Well, here is the third housefic50 challenge expansion. This one is for prompt #37 Sound - Staying. Now, I want an opinion on this one - should I continue it on even further and in which direction? Right now it's House/Wilson friendship or pre-slash if you squint. Should I make it slash? Should I leave it as is? What do you think because I can't decide what I want to do with it! *facepalm*

EDIT - 10/12/05: This has gotten long enough that I've had to split it into two. The next update is in the new post and the new post also ups the rating to NC-17 for smut!



Title: Staying (Expanded)
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 037. Sound
Word Count: 12196
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: None

Wilson sat beside the bed where House lay and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept but he wanted to be here for House, be here when he woke. He drew in a deep breath then let it out slowly as he scrubbed his face, feeling the rasp of stubble under his hands. He looked over at the unconscious man in the bed and swallowed hard. It seemed hard to believe that his entire world had been turned upside down in just a day and there was no way of knowing which direction it would be facing tomorrow.

When he’d wandered into Diagnostic Medicine yesterday morning, House had seemed alright. He was complaining about having a headache and feeling a bit run down but neither Wilson nor House’s team had paid much attention. They all knew how much House liked to gripe when he was sick. House usually did a fairly good imitation of a four year old when sick and the best way to deal with it was to ignore the whining and actually pay attention to what he looked like.

But just after midday Cameron had come to see him with the full backing of both Chase and Foreman. She had told him that House seemed to be getting worse but none of them could talk him into either actually taking something for it or going home and could he try? Wilson had rolled his eyes and wandered next door. When he’d gotten to the Diagnostic Medicine conference room where House was holding court, he’d been quite startled.

House really looked sick though, being his usual stubborn self, he was denying all knowledge of his own symptoms. But they were plain to see. His face was flushed, he looked slightly nauseous and he was squinting at the light. Wilson had taken one look at House and all but dragged him into his office. He’d completely ignored House’s whining and dragged the actual set of symptoms out of him. When he heard that House had a terrible headache along with a stiff neck and a fever and that he’d been vomiting, he’d had a nasty suspicion he knew what was wrong. However before he could say anything, House had passed out and started seizing.

The next hour had passed in a flurry with House being admitted with what Wilson suspected was bacterial meningitis. A lumbar puncture was done to test for this along with a CT scan of the head and a chest X-ray. House was started on antibiotics immediately in case it was meningitis, hooked up to a heart monitor, given oxygen and IV fluids and they all came to a sudden abrupt halt as they waited for confirmation or otherwise.

When the test results had confirmed Wilson’s diagnosis, he felt his heart sink. Bacterial meningitis was serious, even life threatening, but treatable. Unfortunately there was the distinct risk of long-term disabilities, even with proper treatment. Deafness, seizures, paralysis, blindness, loss of limbs; these were all possible outcomes. And they wouldn’t know which, if any, had occurred until House regained consciousness.

Movement outside the room caught Wilson’s attention and he looked over to see Cuddy standing outside. Cuddy gestured to him and Wilson nodded. He pushed himself to his feet and quietly left the room.

“How is he?” Cuddy asked once he’d closed the door behind him.

Wilson shrugged helplessly. “The inflammation seems to be confined to the subarachnoid space which is a good sign. We’re attacking it aggressively so hopefully it won’t spread any further. He’s still unconscious which...isn’t good but he’s been moving a bit in the last hour or two so I think he may come round soon.”

Cuddy hesitated for a moment. “What about the long term effects?”

“I don’t know,” Wilson replied grimly. “That’s not a question that can be answered right now.”

Cuddy grimaced and nodded. “You and House’s people are taking preventative antibiotics?” she asked.

Wilson nodded. “It’s probably not necessary.”

“I’m aware of that,” Cuddy replied. “But frankly I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“True,” Wilson conceded. “Look...I’d better go back in. He could be a bit confused when he wakes and I don’t want him getting upset.”

Cuddy nodded and Wilson returned to his vigil. Only time would tell the course of the illness. Only time would tell what the long term results would be.

The next several days were filled with dealing with a sick, feverish and confused House. And to make matters worse, it appeared that much of the confusion was related to House having difficulty hearing and his subsequent reaction to that particular problem. When House had finally beaten off the worst of the meningitis, Wilson threatened a painful death to anyone who came near the room and prepared to deal with this.

He sat down next to the bed where House was lying, looking irritable and tense. “House...Greg? How well can you hear me?”

House flinched at the question and Wilson relaxed a fraction. It wasn’t totally bad news.

House breathed hard for a few minutes. “It sounds like you’re talking from the next room,” he admitted reluctantly, not looking at Wilson.

Wilson gave a small sigh of relief. “Well, that’s...not as bad as it could have been.”

House gave him a sudden angry glare, something that was not enhanced by his drawn, tired face. “Really?” he said with heavy sarcasm.

