Dining In

[dr_j_wilson]

Who: Wilson, House (closed)
Where: Wilson's apartment
What: Wilson cooks dinner and House comes over.
When: Monday 22nd May, 7pm

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[dr_j_wilson]

Wilson rolled his eyes and turned the burner's heat a notch lower before scooting around House and pulling the fridge's door further open. It took him a moment to find what he needed what with there being so many bottles of various condiments, and Wilson hoped House wouldn't notice that they were vaguely arranged according to size. After reaching his arm down past House to grab the soy sauce, located on the lowest shelf, he shuffled back past him and opened a drawer as he walked.

"Don't eat all the chocolate," Wilson said sternly, pointing to the drawer once he was back near the stove. Various bags of chips, mostly cheetos, and some hershey bars filled the top drawer. Wilson wasn't overly fond of sweets, but his kitchen wasn't necessarily lacking either. Plus, if he was giving House a key he was going to make sure there was some form of greasy snack food for him to devour rather than rummage about in his pantry. "Seriously. If for no other reason than my being incapable of eating both these steaks."

While he was administering his final touches to the steaks, it occured to Wilson that the tension he'd felt between them the previous evening wasn't stifling. A welcome change, sure, and House's mood dissuaded any further fear regarding the talk House had with Cuddy...but it was different and that set the cogs of Wilson's brain into motion. Agonizing for nothing was something he found himself sinking into even more in recent times and Wilson tried to let it be. For one thing it was nice. Very nice, to be able to breathe.

He busied himself getting plates from the cabinets before moving across the kitchen for another wine glass. Wilson set the plates down and fetched the wine back from the rack, pouring House a glass. Wilson set it on the counter near House and eyed the meat again. Something about cooking and being comfortable in set elements made the tightness that constantly resided in Wilson's shoulders lessen, and it showed. Being able to make a meal for the two of them to sit down to, House using his own key to get in, and Wilson breathing a bit easier were all good things.

"And," he lifted one of the cuts with the fork and nodded. "We're there. I hope you're hungry. Didn't fill up at the bar, did you?"

[dr_gregoryhouse]

"My god, you compartmentalise your junk food?" House asked incredulously, looking over his shoulder at the open the drawer. He let the fridge swing shut all the same and sidled over to the drawer to inspect the contents.

"Wow, you've got a little stash happening here," he said, poking through the contents and picking up one of the bags of cheetos. "Like a magpie."

He was just about to debate opening a packet when Wilson announced that dinner was ready, and House looked over his shoulder in time to see the plate being set aside. He darted his eyes up to Wilson at the question about the bar and in one swift rush, he felt another stab of guilt all over again.

He faced back to the drawer and stuffed the cheetos back into it, trying to shake the guilt off. "Couple of beers," he replied. He shut the drawer. He decided he wasn't going to offer up anything about being at the bar if Wilson wasn't going to ask any specific questions. If Wilson ignored the whole bar thing, then House was going to go along with ignoring it.

He turned back to Wilson and limped across the kitchen to where the plate was, stopping behind Wilson at the stove. He leaned in and nuzzled his face in against the side of Wilson's neck, his hand briefly caressing Wilson's ass, before dropping his chin to rest on Wilson's shoulder and he peered down at Wilson hefting the other steak onto another plate. The food smelled fantastic. "I'm starving."

His hand continued to caress Wilson's ass as he turned his face back in against the side of Wilson's neck. "I hope you're hungry," he said in a suggestive tone.

[dr_j_wilson]

After making sure the edges were browned, Wilson added some salt and then turned off the burner. A couple of beers was exactly what House had said on the phone and Wilson gave a nod. His head was bent slightly, eyes trained on what he was doing, when he felt House's face pressing in against his neck. The pleasingly familiar feeling of House's coarse stubble against his skin made him inhale audibly. Whatever it was that made House distinct to him, Wilson couldn't place. Probably because the list was too long. It had always been that way, even if not physically. But now sensations like the slight scraping against his throat and House's hand on his ass were distinct, too.

