Title: He Needs Me Too
Rating: R
Catagory: slash
Pairing: House/Wilson
Summary: Wilson has an epiphany and acts on it right away. Sexiness ensues. set anytime after House vs. God.



“Bros before Hos, man!”

God, House could be an ass sometimes. Okay. Most times, House could be an ass. Not only was he known for it, he could actually be counted on for it. Wilson’s mouth pursed into a small grin as he silently mused on his best friend’s most notorious trait. Honestly, he thought. What an ass. The small grin grew just the slightest bit.

If you want a shoulder to cry on? Stay as far away from Greg House as possible. But if what you need is a pragmatist who will tell you exactly what the facts are no matter how those facts make you feel? Well, then Greg House is the best person to call on. He was always the first person Wilson called on. Wilson knew it, too. That didn’t bother him so much, but lately he’d been getting the uncomfortable feeling that House had finally noticed.

Noticed that Wilson had allowed not one, not two, but three marriages crumble because as much as he had loved his wives, he found he could live without them. Wheras he could not even fathom his life without: Greg. House. And if House really had realized this about his friend, then Wilson knew it could only mean one thing: The impending end of life as he understood it.

The shoe was bound to drop. But when? Of course, thought Wilson, maybe House hasn’t realized the implications of me chosing his company over my wife’s again and again. And again.

As Wilson thought the grin dissapeared and his brows slowly furrowed together.

It is possible that he’s too busy with cases to notice your steadfast willingness to tolorate his undiluted egomania. It seemed like a plausable theory until Wilson remembered who he was thinking of. No chance House hadn’t noticed by now. He noticed everything.

House. Wilson mused, both silently and uselessly. He knew his friend would make horrible fun of him for this sort of idle, hyper-romantic pondering. But it seemed to be a function beyond his control. And so it continued: House . . .

“You moving back in with me?” House had asked him once.

His stupid reply? “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Or something to that effect. Wilson couldn’t remember his exact words, but the gist had been “No, I’m not.” Stupid! Or possibly the best decision of his life, he couldn’t be sure.

When push came to shove, that was Wilson’s greatest flaw. Being unsure. Unsure of himself. His feelings. His marriages. What to do. What to say. What to do about what he’d said or not said as the case may be. And so it went with all the thousands of little decisions Wilson made in a day, while House seemed capable of making life-and-death calls without batting an eye. Staring a critically ill person in the eye and forcing them to give him the information they had witheld out of shame or some other desperate need for secrecy? House could do that kind of thing.

Wilson took a deep breath and quietly hoped that House never decided to force such truth out of him. But as he exhaled an epiphany came upon him. A whole bucketload of thoughts and information dumped on his already burdened shoulders in one split second. A real, true epiphany. He froze up and began to sort through the mess of thoughts:

Why shouldn’t the truth be forced out of me? Would it have to be forced? Would I really be ashamed if my heart were laid bare? Why? If House did choose to expose me and hold my heart up, beating and naked, what would I have to fear? The revelation gained momentum: House would never destroy me. Insult me? Yes. Tease me? Yes. Make me feel foolish and lost? Hell yes! But destroy me?! Not a chance. Because . . . and at this point, Wilson’s pulse spead up and his breath quickened. . .

He needs me too. And all of the sudden Wilson had a certainty to hold onto. House needed him. Even if he didn’t sit in his office mentally musing over all the nuances of his friend’s words and actions, House did need him. Whenever he was vulnerable and needy, where did he turn? To me. Thought Wilson as the grin crept back. Okay, first to Vicodin--but then me! Wilson was consumed by the need to see the man he’d been thinking about for the last 45 minutes. Who cared that it was two o’ clock in the morning? There were only three places House could possibly be: His Office, the Lab, or his Home. It turned out to be Wilson’s lucky night. House was in his office, pacing back and forth. Obviously waiting for test results on a case, Wilson thought as he stepped in without invitation or greeting and pulled the blinds closed.

“Uh-oh.” House snarked. “I suppose you’ve finally smothered a patient to death. I knew this day would come.”

Wilson strode up to House, not meeting his eyes until they were inches apart. “Ask me what you mean to me,” he ordered.

House’s eyes narrowed, the way they did when he was considering every possible outcome of a decision before chosing it.

“Just ask!” Wilson insisted, “It’s not like you don’t already know the answer.”

House’s eyes became clear as a summer day. “Why are you doing this?” He asked. His tone was totally neutral, as if he were taking a patient history. No emotional investment at all.

