By: Oldach's Dream

Disclaimer: Really not mine.

Spoilers: Absolutely none.

Summary: House/Wilson established relationship. Shameless bickering, cuddling, contemplating and overall fluffiness. You have been warned.


Personal Interactions

Or: How House Gets a Tummy Ache and Wilson Makes it All Better

"My stomach hurts." House began in what could only be interpreted as a pathetic voice.

Wilson, who was sitting next to him on the leather couch, cringed in sympathy but said only, "I told you not to have that third piece of cake."

House humphed very much like a petulant child and declared, "It's your fault. You're the one who made it."

"Yeah," Wilson agreed. "And I had one piece. I feel great."

They were sitting close enough that when House jerked his left leg out, his foot collided - as he had intended - with his friend's shin.

"That didn't hurt." The Oncologist said conversationally, plucking the TV remote out of his lover's lap. "So, what are we watching? The O.C.?"

"The O.C. got cancelled." He huffed dramatically and out of his peripheral vision Wilson saw him place both of his large, delicate hands over his abdomen. "Ow."

He ignored the whining and flipped through House's list of Tivo'd shows. "How 'bout One Tree Hill?"

"How 'bout you make my stomach stop hurting?"

"If you had anything in your medicine cabinet other than Vicodin and three-year-old cough syrup, I would."

"Go get me a beer." House demanded in response.

"Carbonation'll only make it worse." The younger man pointed out as he continued to skim their viewing options. An E!Hollywood special on the life of Anna Nicole Smith was looking most promising.

"We've gotta buy some movies." He muttered.

"I have movies." House tried to leer, but the accompanying groan foiled his attempts somewhat.

"Porn doesn't count." Wilson countered anyway. Finally shifting his eyes away from the television after starting the program about Hollywood's favorite gold digger, he turned and faced his lover entirely.

House was pale and a little clammy, his hands were still covering his stomach.

"Still hurt?" It was a stupid question, and the older doctor snorted in response.

"Liquor." He decided. "Go get me liquor."

"Drinking anything is a bad idea and you know it." Wilson lowered the volume on the TV. "It'll pass."

"But Vodka would be faster."

"And you'd have a hangover tomorrow."

"Small price to pay." He shrugged. Wilson just rolled his eyes as House kept his teeth clenched in discomfort.

Finally the Oncologist sighed. Tossing the remote onto the coffee table, he reorganized himself so he was pressed against the back of the sofa, an arm propped up on the side.

"Come'ere." He got out in a half-irritated, half-affectionate tone.

House took note of his lover's new position and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Are we gonna cuddle now, Jimmy? 'Cause I think I've got an episode of Dr. Phil in there-" he jerked his head towards the flickering screen, "-that discusses the psychological repercussions of this in detail."

Wilson managed only, "You Tivo Dr. Phil?"

"I like to throw things at the TV." House paused thoughtfully. "He makes a good drinking game, too."

"We'll have to try that out some night." Wilson said, honestly intrigued. Before shifting his attention again. "Now get over here."

"Bossy," House griped, but made no effort to disobey the command.

Slowly the older man maneuvered himself so his legs were propped up on the couch cushions - he'd wrapped both hands around his right thigh to get it there - and propelled himself backwards so when he let his head fall, it came to a rest on his lover's shoulder.

Wilson, who had pulled his own body as far into the back of the couch as he could manage as House had been moving around, now relaxed his muscles and snaked both his arms around the taller man's midsection, molding into him comfortingly.

Slowly, with purposeful gentleness, he began rubbing circles over House's stomach. Long, languid circles that very obviously put the Diagnostician at ease.

With his eyes closed and his breaths coming out slowly, it was hard to tell, even after just a few seconds of this mindless comfort, if he was still awake.

"Fell better?" Wilson asked halfway between a whisper and the vibrating drawl of a word catching in your throat before it got all the way out.

He coughed and felt a lump dissolve.

Fluke, he told himself.

The reaction of watching Greg House trust you, he knew.

"Yeah," The older man mumbled, and was silent for a few more moments before deciding to share, "I don't what you or your patients say, you do have magical powers."

