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Paperweight
by Druin
Note: For everyone who suggested and awaited this sequel-sequel.
"But, Doctor!"
"No. It's the only way."
House never took his eyes off General Hospital when the door opened: his reasoning was simple. If he was needed, they'd interrupt him; if he wasn't, then it would have been a waste of his time to look up, anyway. Then, there were occasions such as this, when even without taking his eyes off the television he could tell it was Wilson. Still, he didn't look up, not entirely; out of the corner of his eye he could see Wilson pour a cup of coffee - one sugar, half-and-half - and hesitate before pouring a second cup, leaving it black.
Wilson, having remained silent, as had House, placed the cup of black coffee beside his friend. Only when he heard the door shut did House pick up the cup and drink from it; the cup was on his lips when he heard the door open again.
"House." Only it was an abnormal, welcome type of interruption.
House shut off the television, turned to his friend, and Wilson could see the amused spark in his eye. The scheming one. "Can I help you, Doctor Wilson?"
There was a brief hesitation. "How about you come over for dinner tonight?" and they both looked surprised to hear the words. House's lips twitched, though he'd never admit to it; Wilson, he noticed, and didn't say anything.
"Won't your wife mind?"
It was a simple question; it held weight, there was more to it than just four words. Wilson shook his head, looked away. "She's. Out tonight. Something." And it was all that needed to be said. House nodded, raised his eyebrows and looked up at Wilson, mischief and havoc in his otherwise unreadable face, and it broke the mild tension of the room. Wilson smiled at his friend. "Let's go, then."
It wasn't as uncomfortable as either of them had feared; the kiss, unmentioned but not forgotten, did not affect their usual mannerisms or jokes or off-handed, overly-friendly remarks. They had ordered out - Cantonese - and it's as it's always been; they're on the couch, take-out on the coffee table, but tonight they're sitting closer together, hips touching, legs brushing, and though they both notice and though the couch is big enough, neither move as neither mind.
The television was on, playing a movie both weren't entirely watching. "Luke and Han? Are so having sex," Wilson wasn't slurring, not yet, but he was a notch past relaxed, House could tell by the way he'd unbuttoned his collar, first button, second button; his tie was on the armrest of the couch; his words were open, perhaps more vulgar than House was used to hearing from Wilson, but these changes weren't unwelcome.
"It's warm in here. Do you think it's warm in here?" House didn't reply directly; his fingers reached up to the third button of Wilson's shirt and he said, "Let me help you with that," and Wilson nodded; the fourth, fifth, and the sixth button and the sleeves and Wilson folded the shirt, putting it next to his tie on the armrest.
"Hey," he said; House muted the television absently. Wilson wanted to look away but couldn't, like one of those times where you hate yourself for watching something terrible and awful but would hate yourself for missing it, too, and you don't know why. "About today, and you-"
House interrupted him with a look; "You want clarification on that?" he asked, incredulous, and he only had to lean in a bit to kiss the other man.
It was rougher than their first, perhaps more insisting, deeper and then Wilson opened his mouth a little wider; their tongues met, and suddenly there was nothing remotely gentle about their kiss any longer; it was desperate, unforgiving.
House broke the kiss, looked at Wilson with his head titled, eyebrow arched. "Clarified?" and it was rhetorical.
--End--
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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