House is the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions, Heel and Toe Productions, and NBC Universal. I claim no ownership to any parts or characters.

AN: H/W established. Inspired by true events because I am a huge wuss.

Wilson turned his head slightly when he heard the sound of keys in the door but didn't take his eyes away from the television. House struggled inside, laden down with plastic bags of takeout that were about to drop, and scowled when he saw that the other man hadn't moved from where he sat on the couch.

"Don't get up," he grumbled, kicking the door shut behind him. "I've got three hands. It's no problem."

"You mean three legs," Wilson replied distractedly. He was still watching the screen.

The exaggerated grunt took his attention away and he turned to look at House. Seeing the mutinous expression glowering back at him only made him grin, but he quickly got to his feet anyway.

"Aww," Wilson drawled in a sappy voice, pouting his lip as he smiled. He extended his hands as he approached the taller man and took the bags from him. "Thank you. You're so sweet."

The words were teasing but his voice was normal again and House knew that he was being serious. Wilson remained where he stood in front of him after the bags were in his hands and leaned forward to give him a kiss. He deliberately drew it out until House was forced to break the façade and smiled against his mouth when House pulled him possessively forward to take control.

House rolled his eyes after he released Wilson but wasn't quick enough to hide his smile.

"You're lucky I just happened to be right at the shopping center when you sent that text," he groused with false venom. He had been three block from the apartment when Wilson had sent him the unexpected message asking him to pick up Chinese food for dinner on his way home from work.

The other man just gave him a sweet smile and immediately returned to his spot, setting the bags down on the coffee table. House raised his eyebrows when he saw Wilson take the containers out without taking breaking his gaze from the television and begin opening the little plastic packets of utensils. Eating on the coffee table was usually forbidden in Wilson's book and not using a plate was a cardinal sin. His expression furrowed as he hung up his leather jacket.

"What's so interesting over there?" House looked at the television to see what Wilson was watching as he walked back over towards the couch. The incredulity echoed in his voice when he saw the familiar logo on the bottom right of the screen. "The Weather Channel?"

"Storm Stories," Wilson replied with childish indignation. He turned to look at House when the other man sat down beside him, eyes shining with excitement. "A marathon tonight…it's the start of Tornado Week."

House furrowed his brow with a mocking expression while his insides warmed with endearment. Wilson was such a nerd.

"You hate tornados," he said.

He meant it. Of course nobody actually liked tornados. But for a man who had lived in New Jersey his entire life and never seen anything even close to the caliber of a tornado, Wilson was absolutely terrified of them. House had never realized just how much until they had become involved romantically. It was then he had discovered that every time there was a thunderstorm Wilson worked himself into a state of being absolutely petrified because he somehow managed to always convince himself it was going to turn into a tornado.

To make matters worse, Wilson always, always, tried to hide it from him every time it happened. That in itself made annoyed him, because really…one would think that after practically twenty years of friendship and now a romantic relationship, Wilson would know better than to try and hide anything from him. But it was made even worse in that Wilson really did a horrible job of covering up when he was afraid of something and knew that House knew it.

"Well, yeah." Wilson's tone had "duh" written all over it and he had to grin. "In real life." The younger man grabbed the remote and turned up the volume pointedly. "Now be quiet."

"Sorry," House answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

He stuck a plastic fork in his box of sweet and sour chicken and began stirring the contents. Next to him, Wilson had drawn his knees up as he began eating his lo mein and looked for all the world like an excited kid watching a horror movie.

House stifled a chuckle and settled for another endearing grin that he hid with a large bite of chicken. Such a nerd.

Still, he had to begrudgingly admit after a few minutes of watching silently, the content of the show was pretty cool. He couldn't help the surprised twitch of his eyebrows when the narrator's anticipatory commentary introduced footage of an enormous F-5 tornado smashing through a town in Kansas.

Wilson, as predicted, remained entirely wrapped up in the show. He didn't move at all for the rest of the entire night except to bring the blanket down from the back of the couch and cover his knees with half. The other half he tossed in House's general direction without looking as if it was instinctual.

He didn't even get up during the commercials to clean up the takeout boxes. That alone was testament to where his mind was.