Wilson straightened at House's words, the satisfied look on his face from House saying he was starving turning into something a bit softer, and he leaned into House's touch. Once their steaks were safe on the plates, Wilson turned his head so that their faces touched.

"You already used starving," Wilson replied in a low tone, his hand moving back to grasp House's hip. "And famished sounds too desperate." He squeezed House's hip briefly before turning around to face him. "Yeah. I'm hungry."

At that he gave House another smile, half-smirking momentarily, before twisting back around to grab their plates. The temptation to simply remain standing there pressed up against House was a strong one, but Wilson really was starving. Still, to show House just which way he'd meant it, Wilson ducked in again and place a nipping kiss on House's ear lobe before making his way out of the kitchen.

[dr_gregoryhouse]

House just smiled to himself after Wilson leaned in and nipped at his earlobe, following Wilson out with his eyes. His eyes then landed on the bottle of wine Wilson had been drinking from and after searching around Wilson's kitchen for another wine glass, he carried the glass Wilson had evidently been drinking out of with the clean glass, as well as the bottle, out to the dining area, limping without his cane.

"So, how was your day?" he asked as he set the bottle and glasses down. He stood straight again and started to shrug out of his jacket. "Scale any walls or walk any tightropes like you usually do, or did you just treat some boring cancer and give people the same old boring news that their life is going to reach its historically inevitable dialectical conclusion sooner than you anticipated?"

He draped his jacket over the back of his chair before sitting down, and instantly reached for the wine. "See you've already had some; want more?"

[dr_j_wilson]

"Sure," Wilson said with a quick nod, taking his seat after setting their plates next to the utensils he'd laid out earlier. House asking how his day was and then pouring his wine was...different, too. Wilson glanced at him a moment longer before looking away. "Thanks."

There was no way that things had gone amazingly well with Cuddy, was there? No. That made no sense. House had gone to the bar to settle his head, after all. Although he'd assured Wilson everything was fine. Nothing happened that warranted worry, in other words. Or so House said. So then what was the mood about, Wilson wondered. The only thing that came after Cuddy was the bar. Nothing in a bar that would turn House's head, though. And a few beers surely couldn't make him so--

Wilson had taken to staring at his glass of wine after House finished pouring and blinked abruptly. He'd placed his fingers on his chin, too, and quickly dropped his hand away in favor of picking up his fork and knife. As he cut into his steak he looked back up at House.

"Day went fine," he said with a slight shrug. "It's never fun to get familiar with cases again, not after a weekend like that. Certainly a significant case of the Mondays." He shook his head indifferently and sighed before looking down at his plate. "Over now, though. Now I'm sitting here with you. So boring and familiar work isn't anything to complain over." Wilson lifted his head to offer House a small smile. That was all a very laid back way of trying to say 'Yes, coming home is a drag, but here we are'. His day hadn't been bad, after all. Just normal, which served to jerk Wilson roughly in the direction of reality.

[dr_gregoryhouse]

House wondered to himself, as he poured his own glass of wine, if maybe he was being a bit... telling. Giving away that something wasn't exactly right. Trying to hide something - because he was definitely aware that he was trying to hide something from Wilson. He kept reminding himself that nothing had happened at the bar. Just a drink, regardless of the conversation that had taken place between Cade and himself. But it wasn't the fact that nothing happened - it was the fact that he lied to Wilson about being in the bar on his own. If it ever came out that he hadn't been there on his own, then it would definitely look like he had something to hide, which he technically didn't, but...

He set the wine bottle down firmly, as if pretending those thoughts were on the table and he was squashing them with the bottle, and looked across to Wilson as he talked. He had another sudden impulse to crush these thoughts and feelings of guilt in him by reaching across to Wilson and kissing him, touching him, asking him to come to bed with him again. Wilson would probably know something was definitely up then, if House did that.

