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The Economics of Truth: The Alternate Ending
by Tron
The Economics of Truth:
The Alternate Ending
Here's the OOC fluffy ending you've all wanted so badly. Enjoy.
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The next two weeks were among the worst of House's life. Definitely in the top five periods in his life that he'd just as soon were over with, including most of his childhood and the entire year after his infarction. His body was on the tail end of detoxing from his unhealthy addiction to Vicodin, so he had chills, nausea and the sweats along with the pain from his gun shot wounds.
Wilson, whenever he stopped by and found House retching into a bucket, always wore this weary little 'I told you so' look that House almost hated him for. But the pain from his leg had yet to come back, so he did his best to ignore the younger man's smug attitude.
After the first week, House was transferred out of the ICU and given a private room in which to recuperate. When the second week was over, House was cleared to leave the hospital. Wilson helped House with the check out process at the front desk before wheeling him in the regulation wheelchair to Wilson's car. A nurse followed them to retrieve the chair.
"This chair might have been useful when I was actually crippled," House complained, his hands folded in his lap as he obediently let himself be carted to the doctor's level of the parking garage. House stared at the pavement that was passing underneath his sneakered feet.
"Hospital regulations," Wilson sighed, stopping at his grey Volvo and pulling his car keys out from his jacket pocket. He unlocked the driver's side, letting the nurse wheel the grumpy diagnostician to the passenger's side. House stood and opened the door himself before sitting down in the seat and giving Wilson, who was already putting the key in the ignition, a haughty look. The nurse closed the passenger's door and left discretely with the wheelchair.
Wilson reversed out of the parking stall, shifted gears and drove smoothly forwards, following the yellow exit signs that were painted on the concrete walls at intervals. They drove out of the garage and into the sunlight, both watching out of their respective windows in silence. Both counting down the minutes until the 'Conversation' with more than a little trepidation.
Twenty minutes later they pulled up in front of House's apartment building and Wilson parallel parked his car next to the curb. House undid his safety belt and opened the car door before Wilson had a chance to cut out the engine. By the time Wilson had locked the car up, House was unlocking his front door. Wilson followed him inside the building and then inside his apartment.
Wilson shut the door behind him, watching as House began to root around on his desk for something. House shoved aside books, journals and papers bunching them up messily at either end of the wooden surface before looking up at the bookshelf behind his desk. On one of the shelves, at just about eye level, something glinted and House grabbed it. Smirking, he presented it to Wilson with the same air he used when he'd figured out what his latest case's disease was.
It was Wilson's key to House's apartment. Wilson looked at House, confused.
"You're giving it back?" he asked quietly.
"I never took it away," House replied, grabbing Wilson's hand and forcing the key into the other man's limp fist. Wilson started to say something, stopped, started again, but then opted for scowling at the piece of silver metal in his hand. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Wilson snapped. "How the hell am I supposed to know what to say here, House? What does this mean?" He held up the key. "What are you trying to say? I can't read your mind, you know!"
"Why do people lie?" House asked quietly, one eyebrow quirked up as he watched Wilson try to remember what the other man was referencing. When Wilson finally remembered, his eyes went wide.
"People lie to keep what they've got," Wilson replied slowly.
"Precisely," House sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around his apartment. "I don't want to loose this."
"Then you'd better start telling the truth," Wilson told him flatly. "Because I don't think I can take any more of this 'dog in the manger' crap! What are you so afraid of?"
"Becoming more miserable!" House exclaimed. "You told me that your job and this stupid friendship were the only two things you've got going for you. Well, surprise! That's just about all I've got too. But you forgot one thing. Your reputation."
"Oh, and being gay is going to ruin that?" Wilson said sarcastically. "It didn't ruin my life."
"You're not gay," House shot back.
"I'm bisexual!" Wilson replied, throwing his hands in the air. "The only reason I haven't gotten divorced from any of my boyfriends is because the state of New Jersey doesn't dole out marriage licenses to same-sex couples!"
