Someone was following him. His instinct screamed to leg it. Immediately.

Instead he overruled his survival instinct, stopped and looked over the empty car park. Scattered street lamps were littering dim spots of light. He stole a glance back to the illuminated lobby of the hospital, shortly considering going back and stay overnight in his office or going back and calling a cab. With a deep sigh he straightened his shoulders and started to walk again, deeper in the darkness, deeper in the shadows which filled the space between the lamps. He stopped again after a few steps, swiveling around, his heart beating fast in fear, not knowing what to do if there was really someone following him.

Nothing.

Only more darkness greeted him. He swallowed, chiding himself for acting like a scaredy-cat. He forced himself to turn back and briskly walked with long steps in the direction of his car. Half way to getting there was managed before he couldn't eliminate the pressure of being watched and followed again. He pivoted around once more, breath coming fast and shallow, eyes wide in fearful anticipation.

Still nothing.

Wilson was severely embarrassed about his jumpiness. He tried to calm himself down again, scowling at the patches of darkness in front of him. A few months before he simply would have stayed at the hospital after being called in late; the couch in his office as good a place to be as anywhere else. But now he had a home; a home and a partner who could drive him up the walls and quite frankly did exactly this many, many times. A partner who would bitch bitterly the whole next day if he didn't come back home when he could have done so. Although said partner would never admit that he wanted Wilson at his side – and in his bed - as often as possible.

So Wilson plucked up all his courage again, more or less running through the patches dipped in blackness, taking in deep breaths in relief whenever he was crossing the illuminated spots. The feeling of being followed still didn't subdue, as a matter of fact it was the other way round,and it was increasing rapidly. He felt hounded, cornered and to top this all he was humiliated by his own irrational fear.

At least he finally reached his car unharmed. Physically that is; his mental state and foremost his pride were a different topic. He let out an embarrassing girly squeak of fearful surprise and dropped his car keys as the door of the driver seat was abruptly opened.

“Don't wet your pants, it's just me,” House teased lightly.

Wilson avoided primary eye-contact with House by picking up his lost car keys. His face was flushed and he didn't want House to mock him for the rest of the evening. He knew that his fear had been totally irrational but it still had been intense and to be teased about this wasn't one of his keenest wishes for today.

“What are you doing here? And how did you get into my car?”

“Had to get beer,” House shrugged.

“And … for some reason you couldn't just get it at the liquor shop where we normally get it? By the way this shop is only two blocks away from home,” Wilson asked with this patented exasperated tone in his voice.

“Let's just say that I'm your knight in shining armor,” House quipped, earning an eye-roll from Wilson. “What was it that you were doing on your way here? Dancing? Hm? To me it seemed like you were scared of something and fleeing.”

Wilson looked at him with a caught expression on his face. He motioned for House to slide to the other side of the car, which was ignored. With a sheepish look he admitted, “I …, I thought someone was following me.”

“And do what? Mug you? Rape you?” Now it was House's turn to roll his eyes rather exaggeratedly. “Come on, get in the car, scaredy-cat! I'm hungry!”

“You're always hungry,” Wilson retorted as he slid behind the wheel when House finally made way for him in the driver seat.

“Not always. I'm always horny. Hungry comes in the second place.”

Wilson simply shook his head, then directed the car out of the space, feeling much better with House being close to him. He was oddly flattered at the thought of House coming after him and waiting for him in his car. He wondered briefly how long House had already been waiting and if he should be worried about this kind of affection.

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

They saw the barrier tape and the sound trucks from various stations even from a far distance as they were driving in to work the next day. They were not allowed to park Wilson's car in his normal parking lot due to further investigations in this area. They were both more than curious about what had happened. Seeing a real crime scene in the car park of their working place was a rather unsettling view. Wilson was queasy at the mere thought of a violent action taking place in the car park after he had felt threatened at this place last night.

When they entered the hospital lobby the crime was on everyone's lips. They quickly learned that a short time after they had finally left yesterday a male nurse from the ER had been attacked. Although the attack had been interrupted by two security guards on their late night round the nurse's injuries had been too severe, he died shortly after. The suspect had been caught and already made his confession. Worst of all was that it had been an attempted rape and the young nurse had put up a heavy fight but was more or less slaughtered from the furious assailant. At some point in the conversation House remarked that everyone had to die, some in more pain than others but hey, that's just life! The earth still would go on circling around the sun whether one person more or less was dead.