Wilson gambled and took a quick step forward. House stepped back. Wislon’s heart thrilled at the small victory. He had always rocked at poker. He continued to idle forward until House bumped up against his desk. “I’m doing this for the answers,” Wilson responded with shallow breath. “You should respect that. You live for answers.”

“And yet I don’t like to be questioned. Does that make me a control freak?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Look, Jim--” House put a hand on Wilson’s chest with the intention of pushing him away. Wilson simply covered that hand with both of his and stepped in closer.

“You know you’re gonna regret this,” House said matter-of-factly.

“Just ask me.” Wilson gently took the hand away from his chest and lowered it between them, interlacing his fingers with his friends. “Please.”

House looked down at his hand cucooned between Wilson’s. He could feel a soft pulse coursing through Wilson’s fingers, and he realized from the rythm that his friend wasn’t nearly as nervous he would have assumed. In fact judging by his pulse rate, Wilson was utterly at ease. Based on that, House assumed he coudn’t possibly be planning something too stupid, or he’d be a wreck. Complete with profuse sweating and rapid pulse. The evidence comforted him, and he relented to Wilson’s request with a deep and irritated sigh. “Fine,” he said. “What do I mean to you?”

“More than anything,” Wilson replied with quiet confidence, moving one of his hands to cover House’s other hand, the one that gripped his cane. His support. “You mean more to me than this job, than my patients. You mean more than vows to me,” he curled his fingers beneath House’s and began to pry them off of the cane, which forced House to shift his weight to the desk behind him. Wilson brushed his nose against his friend’s and the other man tilted his head upward in a completely automatic response. “And you know it,” Wilson finished before fixing House with a clear-eyed stare. No place to hide. “You know it,” he repeated. “Now, what do I mean to you?” He asked, his voice a little uncertain for the first time since entered the room.

House’s eyes fluttered just the slightest bit. “Don’t be an idiot, Wilson.”

“I need to know.”

House squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before looking back at his friend. “You need to go back to your office and get some sleep.”

“I don’t want sleep,” Wilson insisted. “I want to know what I mean to you. I can’t sleep again until I know.”

The two stood together for a silent moment, just breathing. Wilson hovered close to House’s mouth. He could feel his friend’s pulse pick up. Hear breath grow shallow.

“Please leave,” House begged almost inaudably.

“Not until you tell me,” Wilson whipsered back, calm as a placcid lake.

House groaned as if already mourning a heart that hadn’t actually broken yet, that might not break at all. “You mean my sanity,” he finally replied before allowing himself to pitch forward into Wilson’s ready arms.

The embrace seamlessly became a series of small, shy kisses. House was certian the moment would shatter any second now, and Wilson knew better than to push his friend too far. So they both proceeded as if walking over china glass. Shy and almost too gentle. Until their appetite for one another grew, then they each found eagerness and courage to push further.

Just as Wilson began to push House back onto the desk, they heard the sound of approaching voices and stopped.

House’s eyes met Wilson’s and widened. “Ducklings!” He said, in as close a tone to panic as Wilson had ever heard him use.

Wilson’s mind shot into overdrive and in a move that seemed almost pre-arranged he kicked House’s cane up off the ground, grabbed it, handed it to House, and fished House’s pills out of his pants pocket before the man could have even said “lumbar puncture.”

Just as Wilson planned (in the half second he’d had to plan it), when The Trio entered the room, they mistook House and Wilson’s flushed and disheveled appearence to be an arguement in progress.

“They are going to kill you House!” Shouted Wilson, shaking the bottle to punctuate the statement. “And I am sick to death of saying it!”

“Do you two ever not squabble like this?” Foreman asked.

“Of course.” House assured him. “Sometimes we’re too busy having crazy monkey sex.”

Since Wilson knew to expect such comments from his friend, he played the moment totally nonplussed. The trio simply rolled their eyes and soldiered forth.

“The LP test was negative,” Said Cameron.

“And he’s had two seizures since we took him off the antibiotics.” Chase added, ever the helpful little underling.

House nodded. “So put him back on the antibiotics--but something more broad spectrum since the CSF fluid was clear. You should also biopsy the liver since organ failure is back on the table, liver’s most likely, aaaaannnnd . . . .”

“I still think we should enduce a siezure and ultrasound his head,” insisted Foreman, “just to be absolutely sure it’s not--.”

“Yes!” House exclaimed. “Good idea. Run the tests. Run all the tests you can think of and don’t any of you DARE to step back in this office until you have real answers! Understand?!”

Chase glanced nervously from Wilson to House. “Uh . . . just how bad an arguement is this, guys?”

