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Embrace
by Jaryn
House laughs drunkenly and then stumbles as he walks through the door to his apartment, his feet tripping on air.
Fortunately, Wilson is there to catch him and House slumps against his chest, chin resting on Wilson's shoulder while he tries to remember how to support his own weight. After that he'll work on remembering how to walk.
For the life of him, House can't recall why he's even drunk any more. Something about Stacy.
"You're hugging me," Wilson states at some point.
House grunts, "No I'm not. I'm resting on you. There's a difference."
"Liar," Wilson says, tone amused and affectionate and House just sighs, too drunk to keep arguing with him. They eventually separate and Wilson helps House down to his bedroom, where he falls onto his bed like an anchor into the sea.
House stays conscious only long enough to hear Wilson making himself at home on his couch and then passes out. The next morning, House barely remembers the incident.
The girl barely makes it up to his navel, and is so slight she might as well be made up of air. House, therefore, hates that her thin, short arms trying to envelop him have such an impact.
This shouldn't be having an impact. She's just another sick cancer kid.
Of course, he doesn't betray himself by moving, or even changing expression.
House feels Wilson's eyes on him though, studying him. He remembers their fight; remembers Wilson telling him to go to hell. Damn Wilson, House thinks. And damn this kid for being stronger than he'll probably ever be.
"It's sunny outside, you should go for a walk," Andie says (House is irritated that he knows her name), finally releasing him.
House pointedly looks at his cane, "Yeah. I'm not much for long walks in the park," he says, and wishes his tone was just a little harsher. He can tell Wilson is still watching him attentively, eyes almost boring into his skull. "Now get."
Wilson twists his ankle in only a way Wilson can - that is, in a way that makes no sense whatsoever.
"Let's go over this again-."
"Let's not," Wilson interrupts him, right hand tightening on House's shoulder as they move painstakingly from the car to Wilson's house.
"You twisted your ankle changing an IV," House continues, ignoring him. "Why were you even changing an IV? That's why God invented nurses."
"Shut up, House," Wilson says, wincing as they somehow make it up the two steps to the front door.
"This is hilarious," House tells him, though he's only smiling a little. "Cripplee and Cripploo. Why didn't you get a cane? We could have matched."
House knows Wilson rolls his eyes without needing to look at him. Stubborn idiot didn't even get crutches, House thinks.
Though they've paused in front of the door, they don't immediately let go of each other. House has his hand on Wilson's waist and tightens it for a moment before finally pulling his arm free.
Wilson drops his arm from around House's shoulders without looking at him and digs around in his pocket for his keys, clearing his throat. "Thanks for the lift. You coming in?"
"Not if Julie's going to be around."
"Don't hold back or anything," Wilson says mildly and unlocks the front door.
House smiles again and adjusts his grip on his cane, "I never do. Anyway, I have drugs to take and patients to forsake. I'll see you tomorrow."
The couch has become Wilson's small bit of territory in House's apartment. And while he allows this, it's the reason House invades it as often as possible. Of course, now that there's a pee stain on his couch it makes things a little less fun, but he has Wilson's pillow covering that up at least.
House wonders vaguely when Wilson will notice his pillow is now probably soiled along with his pseudo bed, but he's thinking more about the prospect of Wilson moving out `at some point'.
"I know what you're doing," Wilson tells him.
"Yawning?" House asks him, around a yawn. "Wow, you're really not just a pretty face." House smirks and puts his arm along the back of the couch behind Wilson. "Haven't you seen this movie a hundred times already?"
"What you've done I mean," Wilson says and looks over at House's plastered-up cane with a faint smile.
House finds himself, strangely, a little disappointed that Wilson shows no reaction to where his arm is and frowns for a moment. "No need to thank me," he says and drops his hand down to Wilson's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before drawing his arm back.
Wilson glances at him and then looks back at the TV and neither of them say anything else.
It's an ordinary day. Boring, even.
There are no new cases and House goes home with that slightly empty feeling, which he gets when there's no medical puzzle to occupy his mind. At least it's been a no-cane day; his thigh radiating off a faint ache only every now and then.
Wilson showing up at his door later on is no surprise. Despite the fact that he has his own apartment now, has for months, Wilson seems to spend very little time there - and a lot of time at House's.
