Rating: PG13 (slash)
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I wish they were.
Summary: There are different kinds of kisses.
THE FIRST TIME WAS WITH LAUGHTER
“House!” Wilson tried to school his features into a mask of harsh disapproval but the twitch of his lips ruined the effect and he ended up looking like he had a bad case of indigestion.
“You would have done the same thing,” House maintained with a sage nod of his head.
“I think not,” Wilson shot back. He rose from his seat on the piano bench, snagged the last piece of pepperoni pizza and flopped down beside House. His shoulder bumped House’s arm just he raised his own slice of pizza and tomato sauce smeared across his chin like the aftermath of a wild drunken party. Not noticing, Wilson continued, “I would have been a gentleman and helped her get her tits back into her bra then I – what the hell’s wrong with your……” He leaned in close, deep brown eyes scanning the red stain on House’s chin. “You’re a slob,” he announced.
House granted him a withering glare before using the back of his hand to scrub at the sauce. “And you’re a moron, guess we’re even.” House took a bite of pizza and chewed with enthusiasm. “You know,” he said with his mouth full, “I think we really could rule the world together.”
“That’s a scary thought,” Wilson murmured, eyes unfocused as he thought it over. “Vicodin dispensers on every corner. Hot and cold running hookers, pickles banned from cafeterias every where-
“Quickie divorces performed while you wait for a hotel room,” House countered, blue eyes flashing devilishly, “tie shops that double as bondage stores, accounting tips for the financially challenged –“
“And Cuddy wearing that tennis outfit every day!”
House goggled open mouthed at Wilson. Wilson stared at House with a huge grin. Both men dissolved into laughter, full body convulsing peals that eventually gave way to breathless, eyes streaming snorts, wheezes and giggles. Panting, they collapsed against each other, wiping at their eyes and noses, still fielding the occasional chuckle. Fine strands of Wilson’s hair snagged on the stubble of House’s chin, tugging his scalp, and still gasping House blew it away from his mouth just as Wilson raised his head. “S-sorry,” House sniggered, “I was going for your ear.”
“M-maybe I’m not that k-kinda b-boy,” Wilson proclaimed which set them off in another fit of laughter.
“Yeah, but we both know you are.” Hiccupping with suppressed laughter, House leaned in close and planted a sloppy kiss on Wilson’s mouth. When he pulled back the memory of Wilson smiling against his lips stayed with him.
“You’re an idiot,” Wilson chuckled, winked, and punched House’s shoulder.
THE SECOND TIME WITH LUST
“Ogle,” House mused, “ogling, to be ogled. Want me to use it in a sentence?”
“I was not ogling,” Wilson maintained though the tips of his ears had turned pink. “She had a speck of dirt in her eye. I was helping her. What?” Both hands planted firmly on his hips, Wilson glared down at House for a full minute before grinning. “God, she’s hot! You should see her breasts, House.“
“Uh, I could from where I was standing,” House said, pulling out his prescription bottle and shaking it – empty. He rose from his chair and limped towards his bedroom, Wilson, still talking, followed.
“Creamy skin, just flawless and her hair has these little,” he waved a hand vaguely, “sparkly streaks. And she smells-“
“She smells? Is this a fetish thing, ‘cause I don’t wanna know,” House said. He sank down onto the side of his bed, reaching into a bedside drawer and drew out a full bottle of painkillers.
“House! Come on, I’m trying to share the love here.”
House sighed, chin falling to his chest before lifting his head and pasting on a fake leer. “Share away.”
Wilson shot him a filthy look but continued. “She smelled like lilies of the valley. She’s amazing, House, just – amazing!” He plopped down beside House, falling over onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “God, I miss being in love. I miss that tingle, you know? The heart racing, sweaty palms, the deep, slow kisses. I think I miss those kisses most of all. You miss it?” Wilson asked, rolling his head to look over at House.
House tipped a Vicodin onto his palm. “Yeah, it’s been a while for me, too,” he said quietly.
Wilson’s hand gripped his elbow, pulling House around enough for Wilson to stare up at him. “Kiss me!”
House’s brows knotted as he slanted a questioning look at his best friend. “Did you just ask me to kiss you?”
“Sure,” Wilson said and sat up. “Kiss me. I’m horny and you just said you haven’t-“
“Both of us are guys,” House pointed out. “I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if I’d been traded to the other team and you’ve been the number one draft choice for the last eight years.”
“Just shut up and kiss me,” Wilson insisted. House stared at him a moment, then shrugged. His nosed bumped Wilson’s before they figured out which way to tilt their heads for comfort and how hard to press their lips but after a second it all fell into place. Warm, soft, the scrape of his stubble against Wilson’s barely there five o’clock shadow created an erotic buzz that made House shiver. Wilson’s arms came up around him, locking him in place and the heat in the room grew oppressive. House could feel sweat trickling down his back and when Wilson moaned his cock jerked so hard he thought he might topple over. He opened his mouth, welcoming the moist invader which surge inside. Alternating demanding to delicate and back again, Wilson plundered his mouth like a pirate and House surrendered willingly. He could have gladly stayed in Wilson’s arms for the duration of his Vicodin high, but the insistent beeping of a pager broke them apart.
“Damn,” Wilson mumbled. “Patient. I gotta go.” With a quick smile, he rose and left the room. House stared after him in silence, moving only to touch the tips of his fingers to his swollen lips
THE THIRD TIME WAS WITH LONGING
“House? House, pick up the phone. Come on, pick up the damn phone!” Greg House pushed himself to his feet, cursing the renewal of pain which had finally abated. He wouldn’t have answered at all, most people knew he wouldn’t no matter how much they pleaded, everyone that was except the one person on the other end but Wilson sounded like he was teetering on the edge of panic.