“You could be completely deaf,” Wilson said bluntly and with just a hint of anger. “You could be blind. You could be having seizures. Yes, Greg, it could be worse. Your hearing’s been impaired but you can still hear. We can work around this.”

House’s hands clenched into fists and his lips thinned. He seemed to be struggling with something that finally broke free.

“So I can be even more of a cripple?” he yelled. Much to Wilson’s surprise House seemed to be struggling to keep back tears. He seemed to fight with himself for moment then he said in a voice so low Wilson almost missed it, “Why me?”

Wilson had to swallow the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat and he reached and took one of House’s hands, pulling it out of the fist it was in and holding it.

“I don’t know,” he said simply. “And I wish I could take it away. We’ll get through this, Greg. It’s not the end of the world. You can still work. It’s not like you listen to patients anyway.”

House closed his eyes and gave a tiny huff of a laugh.

“You know Cuddy will do whatever she can to help,” Wilson continued. “So will your team. So will I.”

House gave a small nod though a frown still lingered on his face.

“Besides,” Wilson continued, a sly smile growing. “Think of all the fun you can have if you learn to read lips.”

House gave him a startled, slightly opaque look then the thought seemed to take root in his mind and he slowly grinned rather wickedly. Wilson chuckled, sure he would probably regret making that suggestion at some point but deciding that the smile on House’s face was well worth any coming trouble.

He let go of House’s hand and gave it a pat. “I’ll go and make arrangements for you to see an audiologist,” he said as he stood. “We can find out how bad the hearing loss is then move on from there.”

House grimaced and nodded, clearly not happy about the idea. “You’re staying?” he asked, his voice just slightly hesitant.

Wilson looked confused; he’d been speaking at a level that would make it easy for House to hear him so just for a moment the question didn’t make sense. Then he saw the slightly fearful look in House’s eyes and realised what was truly meant by the question.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

*******************************************************************************

“Ready to go?” Wilson asked loudly and clearly as he walked into House’s hospital room.

House looked up at him and nodded, grabbing his cane and standing. He still looked thin and drawn from the after effects of the bacterial meningitis but he was well on the way to recovery. He’d ended up being very lucky; the only long term effect he had ended up with was the partial loss of hearing. Wilson was still worried about him though. House had been unusually silent and biddable since the audiologist had confirmed the hearing loss. He’d accepted the need for hearing aids with a frightening equanimity though he rarely wore them. And he hadn’t even argued the need to stay in hospital or the need for someone to stay with him for a while once he was released.

Wilson hated this new version of Gregory House. Hated it...far more than he’d ever thought possible. For all that he’d often chided House about his sarcastic attitude and harsh words, now that they were gone he missed them. And wanted them back along with the smirks and the wicked grins since they had also been missing.

House limped up to him, his bag slung over one shoulder and Wilson took a deep breath.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked with concern.

House nodded, his face neutral, and Wilson swallowed his irritation at the lack of an answer. He turned and led the way out of the room, deciding to leave it for now. This particular battle would probably be best fought in private. The trip to House’s apartment was conducted in silence and the first break in that came when they walk into the living room. There were boxes piled neatly in one corner of the room that certainly hadn’t been there before. House looked over at Wilson with a question on his face.

Wilson almost answered that question then he turned away towards the kitchen. If House wanted to know, he would have to ask. The sound of a cane thumping onto the floor had him turning around and he saw the now irritated question on House’s face. Wilson gave the other man a curious look then continued into the kitchen. He heard the sound of a bag hitting the floor then House’s limping stride as he opened the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water and closed the fridge door, looking over to see House standing in the doorway looking frustrated.

“Your boxes?” House asked finally, looking irritated and almost upset.

Wilson took a drink from the bottle. “Was that a question?” he asked.

He distinctly saw the anger flare in House’s eyes but pretended to ignore it.

“Are they your boxes?” House said, anger sparking off each word.

“Yes, Julie kicked me out,” Wilson replied blandly though very clearly so that House could understand him. “She said that since I obviously cared more for you than her, I could live with you instead. I should get the final divorce papers in a week or two.”

House looked startled. Wilson ignored this as he put the bottle down on the bench and looked at House.

“What’s wrong?” he asked firmly.

All he got in response was a questioning look from House.

“You won’t talk to me. You won’t talk to anyone,” Wilson said, his anger starting to grow. “You’ve been so damn quiet and obedient you’re scaring the hell out of me. What’s wrong? You fought after the infarction. You were stubborn and a pain in the arse and real bastard at times but you fought. Why are you giving up now?”

As he watched House swallowed hard and then all of his walls came crashing down and he turned awkwardly and limped out of the kitchen. Wilson leaned back on the bench and buried his face in one hand as he heard the sound of a door slamming shut. He couldn’t remember the last time House had put up all of his walls around him. Oh, he got a lot of the walls on occasion but there was always a way in for him. He knew he’d probably pushed too far too fast but this...surrender by House to this latest disability was killing him.

