A Love Story (lol)
House sat on the faded green recliner in Wilson's apartment. Wilson was engrossed in some sort of boring news program and House, never one for boring news programs, couldn't help but fidget with his cane. He bounced it back and forth between his knees, desperately trying to think of something to talk about, to drag Wilson's attention away from the t.v., even if only for a second.
He couldn't.
It's wasn't surprising, really. He'd never really been good at holding a conversation with Wilson, unless it involved some sort of sarcasm and a hint of pretentiousness.
He let his cane fall loudly to the floor, and Wilson glanced over towards it, and tilted his head slightly. "Need help with that?"
"No."
Wilson looked as though he was about to get up for it anyway, but House grabbed it before Wilson could get completely off of the couch.
"Everything alright?" Wilson settled back down into the cushions and stared back at the screen.
"Sure. Isn't it always?"
Wilson made some sort of noise, and House rolled his eyes.
"Hey, Wilson?"
"Hey, House?"
"I love you."
House could see the corner of Wilson's mouth turn up. "I love you too."
House forced a smile as Wilson looked over towards him, briefly. He didn't believe him. How could he? How could someone as handsome as Wilson, who could have any woman he wanted, be in love with a miserable, old, bitchy, cripple like him? It didn't make sense.
And life just had to make sense.
House glanced around Wilson's apartment, taking in all of the photos perfectly placed on shelves, and perfectly aligned on walls. All of Wilson with his various wives and girlfriends; plaques of his amazing conquests.
Beautiful, able-bodied, conquests.
There were no pictures of Wilson with House anywhere. And why would there be? He couldn't go hiking or skiing. And he certainly couldn't build Habitats for Humanity in Belize.
House began to feel incredibly insecure. He'd never admit that he was capable of such feminine emotions, but there it was. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat when Wilson's phone started to vibrate on the coffee table.
Wilson reached forward and picked it up, putting the television on mute.
"Hello?" His voice was almost sing-songy. It made House nauseous.
"Who is it? Jane again?" House couldn't have hidden the venom in his voice even if he had wanted to.
Luckily, he didn't want too.
Wilson rolled his eyes at House and stood up from the couch, walking into the kitchen with the phone.
"She's a Succubus, you know. She'll kill you when she's done with you!" House leaned back into the recliner, straining his neck, in an attempt to hear Wilson's conversation. He couldn't, so he just let his imagination run wild. He figured it would take only three weeks before there were pictures of Wilson and Jane on the walls.
He stood up and made his way over to the bookshelf, eyeing over all of the marriage self-help books, and cookbooks that were arranged in alphabetical order, by author. (And of course all of the pictures.) He picked one of the frames up and blew the dust off of it.
Wife-Number-Two. What a bitch she was.
"See something you like?" Wilson tossed his phone towards the couch as he made his way back into the living room, and walked over to House, standing beside him and taking the picture from him. "What a bitch she was, huh?"
House turned and looked at Wilson, an amused look making its way across his face. "Well, I wouldn't have put it so nicely, but basically."
Wilson set the picture back on the shelf and ran his hand down House's back.
"How come you don't have any pictures of me? My chest not big enough? Can't brag about me or something?" House turned to face Wilson.
"Oh I can brag about you, alright. I just figured you wouldn't appreciate hundreds of pictures of your cock all over my house."
"Better than no pictures of my cock all over your house."
Wilson raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on House's forehead. "Are you on your period or something? You're awfully moody tonight."
House rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He shoved past Wilson and sat on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.
Wilson walked over and flopped down next to him, turning the sound back on the television. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Wilson finally cleared his throat.
"...I don't have any pictures of you anywhere because I don't like thinking that I'll ever have to remember you. I just sort of assume you'll always be here. You know?"
House just stared at the television.
Wilson reached over towards the coffee table and grabbed his wallet. He opened it up and pulled something out. "But if it makes you feel better...here."
House looked down at the crinkled up Polaroid that Wilson set on his lap. You could hardly make the image out anymore it was so crinkled, but House knew what it was and it was easy for him to make out his own figure sitting on Wilson's lap, his arms wrapped around him tightly, at Wilson's second bachelor party. They were wearing bright feather boas and tiaras.
House had been completely drunk at the time, or at least that had been his excuse for doing such a thing, and he was sticking with it.
But apparently Wilson knew better.
"We're so gay." House smirked at Wilson.
"Pretty much...yeah." Wilson leaned over and kissed House, and then shoved the picture back into his wallet. "So...are you going to tell me when you're off your period so we can have sex again?"
House just smirked and started to undo his belt.