Rain on my parade
Who: House, Wilson
Where: Wilson's car > House's apartment
What: Driving home from Atlantic City
When: End of the weekend vacation
Complete
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Where: Wilson's car > House's apartment
What: Driving home from Atlantic City
When: End of the weekend vacation
Complete
( Read more... )
"That's because the time-space continuum likes to shift into hyperdrive just for you, while you make your way home, get you there faster because the fun's over," he replied gruffly as he shrugged out of his wet jacket. He shook it, sending a fine spray of water to the floor, then tossed the jacket over the back of his couch. "Just like how bills always travel through the mail twice as fast as regular post."
He headed through his apartment, unable to shake the scowl from his face, though it wasn't over getting wet. He was home. Back in his apartment, back to reality. Back to everything he and Wilson had gone to Atlantic City to escape. He was thirsty - more than that, he wanted something to occupy himself with while being faced with the fact that he was home. He yanked the fridge open when he reached the kitchen and pulled a beer out. He popped the lid open and took a swig before limping back out into the living room.
He stopped and took another swig of his beer, peering across the room at Wilson. "You going to stick around for a bit?"
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His eyes drifted aimlessly to the floor and then the coffee table, but he turned his head when House spoke. He nodded. "Sure. I'm not in any hurry to get anywhere."
As if to seal just how lacking in motivation he was to get home, he stepped closer to the couch and lowered himself onto it. The magazines on the coffee table were in the same place as he remembered, and the familiar smell of the apartment was slightly disconcerting. He looked back up at House at the memory of the last time they'd been here. The shower came to mind, of course, but Wilson's mind settled on things prior.
Suddenly, Wilson had the urge to cancel those memories out. There was no doubt in his mind that things had to return to the way they had been before their weekend. No doubt in his mind that reality gave them no choice. Regardless, he had the distinct need to prove that they were still very much the same people they were back in that hotel room. Even if that just meant House being close to him. Riding in the car hadn't felt that way, and perhaps if Wilson could adjust the distance between them, it would be a bit easier to breathe this 'home' air.
He raised a hand and gestured for House to sit next to him. "Come here."
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Really, he was foolish to think everything was going to be great when they got back to Princeton. He could remember that feeling of contentment he'd felt yesterday morning when at breakfast - he should've known that wasn't going to last. Just about to go back into the kitchen to fetch Wilson a beer, just for something to do, House looked across at Wilson when asked to go over to him.
He hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to be close to Wilson physically, even just in the form of sitting next to him, while he felt like coming home had driven a wedge between them again. Maybe this would pass, though. Maybe it was just the anticlimax of coming home from a great weekend away and once they got back into the swing of every day life this tension would blow over.
House wasn't optimistic enough by nature to even hold onto that thought. He stared at the spot on the couch next to Wilson, debating whether to go over or stay right where he was, then heaved a sigh and slowly made his way across the living room.
He slumped down onto the couch and threw a glance across at Wilson. He wasn't really sure what to do or say because he was too aware of how heavy the air felt between them. He didn't want to address it, either. No idea what to really say, he offered his beer towards Wilson and said, "Want some?"
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Keeping his eyes low, Wilson focused on an invisible spot for a second, trying to decide how to deal with this. If returning home was going to be this difficult, God only knew how they'd fair at pursuing issues. Which Wilson wasn't very keen on doing, either. His eyes darted to the beer he was offered and then drifted toward House. Wilson frowned for a moment, but was quick to let it fade, and took the can of Miller without saying anything.
He gulped down a swallow and then considered giving it back to House, but abruptly set it on the table instead. Shifting to the left, he faced House with a determined look on his face.
A part of him was mildly irritated. Not so much by House's avoidance, but just the fact that this was unavoidable. Wilson almost wanted to ask him if he was going to voice his thoughts or continue to make awkward expressions, but he stopped himself. It wasn't House's fault that things were tense. Wilson wasn't going to pretend they weren't, though.
"How's the leg?" he settled on lamely. It was either that, or reaching his hand across the couch to squeeze House's, and something told Wilson that House might be too ill at ease to just jump right into things. This wasn't Atlantic City, after all. This was...frustrating.
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He dropped his eyes down to the TV remote. Maybe turning the TV on would stunt the tension. He couldn't bring himself to sit forward and reach for it, though, because he didn't want this weekend to end on a sour note. And getting defensive about it was only going to make things worse.
