed his eyes, giving House the space he needed to do what he needed to do.

He heard the bottle rattle and House sigh and then a thunk as House put the bottle on the nightstand. Wilson opened his eyes to see House looking down at him. "I don't need one yet," he said softly, sliding down until he was on his back, head turned to Wilson, "so I won't take one yet."

Wilson nodded slightly and looked down again. House snapped off the light and Wilson heard the sheets rustle as he lay back down. He didn't know what to expect now and he didn't reach out yet to touch House even though he wanted to so badly.

Bringing up House's addiction might have been the wrong thing to do and it might have been the right thing to do—that was arguable—but he knew that House would only push him away if he tried to touch him first now. He contented himself with feeling close to House instead, the heat radiating from House's body making him warm under the sheets, the feel of House's silk boxers on his skin.

He was a little surprised, then, when he felt House's rough right hand on his shoulder urging him closer and House's other arm slip under him to draw him in. Wilson eagerly curled up next to him, head resting in the crook of House's left shoulder, and wrapped his leg gently around House's undamaged leg. He heard House gasp a little at the unexpected weight but then he felt House rub his arm gently and squeeze him close.

Wilson draped his left arm across House's chest, sighed happily, and fell asleep. Whatever remained unsettled between them could wait until tomorrow.


...or is it?There's always the morning after. Review and let me know if you'd like it to continue. :)