Disclaimer: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.

Acknowledgements: I used hwshipper's timeline (entry 27571 on their lj). Any merit this story has must be shared with my wonderful and patient beta reader, George Stark II.


Chapter 8

Summary: House learns something about himself.

On a late Saturday morning Wilson was relaxing on the couch, his belly a bit too full of the brunch he had cooked to celebrate House's four months of sobriety. He barely noticed House retrieving something from his backpack - probably some recent article in an obscure journal. He was very surprised when a sheaf of papers landed on his lap. House slouched near him on the couch and started watching his favorite soap opera at a disturbingly high volume, while Wilson tried to make sense of the documents he had in front of him.

"House! Tune that down!"

"Why?"

"Because I need to think!" Wilson's hand roamed though his hair, bringing disarray.

House lowered the volume to barely bearable. Wilson laid the documents on the coffee table.

"You…you want to buy half of my condo?"

"And move all my stuff in. My piano will fit in the guest room once we remove the bed. If we have guests, and I don't see why we should, they can sleep on the living room couch."

Wilson snatched the remote and switched off the television.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"I just want to keep all my stuff together in one place, and I'm paying rent for an apartment I don't use. My sharing the mortgage will also improve your dire financial situation. Or, rather, our financial situation. I'm fed up with stealing your money, it will be easier to just have a joint checking account."

"House…does this mean anything more?"

House placed his hand on Wilson's thigh. "You… still want this?"

"Yes." Wilson covered House's hand with his own.

"I think I want it, too. But I'm afraid. Scared."

"You weren't afraid of dying and you're afraid of…this?" Wilson stared at their hands.

"If it goes wrong I'll have to live without you." House's hand was trembling slightly.

"You won't. I'll be there for you no matter what."

"It all went terribly wrong with Cuddy. We hurt each other so much."

"Cuddy wanted you to be someone else, and thought she could fix you. I know I'm no better than you, and I like you the way you are."

"I know. That's why I want to give it a try. If you want, that is. We can take our time before getting to a final decision."

Wilson hoped that his eyes were answer enough, because his throat felt unable to let words through.


Wilson felt House gently remove his hand, his arm circling his shoulders; then the other hand was holding his chin, and then there was stubble on his face, and lips pressing on his own and then the lips opened and a tongue which tasted of coffee and pancakes and something else he couldn't name started exploring his mouth. Soon both tongues were busy, apparently moved by a similar thirst. When they came up for air, House was beaming.

"Let me unwrap my present." Wilson didn't immediately understand what was meant, then House's hands started pulling up his t-shirt over his head. He tried to help, but House softly said "No, let me." He relaxed and let strong, careful fingers remove the t-shirt, then the undershirt, then (here he lifted himself from the couch) slide down his sweatpants and underwear, finally free him from clothes altogether. He found himself, naked and semi-erect, in front of a fully dressed House, looking at him.

House motionedforhim to stand up, and stood on his right side, his fingers delicately roaming over his body. He started by going through his hair, then his left hand started descending along his back, exploring his shoulders, his spine, and lingering on his buttocks; the right hand, meanwhile, mirrored its motion on the front of his body, checking his face, then his throat, moving along his collarbones, stopping briefly to play with each nipple and to count the sparse hair on his chest. It reviewed the taut muscles on his belly, and finally grabbed his now fully erect cock at the same time as the left hand, sliding under his perineum, cupped his balls. House kissed him on the side of the neck, the kiss deepening until Wilson was sure he would get a hickey. He could feel House's jeans-clad erection press against his right hip.

Finally, House's right hand left him, while the left pushed him gently towards the bedroom; House collected his cane in passing, and they walked together, House's hand on the small of Wilson's back.

As they entered the bedroom, House whispered in Wilson's ear. "Lie down now. I'll strip for you." Wilson did as he was told, his eyes fixed on House while the latter carefully leaned his cane against the bedside table. He then removed his dress shirt, then his t-shirt, revealing the beautiful, toned chest he had so long loved, now permanently bearing like his own the healed scar of the liver surgery. He felt proud of it; in a sense, it was as if he had managed to give House his own liver. House sat down on the bed to remove sneakers and socks, giving him a view of strong muscular shoulders, the right one looking somewhat stronger then the left. Then House stood up again facing him, and opened his belt, then his fly. And then he slipped out of his clothes and remained briefly standing and erect in front of him, handsome in his nudity like a Greek statue, like an image out of a dream.

The image remained in his eyes as House lay down on the bed and hugged him. Wilson felt him shivering, and knew it wasn't because of the cold.


"I want you inside me." House said it very fast, afraid of losing his courage. He needed to know if he could like this: the last few times, so long ago, had been less than satisfactory. But he remembered there had been good ones before. He thought briefly of Crandall, then focused back on the present.

Wilson apparently heard his worries, and countered immediately "We never need to do this. In fact, we never need to do anything you don't like. Whatever is enough for you will be enough for me."

House forced his voice to stay steady. "No. I want to know. I need to know." He pulled condoms and lube out of the bedside table, then turned flat on his belly.

"House…turn around. Let me kiss you while…"

"No, I want to concentrate on this completely. Figure out how I feel about it. With you. But be careful, I haven't done this in more than twenty years."

Wilson appeared defeated. "As you want. It's probably the first time in my life I wish my dick was smaller than it is."

"And hopefully the last. Come on, we don't have all day."

Wilson chuckled. "Actually, we do. I've waited more than a decade for this, I want to take all the time you need."


Wilson snuggled a bit closer. His head, still slightly damp from the shower, was comfortably lodged on House's shoulder, his nose full of the smell of soap and… and of House. They were naked under the comforter, and his left hand was idly investigating House's skin.

Life felt so good, he thought, looking up to meet House's eyes.

"So, what do you think now that your more-than-twenty-year hiatus is finally over?"

"I think that buying half the condo and opening a joint checking account are definitely good ideas."

It wasn't what he expected, and yet the tone and the look to go with the sentence made him feel as if he had been made a love declaration. Maybe he had.

"Having sex with me makes you think of finances. My wives led me to believe I was better than that."

"Yes, Bonnie mentioned you were some kind of sex god."

Wilson almost jumped in House's arms. "She told you what? When? Oh my God…when you told me the contrary?"

House smiled mischievously, looking handsomer than ever, and kissed him before answering. "A long time ago, when it didn't matter. But I didn't forget it either."

Wilson closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "Great. So now that you've tried yourself, was Bonnie lying?"

House's right hand briefly held Wilson's left, motioning it down towards House's hardening cock.

"I don't think so. I would even claim it was an understatement. But I think we should try having sex together again, just to be sure we both like it."

Now both of House's hands were roaming on Wilson, one of them teasing his nipples, the other caressing his perineum, getting closer to his anus at every stroke.

"Trying sex together, in many different ways. Are you okay with that?"

The tip of House's middle finger was now centered on Wilson's entrance. Not pushing, just there. House's cock was hard in Wilson's hand.

"I'll be happy to keep trying for the rest of my life."