He inwardly sighed at himself, wondering why he'd chosen to lie to Wilson. This was going to keep eating at him, he knew it.

"Sounds boring as all hell," House offered when Wilson finished talking. He picked his drink up and held it towards Wilson in gesture of sharing cheers. "To boredom?" he suggested. "May it never cease to exist?"

He took a quick sip of his drink, then set it down and reached for his cutlery. "You know, the cure to boredom is curiosity. Which is why curiosity is something you can't cure." He began to cut into his steak. "History is nothing but the result of human fear of boredom. It's all, 'hey, I wonder what'll happen if I invade this country?' Curiosity, see? No wonder history repeats itself, because people will never stop being fearful of boredom, and will therefore never stop being curious."

[dr_j_wilson]

"I think it's got something to do with land, sometimes, too," Wilson replied after swallowing. "Well, not so much now. Now it's oil and...actually, you're right. Oil and boredom." Wilson snorted and scratched his cheek, looking at House as he spoke. "Hm. High school history: The Greg House Version."

Wilson smiled and took up his glass to sip some more wine. It was possible that House was just glad to be eating dinner, glad to be with Wilson. But as much as Wilson tried to cling to that thought, it slipped away and was instantly replaced by the fact that after all these years, he knew House's moods. And this wasn't that.

"So," he began, slicing another bite of steak. "Spoke with Cuddy today? I didn't get out of the office to wish her a happy birthday, and when I finally did she'd gone." Wilson brought his fork to his mouth but kept his eyes on House, unable to shut out the concern.

He didn't like that House felt so tense a trip to the bar was needed to unwind. Of course it was silly of Wilson to think that, and he was just as curious about what may have happened with Cuddy that caused the tension, but the idea of House feeling the need to sit in a bar alone in order to gather his thoughts made Wilson uneasy.

[dr_gregoryhouse]

"History would be a lot easier to understand if it was taught my way," he agreed. "The best way to understand history is to understand human nature first. Otherwise, the whole point of why things in history happened is moot."

He started to unwind again now that he and Wilson were off the topic of how the day went, or the bar, or anything pertaining to any of that. Maybe they could just have a stupid conversation about nothing of any importance, like they used to when they were just friends. Things had been so confusing between Wilson and himself the last few months, so tense and fast-paced, that it was easy to forget the way things were between them before all of that.

Naturally... House should've known that wasn't going to happen. He faltered, fork poised mid-air to his mouth when Wilson mentioned Cuddy. He quickly corrected himself and mouthed the forkful and began chewing to stall for time. He set his fork down and reached for his glass.

"Yeah," he replied. "Saw Cuddy. I was running late for work and... you know how she is." He sipped his wine. "Found out she's definitely taking the guy to court. Not sure when. Soon, by what she was saying."

He took another sip of his wine and set it back down on the table. "She's uh." He cleared his throat. "Not in a very good way. She made out she's fine, but like I said, you know how she is. Stubborn as anything."

[dr_j_wilson]

"Well of course she's taking him to court," Wilson echoed firmly, as if to assure the world of that statement. "It was a violation of her rights, her privacy. Everything." He became aware of furrowing his brow and relaxed his expression, stabbing another bite with his fork and eating it abruptly. After he was done chewing, Wilson cleared his throat. "After that I think I'd be feeling pretty low, too," he responded quietly to House's note of how Cuddy was fairing.

A quiet fell then, Wilson wearing a considering look on his face as he ate. Perhaps that was it. Even after all the chaos and confusion, House had tried to set things right...in his way. And maybe seeing Cuddy still anguished by what happened between her and that stalker shook him up. Or maybe it was just Cuddy. Since, obviously, the issue there was no where near resolved. Just as Wilson decided to shut the lid on the whole matter of House going to a bar alone to de-stress, he noted the silence that had fallen and looked up at House.

