Warning: SPOILERS. Spoilers for the season finale and a few episodes before it. Even if you weren't into the last season, at least make sure you've watched, at the very last, the last 5 minutes of 8.18 "Body and Soul," the House and Wilson parts of every episode after that, and all of 8.22 "Everybody Dies." Please. Most of them should be on Hulu or Fox by now, and even if they're not, I'm sure you can find them illegally (not that I condone illegal watching of shows). Oh yeah and this is rated M, which means there's going to be sex. Slashy sex.
Disclaimer I don't own House or Wilson or any other characters I may mention whom you've heard of before.
A/N: Yes, I'm out of retirement. But only for this one story, my take on the ending. Then I'm going back into retirement (for House at least) forever.
Dedicated to JKZ. I'm sorry you never got to see the end. You would have thought it was ridiculous. We would have had some great discussions about it. Miss you and love you every day.
House changed the channel from a Bud Lite commercial to an '80s movie before settling on something with a busty blonde in a bikini. He glanced at Wilson, who was lying on the bed next to him, just in time to see his best friend's lips twitch into a slight smile. There was still stubble on his face; for the last month he'd adopted House's style of grooming. As well as House's style of drinking and his sense of where the line was between 'dangerous' and 'fun.' This was their second night in this particular motel, which had the advantage of a decent pizza place that delivered free, but the disadvantage of the fact that you could only see the TV well from one of the two beds, meaning they had to sit next to each other, their shoulders brushing against the padded headboard.
"So what's on the bucket list this week?" House asked, staring at the blonde's ass as she bent over to spread out a beach towel. He felt Wilson shrug beside him, then turned to look at his friend. "Four months, Wilson. And your options for fun will be limited the sicker you get."
"What do you want to do?" Wilson asked.
House shook his head. "I'm not the one dying." Yet, he thought, but kept that part to himself.
"Well, what do you want to do while I'm still here?"
"No," House objected. "How many times now have we argued because you said I'm making your death sentence about me? If we get into another fight, now I don't have anyone else to complain about you to. Until you kick off, I'm stuck with you. Let's make it as bearable as possible for both of us."
Wilson was smiling again. "Well," he said slowly, eyes focused on the television screen, "there is...one thing I've never done that I...I've thought about trying. Not often, but...every once-in-a-while it'll cross my mind that maybe...once...I should give it a shot before I die."
"Okay," House said, nodding and watching Wilson, who still hadn't looked at him. "What? Do we need to go somewhere?"
Wilson shook his head, and House noticed a blush begin creeping up his neck. "I mean, I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't, I probably wouldn't even like it. And I won't ask it of you. Sorry. Forget I brought it up, it was stupid."
"Come on, Wilson," House rolled his eyes. "What do you think I wouldn't be up for?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. "No, I'm the one chickening out." He shifted on the bed, still looking at the TV, though House knew he wasn't really watching.
"But now you've piqued my curiosity," House said. "And you know it."
"Well, then there's an advantage to my having four months to live: I only have to keep it from you that long, and then the truth dies with me."
"If you don't tell me, I'm gonna start guessing," House threatened. "It'll be less embarrassing for you if you just tell me."
"But it's irrelevant," Wilson said. "I told you, I changed my mind. I've thought about it a few times, but it not something I actually want. I only even brought it up because I was trying to think of something I haven't done."
"So do it anyway. You don't like it, so what? Not like you ever need to do it again."
Wilson didn't respond. His neck was still a little flushed, and his cheeks were, too. He hadn't looked anywhere but the television screen since the start of the conversation, and his eyes were fixed on the spot. After another moment of watching Wilson watch TV, House decided to try another tactic—ignoring him. He too focused on the television, changing the channel every time it got boring.
The two had been watching TV in silence for about five minutes when a condom commercial came on and Wilson suddenly blurted out, "Anal." He turned toward House, face red, and House turned to him. "That's what I think I might want to try. Having anal sex."
House looked him over for a second before responding. "You mean after three marriages and more girlfriends than I've had patients–"
"–that's not true," Wilson cut in.
"–None of them have let you do anal?" House's voice held disbelief. Wilson's face just became redder.
"No, not that," he murmured. "I've done that. I mean...the other way around." He was staring at his lap now. House allowed himself a smirk.
"I know that's what you meant," he said. "I just like watching you squirm."
Wilson laughed, breaking the tension, and hit House lightly on the arm. "You ass," he said fondly. He picked up the remote and turned the volume up as though that would end the conversation.
"And the real thing," House stated. "Not just with toys."
Wilson's blush was starting to creep up on him again. "When I've thought about trying it," he mumbled, "I've thought about the real thing."
"And..." This time House was the one to hesitate. "Me?"
Wilson shrugged, a display of indifference that House saw right through. "I trust you."
Not taking his eyes off his best friend, House picked up the remote control and turned the TV off, forcing Wilson to turn to him once more. "You want to do this?" he asked, all mirth gone from his voice.