"You've never had any boyfriends!" House exclaimed.
"I had two in college before I'd even met you," the oncologist replied. "Before Bonnie! And, of course, Max was a guy. Or did you think it was short for Maxine?"
"The only evidence I have to support you being gay is that you spend far too much time in the bathroom blow drying your hair," House said, a short bark of brittle laughter escaping him at Wilson's jab. "So, I'm supposed to assume from your unnecessary grooming habits that you enjoy taking it from behind?"
"You could have asked," Wilson rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Yeah," House scoffed. "I'm just supposed to ask you if you're a faygeleh? Yell down the hall: 'Hey Wilson? Do you come in the back door or the front?' I'm sure that would have gone down real well. I mean, you're so comfortable with your bisexuality that you've even outed yourself to your best friend!"
"I didn't think you'd care!" Wilson retorted. "You've never cared about this sort of thing before."
"I don't care," House snarled sarcastically, pulling Wilson up short. "Makes me wonder why we're having this conversation, though. Since it clearly wont make a difference to me... You tell your parents?"
"Mum knew since college," Wilson relented. "Why does it matter? Why do you care?"
"I like to know what I'm playing for," House shrugged. "How can I make an informed decision if I don't know all of the facts?"
"You're just angry you didn't figure it out for yourself," Wilson sneered. "You wanted to be miserable. Too afraid to hope because you always get let down, so if you see anything that had the possibility of making you happy, you pretended it didn't exist so you wouldn't have to be disappointed when you don't get it."
"So, I refused to see your apparently blatant homosexuality because I was afraid you wouldn't have the hots for me?" House asked incredulously, a razor edge of sarcasm giving bite and volume to his words. "A flaming queen, you are not!"
"Oh, so I have to wear drag to be interested in men?" Wilson spat back, fist now white-knuckled around House's door key. "Why are you so upset? I've got just as much reason to be upset as you do. You never told me you were gay. You just let me figure it out for myself. You can't be angry with me for not telling you if you weren't willing to do the same!"
"Okay, so it's not exactly a rational emotion," House exclaimed, leaning back against the desk and grimacing at the hardwood floor. "Fear isn't exactly conducive to logical thinking."
"You're afraid of people knowing your gay?" Wilson asked softly, arms folded defensively across his chest.
"Military family," House shrugged. "Republicans. Conservative enough to make a stick shocked. Not exactly a homo friendly environment."
"So its your father's fault?"
"When isn't it my father's fault?" House asked bitterly.
"You need to stop blaming your parents for your problems, House," Wilson sighed; running a hand through his hair as he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "You're an adult... supposedly. How you live your life now is your choice, not theirs. If you mess up, it's your own fault. You can't blame anyone else."
"I know that!" House growled through gritted teeth.
"So, why didn't you tell me?" Wilson asked.
"Denial is a lovely place to live," House replied, rolling his eyes in annoyance as if his reasons should have been obvious. "Great views and the property values are spectacular!"
"And what about after?" Wilson queried quietly. "When you'd stopped fighting?"
"I didn't say I'd stopped fighting," House said, frowning at the oncologist. "It was more like I'd realized what I was and then started trying to return to what I'd been before. After that, I tried ignoring it."
"So, what changed?" Wilson asked. "Why are you willing to talk about it now, when you weren't before?"
"Listen, if I could have just given you back my front door key with out you wanting to talk, I would have," House sighed. "Things would have gone back to the way they were and neither of us would mention it ever again. But you wanted to talk, you told me that I either bared my soul or lost everything I wanted to keep in the first place. I figured that the odds of you not running away after I gave you what you wanted were somewhat better than you being willing to speak to me if I refused."
"Costs and benefits," Wilson nodded in understanding.
"Precisely."
