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White Noise
by Jaryn
House threw the ball up into the air, caught it in one hand, threw it up in the air again and then caught it with the other hand. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Wilson had been watching House do this for five minutes since sitting on the chair in front of House's desk. So far neither of them had broken the silence, which sat heavy and stifling in the air.
Suddenly House threw the oversized tennis ball at Wilson, who jerked and caught it reflexively.
House grinned at him. "Niiice."
Wilson rolled his eyes, setting the ball down on his thigh. "Why did you do it?"
"I wanted to see if you could catch it."
Wilson glared. "You know I'm not talking about the damn ball."
"Why do you always want to know why I do things?"
"What?"
"You're always awfully interested in why I don't like someone, in why I take a case, in why I don't take a case, in why I take three sugars instead of two. Hell," House said, looking Wilson in the eye, "You're just downright interested aren't you?"
Wilson's hand tightened around the ball and he looked away from House's piercing gaze. "If this is your way of avoiding answering the question, it's not going to work."
"Repeat that line in your head and pretend it's coming from my mouth," House told him. He waved his hand towards himself, his eyes on the ball.
Wilson threw it at him, hard, and House only barely managed to catch it.
"Ouch, you play rough." House bounced the ball between his hands.
Wilson sighed and went to stand up.
"Wait," House said. Wilson froze and then sat back slowly, frowning at him. "Cameron told me...."
"Told you what?" Wilson said, his frown deepening.
House put the ball on the desk but didn't take his hand off it. "About that little talk the two of you had about ... cheating."
Wilson's eyes widened in disbelief. "She what?"
"I managed to ... wheedle it out of her," House said with a smug expression. "Here I was thinking I knew all about you but ... I didn't know about this mysterious person who apparently, and I quote, makes you feel `funny'." House made air quotes in the air and gave Wilson an amused look.
Wilson blushed and his expression went from disbelieving to horrified. "Is this why you kidnapped my wife?"
House waved a hand in the air dismissively before sitting back in his chair. "I hardly kidnapped her. She went willingly enough."
"Yeah, she'll go out for a drink with you, but she won't even speak to me. Tell me how that works? What did you say to her, House?" Wilson said, his voice dropping a couple of octaves on the last few words.
"It's not what I said to her, but what she said to me that you should be worried about," House said. "After all, you don't lie to your wives. But apparently ... you do lie to me."
Wilson visibly swallowed and he looked away towards the windows. He could feel House's stare prickling into his skin and closed his eyes. "What did she say to you?" Wilson asked finally, defeated.
For a few long minutes House didn't say anything. He picked up the ball again and started throwing it between his hands. Then he suddenly slammed it down on the desk, grabbed his cane and got to his feet. Walking around the desk to Wilson's chair he reached down and grabbed Wilson's tie, pulling on it firmly. "Get up."
"What the hell are you doing?" Wilson snapped, standing and yanking his tie out of House's grip. House didn't back off though, instead he gripped Wilson's shoulder, stepping further into his space. Wilson went to move away, except he realised he was trapped between House, the desk, the chair and the wall. There was nowhere to go.
Wilson clenched his eyes shut, breathed out, and opened them again, as if in this one small action the world would right itself from the crooked angle it had just been thrown into. It didn't work.
House's expression was inscrutable as he leaned in even closer and Wilson could only stand there stupefied, beyond any coherent thought, as House brushed their lips together. He gasped shakily as House pulled back a moment later. Wilson stared at House, scanning his face before meeting his eyes. House's expression was no longer inscrutable ... he now just looked confused.
Wilson could still feel House's lips on his, and he had an abstract feeling--feeling only, because he still could barely think--that the ghost sensation was going to be stuck there on his lips until the day he died.
After a beat House leaned in and kissed Wilson again, a little more firmly. Wilson just stood there for a moment, his eyes sliding shut, something clicking into place or maybe a thousand things, maybe their very atoms falling into the space they've belonged all along, before leaning into the kiss and returning it.
Wilson's hands raised in slow motion, gripping and tangling into House's shirt at his sides. He shuddered when House sucked on his lower lip, scraping it slowly with his teeth before pulling away again.
Their eyes found each other once more, and there was only white noise in Wilson's ears. Yet, there was meaning somewhere in it, as if there was a hidden code buried inside, a code only the two of them could read. If they knew to listen.
The moment broke when Wilson's eyes suddenly flickered nervously to the doorway, only then remembering where they were. It was late but that didn't mean anyone couldn't walk past at any second. House followed his gaze and then stepped back, forcing Wilson to let go of him. House looked away and then met Wilson's eyes again.
"Julie told me you're in love with someone else."
There was an obvious question behind those words and Wilson swallowed thickly. He stared down at House's shoes, his heart beating painfully fast. "Are you ... are you just trying to diagnose me?" Wilson asked, looking up. "Is that it?"
"Yes," House replied without any hesitation and completely shamelessly.
Wilson gaped at him for a moment, his stomach twisting so much he felt like he was about to be sick. He shoved past House to make for the door.
"Jimmy!" House grabbed at him, nearly pulled off balance when Wilson kept moving.
But despite his anger and humiliation Wilson stopped, not wanting House to fall.
"You have to let me finish."
"Finish what?" Wilson asked coldly.
"What I was saying," House said, not letting go of Wilson's shoulder. "Yes, all right, so I'm trying to figure you out. It's not ..." House trailed off and frowned. "You're not just another puzzle to me."
A minute passed in vulnerable silence. "I can't--" Wilson's voice cracked and he shook his head slowly. "What the hell are you saying?"
"You're so old fashioned, Jimmy," House said, half seriously, half mockingly. "Thinking that being in love with someone else is `cheating'."
Wilson's lips quirked in the ghost of a smile. "Cameron must be old fashioned too then. She didn't sleep with her husband's best friend, even though she fell for him. But her husband died, she got a conclusion to her story. Mine? Mine just keeps on going, over and over again."
"Wilson," House said, squeezing Wilson's shoulder before slowly moving his hand up to cup Wilson's cheek. "I can't be the net to catch you."
Wilson met his eyes, suddenly breathless. "You're everything."
House stared at him, jaw muscles working visibly. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. House swallowed and took a deep breath before speaking again. "You've been sleeping in your office, that can't be good for your health," he said. "Come home with me."
It didn't sound like a question but Wilson knew it was. He smiled, a small twist of his lips and nodded. "Okay."
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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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