House x Wilson stuff. Fluffy with not really too intense smut. Slash, yaoi, whatever you wanna call it. In other words GAY or HOMOSEXUAL. Don't like it? Fine, don't read it. Goes against your religious/political/moral view? Whatever, I don't care. Just don't bitch me out about it. Otherwise, enjoy!
This was quite the predicament he was, James Wilson realized as he sat behind his desk. There was plenty for him to do, plenty of people dying that he could be counseling, but at that moment he was too preoccupied with his own situation to focus fully on his work. He sighed heavily, setting down his useless pen as he rubbed the bridge of his nose to fend off the headache that was promising him a wallop, right between the eyes.
He couldn't believe it.... but at the same time he knew it was true. He'd finally come to the realization that had been haunting the back of his mind for years. He hated him, he really did. But he loved him at the same time. James Wilson was, madly, head-over-heels in love with his best friend, Gregory House.
"What am I, a masochist?" he muttered to himself. He pictured the other man's possible reaction. House would stand there, staring unwaveringly at Wilson like he was some sort of idiot. Really, the man was a horrible, soulless, beast. He'd rip Wilson to shreds if he ever found out. He'd never live it down. So, he decided, House would just have to never figure it out.
It was two weeks later and his plan was failing miserably. Wilson had slipped up several times and House was getting suspicious. One day, as he was trying to slip inconspicuously away from Princeton-Plainsboro, he got cornered.
It was snowing lightly, dusting everything in a thin coat of white, and dulling all the colours of everything. He was rounding the corner of the building when he had to stop short to prevent himself from running headlong into Gregory House, the object of his newly discovered infatuation.
As the other stood stoically, face stern and eyes piercing, Wilson's brilliant greeting was, "Oh." The other rolled his eyes at that, obviously caught off guard by the stunning wit and tapped his fingers impatiently on his cane handle. He shifted his weight, slightly, pulling strain away from his crippled leg. That was something he did unconsciously, something that only someone who paid close attention—and James paid very close attention, perhaps too close—would notice.
"Out with it," he said, for once bypassing his usual sarcasm and mind games out of sheer frustration and impatience.
"What...?" Again, a witty retort.
"Something's been wrong with you for the past two weeks, and I wanna know what it is. So, out." The older doctor stuck one hand on his hip in a gesture that Wilson couldn't help but note was rather feminine. Wilson looked down at his feet, red splashing across his cheeks.
"It's nothing, really..." he argued meekly, knowing he was defeated. When House wanted information out of him, he always succeeded. All he was doing now, he knew, was putting off the inevitable. He knew it was going to happen, now that he'd been confronted. He knew he was going to have to admit his feelings, whether it be for better or worse.
"Don't lie, Jimmy. I've known you long enough to know when something's wrong and when you're lying. Both of which apply at this moment. So, spill. Now," he said, his voice clipped and impatient. It was more of an order than anything else.
"Lately..." he began, his voice barely a whisper. God, he couldn't believe he was doing this, like some pathetic junior high girl with her crush. "I've been thinking a lot. About you.... about us... And I--" That was it, he couldn't do it anymore. His voice cracked and he felt the pressure behind his eyes, his vision blurring. He was going to start crying. Dammit! Why the hell was it that he could remain detached and fairly untouched when one of his patients died a slow, agonizing death, but he couldn't admit his feelings to his best friends without a total melt down.
After a moment of silence stretched and House hadn't injected any words of his own into the conversation, Wilson forged ahead, if not fearlessly. "And I think... I think I love--"
The oncologist's words were cut off as the tip of House's cane came in contact with his chin, tipping his head upwards to look at him. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that if he looked at the other, the tears would start flowing. "Wilson...." he said slowly, "I'm up here." There was something new, something odd that touched the older male's voice. Something.... soft.
It made Wilson open his eyes. His vision was filled with steely blue eyes, that made him catch his breath as he struggled to continue with his words. "I," he took a deep, shuddering breath, "love you."
That was all he had to say. One moment he had gotten it out and done with, and the next his mouth, lips still parted from those dangerous words, was assaulted. The other doctor's prickly lips pressed firmly, almost harshly, but not quite, to his. It wasn't as tender as you would expect a new lover's kiss to be, but on the other side of things, it wasn't nearly as cold as he'd imagined House's lips would be.
It took a few seconds to realize what was happening, that it wasn't his imagination that House, House for God's sake, was kissing him. After he came to that realization, though, he gave in completely, surrendering himself to the kiss, melting into it's heat. He let his lips part even further than they had already been when House's tongue demanded entrance, sweeping boldly across Wilson's, exploring, probing.
Much to his embarrassment, Wilson heard a moan and realized it was his own as he was pressed against the brick wall, House's body leaning heavily against his as his cane clattered to the ground. He placed one palm flat against the wall, on either side of Wilson's head, whose fingers were tangled, once in House's brown and grey hair, the other in his red shirt.
It seemed like hours later that they broke apart, both breathing a bit heavily, both dizzy from lack of oxygen and all kinds of rushes. They stayed like that, pressed together, catching their breath, just looking at each other for a long, stretched out minute.
"You know," House said quietly, voice still husky, "you're the only person I can love. No one else..... no one else works. They don't understand that--"
"That you're damaged. People don't know you. I do," Wilson finished for the other, who nodded, swallowing hard. "I guess I am too. People just don't realize it," he said.
At that, the corner of House's lips tugged upwards slightly. "Well, we'll just have to be a damaged package together then, won't we?"
"Absolutely," Wilson said, smirking as he leaned in for another kiss.
A/N: Review, if you'd like! I'm open to critiquing, as long as your not saying anything like "Oh, they're gay, that's so stupid, blah, blah blah, I'm an idiot..." Crap like that will be resented. Everythign else, even if you say it sucks and you hated it because the plot was horrible or they weren't canon enough for your taste is welcome. Oh! I almost forgot! This was inspired by a picture I saw on DeviantArt. Here's the link to the pic: