Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the two sexy men you're about to read about. But if I do ever get a chance to purchase them, I will definitely NOT be sharing! LOL
Author's Notes: I have decided to embark on a little adventure. I have recently been popping in my old DVDs of season one of House and I was thinking of what I thought of the House/Wilson relationship at that exact point. So, I will be writing several oneshot fics each taking place directly after the episode they are named for. There will be spoilers for the episode mentioned, not that will matter since I'm sure each of us have already seen these eps, but I thought I'd better mention it or get scolded! Please keep in mind that I tried to push all information out of my mind except exactly what was given to us in the episode titled and previous episodes. For instance, in this episode, we do not know that Wilson is married or has ever been married for that matter. He wears no ring and never mentions his wife. Also, this will not be a series, saying that you will NOT have to read this one to read the next. Nothing that happened in this one will be mentioned or will have happened in the next. The only connection is that they will all be House/Wilson mostly SLASH fics. Hope you enjoy!
As an additional note, I must say that by this episode, I TRULY thought House and Wilson were a couple. We hadn't been given any evidence to the contrary up to this point and it really seemed to fit. Of course, I would have been wrong, but hey, a girl can dream!
House flung open the door to Wilson's office, happy with the loud thud it made from hitting the wall. He loved to make an entrance. Wilson didn't even bother to look up from his paperwork, long since having gotten used to House's antics. Shutting the door with a little more ease than he'd opened it with, House walked across the office saying, "Found it."
Still without looking up, mastering the ability to follow threads of the diagnosticians conversations from sometimes one period of time to a completely different one, far in the future, "The needle?"
Comforted by the fact that there was no need to explain, "Yep. The idiot woman who hands out the teddy bears to all the newborns. She's about sixty; you'd think she know better by now."
"Common sense does not age make."
"Apparently." They sat in silence while House waited for Wilson to finish whatever it was he was working on. In the past he would have annoyed him until he gave up or threw him out, whichever came first. But time had taught him that just waiting got him so much further. Besides, his time spent reclined on Wilson's sofa was his opportunity to watch. He loved the details he could see just by watching closely. He loved the way the brown locks of hair that no amount of gel or hairspray could tame after a long day of fingers being raked thru them fell over his forehead, the way his eyes squinted as he thought of just the right words to write and the way wrinkles formed and disappeared at the corners of his eyes and across his brow with each deliberation.
It was funny the things he noticed that never were important before. It had taken years of being best friends for the two of them to finally admit they were in love, but ever since then so many things changed. House was just a little nicer, or at least he tried to be. Wilson became more sensitive, if that was even possible, and life became…bearable again.
Granted, some changes weren't as good as others. They argued at work, sometimes over petty things that no one else would, and sometimes over things that they shouldn't, at least while they were playing the parts of colleagues. But every argument lead to great make-up sex, which really was as great as everyone said it was, and that made every fight just a storm cloud that would pass come nighttime.
Nights. Those were the times they treasured. Sometimes Wilson would ask him to play the piano, and he always obliged. Sometimes they would just watch reruns on television. Every once in a while, they'd go out to some remote place, away from anyone that would recognize them. But no matter what, it would be just the two of them, content in the world they'd created for themselves.
They weren't the stereotypical gay couple, which was a relief to both of them. Although Wilson wore every feeling on his sleeve, even he was far above being a clichéd gay man. The beauty of their relationship really, was that neither man had changed who they were. It just happened that they were two men in love with each other. Once they had come to terms with that, the rest had been easy.
So easy, in fact, that House sometimes worried that something would go wrong. Relationships were supposed to be hard work. They were supposed to have obstacles and hard times. But their relationship just seemed to work. Neither man had any more expectations of the other than when they had been best friends, except for the sex, which they both expected on a regular basis. But as for daily life, the normal cause for spats and slamming doors, they had no issues. Wilson had forever been and would forever remain in control of the kitchen. House, although he never ironed, always did the laundry and obsessively kept the bathroom neat and tidy. It was an unspoken agreement between to the two men. Each did his share, and the quarrels never surfaced.
Yes, life had somehow brought them together to share an existence of only minor bumps and thrilling curves. It was that thought that brought him to the moment when Wilson stretched his arms over his head and arched his back, fighting off the stiffness of another long day. As Wilson rose, signaling that it was time to go, House did the same.
They walked out in silence, signing out at the desk as they did. One day, someone would notice that they signed in and out every day at the same time. Someone would realize that Wilson's car was the one parked in House's spot with the handicap sticker hanging from the rearview mirror. At some point, someone would walk past the car in the morning when Wilson stole one last kiss before getting out of the car. But until then, neither man cared to share their relationship with anyone. Not because they were ashamed, but because it was simply no one else's business.
Once they were in the car, Wilson spoke. "So, baby case is over."
"Yep. What about you? You haven't talked much about your balding kiddies lately."