“Huge,” House rolled his eyes for effect and jerked his thumb toward Wilson. “He’s furious.”

Wilson nodded along and made sure to give an indignant huff. “Yes,” he assured Chase and company. “Yes, I am furious. This little discussion--” He shot a sharp look toward House, “could go on for quite a while. So, uh . . . barring conclusive test results, if I were you I’d think twice about opening that door again.”

House twisted his cane in his hands. “Seriously guys. We could be at it all night, so don’t bug us unless it’s urgent!”

The gang simply blinked at the two men for a moment.

“GO!” They both shouted in tantum.

They all shuffled slowly out the door, mumbling ‘okays’ and ‘sorrys’ as they went.

Wilson practically threw House back against his desk as soon the door clicked shut.

“That thing with the pills was genius--” House managed to say before his words were swallowed up in Wilson’s mouth. Wilson drank in the rest of the sentance, whatever it would have been, and focused on taking in every last tatse and feeling he could find in the kiss. Wilson felt House’s hands move through his hair and over his back. He needs me too. House’s tongue pushed and played with uncoaxed enthusiasm against his own. He absolutely needs me too. Wilson made a mental note to never, ever doubt that fact again.

“I don’t think they’ll be back tonight, do you?” Wilson panted when they finally came up for air.

“Probably not. But this whole, ‘we’re we’re having a fight,’ gag will only work so many times before one of them catches on.

“Mmmm,” Wilson mused as he placed little butterfly kisses down House’s throat, pausing to lap at the places that ellicited the greatest response. “My money’s on Chase.”

House shook his head a little. “Nah. Cameron would get it before him. She scrutinizes everything I do and say.” House pulled Wilson’s tie off in less than a second and then focused on getting his shirt undone. The job was finished in no time. He pushed the shirt of Wilson’s shoulders while pressing himself flush against the other man. “It’s really annoying.” He whispered.

Wilson’s tongue darted out to meet House’s in a lighting-quick kiss. “But she only sees what she wants to see.” He pointed out before pulling House into another kiss, this one deep and lasting. He could taste every year of their friendship in that kiss. Every day of it. All the laughs, jibes and conversations that made up what this man meant to him. When they broke apart he pulled House’s Pink Floyd t-shirt over his head in one swift move. “Whereas Chase is purely academic,” Wilson went on as if this were just another conversation between the two of them. “He’ll consider the evidence just as it is.”

House bit back a moan as Wilson undid his pants--or rather, he bit down on Wilson’s shoulder to stifle the moan. His friend sucked in a sharp breath.

“Sorry.”

“No, it felt fine,” Wilson insisted. “It’s just that your office is made of glass not soundproofing material.”

“Then we’ll just force ourselves to be quiet,” Said House. “Which is what I was doing. God, it’s like you’ve never had sex at work before!”

Wilson pulled back and smiled.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Asked House.

Wilson nuzzled against House’s throat and kissed softly along his collorbone while he answered, his voice low but full of playfullness. “For all you know, I’ve had plenty of sex at work. Mabye I really am sleeping with half the nursing staff.”

“You are not,” House muttered, trying not to drown in need as Wilson pressed him down onto the desk.

“Or maybe I come in here when you’re gone just to stare at this desk and think of all the things I could do to you on it.” House couldn’t believe he was hearing Wilson talk like this. “Maybe I think about that until I’m so hard I can’t stand it,” he took House’s hand and guided it between them, pushing downward “just like this.” He gasped a little when House’s fingertips brushed against his erection.

House couldn’t recall at what point their pants came off, but he assumed it had been Wilson’s doing. Probably around the time he pushed me onto the desk. He stopped caring and heard himself gasp with Wilson as they made contact. He ran his fingers lightly over the whole lenth of his friend.

Wilson rocked against him. He slowly drew House’s bad leg around him and in a single deft move spun them lenthwise on the desk, so they could lay back. Things he didn’t care about crashed and fluttered to the floor. Wilson kept rocking, each move illiciting an inarticulte sound from House that thrilled him. “Maybe I sit in your chair and pretend my hand is yours,” he whispered. House tightened his grip around them both and moved his hand to the pace Wilson had set. Wilson quickened, barely holding on to control.

“Please,” House panted.

“Maybe I’ve--” Wilson’s breathing was so ragged he could barely speak, “come right here, in this room. . .” he paused to draw himself closer to House, and enjoy feeling the man’s legs wrapped around him. He breathed in the smell of them both and moaned. “A thousand times.” Pushed to his limit with every nerve ending in his body begging for release, Wilson finally allowed instinct to take the wheel. He brought one hand between them to help House, and they thrust against each other as though the world might end any second. Unsure and unconcerned about what noise the desk was making, all either man wanted was to feel the other come with him. Because of him.