"No," Wilson said quickly. "No. I mean, I've thought about it, but...I just...and I'm not going to ask you to..."
"You never said anything before," House said. "Why bring it up now?"
Wilson sighed. "Ever since the diagnosis, we've been more...candid...with each other than we've ever been. You've said things to me, admitted things to me that I never thought I'd hear come out of your mouth. And it's been refreshing, really. It'd be weird if you were like that all the time. Baring your soul, heart-to-hearts aren't who you are, but circumstances being what they are, it's a nice change. You being honest, open when you talk to me. For just a second I thought maybe I could do it back...before I realized that this might be pushing things too far."
"So it is something you want."
Wilson didn't answer.
"Wilson," House said. "You're dying. If you want to have gay sex before you die, now's your chance."
"You're..." Wilson murmured, then swallowed. "You're willing to do this?"
"You've done anal with women, you know what it feels like," House said. "Why should that be any different because it's you?"
"Because it's me."
They silently assessed each other for another moment.
"Wilson," House finally said. "Someone offers to grant your dying wish, you take them up on it."
Wilson smiled. "I never said it was my dying wish."
"Close enough. You in or not?"
Wilson hesitated. "What if we don't like it?"
House rolled his eyes. "We get over it. We're stuck with each other 'til you die, that doesn't leave much room for awkward feelings. If it sucks, I just blame you and conclude that's why all your marriages failed, then we go to the next thing."
Wilson nodded, his thinking face on. "All right. If you're sure you're in, then we can give it a shot."
House picked up the TV remote again and put it on the bedside table, and leaned closer to Wilson. He didn't kiss him, but got into his personal space and looked into his eyes.
Wilson swallowed. "Now?"
"You chickening out?"
"No." The syllable didn't sound as confident as Wilson probably meant it to, but it was enough for House. He leaned inches closer, but let Wilson close the distance between them.
The first minute was a little awkward. Only a little. But they got used to each other quickly and the awkwardness was forgotten as the kiss deepened and became more intense. House had a hand on the back of Wilson's neck and another at his collar, fully prepared to start unbuttoning his shirt at any moment. He felt Wilson's fingernails rake through his hair—not scratching, though—accompanied by the lightest of touches on his cheek.
Although it was hot and heavy and sent House's heart pumping and blood racing everywhere, it was as much sensual as it was sexual. It was warm. More like kissing Cuddy or Stacy than kissing a hooker. Because it was Wilson. And he loved Wilson.
Wilson leaned his body closer to House, bringing a leg around to straddle him. He groaned every now and again and soon began unbuttoning his shirt. House took that as his cue to do the same. He shifted his body even closer while his sweaty fingers fumbled with Wilson's buttons. Once he'd finished with House's shirt, Wilson pulled away from the kiss, pecked House again quickly, and moved his mouth to House's neck and collarbone, wetting the skin with his lips and tongue. This left his arms free, so House extracted them one at a time from his shirt—they kept as much contact as possible between each other's hands and arms during the shirt-taking-off-process. When both were shirtless, they had an unspoken competition over which man could get the most skin beneath his fingers.
As the foreplay went on, House felt himself becoming more and more anxious to take things further. Wilson's legs were entwined with his and he could feel how ready his best friend was to move things along as well.
"Ready?" House murmured into Wilson's ear.
"Mmm-hmm," Wilson answered. His lips were near House's ear, which he kissed and nibbled. Their hands met and grasped around where their pelvises were nearly touching, and slowly went to first Wilson's buttons and zipper. Wilson shimmied off House's lap and peeled his jeans the rest of the way off. Then he got to his knees, straddling House again, and kissing him as they worked to get his pants off. Wilson's fingers brushed against House's bulge, sending a chill up his spine. House kissed Wilson harder, putting his hands on his waist and slipping fingers under the elastic of Wilson's boxers. Wilson laid House down on the bed, not breaking contact between their mouths, and House had his right hand completely underneath Wilson's boxers, playing with him, while his left hand slipped up his back and through his hair.
"House," Wilson moaned, sounding breathless.
"Hurry up," House grunted, and Wilson got his pants down past his knees, where House kicked them the rest of the way off. He rolled them over so Wilson was the one on his back, and took both their boxers off.
"House, stop a sec," Wilson panted, pulling away slightly. "We need to take a quick break."
House nodded. Slowing things down was a good idea. Wilson rolled off House and they both turned on their sides, looking at each other. It was quiet except for their mismatched heavy breathing. House still had a hand in Wilson's hair.
"Not chickening out again, are you?" House asked.
Wilson smiled. "Not stopping, that would have been chickening out." He ran his hand up House's arm, past his shoulder and to his cheek, which he cupped for a second before kissing him again. They kissed for another minute, hands roaming but not too forcefully, until House pulled away.
"Let's move on," he said. "It's gonna take some time to get you ready."
"Right," Wilson nodded, looking nervous again.
"You have lube or anything?"
"I think there's some lotion in the bathroom."
"Go get it. You'll need it."