"Not much to talk about. No one's died recently, thank God, and I haven't gotten any new patients either. I've got nothing anywhere near as interesting as dying babies. And what's this I hear about you doing a delivery?"
"Yeah. That idiot woman from the clinic I told you about. She asked me to deliver her baby."
"And you said yes?"
"Means I get to watch my soaps in the OB/GYN lounge for five months. Of course I said yes. It's not like I'm actually gonna do it. When she goes into labor, they'll page the on-call. In the meantime, I get the wide-screen television and the comfy chair."
They fell into silence once again, but this time House could tell that Wilson had something on his mind. There was something he wanted to talk about, but what it was he hadn't hinted at. Or had he? What had they talked about? Case ended, no cancer kiddy news, dying babies, doing a fake delivery and the lounge. House scanned over the topics a hundred times, trying to figure out if he should have caught something, but nothing came to him. Knowing that it was just as easy to wait, he cleared his head. Wilson couldn't hold anything in, or he'd burst. The conversation would come that night, at what point he didn't know.
But the expected conversation never came. Wilson had promptly started dinner when they got home and House settled into the cushions of the sofa, glad to be home with his TiVo. Dinner had come and gone without the vaguest vocal hint that Wilson had something on his mind, and once dinner was over, he'd lost himself again in the kitchen, cleaning every imaginable dish and vacant surface. Once he was done in the kitchen, he'd gone into the bathroom without so much as a single word.
House listened to the water of the sink and then the shower, wondering just what could be on his partner's mind. He'd never seen Wilson hold anything in this long. His heart started to sink, wondering if this could be the moment he'd been dreading. Their relationship was too perfect. There had to be a breaking point. But what could possibly have brought Wilson to this point, where he'd completely shut himself off?
A few minutes later, the sound of the running water ceased. House listened to Wilson move around the bathroom then exit to the bedroom. Five minutes later, with still wet hair, the younger man appeared in the living room wearing a pair of lounge pants and one of House's t-shirts. House's paranoia lifted slightly as he thought that it couldn't be that bad if they were still sharing clothes. But with hands on his hips, Wilson simply announced that he was tired and was heading to bed.
Without even moving from his prone position, House shouted down the hallway, "Like hell, you are!" Wilson returned with a raised eyebrow. "There is no way I'm letting you go to bed before you tell me what's bugging you."
Trying to play coy, "Bugging me?"
"First, if you go to bed without getting whatever this is off your mind, you will toss and turn all night. Which in turn means that I either A, have to sleep on the couch or B, risk being flailed in my own bed while getting no sleep at all. Second, if you don't get any sleep tonight, you'll be in a crappy mood all day tomorrow. So, after not getting breakfast because you just had to try and sneak in the extra half hour of sleep, I'll have to listen to you whine all day. Not gonna happen. So spill it."
With a furrowed brow, "So, this isn't about you being concerned about what's on my mind, it's about how it will affect you?"
He shrugged. "Exactly."
Wilson was halfway down the hall before House shouted, "One hour. I'll give you one hour." He listened for the footsteps that he knew would come, loving once again that he had his partner completely figured out. Whenever he wanted something, really wanted something, all he had to do was promise one thing; cuddle time. Wilson was a 'cuddler.' House on the other hand, liked his space in bed. He didn't mind sitting close on the couch, feet on laps or the random occasion when Wilson made House's lap his personal pillow, but bed, after sex, was made for untouched sleeping. But in the moment when he wanted his way, he could barter his personal space away and get most anything. Tonight, he wanted answers.
With arms crossed over his chest and a smug smile on his face, Wilson appeared asking, "A whole hour?"
House rose to a seated position nodding. "A whole hour. Now spill." Wilson disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with two beers, handing one to House. "Christ. We need beer for this?" He rubbed his forehead. "At least you didn't bring the whiskey." He glanced up at his partner and caught a hint of a smile as Wilson sat in the chair. "Well, judging by the way I got you to agree to talk to me, I guess you're not breaking up with me."
"What? Of course I'm not breaking up with you! Is that what you really thought?"
House picked at the label of his beer, trying not to sound vulnerable. "I'm an ass. You're…far from it. I wonder every day when you'll realize you could do so much better."
"You've always been an ass. Do you think that one day I'm just gonna decide that even though I've loved you all these years your predominant quality is one I dislike?" He paused only for a second. "You know what, we're not even going there. This has nothing, and I mean nothing, to do with reality."
Relaxing just a bit, he took a long pull of his beer. "Okay. So what is reality then?"
It was Wilson's turn to look vulnerable, shuffling his feet. His eyes were downcast, avoiding all possibilities of House seeing the emotion whirling in the brown orbs. "Have you ever thought about…having a baby?"
House nearly choked, dropped his beer and had a heart attack all in the same moment. A baby? How had he not seen this coming? Wilson had been acting weird ever since the baby case had started. Yet somehow the question hit him like a ton of bricks. How had they gone their entire relationship with this never being mentioned? He shook his head, not used to having so many questions and absolutely no answers.
