The Dollhouse MD Saga, Chapter Twenty Two
Disclaimer: Do not own! TT
Notes: This takes place a few days after it's all over.
"Why are you cleaning that thing up? It's not like we're ever going to use it again."
"Well, hopefully no, but the government isn't sure that they caught everyone involved with the attack."
"It was a fluke. That gas was supposed to irradiate and kill everyone who came into contact with it, not shrink them." House rolled his eyes. "I doubt that terrorists really want to miniaturize the American public rather than kill them."
"That's a cheery thought." Wilson sighed, sliding the back dollhouse panel into place. He survayed the now clean model with approval. "I can't believe I didn't think to clean up before they gave me the injection."
"Sure, it's not like you had anything else to think about."
"Now we can start detaching the pipes and wires." Wilson frowned at the messy tangle. "It'll be nice to regain use of the coffee table."
"I'm still going to have holes in the drywall from the pipes." House grumbled as Wilson joined him on the couch.
"We can spackle them."
"You can spackle them."
"Yes, lucky you. This place is a hell of a lot nicer than your hotel room was, I made room for some of your froofy furniture--"
"--And now we can do this anytime we want."
On the word 'this' House had lunged at his lover and forced him to lie down on the couch.
"Feel luckier now?"
Wilson would have replied in the affirmative if House hadn't kissed him.
'Actions speak louder than words anyway.' He thought, canting his hips slightly. House groaned and fumbled at his belt. It seemed after the two-week dry spell, he was making up for lost time.
They'd made up for some lost time all those months ago too, when House had come to him in bed.
Even though the past year had easily been the strangest, most terrifying ordeal Wilson had ever gone through, he wouldn't have traded it for a normal year. There was no way that the course of a normal year would have brought them together like this. They may have wound up sleeping together eventually, but they'd gone though something that had really made the relationship…well, solid. House had actually shown that he cared. Wilson wasn't sure how much of that was going to be readily apparent now that House didn't have to take care of him--but he knew it was there.
'That's what I never had before. The absolute knowledge.'
Damnit, why did these revelations always come when they were in the middle of something?
Wilson sighed, not unhappily. If his thoughts had to be interrupted this was surly the best way to do it.
House rolled away from his lover. His leg was aching, and the vicodin bottle next to the bed was empty. That meant limping all the way to the living room. He haden't quite hidden his usual number of bottles around the apartment yet, but they'd only both been back to normal for two days. He was still catching Wilson up on back scripts.
He took a moment to look over the sleeping oncologist. While he had been cute in miniature, House was thankful he was back to proper scale. It just made everything so much simpler, sex not the least of it.
Sex, right. They still had to break the news that they were now an item. Perhaps if they were 'accidentally' caught making out in a clinic room...
House chuckled to himself, picturing the look on Chase's face. It was going to be a good day tomorrow.