He sighed wearily and pushed himself off the bench. He wandered out into the living room and saw that House had taken his bag with him. He grabbed the phone and ordered Chinese since that would keep the best if House decided to sulk in his room for the rest of the evening.

House did not emerge when the food arrived nor did he come out when Wilson turned on the TV to the baseball. Finally at around eleven Wilson sighed and cleaned up the living room. He turned the TV and the lights off and made his way down to the spare bedroom where he’d set himself up during the time that House had been in hospital. He paused outside House’s door on his way to the bathroom but there was no sound nor could he see a light from under the door.

Once back in the bedroom he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed, turning off the light and pulling the comforter up. He turned on his side, facing the door and watched until sleep claimed him. He didn’t know what woke him at first then he saw the dark shape leaning in the doorway.

“Greg?” he said, his voice slurred with sleep. “Are you okay?”

“I had something to fight for last time.”

Wilson rubbed his eyes and sat up, reaching over and turning on the light on the bedside table. He blinked into the sudden brightness and saw that House looked drawn and beaten.

“I had something to fight for,” House repeated. “I wanted...to prove them wrong. To prove I could still be...me. Still be the best.”

Wilson blinked and tried to get his brain moving. “But...well, you did. Why isn’t it the same this time?”

House didn’t reply for a long moment. “I can’t do my job. Cuddy made it clear that part of my job was to do clinic hours even though I hate them. How can I do that when I can’t hear them? She said she could sack me if I didn’t do my job.”

Wilson’s jaw dropped and anger swirled through him. “When did she say this?” he demanded.

House waved a hand almost dismissively. “Ages ago. When I had your...cousin as a patient.”

Wilson blinked then the anger flowed out of him. Rebecca Adler had been ages ago.

“Greg,” he said, feeling a little lost. “She’ll make allowances. Besides I thought you said you could hear fairly normally with your hearing aids in?”

House glanced up at the ceiling and Wilson saw the frustrated despair on his face.

“Hate ‘em.”

“So what?” Wilson countered. “I suppose you don’t have to wear them outside the clinic.”

House was silent again but he didn’t move. Wilson shifted into a more comfortable position and looked at him curiously.

“Greg? What’s really wrong?” he asked.

The silence continued then House let out a shaky breath.

“Cameron came to see me,” he said quietly then he gave a bitter laugh. “I’m really damaged now. You should have seen her.”

“Yeah, well, we both know Cameron’s a little screwed up,” Wilson said dryly. “Just ignore her. That’s what you usually do.”

House gave that bitter laugh again. “Then what am I supposed to do when I suddenly get the same kind of look from Chase? And Foreman?”

Wilson mentally cursed the three doctors then he got up and went to stand in front of House.

“Greg, you are a brilliant doctor,” he said firmly. “That did not change after the infarction. It has not changed now. You can still hear. You are still capable of doing your job...as much as you ever did it before. If Chase and Cameron and Foreman can’t see that then I’m sure you can have enormous fun proving how stupid they are. They should know better anyway.”

House stared at him, his face blank and Wilson had no idea what was going on behind the mask.

“How long are you staying?” House asked.

Wilson blinked at the sudden swerve in the conversation then he shrugged. “As long as you’ll let me, I suppose,” he said with a small smile.

House nodded as he stared down at the floor. He looked up, his face now calm. “Stay.”

Wilson smiled. “Okay.”

House stared down at the floor again then turned and limped back to his bedroom. Wilson watched him go with a sense of relief now that he knew at least part of what was eating at House. This was something they could handle and he was sure Cuddy would make some allowances for House’s new disability. He headed back to bed and turned out the light. As he curled up on his side he made a mental note to call Cuddy and make sure of that.

****************************************************************************

The next morning when Wilson got up he found House already in the kitchen, making coffee. He thumped on the door frame twice as he walked in and House turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Some reason you’re trying to knock down my walls?” he asked and Wilson almost grinned at the return of the sardonic tone.

“Not particularly,” he replied casually, knowing that House knew the reason already, then he gave the walls a glance. “Mind you, they are pretty ugly walls.”

“If you’re going to go around insulting my walls, I’ll let you make your own breakfast,” House replied as he turned back to the coffee pot.

“You were going to make me breakfast?” Wilson asked with amused surprise as he leaned against the doorway.

He didn’t get an answer and he frowned for a moment before trying that question again in a slightly louder voice. House turned and gave him a smirk.

“Well, I was but you insulted my walls,” he said.

“Well, I’m not apologising to your walls,” Wilson said dryly, deciding not to mention what had just happened.

“Then get your own breakfast,” House replied promptly. “Can’t be that difficult to pour a bowl of cereal.”

Wilson gave a snort of amusement then joined House at in the kitchen. They worked around each other with relative ease as House made himself some toast and Wilson rummaged through the cupboards for the cereal he’d bought earlier in the week. They took their respective breakfasts out into the living room and settled in.