He had to say something. "You obviously have."
It was almost a sigh. "Yeah."
"And?" His heart was pounding, the anticipation of Wilson's answer weighing heavily on his chest.
"That couple, the one who's baby…died…they were a homosexual couple."
"Yeah, I figured that out, too."
"So if they could have a baby, then we…could…if we wanted to."
House ran his hand over his face. Of all the discussions he pictured he and Wilson having, this was not one of them. Kids? Babies? Christ! "So am I to assume that you do want…kids?"
Wilson's eyes finally rose to meet his partner's. "Do you?"
"Did it ever occur to you that if you wanted to have children of your own that you should have chosen a partner with different organs?"
"So does that mean you don't want children?"
House's voice rose in frustration. "Stop answering my questions with more questions!"
Wilson's tone matched House's saying, "Then ask me a damn question I can answer!"
He took a deep breath, calming himself, before spacing his words in an even tone. "Do…you…want…children?"
A moment of silence passed before Wilson eventually answered, "Maybe."
House's temper flared, "Maybe? What the hell kind of answer is 'maybe'?"
"It's the truth!"
"No, it's not. You either want kids or you don't. You can't have half a kid. You can't just adopt one for the weekends or for family gatherings. It's a commitment, all or nothing. So which is it?"
They were in a yelling match now. "What about you? You somehow have managed to skirt around answering!"
"I asked first!"
"Oh, real grown up."
"Just answer the damn question! Do you or do you not want kids? Simple yes or no will suffice."
Wilson stood, his face red. "So what if I did want children? I think it's plain to see where your opinion lies! Just forget it!" He trudged off to the bedroom, the door slamming behind him, leaving House stunned on the living room sofa.
He couldn't say how long he remained frozen still, shocked by the turn of events. They had truly had their first fight. Not over something work-related or about one being right and the other wrong, but about a huge bump in their smooth relationship. How could he have missed the fact that Wilson wanted children of his own? He was still young, much younger than himself. Why wouldn't he want to be a father?
Pictures flashed thru his mind of Wilson rocking a tiny baby to sleep in his arms, chubby fingers wrapped around Wilson's finger as he stopped a teetering toddler from falling after her first steps, Wilson waving with tears in his eyes as the bus pulled away to the first day of school. How could he deprive the man he loved of those moments? Better yet, would he lose him if he tried?
But having a child had not been on his list of things to do in his life. He was nearly forty-five years old. The time where he might have had a child had come and gone. Now, he was content with his life just the way it was. What would he have to offer a child anyway? He couldn't play sports; he could barely play board games. He had no manners or patience to speak of and his existence centered on pills that took the edge off his nearly unbearable pain.
But his pain had lessened since he and his best friend had turned into lovers. Surely it would return if he lost his one true love. And could he really handle the pain in his leg and the pain of losing Wilson all at once? He knew the answer.
Struggling just a bit, he grabbed his cane and headed down the hallway. He rapped lightly on the bedroom door before cracking it open. Finding Wilson just as he knew he would, lying on the far edge of the bed, facing the wall, he sat down on the edge nearest the door and made no move to reach out for fear of rejection. The silence loomed as he searched for the right words, but once they came, he held nothing back. "I can't loose you over this. Hell, I can't loose you over anything. I'll admit that I've never wanted children of my own, but I need you. And if having you means also having children…then I'm okay with that."
He felt the mattress move before he heard Wilson's voice. "I don't want children."
His head whipped around finding Wilson facing him. "What?"
He rose to a seated position with a grin. "I don't want children. I was trying to figure out if you did."
House tried to be mad, but couldn't help the hint of pride he felt in how well Wilson had played him. "You could've just asked!"
"No, I couldn't, because you never answer personal questions seriously. You would have either mocked me or just gave some sarcastic quip before changing the topic completely. I never would have known how you truly felt."
Of course, Wilson was right. He could voice anger and sarcasm, wisdom and whit, but passion and love rarely slipped from his tongue. But feeling it and speaking it were two different things. He did love Wilson, every day, every hour, every second, though the words never quite made it from his mind to his vocal chords.
Wilson's hand came to House's cheek asking, "So…we're okay then?"
Of course they were okay. As long as he had Wilson, everything would always be okay. "You're sure about this, the no kids thing?"
His voice lowered to a whisper, "Yes. I don't need children to complete my life. I've got you. I love you."
House gulped. Now was his chance. The door was wide open to step outside his comfort zone, to let Wilson know that he was willing to do anything to keep him. "I…uh…", his voice faltered, betraying the feelings he truly felt. He cleared his throat, telling himself that he could do this. He looked up to meet his partner's eyes, finding all the love and patience he needed. "You too." They weren't the words he'd planned, but they were enough.
Wilson smiled as he drew House's face to his. "I know."