House watched Wilson's reactions to the gossip closely. Wilson didn't give away much, some slight hints could be seen though, such as his face was turning a paler shade, the eyes were getting huge and the hands coiled up in fists were clenching around the handle of his briefcase. Nothing anyone would be able to recognize if not looking out for the signs. House knew that Wilson had been right about being followed last night and actually had to close his eyes for a quick moment as the thought of Wilson being the victim crossed his mind. The sudden urge of protectiveness and the bone-deep desire to press Wilson close to him for reassurance that he's alive, that he's alright and unharmed threw him off balance. He didn't even realize that he had turned to Wilson, stretching out his arms to drag him in an embrace when he saw Wilson taking a step back. His arms slapped back against his sides, an awkward feeling started to wrap around him. Even now Wilson insisted on the first rule of their relationship: No touching, kissing or anything else at work! Normally House was comfortable with that rule. Since the exception proves the rule, today was different.

To hell with that rule! They are there to be broken but he wasn't able to do that 'cause Wilson had turned and walked to the stairs, throwing a “See ya later!” over his shoulder. House limped to the elevator, leaning heavily on his cane, a dark scowl on his face. Wilson wanting to avoid him – which he did, taking the stairs being the ultimate hint – meant Wilson in heavy turmoil, which could also be translated in “Leave me the hell alone!”. This was a possibility House didn't seriously take into consideration, however he would let Wilson have his freedom for the next few hours, let's say until noon.

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

At noon Wilson was nowhere to be found. House was starting to become annoyed, the whole day he couldn't get a hold of Wilson. Wilson wisely abandoned his office, instead he strolled between oncology and who the hell knows where else in and out. House was more than annoyed as he ate his lunch alone and even had to pay for it. Wilson was trying to deal with the event of last night on his own and House felt confident in his opinion that he wasn't doing it very well.

After lunch he tried again for the next two hours to get a hold of Wilson which still led to the same result, namely no Wilson to be found. He sulkily retreated to his office, deciding that Wilson eventually would appear in his own office when it was time to go home.

That's where he was wrong; Wilson didn't pop up at five, or at six o'clock. House was barely able to keep his temper in check at that point. He went down to oncology again where he finally found Wilson scribbling on a chart. As quietly as possible he approached Wilson, recognizing the tense body language, the tightly together pressed lips, the death grip Wilson had on the pen. He arranged himself directly at the back of Wilson with no room for him to flee.

“We're going home,” he growled in Wilson's ear.

Wilson reacted like expected with a startled grunt, swiveled around, a dreadful expression on his face. The expression quickly turned into one of annoyance before he answered, “I haven't finished yet. If you want to call yourself a cab I'd be okay with that.”

House raised his eyebrows, this definitely was the last straw, he had to get Wilson out of the hospital now.

“I came in to work with you; I'll go off with you. Now come on, work will still be there tomorrow.”

“House! I said I'm not finished yet!”

Wilson's voice was getting the petulant undertone he only got when feeling really uncomfortable. He pressed the chart to his chest with both arms, backing up to the lobby desk as much as he could without crawling into it. House followed him, cornered him between his body and the desk, eliciting a very startled look on Wilson's face. House plucked the chart out of his hands, put it on the desk and repeated, “We're going home. Now.”

As Wilson started to glare at House he was interrupted by a whispered threat.

“You will go home with me now. Otherwise I'll have to suck face with you here and now,” he pressed himself up at Wilson's body for emphasis.

Wilson knew that he was busted; House didn't take it very well when he avoided him – for whatever reason. He closed his eyes, he didn't want to go home because there he would have to deal with House who surely would prod and poke until Wilson caved. He didn't want to cave, the crime at the car park certainly was taking its toll on him and he wasn't very keen on eventually admitting his fear and maybe actually starting to cry. To be more precisely going to cry sounded tempting just not with House being around; the two or three times it had happened in the past weren't his most treasured memories. It was simply impossible to let his guard down completely with House. As much as he loved this guy, smashing all his inner walls down and trust him fully wasn't a chance he wanted to take.

House's face was only an inch apart from his own as he mumbled, “Okay, okay. We're going home! Just get out of my face already!”

He straightened, pushed against House, wearing brightly shining red spots on his cheeks. House wouldn't admit it but the unpleasant feeling of being rejected wiggled its way through his body. He concealed his features in a well practiced scowl and followed Wilson to his office.