“So when do you start your lip reading classes?” Wilson asked, taking care to swallow his current mouthful before speaking.

House was silent for a moment and Wilson wondered whether he’d actually heard the question.

“Tuesday,” he said finally and rather reluctantly. “I’ve been trying it for the last couple of weeks though.”

“Easy or hard?” Wilson asked curiously.

House shrugged. “Depends on the person. You’re pretty easy, so is Foreman. Cameron’s difficult. Chase varies. Cuddy’s fine. Still miss a lot though if they don’t speak loud enough.”

“The classes will help with that to a certain extent,” Wilson replied. “Why is Cameron difficult?”

House finished off his slice of toast then he grimaced. “She tries too hard to talk clearly. I was reading about lip reading and that makes it harder. Messes up the phonemes. Didn’t understand what that meant until she spoke to me.”

“Ah, so I gather Chase varies depending on whether he’s concentrating on you or not?” Wilson hazarded.

House snorted and nodded. “Yeah, it’s better when he’s concentrating on whatever’s on his mind. It’s better when all of them are. Then they remember they’re doctors and forget about what happened to me.”

His expression was rather sour by the end. He looked around the room, avoiding Wilson, and his eyes rested on the piano. His face became blank again then he put his plate down on the table with a thump and grabbed his cane. Wilson drew in a sharp breath as House limped over to the piano and sat down. As he watched House let his fingers rest on the keys for a moment then he began playing. He stopped abruptly after a few bars and Wilson saw his hands clench into fists and his head drop.

He got up and walked over to stand behind House, hesitating momentarily before placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder. House started at the contact but didn’t look up.

“Beethoven was deaf and he played the piano,” Wilson said carefully.

House was very still then he slowly unclenched his hands and let them stretch over the piano keys again. He slowly began to play and once Wilson recognised the tune he began to laugh.

“Bach’s Toccata?” he said, leaning down to speak directly into House’s ear. “Isn’t that meant to be played on an organ?”

He saw the small smile that crept onto House’s face. “It’s loud,” was all he said before suddenly modulating into a piece of music Wilson didn’t know.

“What’s this one?” he asked, still with his chin almost resting on House’s shoulder.

“Variation on a Theme of Paganini by Rachmaninov,” House replied absently, his brow furrowed as he played the delicate music.

Wilson straightened up but left his hand on House’s shoulder. As he watched House’s face cleared and he seemed to relax. Wilson tightened his grip slightly and House looked up at him as he kept playing.

“Can still hear it,” he said in explanation. “Even something soft like this. Can’t hear it well but well enough to know if I’m playing it right.”

Wilson let out the breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding and gave House’s shoulder a squeeze again.

“Good,” he said before returning to his armchair and the rest of his breakfast as House continued to play.

Once he’d finished his breakfast, he picked up House’s plate and took the dishes out into the kitchen, washing them and putting them away. As he did so he heard the music stop and when he walked back into the living room, he found House back on the couch, sunk into a mood similar to the one he’d been in for most of the previous couple of weeks.

Wilson gave an exasperated sigh then shook his head. He stalked through the apartment to his bedroom and picked up some of the paperwork that had built up while he’d been looking after House and took it back out into the living room. He settled back into the armchair and started tackling the administrivia that inevitably came his way as a Department Head. If last night and this morning had shown him anything, it was that House was not quite as lost as he’d thought so he felt it was safe enough to work.

He was neck deep in sorting out budget projections when he realised House was watching him. He looked up curiously and raised an eyebrow.

“When did Julie kick you out?” House asked.

Wilson blinked. “Uh, a little over a week ago.”

“Why?”

Wilson sighed and shrugged. “It was coming. The fact that I chose to spend my time at the hospital with you instead of going home to her was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Wilson asked, feeling just a little uncomfortable.

“Why did you stay?” House expanded. “It’s not like you needed to stay all the time. You could have gone home to the little woman.”

Wilson sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d known this conversation was going to be inevitable as soon as House dragged himself out of his preoccupation with his own miseries.

“Because...I...didn’t want to go home,” he admitted reluctantly. “I think my marriage has been over for several months...and please don’t say every sarcastic thing that’s running through your mind right now. There is nothing there that I haven’t already said to myself.”

A smirk flickered across House’s face then vanished. “I thought you wanted to work things out.”

Wilson looked uncomfortable. “I...changed my mind. Something came up.”

House raised an eyebrow but Wilson didn’t continue.

“Something or someone?” House asked sardonically. “Who was it? That little nurse in radiology? The redhead?”

Wilson scowled. “No! Strangely enough I actually didn’t cheat on Julie.”

House’s eye narrowed. “But you wanted to.”

Wilson was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” he said quietly, hoping House wouldn’t hear it.