"But, yeah, that's pretty ridiculous about boredom being the sole unchanging variable in the history of significant world events," Wilson said with a scoff. "Makes me wary of playing too many games of solitaire at work. Might turn into the next Hitler."

[dr_gregoryhouse]

Something about the firmness of Wilson's voice made House suddenly sit very still and stare down at his meal like a scolded child. Might've been the guilt nibbling away at him, or might've just been Wilson's voice - Wilson had a way of stopping House in silence when he spoke firmly or angrily. He only dared to throw a cursory look at Wilson during the lull of silence and relaxed a little to see Wilson didn't look as firm as he'd just sounded moments before.

Picking his knife up, House began to cut another piece of meat, really desperately wishing he could just slash all the tension out of the air with the knife. He almost timidly took a bite of the meat, bracing himself for Wilson to say something else firm, maybe demand to know the real reason why House had gone to the bar.

He threw another glance at Wilson again, a wary glance, when Wilson then reverted the conversation back to history again with a scoff. A pause settled over the table after Wilson's last words about being the next Hitler. House then suddenly snorted out loud and started chuckling to himself as he cut more steak, shaking his head.

"Now, wouldn't that be ironic?" House said, giving Wilson an amused look as he propped his elbow on the table. He popped the steak in his mouth and chewed, watching Wilson's face with a slight smirk. "Solitaire could bring the Hitler out in Jew."

[dr_j_wilson]

Wilson squeezed his eyes shut and wrinkled his nose when House chuckled, as if comically pained by just how wide open he'd left that last remark. He did chuckle back, though, and drop his head a bit.

"It's those damn smiley faces that pop up when you lose," he argued good-naturedly. "That might inspire genocide whims in lesser men." Wilson smiled a bit and took another bite of his steak.

After another moment he squinted as if contemplating something and then shook his head. "No. I'm much taller than he was. Nothing to worry about, I don't think," he said, smirking slightly. Wilson finished his wine at that and looked across the table at House, setting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers.

"The steak is terrible, I'm guessing."

[dr_gregoryhouse]

"Nothing like being mocked for losing," House agreed mock seriously, though he was still smirking. "Perfectly good reason for inspiring your hidden Hitler complex and start a whole new wave of modern-day Nazism. Guess the question would have to be 'lesser men' meaning lesser than Adolf Wilson? Or are Jew including yourself in that category, too?"

House smiled to himself as he cut up the last part of his steak, glad that the tension had dissipated again. He really hoped the night wasn't going to fluctuate between tense and ease for the whole night. He was on tenterhooks enough as it already was.

"Disgusting," House replied to Wilson's question about the steak. "So disgusting, in fact, that I can't stop eating it." He glanced up at Wilson as he took in the last mouthful of meat, then began to lean towards Wilson as he chewed. He craned his neck and pressed a closed-mouthed kiss to Wilson's lips - and managed to knock over his glass of wine in the process.

"Shit," he exclaimed, pulling back abruptly when he heard the thunk of the glass hitting the table. He watched the red wine spill out across the table cloth like a gush of blood. "Now look what you made me do."

[dr_j_wilson]

"Oh, right," Wilson shot back, but his open mouth was curved into something of a smile he couldn't stop. "I'm that good, am I?" He raised an eyebrow and scooted his chair back, snatching the glass and setting it upright as he stood.

He pushed his chair back out out of habit before walking behind House's chair. Wilson stopped and gripped both of House's shoulders, dipping over his shoulder.

"Never liked that tablecloth, anyway," Wilson said in a hushed tone, exhaling against the shell of House's ear and giving his shoulders a tight squeeze before straightening.