They packed up their belongings in silence, walked and rode the elevator in silence and drove home in silence. House felt anger coiling up in him about this stubborn, dorky and most important person in his life. The crime had an effect on Wilson; no further evidence was needed for this conclusion. That his normally so chatty partner retreated in absolute silence was a different matter. House didn't like the silence at all; as much as he sometimes wished that Wilson would shut up, the silence was worse.

In the apartment Wilson put away his briefcase, hung up his coat, loosened his tie and all but fled in the kitchen. At least he was talking or rambling or whatever. House was a tad relieved at the sight of Wilson in the kitchen, blabbering about dinner, gathering everything he would need. He snaked up behind him, pressed his chest to the smaller man's back, feeling a light shudder running through Wilson at this contact. He dropped a series of chaste kisses on Wilson's neck, then went on to nibble at his right ear lobe which always turned Wilson to putty in his hands.

“Do you … want to talk about last night?” he asked while keeping up his caresses.

“No, there's nothing to talk about.”

House stopped in his ministrations and spun Wilson in his arms so that they were facing each other. One hand was curled around Wilson's neck, the other one rested lightly on a cheek and he watched Wilson with a scrutinizing look. Wilson quickly averted his eyes, nuzzling his cheek in House's hand.

“So, ... you don't feel thrown off balance? Not the slightest bit guilty about the death of this nurse? I mean, obviously your feeling of being followed had been right so it is likely that you have been the primary target for this assault and you still live whereas the nurse is dead.”

House could feel Wilson wincing but as much as he disliked talking about anything remotely emotional he knew that Wilson badly needed to talk about last night. Although it cost him quite an effort to do the talking-thing he was more than willing to do so for Wilson's sake.

“I'm fine,” was the lame retort.

“Sure, honey,” House quipped, “that's why you avoided me like the plague.”

“I had work to do,” Wilson's voice was getting louder in utter exasperation. He made the mistake of looking directly at House and was caught in a piercing glance. Before he was able to avert his gaze again, House tightened the grip around his face, slid the other hand from his cheek to his chin, and lifted it up to hold it in place.

“You feel guilty and you're scared. This assault has cut you to the quick because it could have been you!”

With an angry move Wilson shoved against House, throwing him somewhat off balance but not so hard that he would be in real danger of falling. Wilson stepped back, wrapped his arms around his upper body radiating tension, “Fine, I was scared and it got to me! Happy now? Am I allowed to go on with making dinner?”

“And with avoiding me you thought you would prove what exactly?”

“Geez, House, there isn't always a point to prove!” Wilson exclaimed.

“Why didn't you want to see me the whole day? Feared I could make you laugh and then your guilt about being able to laugh while someone else died at your place would eat you alive?”

“You can't say that Donaldson died instead of me!” Wilson was yelling now.

“You know the name of the nurse? Although you've never spoken to him and don't even know him at all?”

“Everyone knows the name. Well, everyone who wants to listen. That of course excludes you!” Wilson hissed.

House watched him with a thoughtful expression. “You're mad at me because I mocked you last night. You think I don't care about what happened to the nurse and …,” his eyes widened as realization slapped him hard in the face. “You think I wouldn't care if it has been you ...”

At this point Wilson rushed out of the kitchen; head deeply bowed and tried to flee from this crappy argument. He was already on the verge of crying which he absolutely hated and yes, House had made a remark early this morning in the lobby that has brought up this idea. It had cut deep, the blade of this sentence stabbing deep in his heart. That's why he couldn't tolerate to be near to House.

Wilson was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as House entered their bedroom. He was still wracking his mind when it suddenly clicked; he remembered his remark and for the first time in a very long period he felt utter embarrassment sweeping him up. Of course he had recognized the incredulous looks from some of the bystanders but he hadn't said it with the intention to offend anyone, which he probably did thinking back on it now. He knew he was considered crude and vicious by many people and this time he had to admit that he probably should have shut up.

House slowly hobbled over to Wilson, embracing him from behind, feeling the trembling body, the fast heaving chest. He stopped the fumbling fingers, instead he intertwined them. Wilson wasn't really fighting against him but every muscle and fiber was strained and he tensed up even more as House wrapped himself more tightly around him. Wilson was glad that he didn't have to face House while he was struggling to prevent the tears to spill. He knew he shouldn't feel so aggrieved, the remark surely didn't implicate that House wouldn't care whether he was alive or not. Still the hurt was there and although they were together for over a year now he didn't feel very secure in this relationship. They did have more arguments about anything and everything then Wilson has had in all his three marriages together and House always had to have the last word.