He let his head dropped back against the couch with a sigh. Why couldn't they have just stayed in Atlantic City? Well... he knew that wasn't realistic at all. But, boy, he wished it was. He lolled his head against the back of the couch to look across at Wilson. He wanted to say exactly as he was thinking - that he wished they didn't have to return to any of this. He was even tempted to ask Wilson to come to bed with him. Sex would be a good way to push all of this aside, ignore being back home.
He stretched his hand across Wilson's lap and dropped it onto his thigh, and gave it a half hearted squeeze.
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Especially when the same person from yesterday morning was sitting next to him. Wilson clenched his jaw in silence and slid a hand wearily over his face, scratching his cheek. This was ridiculous. Nothing had to go to pieces, nor should it. Not after all the good they'd experienced. They'd get through things. He wanted to tell House, maybe even command, that they'd get through this.
Just as Wilson turned his head and opened his mouth to say something, anything, to break the god forsaken and somewhat inexplicably dramatic stalemate, he felt House's hand on his leg. His eyes dropped down to it and stayed there. Thank God. Something. It seemed laughable that he had to bite back a sigh of relief. It had just been a car ride. It was just Princeton. Just life.
Wilson's eyes flickered back to House, noting the way his head had fallen to rest against the couch almost wearily. He dropped his hand over House's, resting it their lightly for a moment before clasping his fingers.
"All the pillows I've read say something about home being sweet," he said quietly, stretching his lips to one side before continuing. "I guess they left out terrifying and not at all comforting."
He gave House's hand a gentle squeeze and then shifted, leaning in closer to him and cupping House's cheek. Wilson pressed a brief, closed mouth kiss against his lips. The air was still thick, the tension was still there, and Wilson's muscles were still knotted and tight - but he wanted House to understand that he was there. They were still them. Environment be what it may.
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He glanced at Wilson when Wilson spoke, and snorted humourlessly. "Yeah, home is real sweet," he said dryly, looking back down to his lap. Home sweet welcome back to reality, he thought bitterly. Feeling Wilson's hand on his cheek, House looked back to him and let Wilson kiss him, briefly closing his eyes. He opened them again and studied Wilson's face before leaning back in and pressing their lips together again. He drew the second kiss out longer, then settled his head back against the couch once more once the kiss ended.
So, what now? Hang around awkwardly like this? Tell Wilson to go home? House wasn't willing to just drop everything that happened over the weekend just yet. He wasn't willing to sit here and brood, either, just like he wasn't willing to sit here and try not to think about all their unresolved issues. Sex wasn't going to solve anything long-term. But sex worked for them. It was easier, too, than to talk.
"Come to bed with me," he said quietly.
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There was also the fact that House had never actually asked before. Not outright. The shiver it sent through Wilson, starting at the back of his neck and flooding through his body like welcome warmth, was undeniable. He kept his eyes on House for another moment, taking in his face and the frustration and stress that lined it, before nodding. "Alright," he replied just as quietly. Wilson stayed sitting for another moment, his eyes settling on their knees. The way they weren't more than an inch apart, spots of rain not yet dried and darkened the material of their jeans. Still close enough to touch.
He rested his hand on top of House's once more and then ran the backs of his fingers softly up House's forearm before looking back up at him for another second. Yes, nothing had been repaired and the breaks were still visible. But the pieces were there, gathered together and close enough to touch. Wilson offered House an open and unguarded look, feeling a swell of love and want rise within him. He leaned in again and pressed another kiss to the corner of House's mouth, and then stood and slowly began making his way down the hall.
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He took up his cane and stood up, and slowly made his way down the hall. He went to the bathroom first to use the toilet, washed his hands and then moved across to his bedroom. He stopped and watched Wilson from the doorway. House was aware he'd never asked Wilson to have sex with him before. It struck him how almost comfortable he was about asking that of him, almost like it was a natural thing now. A completely natural and normal part of their relationship.
He ventured into the room after watching Wilson for a moment and set his cane down against the dresser, limping the rest of the way towards Wilson. When he reached him, he reached up and lay a hand on Wilson's chest and rubbed it idly, giving Wilson a thin-lipped smile. He'd become so accustomed and comfortable with Wilson's body that he almost didn't think about touching him intimately anymore. It just happened naturally. He ran his hand down his chest to his stomach and grasped a tuft of Wilson's shirt.