Wilson got off the bed and House watched his naked ass as he went into the bathroom. Only because they'd taken a break to keep things from progressing too quickly, he gave himself permission to touch himself while he watched. Wilson was back a second later with the tiny bottle of lotion, which he handed to House, climbing back onto the bed beside him. Without looking at House, Wilson lay down on his side. He brought his knees to his chest in a semi-fetal position.
"There a reason this is so impersonal all of a sudden?" House asked.
Wilson turned to look at him over his shoulder. "You're gonna tell me this isn't weird for you?"
"It's part of it, Wilson. You don't need to treat it like a prostate exam.
Wilson didn't say anything. He turned back around.
"If you go into this thinking you're not gonna enjoy it, you probably won't," House warned. He let a hand hover over Wilson's shoulder blade, just close enough to touch the invisible fine hairs covering it and bring goosebumps to the flesh. "Relax, Wilson," he said, letting his hand make full contact with his friend's skin and rubbing down his back. "You think being tense is going to help or hurt at this point?"
"You can't blame me for being a little nervous," Wilson muttered.
"Well, get over it," House said simply. He let his hand roam over Wilson's side and to his stomach, slowly lowering it further and bringing his lips to Wilson's neck at the same time. He let Wilson's arousal increase again before surreptitiously opening the lotion with his free hand and getting to work.
It took some time, as Wilson had never done this before, but they kept each other occupied. This was still so new with each other and there was so much to touch. And if it wouldn't be happening again, there was that much more urgency to making full use of every moment while they were still in it.
Finally, House withdrew his hand. He considered saying something, letting Wilson know he was going to move on now, but the talking thus far had taken them out of the moment and made the awkwardness return. Now House was ready, he wanted this. He was holding Wilson, touching him, kissing his neck or back every now and again, and if this was going to be a one-time thing, he wanted to enjoy every second of it. So instead of announcing to Wilson what he was going to do, he simply kissed his neck and slowly guided himself in.
"House," Wilson murmured. His fingers were grasping at air, looking for something to hold on to, and House gave him his hand. Wilson's grip was tight, but House just squeezed back encouragingly and, after a second, entered the rest of the way. Wilson's grip slowly lessened, though House didn't let go. He slipped his free hand beneath Wilson to have access to his man parts from the other side, and resumed touching him. They were still spooning, House's chest now pressed to Wilson's back, and they lay like that for a moment, resting and preparing, before House squeezed Wilson and began to thrust. Wilson grunted a few times at the new sensation, but that wasn't what House was aiming for. He'd found it earlier, he could find it again…
"Oh!" Wilson shouted, and the intense tone of his voice told House he'd found what he was looking for. So he found it again. And again.
"House, good god," Wilson said. "You…you really know what you're doing back there."
House didn't answer. He was breathing fast, trying very hard not to let any sound escape his mouth. Being inside Wilson…well, it shouldn't really have felt any different from the times he'd done anal before, but it did. It was Wilson. This was his best friend, the man he'd given up everything for. Faking his death might have kept him out of jail, but it also cost him everything: his job, his home, money, colleagues, even his mother. He wouldn't have been in jail forever, everything would have been waiting for him when he got out. Everything but Wilson. And he was the only thing that really mattered.
"Wilson," House whispered. He didn't mean to; he'd been trying to keep quiet.
"House," Wilson murmured in return. He squeezed House's hand again—they hadn't let go since House entered him—and used his other hand to reach behind him and touch House's face. He couldn't see what he was doing, so he missed and ended up brushing House's neck, but House knew what he was going for and moved his head down to help him. He rested his forehead against Wilson's neck, found a shoulder blade and kissed it, and increased his speed. He was stroking Wilson at the same rate he was thrusting in him, and actually enjoying both activities about equally. He'd never imagined he'd be able to touch Wilson like this. He wanted every bit of it. He felt the flesh beneath his hand, the flesh pressing against him and rubbing against him where he was most sensitive.
"Wilson," he breathed against his back. He couldn't help it. He was getting higher with each breath, getting closer with each heartbeat. He heard Wilson murmuring and moaning with each stroke, each push, and the sound of his best friend as aroused as he was only made him want him more. Wilson's fingernails dug into his knuckles and his cries got louder and his body began to shudder. He was there, House could feel it. His body was pulsing all around House and House just went at him faster and faster. If Wilson was reaching his climax, he wanted to make it as intense for him as possible—not to mention that he was getting there himself and his instincts were taking over.
With a loud cry that sounded vaguely like house's name, Wilson came. House was holding onto Wilson's tip at the time and he felt it as well as saw it. And then he let himself go. He felt his body take control, let himself cry out, squeezed Wilson to him and felt every nerve in his body sing with joy. His arms enveloped Wilson as the final shudders took over them. He felt utterly spent but never so satisfied. After a moment, Wilson slipped off House and rolled over in his arms, yawned and "hmm"ed. He rested his head on House's shoulder. He must be worn out, too. House decided that they didn't need to get up. He reached for the motel comforter, pulled it over their entwined nude bodies, and fell asleep