Wilson loved House, no doubt about that, but he didn't trust him fully. In fact, Wilson had never trusted anyone completely, that was simply against his inner nature. To open up completely would mean to be also completely vulnerable to this one person. He was startled out of his inner reverie as House said, “You don't really think that I don't care what happens to you, do you?”

“I … I don't know,” Wilson choked out. Just this one time he was in need of a sincere apology. Surprisingly for him, he got his wish.

“I'm sorry. I'm really sorry that you took my – admittedly dumb remark – like you obviously did. It didn't refer to you nor was it my intention to offend anyone else. It's, uh, I wanted to give some sort of comfort,” House finished sheepishly.

“Comforting isn't really your thing, huh?” Wilson was chuckling a bit, his body starting to relax, leaning more into the embrace.

House turned Wilson around, cupped his face in his broad hands and kissed him tenderly. Fine distressed lines were showing on Wilson's forehead, eyes shining with moisture. House maneuvered Wilson on his back, laid him down on top of the comforter and blanketed him with his own body. Wilson didn't give in to the desire to cry and let go completely but he clutched tightly at House, digging his fingernails in House's back, wrapping his arms around him. House in return settled between the readily opening legs, put his head in the crook of Wilson's shoulder and gently stroked Wilson's hair.

House was desperate; he wanted Wilson to trust him, to let all his walls down although he knew that a very sane part of Wilson had prevented him from doing so until now. The possibility of losing Wilson was eventually taking its toll on House who begged, “Let go. Please, just this one time trust me.”

Wilson was terrified. This would be absolutely crazy, insane, weird, … whatever description you want to give it!

House sensed Wilson's inner uproar at giving up his last wall of restraint, looking at him steadily although he was becoming more and more flustered. He let down his normally closed off facial expression to make it clear that he wasn't concealing anything at the moment too, hoping for Wilson to follow his example. He gently rubbed their noses and carded his fingers through the thick strands of Wilson's hair. Who thought that he was clearly self-destructive, masochistic and … whatever else, but finally let go.

He squeezed his eyes shut, let out a choked sob and pressed himself up at House as close as seemed to be humanly possible. House felt himself trembling as Wilson finally complied and gave in, emotions plainly visible on his face. House sucked in a deep breath as he looked into the depth of Wilson's brown eyes, pupils dilating and reflecting a blatant need and desire for House. The reflected trust was bearing heavily on House. He wasn't normally a person who wanted to please someone else but since today seemed to be the day for exceptions proving the rule he gave in to his own desire for pleasing Wilson.

Wilson cupped House's ass with his hands, pushing his hips up to meet House's all the while holding his gaze.

“Make me forget?” was the so very soft spoken plea, going right through to House's heart.

“Wilson, ...”

House didn't want to screw this up, didn't want to be unworthy of the displayed trust. He wasn't sure if having sex would be the right thing to do. Then Wilson gently trailed his fingers from his forehead over his cheekbones to his lips, rubbing there lightly. House licked over the tips of the fingers, basking in the soft gasps Wilson gave at this.

“House, please. Make me forget,” Wilson pleaded again.

“James …,” was the whispered response before House kissed him.

That's when Wilson knew that he would get what he wanted, the use of his first name a dead give-away for a caving House. He would have been smug if he wasn't so needy for a physical connection with House.

House was feeling odd, not like his normal obnoxious self. He couldn't care less at the moment; now wasn't the time to muse about himself nor was it about the sex either. It was about the one thing that bonded them, the l-word with three other letters to follow, the one word House had never said out loud so far. Wilson on the other hand didn't have the same problem, he said it more often to him than could possibly be good for them. House may not be able to say it but he certainly was capable of expressing his feeling in another way which he was going to do right now.

House hauled himself up from Wilson who gave a disapproving small growl, settling himself on his side next to him. Wilson followed swiftly so that they were facing each other again. House eventually opened Wilson's stubborn shirt buttons and also got rid of the shirt. The undershirt and House's shirt followed the good example of Wilson's shirt soon after. They met with a sloppy kiss while House trailed his fingers along Wilson's clavicle on to his shoulders, slid along the ribs, eventually ending the trace at Wilson's navel. House started to kiss his way down from Wilson's mouth, sucked hard at the nub of a nipple, dragging a sharp hiss out of him. He soothed the now erect nipple with wet little kisses, completing his task with some slow licks around the vestibule. Wilson was already breathing heavily, eyes half closed. When House licked around his navel and reached for the zip of his fly Wilson's stomach muscles were quivering and soft little whimpering noises escaped him.

