Note: I profusely thank every last person who has reviewed my story so far. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! They've all been so wonderful and full of praise, which makes me happy. Seriously, if I didn't get reviews, there would be no story.

His head spun and his heart beat irregularly in his chest, though it clearly desired to be somewhere else. He could not believe what they had just done, what had just happened. Their relationship with Cuddy was most likely ruined, if not forever, then for an extremely long period of time during which the world might come to an end or pigs would learn to fly. Wilson didn't care that that term was cliché; it wasn't as if his brain particularly cared about coming up with creative phrases when it was too preoccupied with the fact that they'd probably just screwed up half their lives. No way Cuddy was just going to let this whole thing blow over and give them her full support. They were all going to become distant and it was going to become very awkward for them to work together...House and he might be forced to find new jobs. He hoped immensely that it wouldn't come to that. He hoped that they all had the good sense and maturity to behave like adults.

As he zipped through the lobby to reach the front doors, a shoulder rammed into him, alerting him to the fact that House was trying to keep up with his fast pace. At once, he slowed down, reaching the doors and holding one open. House shot him an odd look as he passed.

They were both rather quiet in the car, both ruminating over their own individual worries about the situation, and hardly spoke up when they arrived at the loft, went inside, and simultaneously collapsed on the couch. Evidently bored with the quiet after a while, House powered up the flatscreen and began channel surfing, but Wilson knew he was still thinking. House liked to have background noise or something to focus a little of his attention on when he was thinking about something serious. He, himself, found the familar drone of House's favorite television shows oddly comforting. It felt normal. And things were certainly not normal.

When House got bored with the TV, he began to try and get Wilson's attention, which had wandered over to a blank space by the window in the direction of the kitchen. He was wondering about love now. Cuddy still loved House, but was House in love with Cuddy? Somehow, he didn't really think so. They had something, sure, but...he let that thought trail off in a mindless circle until it came back around, transformed. He wondered if House was already falling in love with him, like he had predicted. Like Cuddy had suggested. Between the two of them - was it possible to be wrong?


"Hm?" he answered vaguely.


"What?" His eyes were unfocused, still deep in thought. House flicked his ear; he jerked his head as if trying to rid himself of a pesky mosquito.

"Let's have sex."

This time, he jerked his head around, nearly snapping his neck, to stare at House, sitting beside him with a perfectly blank expression. He scoffed, his stomach back in his throat for the hundredth time that day. "Screw you."

House chuckled. "You should thank me instead. I yanked you out of fantasy-land or maybe House-land if you prefer."

Wilson rolled his eyes, unable to deny that it was safer to stay in reality than take a trip to House-land.

"I need you to entertain me."

"Go play your organ," he suggested, slightly irritable for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

"Oh," House groaned and pouted at him, batting his eyelashes. "Is someone about to act like a Mister Grumpy-Pants?"

Wilson said nothing.

"Did you want to have sex?"

"God, House, yes."

House hummed and looked toward the ceiling, seemingly in contemplation. "Well," he then said as if having made a difficult decision. "It might take a minute, but...I'm pretty sure I could get you to the point where you would say that again. Of course, it would be at a much higher pitch - "

Wilson swallowed, returning his gaze to the space by the window. Damn him for saying something like...he hadn't been with anyone in nearly two months. The slightest suggestive comment from anyone was bound to set him off. That, combined with the tension they both felt because of Cuddy, and their own tension between them...Wilson became very aware of the heat coming from House, not sitting quite close enough for their thighs to touch. The idea of being...intimate with his best friend didn't exactly drive him wild with passion but he couldn't deny that he wanted contact. And it helped that he was aware of House's feelings. They were the fuel to the fire of his own - the somewhat weaker ones he possessed long before he understood what House wanted from him.

It was a minute before he noticed that House was piercing the side of his head with his eyes. He turned to him again, raising his eyebrows, a little afraid. "Oh, were you waiting for a response to that?, let's voice doesn't get high-pitched during sex. Is that sufficient?"

They stared at each other, the TV going about its business in the background. Wilson sort of hoped that House would make a move, while at the same time, he didn't. He truly wasn't ready for it. House tilted his head curiously. Wilson really didn't want - but maybe he did. His throat closed up involuntarily. He kept his face as neutral as possible. No, he was pretty sure he didn't -

"Relax," House said to him. "I'm not about to jump you."

Wilson blinked and let out a sigh of relief. Disappointment. A mixture of the two? Even so, he suddenly felt very light. Almost giddy. Grinning, he leaned over and caught House firmly by the lips. There was a pause, and then House lifted his hand from his likely aching right thigh to place it on the side of Wilson's head. Wilson scooted closer, stubble irritating his skin. Instead of pulling back, he laughed softly into House's mouth - for that, and for believing that they were about to have sex on top of this nerve-wracking day. He felt his friend's smile in return.

"It's for the best," he murmured, breaking them apart momentarily.

"As long as it's not because I'm ugly," House responded, nudging his lips again.

"You're very handsome," Wilson said nonchalantly, nudging back. "In a way that kind of sneaks up on you after a while..."