“I think that was a yes,” House said, dashing his hopes. “Certainly looked like it. So who was she?” His eyes widened in mock-horror. “Tell me it’s not Cameron!”

Wilson rolled his eyes. “I can safely say it’s not Cameron. It’s...no one, Greg. Just...no one.”

“Can’t be no one, Jimmy, you just said it was someone,” House countered, his expression amused.

Wilson sighed. “It’s not someone I can have. Now will you leave it alone? I have work to do.”

House raised an eyebrow but let the subject drop, going back to his brooding though his gaze flickered over to Wilson occasionally.

*****************************************************************************

The next few days passed with House alternating between silent brooding and something close to his normal self. He’d prodded at the reason for Wilson’s marriage break up a few times but Wilson had fended him off rather successfully. He had no intention of telling House that the reason marriage number three had collapsed was because he had come to the realisation about four months ago that he wasn’t in fact in love with his wife, he was in love with his best friend. His male best friend. Thankfully Julie hadn’t figured this out or he had a funny feeling the divorce wouldn’t be proceeding in the relatively amicable manner that it currently was.

He looked over as House limped into the kitchen and wordlessly handed him a cup of coffee. House grunted a thanks and headed for the toaster.

“What time is your class today?” Wilson asked, making sure spoke loudly and clearly since House wasn’t facing him.

“Ten o’clock,” House replied shortly. “Why?”

Wilson glanced up at the clock. “Just couldn’t remember the exact time,” he said casually.

House grunted again and limped out into the living room without another word. Wilson watched him go with a sigh and felt a moment of pity for whoever was going to have to work with House today. He looked like he was going to be at his surly and acerbic best.

Wilson drove House into the hospital and they headed in together. As they were standing at the lifts, House glared at him.

“I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way there, Mommy,” House growled. “You don’t need to hold my hand.”

“Okay,” Wilson said agreeably. This was probably not a good time or place to argue. “I’ll be in my office when you’re done.”

They got into the lift then separated at their respective floors. Wilson gave House one last glance as he walked out of the lift but House was staring down at the floor, both hands wrapped around the handle of his cane.

***************************************************************************

House sat in the empty waiting room and tapped his cane on the floor irritably. The woman who taught lip reading had a speciality in speech-language pathology so he presumed she might actually have some idea of what she was doing. Cuddy had organised for individual classes for him, telling him rather tartly that she thought it might be cruel and unusual punishment to inflict him on innocent people. He wasn’t sure if she had done that deliberately or not; he certainly would have been a lot more resistant to the idea of these classes if he’d had to do them with complete strangers. Then again, she probably knew him well enough to realise that. Either that or Wilson had made a suggestion or two.

He was just about to contemplate the mysteries that Wilson had thrown up in the last couple of weeks when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Dr House?”

The voice was calm and clear enough for him to hear it easily. He looked over to see a rather average looking woman. Average height, average build, average looks, brown hair, brown eyes, plain beige suit and black shoes. About the only remarkable thing about her was how open and expressive her face was. He nodded and got to his feet, taking the hand she held out and shaking it.

“I’m Dr Claire Tresize,” she said, still in that calm, clear voice. “Come in.”

He followed her into her office and sat down in the chair she indicated, a comfortable armchair in one corner of the room. She walked over and picked up a file from the table before joining him, sitting in the twin armchair to his own.

“I’ve spoken to your audiologist and he says that the meningitis has left you with significant hearing loss,” she said without preamble, something for which House was grateful. “How would you describe what you hear now?”

“It sounds like people are talking in the next room,” he said shortly. His eyes narrowed. “Not you though.”

“I’m speaking at a raised volume,” Dr Tresize replied, amusement flowing across that expressive face of hers. “It’s nothing personal. I usually do for these sorts of appointments. Now, lip reading will be a bit easier for you to learn since you still retain the ability to hear. I will warn you now that even the best lip readers only pick up about 30-50 percent of any given conversation. There are too many words and letters in the English language that sound alike.”

House nodded. “I read about it,” he growled.

“Good,” Dr Tresize said, ignoring House’s attitude. “That’s puts you one up on most of my patients. And from what Dr Cuddy had to say about you, I’m also sure you’ll have no problems getting people to speak normally and not try and enunciate their words too much.”

She said that last bit in such a bland manner but with such an expressive look that House was surprised to find himself smirking. He wiped the smirk off his face and scowled slightly.

Another expressive look wandered across Dr Tresize’s face then she put the file down on the small table beside her chair and started the lesson.

House wandered out of the office an hour later and wasn’t overly surprised to find Wilson sitting in one of the chairs, reading from a folder.

He prodded the other man with his cane. “Thought you were going to be in your office.”

“Everyone found out I was in,” Wilson replied with some exasperation. “Then they extrapolated you might be around as well and since they couldn’t find you...or were too afraid to find you...they pestered me.”

“Aww, poor Jimmy,” House said mockingly. “Maybe I could set you up as my secretary.”

