House - 018. Consequences
Title: Deuce
Characters/Pairings: Dr. Gregory House; House/Wilson, House/OFC
Prompt: 018. Consequences.
Word Count: 679
Rating: PG-13 for sexual references
Summary: House faces the reality of the situation.
Author's Notes: Takes place in the universe of the RPG house_days, though you don't need to follow that to get it.
House never thought he'd find himself in the position of being torn between two lovers. He wasn't used to someone wanting to be with him. That was, after all, the purpose for the occasional times he hired a hooker. They were so much less complicated.
He also never thought that one of those lovers he was torn between would be James Wilson. Never in a million years could he have predicted Wilson was bisexual, at least where House was concerned. But he was, and they were. Together, sort of. Not officially a couple, but they might as well be. They'd kissed. They'd spent half their vacation to Las Vegas in bed, necking and touching and talking about love.
They'd said 'I love you' to one another.
And less than a week ago, Valentine's Day, they'd had sex. It had been awkward and strange and probably not that good, but House had fucked Wilson until they'd both collapsed out of sheer exhaustion.
But House had been having second thoughts.
Not that he didn't love Wilson. He did. He really, really did. But it wasn't that simple as just loving him. Not when he was his best friend. Not when he was another man.
That was when House had somehow dragged Rachel back into the picture.
Rachel was old history, four years old if they wanted to be specific. Their three or four months together, he could never remember exactly how long, was uncomplicated and torrid. Casual drinking and even more casual sex. He'd once fucked her so hard he left a dent in her fridge. Another time the neighbors had called the cops on account of the noise.
She was a hell of a woman. Tough as nails, snarky as hell, she ran the hospital's nursing staff with an iron fist. She also had the body of a supermodel, a love for motorcycles, and the sexual prowess that seemed only to otherwise exist in men's fantasies.
And one night he'd slept with her again.
It was an accident, just meant to be a one-night stand. But it had happened twice since then. And a funny thing had happened both of those times. They'd stopped trying to devour each other and actually tried to see each other. And found out they were eerily alike.
Found out that they could be tender with one another. That they could have worked out if they'd tried. House had told her so himself. They could have worked out if they'd tried.
He saw the loneliness in her eyes and now more than ever, he was wondering what might have been. With the feeling in his gut that it would have been good between them. That they would still be together today if they'd been thinking with their brains and not other parts of their anatomy.
He still doesn't know why he slept with her. Was it because he honestly can't keep his hands off her? Or was it to prove to himself that he's not gay?
Because he's not gay. He still likes women. He doesn't find other men attractive.
Just Wilson.
The problem is finding out you want your male best friend after forty-six years of thinking you're straight. The problem is knowing you can't kiss him, or hold his hand, in public without being stared at, at the very least. You can't marry him. You can't truly be with him.
You can't ever truly be happy, because this world has so little tolerance for same-sex couples. Wilson knows it too; that's why he's so damn scared about anyone but Cuddy finding out that he and House are living together. And the longer he's with Wilson, the more House has come to be afraid with him.
Life with Rachel would be so much simpler.
He likes her. He may even grow to love her. Maybe he's already learning.
He loves Wilson, too.
But he can't have them both. It's only one or the other. He's gay, or he's not.
He could never have imagined this would happen.
Or that it would hurt this much.
Characters/Pairings: Dr. Gregory House; House/Wilson, House/OFC
Prompt: 018. Consequences.
Word Count: 679
Rating: PG-13 for sexual references
Summary: House faces the reality of the situation.
Author's Notes: Takes place in the universe of the RPG house_days, though you don't need to follow that to get it.
House never thought he'd find himself in the position of being torn between two lovers. He wasn't used to someone wanting to be with him. That was, after all, the purpose for the occasional times he hired a hooker. They were so much less complicated.
He also never thought that one of those lovers he was torn between would be James Wilson. Never in a million years could he have predicted Wilson was bisexual, at least where House was concerned. But he was, and they were. Together, sort of. Not officially a couple, but they might as well be. They'd kissed. They'd spent half their vacation to Las Vegas in bed, necking and touching and talking about love.
They'd said 'I love you' to one another.
And less than a week ago, Valentine's Day, they'd had sex. It had been awkward and strange and probably not that good, but House had fucked Wilson until they'd both collapsed out of sheer exhaustion.
But House had been having second thoughts.
Not that he didn't love Wilson. He did. He really, really did. But it wasn't that simple as just loving him. Not when he was his best friend. Not when he was another man.
That was when House had somehow dragged Rachel back into the picture.
Rachel was old history, four years old if they wanted to be specific. Their three or four months together, he could never remember exactly how long, was uncomplicated and torrid. Casual drinking and even more casual sex. He'd once fucked her so hard he left a dent in her fridge. Another time the neighbors had called the cops on account of the noise.
She was a hell of a woman. Tough as nails, snarky as hell, she ran the hospital's nursing staff with an iron fist. She also had the body of a supermodel, a love for motorcycles, and the sexual prowess that seemed only to otherwise exist in men's fantasies.
And one night he'd slept with her again.
It was an accident, just meant to be a one-night stand. But it had happened twice since then. And a funny thing had happened both of those times. They'd stopped trying to devour each other and actually tried to see each other. And found out they were eerily alike.
Found out that they could be tender with one another. That they could have worked out if they'd tried. House had told her so himself. They could have worked out if they'd tried.
He saw the loneliness in her eyes and now more than ever, he was wondering what might have been. With the feeling in his gut that it would have been good between them. That they would still be together today if they'd been thinking with their brains and not other parts of their anatomy.
He still doesn't know why he slept with her. Was it because he honestly can't keep his hands off her? Or was it to prove to himself that he's not gay?
Because he's not gay. He still likes women. He doesn't find other men attractive.
Just Wilson.
The problem is finding out you want your male best friend after forty-six years of thinking you're straight. The problem is knowing you can't kiss him, or hold his hand, in public without being stared at, at the very least. You can't marry him. You can't truly be with him.
You can't ever truly be happy, because this world has so little tolerance for same-sex couples. Wilson knows it too; that's why he's so damn scared about anyone but Cuddy finding out that he and House are living together. And the longer he's with Wilson, the more House has come to be afraid with him.
Life with Rachel would be so much simpler.
He likes her. He may even grow to love her. Maybe he's already learning.
He loves Wilson, too.
But he can't have them both. It's only one or the other. He's gay, or he's not.
He could never have imagined this would happen.
Or that it would hurt this much.