House slid his hand in Wilson's shorts and freed his erection. He fisted Wilson's length, leisurely stroking up and down all the while watching Wilson's face closely. His hand wandered on from Wilson's erection to a short caress of his balls then teased at his perineum. Wilson's breathing sped up even more as one of House's fingers was squeezed between his butt cheeks, lightly probing at his sphincter. The finger left and Wilson was whining in an embarrassingly high tone as House rolled him on his back again and removed the bothersome pants, shorts and socks.

Wilson impatiently tugged at House's pants, wanting them off too. With a bit fumbling they finally got House rid of his remaining clothes as well and House blanketed Wilson's body again with his own. Wilson welcomed him with open arms, tucking up his legs to give House more space. Wilson groaned as their skins met, hopelessly mesmerized by the hard muscles of House which surrounded him everywhere. He groaned even louder as House lowered himself onto him and with this pressed their erections together. Fortunately they weren't tangled up in the middle of the bed but rather more to the right side of the bed which is House's side and therefore much closer to fish the lube from the nightstand without having to change their position.

A slick finger rubbed around Wilson's entrance and he was answering the demand with needy noises, grinding their erections together with every upward move of his hips. House played with the skin at his entrance while giving attention to the by now oversensitive erect nipples with his tongue. Wilson blindly reached for House's head, dragged him up to delve deep with his own tongue into House's mouth. They explored each other with deep long strokes, leaving them both in a daze.

House withdrew his sole finger and coated more of his fingers with lube before he inserted them quickly, rubbing inside of Wilson, making him squirm and writhe beneath him.

“Turn over on,” House demanded as he plopped his fingers out of Wilson's hole with a wet smacking sound. Wilson's eye widened at that with surprise. He looked up at House with a hopeful expression on his face.

“Yeah, get on your hands and knees. Today it seems to be possible,” House reacted to the hope Wilson was radiating. This position was one of Wilson's favorite ones, it's also one of the positions they can't do very often.

Wilson hastily scrambled on his hands and knees, almost screaming as House settled behind him and slowly entered him, filled him out with his thick member. He yelped in pleasure at every new shove, pushing back, trying to urge House into him. Finally House was all the way in, panting heavily, struggling with his self-control. Nothing new here, the struggle was always there, he always had to fight back the impulse to shoot immediately when he was sheathed fully in Wilson. When he had regained some kind of control over his twitching and bitching penis, he gripped Wilson's hips, setting a slow but steady path of in and out, in and out.

Wilson was moaning with every in-thrust as House hit his prostate every time. His arms were shaking; his body was coated with a fine glimmer of sweat. He was already close, so close; his balls were tightening, his legs trembling. He made small whimpering noises and that was as articulate as he could be at that moment. Fortunately, House was well trained in translating Wilson's noises and sped up his path, plunging into him, leaving him only with the capability of screaming.

Wilson couldn't bear the pressure inside him anymore, couldn't keep himself from crying out House's name over and over again as he spilled his release. He allowed himself to let his arms crumble down, resting his head on his forearms as House was thrusting a few more times, coming with a violent last shove, nearly knocking Wilson off balance. He was gasping as House's release hit his prostate, sending a last pleasurable wave up his spine.

House pushed on Wilson's hips to indicate for Wilson to lay down, following him close by, not wanting to break their connection. Wilson was laying in his own sticky come with House's heavy body on top and couldn't be more at ease with the world as he was in that moment. Eventually House rolled down from Wilson, his leg bitterly complaining about the strain from the activity earlier. He retrieved a pill from his bottle, rolled back, pressed himself up against the sweaty back of Wilson and pulled the comforter on top of them.

House clutched tightly at Wilson, he didn't want to think about the committed crime, that it could have been Wilson. He shivered at the mere thought of that, rubbed his nose in the tousled hair of Wilson who's so very alive. For the first time in his life he choked out an “I love you” and meant it with all his heart. Wilson craned his head, looked at House over his shoulder, smiled and said, “Same here.”

In the House-Wilson universe everything was alright. The sun would go up tomorrow and maybe said sun would bake House his favorite pancakes for breakfast. And the earth would go on with circling around the sun, like House is supposed to do.

End