What is a surprise though, is that Wilson looks like shit.
"Who died?" House asks curiously, moving aside so Wilson can step past him.
Wilson doesn't reply but walks in and stands in the middle of the living room, looking stranded. House frowns and closes the door before taking a couple of steps towards Wilson, ready to hammer at him until he gets an answer. Wilson doesn't give him the chance to even start, however.
Because, closing the distance between them, Wilson suddenly wraps his arms around House and then holds onto him like a lifeline.
For a long moment, House doesn't react at all; he just stares over Wilson's shoulder at his bookshelf.
"What the hell are you doing?" House finally demands.
"Hugging you," Wilson says, a mixture of emotion betrayed in his voice, despite how hard he's obviously trying to keep it impassive.
House knows he can easily pull away, or push Wilson away, but he doesn't. Maybe it's just because he's curious how long Wilson is going to hold onto him for. Maybe it's actually because Wilson hugging him isn't all that bad.
"Are you going to stop?" House asks peevishly anyway, because he can't have Wilson thinking he's enjoying this at all.
"You could try hugging me back," Wilson suggests.
"Why would I want to do that?"
Wilson turns his head and rests his cheek on House's shoulder, "It's usually the thing to do."
In a half thought out plan to push Wilson away, House raises a hand to Wilson's waist. But, instead of pushing him away, House finds himself just resting it there and feels Wilson's grip on him tightening a little.
Before he can let himself think about what he's doing, House awkwardly raises his other hand to rest against the middle of Wilson's back. Wilson feels very...solid. That has to be wrong adjective, but it's all that comes to House's mind. He also smells nice. A new aftershave maybe? It's not a familiar scent. Or maybe it is, but House has just never paid attention to it, until now.
"This is not a hug," House states.
"What is it then?" Wilson asks after a moment, tone somehow both brittle and amused.
Moving both arms, House wraps them more completely around Wilson and turns his head so his lips are closer to Wilson's ear. "This is an embrace," he says, voice a little rough.
"I wasn't aware there was a difference." Wilson shifts his head so his face is close to pressing against the side of House's neck.
"A hug doesn't last this long, and doesn't involve full bodily contact," House explains.
As if to emphasise that point, Wilson presses his lower body even more firmly against House's, pressing up at the same time. Their belt buckles click against each other and House swallows audibly.
Wilson lifts his head and their cheeks brush and then Wilson's nose is pressed into House's hair above his ear. Despite this, despite that House has closed his eyes and is doing the same to Wilson, House is adamant that nothing untoward is occurring. Not even when the...no, it's definitely not nuzzling...continues.
Denial can only last so long against such mounting evidence, however. House's heart thumps almost painfully when he feels Wilson's lips brush against his cheek. House turns his head, seeking more contact despite himself, and the touch and not-nuzzling abruptly become a kiss. A kiss that lasts only for a second, but is still unmistakably a kiss.
Shocked, House drops his arms from around Wilson and steps back, forcing Wilson to let go of him.
They stare at each other, breathing a little faster than normal.
"Did you come all the way over here to...hug me?" House finally asks, needing to break the silence more than anything else.
"No, I..." Wilson gestures helplessly in the air, and half turns away. "I had a dream about you getting shot last night."
"That's funny, because I actually did get shot over a month ago, but you didn't hug me then."
Wilson looks back at him, "I'm sorry."
"For not hugging me?" House makes a face, "Don't be."
"No, I mean...for just now."
House frowns and clenches his jaw before forcibly relaxing his face. "For hugging me, or for the kiss?"
Wilson looks startled for a moment and then looks away. "For both...I guess."
House steps back into Wilson's space and stares at him until Wilson meets his eyes.
"Don't be."
After another long minute of staring at each other, Wilson hesitantly raises a hand to cup House's jaw. House just looks back at him and doesn't pull away when Wilson slowly leans in, brushing their lips together.
House then wraps Wilson up in his arms again, more comfortable with this intimacy than he's ever been with anyone else, and forces the contact into a deeper kiss. He's well aware of how insane this is, but then...when has his life ever been `normal'? When have he and Wilson ever been `normal'?
They're not and they never will be, and House realises he's completely fine with that.
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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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