"Alka-Seltzer would have been just as magical." He forced himself to snark, at the same time tightening the grip he had around his lover's stomach. "We need to buy some. Especially with the way you eat my food."

"You need to buy some." House corrected, still speaking lazily. "I don't believe in grocery stores."

"Fine." Wilson agreed. He knew exactly why House didn't like stores of any kind - it went without saying that limps and crowded public establishments simply did not mix. "I'll put it on the list."

They stayed silent for a few minutes longer. Wilson felt the tension from House's stomach ease and he knew the pain he'd felt from over-eating was fading.

Still, he didn't remove his arms or stop his hand's comforting movements. It wasn't often that Wilson got House to cuddle with him in a situation that wasn't post-coital or drunken. Cuddling was much too much affection for his stoic partner - or so the older man constantly claimed.

Deep down though, Wilson believed that House enjoyed the non-sexual human contact - even craved it. Because besides a few initial barbs, he'd never really fight it, and he'd never denied Wilson his 'neediness factor' - again, House's terminology.

Wilson loved that he knew that. Loved that he knew more than anyone about Greg House. He knew the man's fears and weakness, turn on's and turn off's. All the big things. And, much more importantly, all the little things.

He knew that for some reason the elder man couldn't stand the sound of birds chirping, and had in fact moved into this apartment because of the lack of trees in the immediate area. He knew how House always preferred to be barefoot, and would take his socks off the second his shoes were removed.

He knew what had caused the tiny, barely visible scar on his hairline and that his favorite cereal was Lucky Charms.

He knew how his lover knew the plot-line of every show he watched - even if he did only keep them on for background noise to aid his never-ceasing mind in working out a puzzle - and could easily discuss all of them.

Wilson knew that when they were in bed together House would make a big show of snatching up all the blankets for himself and creating a cocoon of sorts - but as soon as the lights were out he'd roll over and embrace the younger doctor with his warmth.

He knew that sucking on his earlobe had an inexplicable sexual affect on the man. He knew where he was ticklish and how many languages he spoke. He knew the difference in his moods and could detect just by looking - too tired, too annoyed, too much pain and too happy - to name simply a few.

But what Wilson loved most of all, was the knowledge that for all the little - huge - things that he knew about Greg House, his lover knew just as much about him.

The man currently invading his thoughts and causing his heart to clench with too strong - perfect - emotions intertwined one of his hands around one of Wilson's and was kneading it gently, in-tune with his still repetitive motions on his stomach.

"Hey, Jimmy," House spoke calmly. By now, all residual pain from his stomachache was gone.

"Huh?" Wilson grunted. Managing only that as he refocused and smiled lovingly.

"I have an important question to ask you,"

"Oh, yeah?" Wilson knew House. James knew Greg. Jimmy knew Greg. Just like House knew Jimmy and Greg knew James.

They connected on every level it was possible to connect on. And that's how Wilson knew that whatever was about to come out of House's mouth would in no way be serious or important. Still he played along, just like House knew he would. "What's that?"

A brief thoughtful expression, and then, "You think Anna Nicole Smith would have been better off if she'd just stayed fat?"

Wilson laughed. It was the kind of question that he shouldn't find funny, but that House knew he would.

"Probably." He answered.

They both knew why they were indulging juvenile conversations.

"Would you still think I was sexy if I got really fat?" House mocked an insecure, girlish voice. You'll always love me, right?

They could both read between the lines.

"With the way you eat?" Wilson scoffed, leaning down and placing a gentle, chaste kiss to House's temple. "If it hasn't happened yet, I really don't think it ever will."

I'll be here. Always.

"Good." House grinned a mischievous grin that made him look ten years younger and almost innocent. "Because now that I feel better, I think I -"

Wilson tightened his grip around House's midsection and kept his fingers firmly locked between his own the second he felt him begin to move away. Cutting off the older man's faux-casual words he stated firmly. "No more cake."

House made a big show of sighing and relaxing against Wilson again.

"Fine." He rolled his eyes. "Enabler."

"Junkie." Wilson responded lightly, smiling and holding back a laugh.

I love you.

Yeah, yeah, I love you too.