Not that House minded, but it made him smile nonetheless.


A sudden flash against his closed eyelids jarred him from what had been a restful night's sleep. House grunted and cracked his eyes open sourly. His body rudely protested the interruption of sleep as he squinted fuzzily at the bedside clock. 2:17 am. His eyes immediately slid closed again as sleep pulled him back into its clutches and he figured he had been dreaming.

It was only about three seconds before brilliant colors lit up inside his closed eyelids again from another flash. His eyes snapped open this time and he knew he wasn't dreaming anymore. He was proven right by a sudden loud crash of thunder.

His first instinct had him groaning inwardly and willing the storm to be done so that he could sleep without interruption. He was caught unaware by another lightning fast so soon after the last and couldn't help jumping when thunder raged loud enough to shake the bedroom walls almost simultaneously with the flash. The storm was right on top of them.

Shit.

His next instinct had him sliding upright and turning toward the spot in the bed beside him. The only thing he saw was a lump in the middle of the covers. House grimaced and began pulling back the folds until he found Wilson huddled into a trembling ball.

Frightened brown eyes darted to his as he removed the last of the blankets. It turned out that he didn't have to open his mouth because another lightning-thunder combination erupted almost immediately. Wilson surged forward and barreled against his bare chest before he had time to even say anything.

The swift move surprised him but House dismissed it quickly in favor of wrapping Wilson up in his arms protectively. Wilson had his face smashed into House's shoulder. He pressed his hands against Wilson's back and felt the younger man's shirt soaked with sweat.

"It's okay," he murmured, rubbing up and down soothingly. "It's okay-"

Thunder roared again, interrupting him, and he cringed sympathetically when he felt Wilson trying to press even tighter against him despite the fact that he could barely breathe as it was. Wilson began whining tearfully into his shoulder.

"Shh," he soothed. "Shh, Wilson…" He pressed his cheek against Wilson's, rubbing his back tenderly again when he felt the wetness of tear tracks. "I've got you, love. It's okay, I've got you."

The rain chose that moment to begin bombarding loudly against the roof as if the sky had opened up. Wilson began to sob in earnest, each one of his cries heaving against House's chest.

"Hail," he whimpered. "It's hail. Oh, God." His voice cracked with terror. "Oh, God…a tornado is going to come." He clung to House's neck and bawled, hiding his face. Thunder rolled again.

House felt his heart ache. He cradled the younger man in his arms and began stroking his back, his hair, everywhere he could reach in attempt to calm him down.

"Shh," he repeated tenderly. "No…just rain." House rocked him back and forth gently, smoothing his hair. "Just really hard rain. It's just a bad thunderstorm, buddy. I promise." He kissed Wilson's forehead gently. "I promise."

Wilson didn't say anything but didn't raise his head either. He sniffled and breathed into House's neck, sending involuntary goose bumps across the flesh. His tears were hitching and turning into tired exhales as his system began exhausting itself. House could feel it too and began massaging Wilson's neck and shoulders with a small smile.

"Hey, listen." House dropped his voice to a quiet, soothing tone as he lovingly kneaded the other man's flesh through his shirt. "Storm's passing."

Wilson arched into the pleasant feeling with a reflexive grunt of pleasure but repositioned his arms around House's neck as if reluctant to let go. House continued to hold him as the thunder indeed began fading. Judging from the way Wilson stretched insistently so that he would move down to massage his back, House doubted that the man was even listening to the outside noises anymore.

House shook his head slightly in amusement as he indulged Wilson by working on his back. The younger man sighed contentedly, snuggling his face against House's neck. His even breathing guaranteed that sleep would take over in a few short moments.

Seeing Wilson's eyes beginning to droop, House moved around a little to get himself comfortable again. He pulled the blankets carefully back up but only to cover Wilson with most of them. He was already bordering on being too warm for comfort thanks to the human pillow that Wilson had decided to become draped across him.

House kissed Wilson's nose as the younger man faded into sleep and hugged him close as his own eyes began to feel heavy.

Tomorrow he would make sure Wilson spent the night watching the Food Network.