Has sex ever been this good? Wilson wondered as a massive shudder went through his body; a giant wave that washed over him again and again and again.

“Don’t stop,” he dimly heard House beg. He didn’t. The wave washed over them both for what seeemed an impossible amount of time. They must have looked like awkward mess of irregular breathing and oddly splayed limbs. But as far as Wilson was concerned? The sight of House beneath him, clinging to him so frantic and wanting, was almost beautiful enough to break his heart.

The waves crashed to shore at last and Wilson drew deep, slow breaths to recover, letting his head fall against House’s shoulder.

“Mmmmm,” House moaned.

“Yeah,” Wilson replied with a slight nod, already reflecting on the things he’d just said with a kind of proud shock. When had he developed that kind of nerve? He squished his nose against House’s and raised himself up just enough to look the other man in the eye.

“I know.” Said House with just the slightest grin. “I was surprised too.”

“Huh?” Wilson breathed, still a little hazy in the brain.

“That you could talk like that,” His friend clarified. “I had no idea. Perfect, by the way. A simple but effective image . . . you jacking off in here to thoughts of me when I’m not around . . .well played. I never stood a chance.” House pushed against Wilson just enough to let him know he wanted to sit up. Wilson obliged at once. He stood right at the edge of the desk and pulled House flush against him as soon as he sat up. He traced tiny circles on the small of House’s back and enjoyed watching such a touch affect him, even in his spent condition.

“Well,” Wilson mumbled, “I know nothing turns you on like you.”

House nodded slightly against Wilson’s chest. “I have excellent taste.” Wilson couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You know I hate to break a mood,” House continued, “but we are both a little messy . . . and by messy I mean sticky.”

Wilson groaned into House’s hair. “Do you ever stop pointing out facts?”

“Nope. For instance, you’ve consciously wanted me ever since my brief Stacy-relapse last year.”

Wilson drew in a sharp breath.
House continued, “I’m not sure how long you’ve been in love with me, but Stacy coming back was when you actually recognized it for what it was.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yes.”

“And how long have you wanted me? Wilson asked, his voice faltering just a bit. Several moments of uneasy silence passed, and Wilson seriously considered cracking a joke to break the tension.

“Ever since you moved out of my place to go live with Cancer Chick. Even though I didn’t know about her at the time,” he explained. “That’s what did it. Whe you left my home and I knew how much I wanted you in my bed,” House sighed almost whisfully. “But it was too late then. You were in her bed.”

“Her name was Grace.”

“I don’t care,” House shot back with more than a trace of real bitterness. “She had you all to herself all that time,” he nuzzled against the crook of Wilson’s neck, dusting little kisses here and there as he pleased.

House. Nuzzle. Thought Wilson, not quite processing the inherent contradictions. House . . . nuzzle. . .

“She was only with you because you were all she had left, you could have been anybody.”

For a moment Wilson was consumed withe the desire to push House away and call him a childish bastard.

But then he continued, “I’m the one who really needed you. I’m the one who wanted Jim Wilson. I wanted you for real reasons that mean something and I still lost you.”

Wilson laughed. “Clearly, you didn’t loose me. We’re messy, remember? We wouldn’t be messy right now if you’d actually lost me.”

“Good point,” House mused. “Still, you did move out and I missed you like hell.”

“Isn’t it a little weird to miss someone when you see them every day at work?”

“I guess it is,” House answered with sleepy resignation.

Wilson hugged him as close as he could. “I missed you too,” he whispered.

“Even when you were with Grace?”

“Especially when I was with Grace,” he admitted. “Every night I spent in her bed . . . was a lie. A convienient, somewhat comforting lie.” A panic suddenly welled up inside him, and he pushed back far enough to fix House with an urgent, searching stare.

“What now?”

“You’re not gonna take this all back in the morning are you? Blame it on the vicodin?” Just the thought of it made Wilson want to vomit.

House pulled them close together again until their noses were touching. “I will not take this back. Ever. I plan on dragging you into my bed at the earliest possible convienience and keeping you there as long as humanly possible. Not with giant bags of money could you get me to take this back, okay?” He said nothing more and simply watched Wilson’s face hoping to guage the reaction.

Wilson’s eyes clouded over and just the smallest hint of a smile appeared on his mouth. “I don’t think we’re messy enough,” was all he said. House agreed, and they fell back onto the desk in less than a minute.

THE END.