This Infatuation
Title: This Infatuation
Author: bonomania
Rating/warnings: None
Summary: Sometimes if you want something, you have to wait.
Disclaimer: I don't own House. If I did, there'd be man-kissing.
A/N: Written for Brit-friend bertie_tiger who gave me the prompt. Thank you!
This Infatuation
Of all the things he’s accumulated over time in his apartment, House’s favourite is Wilson’s winter scarf. Often, he sits on the couch, just holding it, before rushing to put it back in the cardboard box and slipping it under the bed at the sound of a knock on the door.
Every time Wilson steps into the apartment, Chinese food and beers in hand, House’s mind briefly reverts back to the day that Wilson strolled in wearing the scarf loosely round his neck. The second divorce was through and House took this as a sign. Back then, he was in love with Wilson - as girly as it may seem - and that day was the day he planned on telling Wilson everything. That day was also the day Wilson announced he’d met Julie.
House has never felt love as strongly as he did that day. Over the years, House saw Wilson’s new marriage fail, his girlfriend die and many other women move in and out of his life - none of them stuck. During this time, House’s feelings have moved beyond love. Hidden in his apartment, Wilson’s belongings reside in old boxes, drawers and the bottom of House’s wardrobe. Silly things like mysterious receipts and little trinkets from Wilson’s cancer kids, that he mocks him for keeping, fill up his bedside drawer. But Wilson seems to be getting further away. The scarf scarcely goes untouched for a day.
They speak at work and eat lunch together in their usual fashion, but rarely does Wilson ever go over for movie nights now. So House is surprised when he opens his door to Wilson, Chinese food, beer and a movie in hand.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” House leans against the door frame, scrutinising Wilson.
Wilson shrugs. “We haven’t hung out in a while. I’ve got beer,” he says, holding up the six-pack. House nods, standing aside to let Wilson in. He watches as Wilson puts the cartons of Chinese and two bottles of beer down on the coffee table, shoving the rest in the fridge.
“I brought Hitchcock.”
Just like old times, House thinks.
Wilson puts the DVD in the machine and joins House who is now slouched comfortably on the couch with his food.
Part way through the movie, House breaks the silence.
“So, what happened? One of your cancer kids die?”
“What d’you mean?”
“You suddenly wanna hang out now. There must be a reason. I figure either you lost a patient or you’ve run out of nurses to go out with tonight, so you’ve settled for me.”
Wilson looks hurt. Reaching for the remote, he mutes the TV and turns to face House.
“I never just settle for you.”
“That’s why you never come round here anymore,” House deadpans.
“It’s not like that -”
“What is it like?” House says, annoyance lacing his voice, “See, to me, it’s like you only want me in your life when I have to be - when there’s no other option.”
“That - that’s not true.”
“So…what? You just stopped liking Chinese and beer?”
“No, look, you don’t understand!” Wilson momentarily loses his cool.
“What’s not to understand? When a person who’s been hanging out with you for years suddenly stops hanging out with you, they obviously don’t want to be around you.”
“You don’t get it, House. I’ve been keeping my distance because I…I realised something that,” he pauses, thinking over his words, “that changed a few things for me. I tried to distract myself and…I realised it was pointless trying to deny it anymore. I have to do this. If you hate me, so be it.”
Wilson plants his lips on House’s, bracing himself for rejection, but when House relaxes into the kiss, Wilson feels his heart flutter in his chest. He moves a hand onto House’s knee, sliding it up his leg, resting the other hand on House’s waist.
Eventually, Wilson pulls away for air and searches House’s eyes, noting that, despite what’s just happened between them, he sees no regret or surprise.
“How long?” Wilson asks.
All of a sudden, House gets up and disappears into the bedroom. For a moment, Wilson’s not sure if he’s supposed to stay put, follow, or get out. His question is answered as House comes back to the couch carrying a dusty cardboard box. He looks hesitant, unsure of himself.
House pulls the scarf from the cardboard box. Wilson remembers it instantly. Taking it from House’s lap, he thinks back to the last time he remembers wearing it. “Not long then,” he jokes and smiles apologetically. Licking his lips, House takes the scarf and wraps it round the back of Wilson’s neck, drawing him in for another kiss.
[I really must think of new ways to end my fics, they seem to be ending like this a LOT recently. I'll have something unique next time!!!]
