Wilson dropped his bag by the door casually. The lights were on and the stereo was playing low. He stuffed his keys back into the pocket of his coat and shut the door behind him.
"House?" he called. "I'm back early. Wanna get takeout?"
There was no response. Wilson ambled into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, scanning the contents. There was also no food. He grabbed a bottle.
"House? I'm taking the last beer." He shut the fridge. "Where are you? I know you're here."
Wilson crossed the apartment and glanced into the bathroom. Door open, no inhabitants. The faintest noise came from the bedroom.
"House?" Wilson called again and then, quite without thinking, pulled open the bedroom door.
There was a girl.
There was a naked girl, a very pretty one, and House was on top of her.
House was fucking her.
Wilson's breath caught in his throat.
Despite the young beautiful female arching up, her face obscured by her hair, Wilson found himself staring at the pale sweaty skin of House's back, the tight muscles in House's neck and the fluffy thinning hair on the top of his head.
Wilson's couldn't move. He couldn't breath. He could just stare.
House looked up.
House looked right at him, into his eyes and he felt his chest burn from lack of oxygen. The bodies continued their rough, almost desperate, movements but House's head remained still, bright blue eyes boring into him.
Wilson finally, finally managed a breath. The sound was harsh and accidentally engaged his vocal cords and came out sounding like a little moan.
The woman reached up for House's head but he shook her off. His eyes were so big, so blue, Wilson thought, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stick up.
House's lashes fell partly closed as though he were suddenly tired. His jaw went slack. The eyes didn't leave Wilson's. House's shoulders tensed and he convulsed with a series of low gasps.
Wilson waited until those eyes fell shut and the body collapsed over that of the beautiful girl. Then he shut the door.
"I think your friend saw us," he heard a woman's voice said.
Wilson ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He sat, quickly, on the floor, leaning his back against the door. Looking desperately around the brightly lit bathroom, he caught sight of the beer still in his hand and opened it, hurriedly taking a long drink.
Wilson heard the front door open and shut followed quickly by the building door. He took another drink.
There was a knock on the door.
"You have to come out eventually."
Wilson scrambled off the floor and hurriedly spun the tap. He cupped the water in his hands and rubbed it over his face.
"I thought you were at a conference in Chicago."
"I was," Wilson said. "Came home early."
"You maybe should have called," House said.
Wilson twisted off the tap and leaned forward on his hands, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Are you okay?" House asked.
"Yeah." Wilson rubbed his eyes with his wet hands. The second his eyes closed, he saw those heavy lidded blue eyes.
The door opened.
Wilson looked up distractedly.
House had thrown on a pair of jeans and a thin red t-shirt. He was barefoot.
Wilson was very attentive to that fact. House was barefoot and his hair was mussed and he was pulling on his t-shirt with one hand, to rearrange it more comfortably against his sweaty back.
House quirked an eyebrow.
"Are you okay?" he asked again.
"I'm fine!" Wilson said, too quickly, too desperately and his voice just a bit too high.
House's eyebrow quirked higher. "Can I take a shower then?" he asked, indicating his body. "I smell like girl."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course," Wilson said, putting his head down and trudging past House. A hand snagged his arm, stopping him.
"Are you okay?" House asked a final time.
Wilson looked up into those, Damnit, blue eyes.
"Yeah," Wilson said, nodding furiously. House smelled like sex and it was making Wilson's head spin "I just didn't think…physically, I mean."
House cocked his head. "Didn't think what?"
"Didn't think you could fuck like that."
House smiled, his head going down as he swallowed his laughter. Wilson's face flushed.
"How did you think…?" House started. Wilson pulled his arm away.
"Never mind," he muttered, trudging over to the couch. "Never mind. Take your shower."
House laughed, shutting the door. A few moments later, he heard the shower and turned on the TV, flicking through the channels as he tried to work things out.
Now, every time his eyes closed he saw House, not far from the couch he sat on, naked and squirming under the hot water.
It was a rather trying half hour. When the water finally shut off Wilson felt equal parts relief and abject terror.
House did not come out wearing only a towel, thank god, or Wilson thought his head might have exploded. No, he came out wearing the same clothes he'd had on before, looking very much the same, except that his hair was wet, uncombed, and strewn across his head in a random fashion.
House fell onto the couch and took the remote from Wilson.
"Why'd you come home early?"
"I caught an earlier flight. I didn't think…" Wilson said in much the same tone he had before.
House rolled his eyes.
"What didn't you think?"
"I thought it was a joke. The hookers, I mean, I thought it was just joking. Was that…"
"Yes. She says her name in Paula."
"She seems nice," Wilson said, before realizing how stupid that sounded.
"She is nice. She's in law school."
Wilson laughed derisively.
House spared a smile. "I know it sounds like a line, but I think she really is. We talked a few times and she seemed…on the level."
"You have a personal relationship with your prostitute. That's so…you."
House flipped the channel a few times before settling on an infomercial. An over tanned woman in khaki demonstrated how to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner using nothing but a blender.
"You don't have to," Wilson blurted.