"You don't have to stay tonight if you don't want to," he offered in a low voice, tugging Wilson's shirt up from his jeans. He slipped his other hand up underneath it to Wilson's belly and caressed it.
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Wilson inhaled deeply, the scent of the rain still fresh on House's skin and mingling with the familiar smells Wilson had come to know well. Soap, cologne, and some other unremarkable things - like the washing detergent House used on his clothes and the smell of the apartment - flooded his senses. They meshed into what was unmistakably and permanently branded into Wilson's mind as House.
He lifted his nose and mouth slightly and let his lips ghost over House's skin. "Or was that a nice way of saying you'd rather I didn't?" he teased softly, then pressed his open mouth against House's throat and began kissing him there slowly. The taste of rain and salt grazed the tip of his tongue before he pulled back. His hand smoothed over the material of House's t-shirt and cupped the side of his neck.
Wilson urged House closer until their chests were pressing against one another. His eyes flickered over House's face, from his eyes to his mouth and then back again. Then he leaned in further and kissed him slowly, his tongue tentatively sliding over House's as he shut his eyes and squeezed House's hip firmly.
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He opened his eyes again when Wilson pulled back, bunching the hem of Wilson's shirt in his hands. He let Wilson lead the kiss to his mouth at first, thinking how much slower paced this was compared to their times in Atlantic City. Back there, they had sex as though they didn't have a worry in the world: a little rough, a good deal of excitement, nervousness at trying penetrative sex again and the satisfaction that had brought afterwards. Now, it was slow, like they were trying to ignore the tension that lingered over them. That was how it seemed to House. He wished it would go away.
Breaking away from the kiss, he tugged Wilson's shirt up over his head and threw it aside, then leaned back in to kiss him, taking charge of the kiss this time. He slid one hand onto Wilson's bare chest and his other down around to Wilson's ass. Pulling Wilson close against him again, he thrust his tongue into Wilson's mouth and kissed him deeply. The kiss was quick to taper off, though, and when it ended House pressed his face against the side of Wilson's for a moment, just standing there and taking in having Wilson close to him.
He pulled back again and looked down at his fingers running down Wilson's chest. He wondered if the tension would still linger if Wilson did stay the night. Maybe it would all pass once they adjusted to being back in Princeton again. Or maybe it wouldn't pass at all.
House shook it from his mind, not wanting to think about it. He lifted his hand from Wilson's chest to grasp the back of his neck, and met Wilson's mouth in another deep kiss when he pulled him in close.
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What had started as slow and hesitant was abruptly turning intense, and Wilson understood why. A small grunt escaped the back of his throat, almost muted by House's mouth, upon feeling House's hand on his ass and a tongue plunging into his mouth. His skin was cold from the damp shirt he'd been wearing and the contrast of heat from House's hand was wonderful, causing Wilson to tug House closer.
Any thoughts of trying to communicate assurance to House by easing into this were quickly falling away, Wilson content to keep with the pace and give House what he wanted. Even if its purpose was distraction. Wilson understood, and it was something still left to take. Before the weekend really did end.
Wilson's chest rose and fell quickly as he inhaled through his nose, his face pressed against House's. There was no longer any manner of awkward uncertainty for Wilson when it came to House's body. The feel of him, the heat of him.
He could see the thoughts dancing behind House's eyes when he pulled back, and Wilson tucked his fingers underneath House's pantline, fishing his shirt up and free of his jeans. He brushed his fingers over House's bare skin as they kissed, both of his hands moving under the hem of his shirt and clasping his hips. His body was humming now, his pulse thrashing violently in his ears, and he teased House's tongue with his own before breaking away for a swallow of air.
Wilson took this opportunity to lift House's shirt, his hands stroking up House's chest and over his nipples momentarily before tugging it over his head and throwing it to the floor with his own. He turned and sat down on the edge of the mattress, pulling House toward him so that he was standing between Wilson's legs. He looked up at House for a second, his eyes smouldering and dark with arousal, and then he began to plant kisses along House's stomach. He dragged his mouth down, wet and hot, over House's navel and then up again, running the tip of his nose against his skin.
One of his hands released House's hip and clasped his wrist, urging House to come closer and laying back on the bed as he did so.
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"Mmm," he quietly murmured, letting his eyes close as he raked Wilson's hair back. He opened his eyes when Wilson grasped his wrist and he allowed himself to be urged forward. Bracing a hand on the mattress, he leaned over Wilson and dropped a kiss to his stomach before shifting himself onto the bed.