“Yeah, this better be important,” House growled into the receiver.
“Where are you?”
House pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it before answering. “You got me up out of my chair for that?” He could practically hear Wilson press a hand to his forehead then run it up through his dark hair in frustration, knowing how much effort it took for House to get out of his chair after a long day at the hospital. House let the guilty silence stretch a moment longer then asked, “What’s up? I thought you were having dinner with the in-laws?
“I was- am,’ Wilson said quietly. House could hear footsteps and then a door closing and Wilson blew out a sigh. “I excused myself,” he explained.
“God, you’re not going to take a piss while we talk, are you?” House demanded. “I’ve told you countless times I’m just not into that.”
Wilson’s laugh warmed him. “Sorry,” another heavy sigh came down the line, “sorry.” He didn’t speak again but House could hear his friend breathing. A memory stirred and House struggled hard to push it away, waiting until Wilson finally said, “No, I’m not going to subject you to a vicarious piss. I just needed some privacy and this is the only place in the house I can get it.”
“Uh, huh.” House had never been much of a phone conversationalist, much too easy to conceal a lie when others couldn’t see you sweating, so he merely held the phone to his ear and waited for Wilson to explain the need for this urgent bathroom conversation. He could hear the rhythmic whisper of Wilson’s breath across the mouthpiece and unexpectedly thought of summer days spent rowing on the nearby river. He hadn’t let his mind go there in a long time, to those peaceful and contented days when he’d taken his scull to the flat gray water and lost the outside world inside the world of his own senses. He’d loved the solitude, the steady beat of the oars, the whispered breeze through leaves, the warmth of sunshine on his face. The best of those times had been the times he took Wilson with him, the sheer joy in deep brown eyes which had greeted him upon his return, Wilson’s breath across his cheek as he pulled an exhausted House up the bank and held him until he could stand on his own. Those moments had been in silence as well, but shared and understood fully. A sigh of his own built in House’s chest, making a deliciously sweet ache, one he hadn’t experienced in longer than those lazy summer days.
“I think they’re sucking the life out of me,” Wilson said finally.
“That’s the one bad thing about Benton Hills,” House said, “all the damn vampires.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Wilson countered.
“Vampires never are. But,” House said quickly before Wilson could snap at him, “you’ll always be safe on hallowed ground.”
“Like your place?”
“Exactly like my place. I have a stash of garlic.” Quiet sang along the line between them again, just as still as before but this time filled with some indefinable something that made House smile despite the lateness and the pain in his leg. He closed his eyes, lips brushing the receiver and said, “goodnight.” The silence which followed was exactly the length of a kiss.
THE LAST TIME WITH LOVE
He hated the fact that they dimmed the lights in administrative hallways after hours. It didn’t make sense to him, and it made navigating the hallways of the older, less glass endowed, section of the building more difficult. House limped slowly along the corridor towards the oncology department, feeling every one of his forty six years, two months and twenty one days. It had been a long week and all he wanted was to go home and fall into bed, but as much as he wanted that House knew he couldn’t. He had something to do, something that wouldn’t let him rest until it had been done.
There were no lights at all in Wilson’s reception area and the door to Wilson’s office was closed but a faint crease of light shown from beneath it. House paused before it, leaning heavily on his cane as he listened for any faint sounds which might come from within. Unable to really hear anything over the beating of his own heart, House tossed caution to the winds of necessity and gentle eased the door open. The hall had been dim, the outer offices nearly pitch black but Wilson’s office was bathed in a soft, golden light. House stepped inside, determined to jolly his friend out of whatever morose mood had overcome him. Wilson sat behind his desk, head bowed so that the light gilded the thick fall of hair across his forehead, his closed eyelids and the long slender line of his throat. House sucked in a quiet breath, Wilson looked so very young and fragile and though he knew this was an illusion, House felt a sudden rush of protectiveness towards the younger doctor. House knew he would have wasted away under the crushing weight of self-pity and depression if Wilson hadn’t bullied him out of his hospital bed and back into life. A steel core existed within that seemingly delicate soul and House realized at that instant just how lucky he was that Wilson cared about him.
Squashing such unsettling feelings back into the lead lined box in his heart, House rapped his cane on the desk. “Hey,” he said loudly, “You paying Cuddy rent to live here?”
Wilson’s eyes flew open and he nearly jumped out of his chair. Like a kid trying on Halloween masks, half a dozen expressions raced across his handsome features before finally settling into a scowl. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Wilson demanded.
House limped around the big desk until he could lean against it facing Wilson. The snappy retort poised on his tongue withered there under the force of Wilson’s slow brown stare. “Bored,” House complained. “I thought I’d cajole you into buying me dinner and a movie.” Wilson continued to stare up at him, a sleepy smile eventually spreading across his lips. House found he couldn’t look away from that lush mouth. He’d shared so much with this man, things that made him ashamed, things that made him proud and through it all Wilson had never flinched, never walked away. A master of deception, schooled by a lifetime’s habit of protecting himself from others, House abandoned his defenses and let it all show in his eyes. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and leaned down to kiss Wilson’s soft mouth.
There was no moment of hesitation, no instant of surprise. Wilson welcomed him just as he had for all the years of their friendship. It might not have ranked at the top of history’s all time greatest kisses, they still hadn’t mastered the nose thing and House discovered Wilson had eaten onions at lunch, but the kiss held peals of laughter, jolts of lust, threads of longing and more love than either man had ever thought existed in the lives they would be granted.