House looked away from the television to Wilson. "What?"
"You don't have to. Pay, I mean." Wilson looked at House awkwardly. "I mean…you're not unfortunate looking or anything. You could just go to bar. You have pretty eyes." Wilson flushed and tried to glance away, but found himself unable to turn.
"Do you know what kind of women pick me up in bars?" House asked.
The corner of House's mouth curled up and Wilson found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss it.
"Camerons," House said.
Wilson nodded, failing to catch the joke. They stared at each other, the air growing tenser with each heavy breath.
There was a knock on the door.
"Yeah?" House called, not breaking eye contact.
Every muscle in Wilson's body tried to leap two feet higher then his skin. He snapped his gaze to the door. The girl stuck her head inside the apartment, smiling.
"I left my purse. Can I?"
House nodded. The woman strode across the apartment. Wilson was a little surprised to see her stylish clothes and sleek ponytail. The woman grabbed something from just inside the bedroom door and turned, giving them both a shy wave and shutting the door behind herself.
Wilson's mouth fell open. He raised his hand, curled it into a fist and struck House's shoulder.
"What?" House asked, snapping his face back towards Wilson.
"You told her your name was Jimmy?"
"Well, you have to tell them your name is something. I didn't say I was James Wilson, I just said Jimmy."
"I don't know."
Wilson did. It struck him quickly and with full force. "You like hearing my name," he said.
House hit the power button, turning off the television abruptly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You like hearing my name and you liked looking at me."
"You were the one who didn't knock. You're the one who was staring."
Wilson grabbed House's t-shirt with both hands, pulling him forward. "You're the one that was coming," he said, then covered House's mouth with a fierce kiss.
House's skin was still hot from the shower and Wilson's hands found themselves drawn to heat, grasping House's forearms. House grabbed the lapels of his jacket and lifted, dragging Wilson's torso into his lap then pushed off the unnecessary coat. House smelled like soap. Wilson wasn't sure he found this an improvement. He squirmed to his knees, reaching for House's shirt.
House was, rather suddenly, gone.
Wilson opened his eyes and saw House disappear into the kitchen.
"I think you should go," House said.
Wilson remained on his knees, tottering off balance. "Why?"
"I think you should go."
Wilson scrambled off the couch and followed House. He was standing in front of his sink, staring anywhere but at Wilson.
"Why?" Wilson said, "What did I do?"
"Look," House said to his drain. "This is a really bad idea, so why don't you just go back to your hotel and we'll say you didn't get home until tomorrow."
Wilson gaped, glancing quickly from the couch and back again, in the last hour he seemed to have run all over the apartment. "If we're gonna go to all the trouble of blocking things out I should at least get something out of it." Wilson mumbled to himself.
House's back tensed.
House spun around, trying to control his laughter.
Wilson grabbed him again, by the front of his t-shirt, and kissed him. House put a steadying hand on Wilson's hip and let his cane fall to the ground.
"Stop," he said against Wilson's lips. "Stop."
Wilson pulled back, but only a few inches.
"You're stretching out my shirt."
"Oh God," Wilson said, rolling his eyes and grabbing for House again.
"No," House said, pushing him back and leaning on hand on the sink to keep his weight balanced. "This is a bad idea."
"So? I'm not even here." He grabbed again, running the palm of one hand across House's stomach. House's eyes fluttered.
"Did you ever think the reason your relationships fail may be your tendency to jump straight into the sack?"
"Yeah, all those years I've known you…"
"Wilson," House said sternly, "I'm a guy."
Wilson took a step back.
"Jesus," he said, after a moment. "You are, aren't you?" He sat, rather quickly into the kitchen chair. One hand went to his temple. "I…I…I'm sorry. I…just…Jesus Christ, House!"
"There it goes."
Wilson pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "What am I doing?" he asked, plaintively.
"Playing soccer?" House asked. He reached out, got on hand on the table and levered himself into the opposite chair. "Sorry, no, that's American; the rest of the world calls it freaking the hell out."
"Because this evening began with a fairly homoerotic moment, despite the naked woman, and it turned you on."
It had, as did hearing House say the words 'turned you on.'
"Jesus Christ," Wilson said.
"Hey, get your own messiah to blasphemy."
"You told her your name was Jimmy," Wilson said.
"To be fair, I never thought you two would actually ever meet."
"I have to go," Wilson said quickly, pushing up from the table and running out of the kitchen. He got one hand on the doorknob, then ran back.
House was leaning back in his chair.
"I'm sorry," Wilson said, "I just…I have to think, you know?"
House laughed. "Yeah, I know the way you function by now."
Wilson stooped and retrieved House's cane, dropping it with a clatter on the table.
"I'm gonna go home."
"Right," House said, "you don't get home until tomorrow."
"Yeah, tomorrow." Wilson ran a hand through his hair. "I just need to think," he said, turning and walking at a slightly less frantic pace to the door. As he hoisted his duffel bag, he heard House in the kitchen.
"Just think quickly!"
Wilson left, slamming the door behind him.