Wilson snorted then stood up and gave House a curious look. “You’re in an awfully good mood. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be?”

House shrugged as they headed for the lifts. “She’s rather surprisingly not an idiot.”

“Wow, that’s high praise from you,” Wilson observed with a smile.

House smirked. “That and she said it was perfectly alright for me to mock people if they try and be helpful by enunciating their words.”

The lift arrived and they walked in as Wilson groaned. “You mean she’s given you permission to be an arse. Great!”

“Yeah, I don’t permission to be like that,” House replied in a frighteningly chipper manner. “But now I have someone to blame.”

“That poor woman’s never going to recover,” Wilson said as the lift doors opened again.

House’s gave a wry half-smile as they walked through the foyer. “I don’t think she’s that intimidated by me. It’s kind of fun actually.”

“Dr Wilson! Dr House!”

Wilson stopped at the sound of Cuddy’s voice then placed a hand on House’s arm to stop him when it became clear he hadn’t heard her. He was a bit worried about that until he realised that the level of noise in the area probably made hearing difficult unless House was concentrating, especially since House had so far refused to wear his hearing aids.

“Ah, Dr Cuddy,” House said expansively and Wilson swallowed a smile as House’s eyes wandered down the form of the hospital administrator. “My, what a fetching ensemble you’re wearing today. Don’t mind me while I stare at your breasts but they’re positively screaming for attention.”

Cuddy rolled her eyes but both men could see the exasperated amusement that lurked in them as well.

“How did your appointment go?” she asked.

House shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know her breasts are no competition for yours.”

“It went well then,” Cuddy replied blandly. “Good. So I trust we will see you back in your office as soon as possible?”

House made a small moue of disappointment then gave Wilson a look of entirely false heartfelt disappointment.

“See what I have to put up with,” he mourned. “She acts like a slave driver. I don’t even get a chance to recover my strength before she’s ordering me back to work.”

“No, I think she just knows that trying to keep you at home for too long might just require handcuffs and shackles,” Wilson said dryly.

“Ooh, kinky!” House replied with a leer. “I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, Jimmy.”

Wilson gave House a flat look as Cuddy smothered a smile.

“Take him home,” she said firmly to Wilson. “I think he’s caused enough trouble here for today.”

House smirked then turned and limped towards the door. Wilson rolled his eyes at Cuddy and she gave him a sympathetic smile before he hurried off to catch up with House.

***************************************************************************

By the time they got home House was slumped in the passenger seat of the car, looking tired. Wilson grimaced; House was so damn stubborn at times it was easy to forget he was still recovering from the meningitis. Once he’d pulled up into a parking spot and turned off the engine, he gently laid a hand on House’s arm. The other man started and turned to look at him.

“We’re home,” Wilson said simply.

House nodded and hauled himself awkwardly out of the car. Wilson left him to it, knowing any offer of help would be shot down in the most acerbic way possible. However when he saw House limping heavily up to the front door, he couldn’t help himself.

“You should get some rest,” he said as House unlocked the front door and they walked in.

“I’m fine,” House snapped back.

“Yeah,” Wilson said dryly. “That’s why you look like you’re about to fall over at any minute. Either go to bed, Greg, or I’ll drag you there.”

“Why, James! You know I won’t put out that easily,” House said with mock-horror and an amusing leer.

Wilson’s breath caught momentarily at the mental image that comment summoned and he hesitated a bit too long before answering.

“Just...get some rest,” Wilson said awkwardly before disappearing into his bedroom.

House froze where he was for a moment as both the look on Wilson’s face and his subsequent awkwardness hit home and everything clicked into place. He was Wilson’s ‘someone who he couldn’t have’. House turned almost automatically, his brain still in a state of shock, and made his way to his bedroom. He sat down on the bed and pulled off his sneakers before lying down, settling himself comfortably.

He was the person Wilson had wanted to cheat on Julie with. He was Wilson’s ‘someone’. Wilson was in love with him.

Those three thoughts ran round and round his mind in a mad scramble and even though he was tired, sleep was the furthest thing from him at the moment.

He was the person Wilson had wanted to cheat on Julie with. He was Wilson’s ‘someone’. Wilson was in love with him.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t horrified or even upset with those notions. He’d done his experimentation at college. Hell, someone with a mind like his was always going to try everything he could and he supposed in the end, if he was forced to classify himself as anything, he could call himself bisexual. Women had always just been easier; easier to get, easier in some ways to hold on to and easier to get rid of if he wanted. Men were always more of a challenge in all aspects and most men eventually got pissed at his arrogance and tendency to be superior.

Not Wilson. That thought thundered through his mind and joined the others. Wilson had never minded his arrogance and smug superiority...at least mostly. He’d mostly just laughed at it and brushed it off, accepting it as just another one of Gregory House’s unique quirks. House supposed that Wilson’s obvious intelligence and skill in his own field helped with that. One did not get to be the Head of Oncology in your mid-thirties just on the strength of a boyish smile and a caring attitude. Wilson was not intimidated by him or his many moods.