He dissapeared into the kitchen for just a moment and then re-emerged with a handful of paper towels, which he tossed over the puddle of wine that had now seeped into the material. Wilson didn't bother the pat it down, ignoring it once it was covered in the white heap he'd torn off the roll. He could afford another tablecloth. And he wanted the air to stay breathable, too. There was simply an urge within him, after the day he'd had and the thoughts he'd thought, to make things okay. Wilson couldn't pinpoint it; the return home had gone anything but smooth and he didn't care for that flavor being left in his mouth. That was one of the more exhausting aspects to all of this with House - the constant need to confirm, affirm, and reaffirm things. Wilson didn't do it because he expected things to go wrong - he told himself he didn't - but instead because he was terrified of that possibility.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he looked down at House with an eyebrow raised as he stood next to where House was seated.

"No use crying over spilled milk," Wilson said conversationally. They'd both finished their dinner and he still had an inexplicable want to touch and be touched, to reach out and feel House. It was strange for Wilson, on some level, but could probably be explained by the amount of stress that had been crushing them lately. And the way House had greeted him tonight. Probably the foreign scent of bar that lingered on House, too.

[dr_gregoryhouse]

House closed his eyes briefly at the touch to his shoulders, to Wilson's warm breath against his ear. Despite the spillage that needed tending to, he had an urge to turn his head and kiss Wilson.

Instead, he opened his eyes again and peered down at the mess. "Well, that's reassuring," he replied dryly. Once Wilson had left for the kitchen, he resumed eating what was left of his meal. He chewed absently on the steak, watching Wilson when he returned with the paper towels and by the time Wilson was done doing a bad job of patting the mess up, House had finished his dinner.

He turned his head up to look at Wilson, raising an eyebrow back at him. "I'm not," House replied just as conversationally. "I can if you want me to, though." He looked away with his eyes and screwed one eye shut contemplatively. "On second thoughts..."

He darted his eyes back to Wilson. He ran his tongue across his top lip, then puffed his cheeks out thoughtfully. He let them deflate with a quiet popping sound from his pursed lips.

"You still hungry?"

[dr_j_wilson]

As if in response to the question, Wilson tongue darted out to wet his lips and he kept his eyes trained on House. He had a mind to make a comically contemplative face and stroke his chin, but instead Wilson uncrossed his arms and rested one hand on the back of House's chair before dipping down again.

Wilson didn't answer House. He kept the small distance between their faces for a moment and stared at House hungrily. His eyes never left House's eyes - right up to the point where Wilson crushed their mouths together. The kiss was hard, his tongue stroking House's, sucking and twisting his head to try and press more firmly against House.

When Wilson did break the kiss with a loud sucking noise, his lips remained parted and his eyes back on House's face.

"I want you," said Wilson lowly against House's mouth, blunt as it was of him to say those words. No wry comments about hunger or their meal and no funny expressions. Just exactly what was on his mind, for once. It might've sounded needy, or even ridiculously lame, but he was breathing a bit heavier now and something was twisting in his chest. So he decided to let House know. Just in case he'd forgotten it for a second somewhere along the line.

[dr_gregoryhouse]

House was taken off guard by the firmness of the kiss at first, wondering why Wilson was being so forward. He craned his neck back a little with the force Wilson was kissing him. By the time the kiss ended House was breathing heavier, feeling equal parts bewildered and guilty.

He felt even more guilt, followed by a sudden rush of desire, when Wilson murmured those words against his mouth. Maybe Wilson was just really eager, House reasoned to himself. Or maybe he was aware something was up and was trying to ignore it, just like House was. Whatever the reason, House was fully aware of the guilt that wouldn't stop nibbling at him, which just made his desire for Wilson increase because maybe he really could crush that guilt with love, affection, sex.

He licked his lips and tried to remain looking casual, smug. "Well, when you put it to me like that..." he replied just as lowly. He nudged Wilson back from him so he could stand up and the moment he was standing tall, he reached for Wilson's face, clutching it in his hands. He ran his thumb across Wilson's bottom lip, a strong surge of love gripping at his chest. Or maybe it was guilt. No, it was love, definitely love.

He traced his thumb down over Wilson's chin before leaning in and kissing him hard.