Author: bonomania
Rating/warnings: None
Summary: Sometimes if you want something, you have to wait.
Disclaimer: I don't own House. If I did, there'd be man-kissing.
A/N: Written for Brit-friend bertie_tiger who gave me the prompt. Thank you!
This Infatuation
Of all the things he’s accumulated over time in his apartment, House’s favourite is Wilson’s winter scarf. Often, he sits on the couch, just holding it, before rushing to put it back in the cardboard box and slipping it under the bed at the sound of a knock on the door.
Every time Wilson steps into the apartment, Chinese food and beers in hand, House’s mind briefly reverts back to the day that Wilson strolled in wearing the scarf loosely round his neck. The second divorce was through and House took this as a sign. Back then, he was in love with Wilson - as girly as it may seem - and that day was the day he planned on telling Wilson everything. That day was also the day Wilson announced he’d met Julie.
House has never felt love as strongly as he did that day. Over the years, House saw Wilson’s new marriage fail, his girlfriend die and many other women move in and out of his life - none of them stuck. During this time, House’s feelings have moved beyond love. Hidden in his apartment, Wilson’s belongings reside in old boxes, drawers and the bottom of House’s wardrobe. Silly things like mysterious receipts and little trinkets from Wilson’s cancer kids, that he mocks him for keeping, fill up his bedside drawer. But Wilson seems to be getting further away. The scarf scarcely goes untouched for a day.
They speak at work and eat lunch together in their usual fashion, but rarely does Wilson ever go over for movie nights now. So House is surprised when he opens his door to Wilson, Chinese food, beer and a movie in hand.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” House leans against the door frame, scrutinising Wilson.
Wilson shrugs. “We haven’t hung out in a while. I’ve got beer,” he says, holding up the six-pack. House nods, standing aside to let Wilson in. He watches as Wilson puts the cartons of Chinese and two bottles of beer down on the coffee table, shoving the rest in the fridge.
“I brought Hitchcock.”
Just like old times, House thinks.
Wilson puts the DVD in the machine and joins House who is now slouched comfortably on the couch with his food.
Part way through the movie, House breaks the silence.
“So, what happened? One of your cancer kids die?”
“What d’you mean?”
“You suddenly wanna hang out now. There must be a reason. I figure either you lost a patient or you’ve run out of nurses to go out with tonight, so you’ve settled for me.”
Wilson looks hurt. Reaching for the remote, he mutes the TV and turns to face House.
“I never just settle for you.”
“That’s why you never come round here anymore,” House deadpans.
“It’s not like that -”
“What is it like?” House says, annoyance lacing his voice, “See, to me, it’s like you only want me in your life when I have to be - when there’s no other option.”
“That - that’s not true.”
“So…what? You just stopped liking Chinese and beer?”
“No, look, you don’t understand!” Wilson momentarily loses his cool.
“What’s not to understand? When a person who’s been hanging out with you for years suddenly stops hanging out with you, they obviously don’t want to be around you.”
“You don’t get it, House. I’ve been keeping my distance because I…I realised something that,” he pauses, thinking over his words, “that changed a few things for me. I tried to distract myself and…I realised it was pointless trying to deny it anymore. I have to do this. If you hate me, so be it.”
Wilson plants his lips on House’s, bracing himself for rejection, but when House relaxes into the kiss, Wilson feels his heart flutter in his chest. He moves a hand onto House’s knee, sliding it up his leg, resting the other hand on House’s waist.
Eventually, Wilson pulls away for air and searches House’s eyes, noting that, despite what’s just happened between them, he sees no regret or surprise.
“How long?” Wilson asks.
All of a sudden, House gets up and disappears into the bedroom. For a moment, Wilson’s not sure if he’s supposed to stay put, follow, or get out. His question is answered as House comes back to the couch carrying a dusty cardboard box. He looks hesitant, unsure of himself.
House pulls the scarf from the cardboard box. Wilson remembers it instantly. Taking it from House’s lap, he thinks back to the last time he remembers wearing it. “Not long then,” he jokes and smiles apologetically. Licking his lips, House takes the scarf and wraps it round the back of Wilson’s neck, drawing him in for another kiss.
[I really must think of new ways to end my fics, they seem to be ending like this a LOT recently. I'll have something unique next time!!!]