"Why do you want to keep me around in the first place?" the younger man asked softly. "If you're that afraid of being found out, for whatever asinine reason, then why would keeping me around be so much more important than that? I know how you work, House. What's the benefit for you?" Wilson was smiling now, shaking his head as he watched the older doctor.
"I don't laugh much anymore," House smiled wryly. "But when I do... I forget how miserable I am."
"I make you laugh," Wilson actually blushed, ducking his head shyly. The reaction made House grin.
"So, what? Were you Max's girlfriend?" House smirked. "Because you just got seriously girly."
"We took turns," Wilson grinned, stuffing the key in his trouser pocket. "I wore the skirt on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We spent the weekends naked." House let loose a short bark of laughter.
"I'm not wearing a skirt," he grinned. "Ever."
"So, you are interested!" Wilson exclaimed, narrowing his eyes as he mock-glared at the older man. "But you pushed me away and... oh, right. Denial. So, what exactly are you proposing?"
"That you move back in with me," House leered, reaching out to grab the younger man's blue-stripped tie and using it to pull Wilson closer. Wilson steadied himself by placing his hands on the desk on either side of the older man's body, and House contented himself by playing mischievously with the long piece of silk wrapped around his hand. "Plenty of room for two."
"I'm not sleeping on the couch," Wilson pouted, both lips pursing invitingly.
"What makes you think you're gonna do much sleeping?" House grinned.
"You're pretty cocky for a guy who's never been with another man," the oncologist smirked, moving one of his hands so that he could run his fingers teasingly up House's ribs. House squirmed away, glaring, and grabbed Wilson's wrist.
"Penis jokes. Funny," House told the younger man dryly. "Besides, how much do I need to know to get a blow job?"
"And the other stuff?" Wilson asked, shaking his head and completely ruining the mood. "How are we going to live together? We devolved into playing juvenile pranks on each other the last time. How exactly am I supposed to live with a guy I can't trust not to put my hand in a pot full of warm water while I'm sleeping?"
"I'm not going to do that to my bed," House replied, waving way Wilson's concerns. "And you can't say that you're concerned by me flitching your food. I've been doing it forever. Find some way to deal with it."
"What? I just can't tell you to stop?" Wilson sighed.
"Do you really think that'll work?" House chuckled. "If I changed something that was so fundamentally me, would I really be me any more?"
"Then why the ketamine?" Wilson sighed, acknowledging House's point. House pulled Wilson's palm closer to his face and dropped the tie so that he could explore the lines on the other man's hand as he thought about his answer.
"Do I really need a good reason to want to be happy?"
"You need a good reason to not want to stay miserable," Wilson decided.
"But I'd need an even better one to want to stay miserable," House snorted softly. "I don't have one, just apathy. Doesn't sound like me."
"You're indifferent to everybody," Wilson countered.
"But everyone agrees that I'm also a selfish bastard," House smirked. "And being selfish is the opposite of being indifferent to myself."
"Well, when you put it that way," Wilson shook his head. He paused before frowning at House. "I still think you're cocky for a guy who's never actually been with another man."
"Please," House said dryly. "This is me we're talking about. I'm always cocky." And then House, moving one hand to the back of Wilson's neck, leaned down to brush his lips lightly against the shorter man's before pressing his grinning mouth more firmly into the kiss. Wilson's lips were only slightly rough under his own, making House briefly ponder the likelihood of the oncologist using lip balm like any twelve-year-old girl or gay man. The thought made House chuckle into the kiss. Wilson pulled away with a pout.
"What is so funny?" he asked, glaring at House. The older man stole another kiss before answering.
"The more I really think about it, the gayer you get," House laughed. "Do you use lip balm?"
"Chapstick," Wilson rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Just kiss me already."
"Pushy."
"Been waiting a long time," Wilson shrugged, tugging House's head back down to his own.
"I know how you feel," House murmured against the younger man's lips before surrendering to the kiss.
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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 NBC/Universal, 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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