"I wasn't fishing for compliments."

Wilson reached up and gently traced House's cheekbone with his thumb, almost like he was checking it for bruises. "Doesn't mean I can't give you one."

"You really - I'm not in this for compliments."

"House," he said, meeting the older man's gaze. Silently, he told him that if he was going to be in a relationship with him, he might as well get used to it. House wasn't a confident person in this field, and Wilson was going to do what he could to remedy that. Slowly, House's small frown lessened until Wilson was quite sure he was actually giving him a look of appreciation. Wilson pressed their lips together again, his palm resting against his cheek. Cautiously, he allowed the tip of his tongue to slip out of his mouth and brush House's bottom lip. Moving his hand to the back of Wilson's neck, House opened his mouth, his own tongue darting out, tasting him. Wilson ignored the tiny jolt of shock this caused, and did the same for himself.

It felt incredible to be kissing someone like this. It felt downright amazing to be kissing someone he truly cared about. Someone who truly cared about him. His giddiness from moments ago increased, making him light-headed - deliriously cheerful. Who cared if being around Cuddy was going to be odd from now on? He was kissing House and the universe wasn't exploding!

In his excitement, he thrust his tongue into House's unsuspecting mouth, bringing up his other hand to grip his face properly. House eagerly reciprocated, and Wilson felt a hand ghost the front of his shirt, as if it longed to pull him closer.

Once again, he noticed the heat that House gave off. It was so familiar...suffocatingly familiar...their still felt forbidden. All of this contributed to what he did next; he slid one hand from House's cheek, ran it down the length of his torso, and slipped it up underneath his T-shirt, feeling the warmth full-blast. House breathed out hard through his nose. He seemed to be trying to memorize the texture and formation of Wilson's face and hair with his fingertips. When Wilson, fueled by reckless daring, drew circles around his nipple, he gave a tiny grunt into his mouth, hands tightening wherever they happened to be, which turned out to be the back of his head.

Suddenly, Wilson pulled back, his head spinning. He stared intently at House, who still had his eyes closed, but soon opened them dazedly.

"What? I got your tongue?" he murmured.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, but chuckled. "Obviously. I think it's time for bed."

House looked at him suspiciously, his lips slightly swollen and moist.

"No, I mean literally. Bed. As in, it's time for sleep."


Wilson stood and stretched, trying to ignore the way every last one of his muscles seemed to quiver with the aftershock of spending time with his best friend in this new and, yes, rather enticing way. It would take some getting used to. But it could be done. Oh boy, could it be done. Shooting House a small smile in goodnight, he started for the hallway. About halfway to his bedroom, he heard uneven footsteps and felt fingers wrap around his wrist. He turned, surprised, to see blue eyes drilled into him silently, pleading. For what, he wasn't sure, but whatever it was, he wanted to give in. He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on House's lips, thinking that maybe he wanted a proper goodnight send-off. House kissed back and tugged at his wrist.

"Would you like me to sleep in your room tonight?" he asked softly.

House narrowed his eyes and tugged more insistantly. As they made for the first bedroom, he hissed, "No funny business."

Once there, Wilson stripped to his undershirt and boxers while House took a trip to the bathroom. Yawning, he climbed under the covers, hoping to have them good and warm when House was finished. His stomach grumbled as the sound of running water echoed throughout the room and he realized that they hadn't eaten. He mentioned this when House was lying comfortably beside him.

"Wanna order out?" the older man asked. "It's not late."

"No, I'll just get up early and make a very large breakfast."

"Will there be pancakes?" House asked hopefully.

Wilson, at the moment, could not resist the charm that House hardly knew he possessed. Sometimes he acknowledged it, when it was needed, usually used to trick and blackmail and who knew what else, but there were times when he just didn't realize how appealing he could be.

"Anything your heart desires will be on the table," he told him, still just as giddy as ever.

"That could lead a man to think unwholesome thoughts, you know."

"Well, control that man."

House buried his face into his pillow, his hand managing to locate Wilson's underneath the sheets.

"What's with that anyway?" he asked, staring at the dark ceiling.

House resurfaced and Wilson sensed his confusion. "With what?"

"Just the other day you snarled at me like a Kimono dragon for daring to make harmless jokes about this. It's so unfair." House squeezed his hand very painfully and he added, "Ow!" to that last statement.

"I'm...distracting myself."

That made sense. So much was was difficult for them both to take it all in without some means of an outlet. He crushed House's hand right back in understanding. "I guess that's alright, then. Do we need about anything?"

In answer, House brought their hands out of the warmth and onto a bit of cool mattress space in front of his face, then tucked them both under his chin like a child would a beloved blanket or special toy. Wilson was dying to tease him for that, but the gesture was so rare, so...sweet...that he forced himself to resist, and scooted a little closer so that their faces were mere centimeters apart. If House wanted to talk later, that was okay. In the end, he really just couldn't resist.

"My thumb's free, if you wanna suck it," he offered innocently.

"Piss off," House muttered, sharp air stabbing the tip of his nose, sounding nevertheless grateful.