Wilson was his friend. His only friend really. The only one who had the patience, the strength and the sense of humour to put up with him. And...since he was apparently now thinking about it...Wilson was very attractive. Handsome in that cute, boyish way, particularly when he grinned.

House shifted onto his side, wincing when his leg complained and waiting for it to settle down again. Did he like Wilson as more than a friend? Now that was a question he’d never let himself consider and the fact that he’d never let himself consider it had to be significant, didn’t it? Assuming that it was significant that meant that he did. Which led to the next question; what did he do about it? He could do nothing which is apparently what he’d been doing all along except that had been when he didn’t know that Wilson was in love with him. Or he could do...something.

He rolled onto his back again and flung one arm over his face. But if he did something then he took the risk that he’d screw this relationship up the same way he’d screwed up every other relationship he’d ever been in. The five years he’d been with Stacy had been his longest relationship...ever. And if he screwed up this relationship then he’d lose his only friend. But then...they’d managed to hold this friendship together for longer than five years and look at what had happened during that time. If the changes that had happened to him after the infarction hadn’t been enough to drive Wilson away, what could?

So...Wilson was in love with him. He...liked Wilson and liked the idea of doing...something with Wilson. Did he love Wilson? He almost physically shied away from that thought and quickly shoved it down where it had come from. He didn’t know and he didn’t want to think about it. He liked Wilson. He’d settle for that for now. With that decision he relaxed and the tiredness that had been circling just outside his thoughts pounced and he fell asleep.

*******************************************************************************

Wilson paced back and forth in his bedroom and mentally cursed himself. House was a diagnostician. He was intelligent and very used to putting a thousand disparate facts together and coming up with a complete answer. He’d seen the dawning realisation on House’s face just before he retreated to his bedroom and was now wondering whether he’d just screwed everything up. He’d never intended to let House know about his feelings and now, because he was tired and still a little exasperated from the incessant questioning he’d received at the hospital, he’d not been concentrating and let it all slip.

He slumped down onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. He’d never intended to fall in love with House and couldn’t quite figure out how it had happened. He’d always liked men as much as women...though perhaps he’d maybe always come down slightly more on the women side of that equation. He’d always seen his relationships with men as more of a casual thing while his relationships with women were more serious. Although after three failed marriages, maybe he hadn’t worked that equation out quite right. Certainly his relationships with women were more acceptable in combination with his job and they were definitely more acceptable in combination with his parents. Oh, his parents weren’t homophobic; it was just that they liked the idea of a wife and grandchildren more than anything else. Not that they’d want him to be miserable either.

Wilson all but leapt off the bed and started pacing frantically again. When had he fallen in love with House? Was it just a few months ago or was it something that had always been there, slowly growing until it suddenly became too large to ignore? He didn’t know, he couldn’t tell, he just knew what he felt now. And now House knew...

He took a deep breath and headed for the door. It would probably be a better idea to confront this right now and hopefully put all potential awkwardness behind them rather than let it fester. When he got out into the corridor he saw that House’s bedroom door was shut and he hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly. When no answer came he carefully opened the door and peered in.

House was asleep. Wilson sighed and leaned against the doorframe. There was no way he was going to wake House up when he so desperately needed the rest. The meningitis had taken more out of the older man than he would admit and no matter how much Wilson wanted to settle this, get past it and get things back to normal, he wouldn’t risk House’s health. He eased out of the room and gently closed the door, heading back to the living room and the work he still had to do.

***************************************************************************

House woke with a start then cursed silently when he realised what had happened. He glanced at the clock and cursed again; it was nearly six o’clock. He’d slept the entire afternoon. He sat up and shifted to the side of the bed, gasping at the pain in his leg. He grabbed the bottle on the bedside table and quickly swallowed a pill, waiting with his head bowed until it took effect. Once it had, he grabbed his cane and limped out of the room.

Wilson was working in the living room again and House saw him flinch slightly and tense when he limped into the room. House paused and stared at the younger man, seeing the tension increase. He knew there many ways to deal with this, most of them probably involving hours of talking which as far as he was concerned was boring and uncomfortable and not what he wanted to do. Or he could do what he always did...be shockingly direct and simply take action.

He limped over to the chair where Wilson was sitting, not missing the way his shoulders suddenly hunched slightly. He came to a stop next to the chair and reached out, threading his hand into Wilson’s hair. He paused for a bare fraction of a minute, steadying himself with his cane, then he dragged Wilson’s head back and kissed him. He didn’t give Wilson time to think. He kissed him fiercely, ferociously, demanding entrance then plundering the other man’s mouth, inwardly smirking at the moans he was getting. When he finally pulled away, they were both panting and breathless and House was in dire need of a seat. He limped the few steps that were needed to reach the couch and collapsed down on it before looking over at Wilson with a smug smirk.