His leg always made maneuvering onto the bed during foreplay difficult; he grunted with effort to climb on top of Wilson. Settled on him, House ran one hand up Wilson's chest while he dropped his mouth to Wilson's neck and kissed it slowly. He pressed his face in against it and breathed in deeply, his chest tightening with love for Wilson.
He moved his mouth back to Wilson's again and kissed him hungrily, his hand snaking up to grip the back of Wilson's neck again. He slid his tongue in deep, nibbled at Wilson's mouth, sucked softly on his tongue, then pulled back when he needed a breath of air.
He met Wilson's eyes for a moment, staring into them, before dropping his mouth back to Wilson's neck once again. He breathed a little quicker and heavier as he kissed it, from the juncture of Wilson's jaw down to the base of his throat. He released his hold on the back of Wilson's neck and slid his hand down his body, right down to Wilson's crotch. He groped his dick through his jeans and rubbed it, pulling back from Wilson's throat to look down at him again.
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It was almost as if they really were back in Atlantic City. When Wilson's eyes fluttered closed and he just focused on the feeling of House's lips pressed against his own, mouth moving hungrily and tongue eager to taste him, it could've been the hotel room. It could've been Mars, too. He moaned softly when House's mouth met his throat, tilting his head back to expose his neck that much more, and Wilson became aware of his cock filling steadily.
He was clasping House's shoulders, running his fingernails down House's back and other times grabbing at his arm desperately. There simply wasn't enough of him to touch, and Wilson's other hand clasped House's neck for a moment before pushing into his hair. When House let go of his neck Wilson glanced down, just as eager to see House as he was to feel him, and then House's hand was on him. Rubbing him, the friction of his jeans adding to how--
"God," he gasped, gripping House's shoulder harder. He met House's eyes and felt a rush of desire and love surge inside of him again, his hand slipping from the back of House's neck to slide across his cheek.
His hips bucked instinctively, and he caught his lower lip between his teeth, grasping the back of House's head and tilting his own head foward to crush their mouths together. Wilson's other hand released House's shoulder and slid down to the small of his back, flattening their bodies and causing Wilson to let out a choked noise into House's mouth when their erections pressed together.
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The jolt of pain jerked House out of the moment and he gave a look equal parts frustrated and determined as he awkwardly got himself fully on top of Wilson. Frustrated because he hated the way his leg hampered him, and determined because he wasn't going to let his leg pain stop him. Not if he could help it.
To prove he wasn't going to let it get to him, he crushed his mouth down onto Wilson's again, sucking on his tongue. He rolled his hips forward again - and felt another sharp twinge of pain, sharp enough that it made him falter in his kiss to Wilson's mouth. He attempted to ignore it, defiantly pushing his tongue into Wilson's mouth while trying to rub himself against Wilson.
But that fucking knot of burning pain was still there and after a futile few moments of pretending it wasn't there, he drew back from Wilson's mouth, breathing heavily. Maybe it would go away in a moment. Propping himself up onto one elbow, his other hand bracing against the mattress as he shifted his weight on Wilson, he refused to meet Wilson's eyes, feeling frustrated with himself and embarrassed that this was getting the better of him.
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Not a moment later and House was drawing back. Wilson tilted his head and furrowed his brow, his hand squeezing one of House's shoulders. Wilson hadn't considered that House's leg might be worse than usual after the car trip - he hadn't considered much of anything once they'd started kissing. He was so focused on trying to give House his distraction that he'd overlooked the position they were in. Wilson squeezed House's shoulder again, sliding his hand to the crook of his neck and rubbing small circles into House's back with his fingers, but House wouldn't look at him.
"Hey," whispered Wilson, propping himself up on his elbows. Forcing anything wouldn't be good and drawing attention to it by speaking might be even worse. Wilson sighed quietly in frustration and leaned his head foward so that his nose and forehead were resting against the side of House's face. He pressed a light kiss against House's jaw and pulled back a bit so he could see him.
Wilson had half a mind to urge House onto his back and pretend nothing had happened, finish undressing House and try to distract him further. But not if he was really hurting. "Okay?" he asked, continuing to rub House's shoulder and drawing his other hand down House's chest soothingly to show he wasn't in any hurry. House was his concern, especially this time. Wilson tilted foward again and kissed House's shoulder, then rested his cheek there and kept looking at House's face.
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