The oncologist was staring at him with stunned surprise, his hair mussed and his lips red and swollen. House thought he looked utterly delectable and mentally vowed to put that look on Wilson’s face as often as possible.

“I...you...what?” Wilson stammered and House smirked again.

“I can see how you got to be top dog in oncology with those communication skills,” he said sardonically. “Is that how you get them to thank you all the time? You stammer and they say it just to ease the tension.”

Oddly enough the snark seemed to calm Wilson and he swallowed hard.

“Why?” he asked, both hope and a touch of plaintiveness colouring his voice.

“Because I wanted to,” House replied bluntly. “You think I’d do that to just anyone?”

Wilson licked his lips and House’s eyebrow quirked at that; it was remarkably alluring now that things had changed between them.

Wilson collected himself a bit more. “Greg, seriously, why?”

House sighed; it looked like he wasn’t going to avoid all that talking. “Because I like you and you like me. The whole kissing thing seems a natural progression. Admittedly it’s been a while for me but that’s the way I remember it going.”

“You...like me?” Wilson said slowly, almost dubiously.

House pretended to look thoughtful. “Yes. And apparently I’ve been hiding this from myself for quite some time. I think I’m going to have to have a long talk with my brain at some point because it’s always annoying when that happens. Would have been much easier to put off Cameron if I could tell her I was already involved with someone else.” He raised an eyebrow at a now slightly startled Wilson. “Of course, I suppose I’ve been involved with you for a long time just not in quite the way apparently both of us want. Though now that I think about it we’ve done an awful lot of flirting for two people who aren’t in a relationship.”

Wilson, who had been well aware of this and had in fact instigated a lot of it recently, blushed. “I know,” he murmured, his head dropping slightly to hide the blush.

House frowned. “What?” he snapped, irritation suddenly flooding through him. “You know if this is going to work, you can’t do that.”

Wilson’s head snapped back up and he looked apologetic. “I said I know we’ve been...flirting,” he repeated.

House let the irritation go since that wasn’t what he wanted right now then he smirked at Wilson. “Why, Jimmy, you’ve been flirting with me. Ever think of letting me know what you were doing?”

Wilson felt himself blush again. “I...well, I...thought you were...well, straight,” he stammered.

“I am a lot of things, Jimmy,” House countered.

Wilson’s eyes narrowed. “Hang on,” he said, suddenly feeling more in control. “You don’t seem too surprised that I...like men as well as women. How long have you known?”

House cocked his head to one side. “Years. You think I wouldn’t figure that one out?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Wilson demanded.

House shrugged. “Wasn’t any of my business. Until now of course. Since you like me.” He smirked.

Wilson sighed and rolled his eyes, feeling slightly exasperated but mostly relieved and hopeful. “Yes, I do like you. And apparently you like me.” He gave a tiny smile. “I think the kiss cued me in on that.” The smile broadened slightly. “I liked that kiss. I think I want more.”

“Well, you’re going to have to come over here then,” House replied, his eyes lighting up. “’Cause the whole standing and kissing thing isn’t really my style anymore.”

Wilson dumped the files he’d been working on on the floor and got to his feet. He stalked over to where House was sitting and plucked the cane out of House’s hand. He let it fall to the ground behind him then, after a moment’s hesitation, he straddled House’s legs. He was careful not to knock the right leg as he rested one hand on the back of the couch and cupped House’s face with the other.

“Don’t let me hurt your leg,” he said firmly before leaning in and kissing House.

House made an indistinct noise that was probably agreement as the kiss deepened. He grabbed Wilson’s hips and pulled him closer, making a noise of discontent when Wilson pulled away from the kiss.

“Your leg!” Wilson gasped.

“My leg’s fine,” House growled. “Just don’t move around too much.”

Wilson stared at him for a moment then nodded once and leaned back into the kiss. As he did, one of House’s arms wrapped around his waist while the other slid up his back so the hand buried itself in his hair. The renewed kiss was slower than the previous two; more of an acceptance and exploration than the desperate ferocity of the previous kisses. When it came to its inevitable conclusion, Wilson rested his forehead against House’s.

“I think we’re getting better at that,” House said contemplatively.

“Yeah,” Wilson said with a small smile. “But we should keep practicing though.”

House smirked then, much to Wilson’s surprise, he actually laughed as his stomach growled. He gave Wilson a nudge.

“Get off and feed me,” he demanded almost happily. “You want more of this you better keep my strength up. Pizza! I want junk food.”

Wilson rolled his eyes and laughed as he gingerly climbed off House’s lap.

“Demanding bastard,” he said amiably as started searching for the phone.

“That’s why you love me,” House said smugly as he eyed Wilson’s arse appreciatively.

“Dammit, I think it is,” Wilson groused and he started dialling.

To the second part