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Chapter Text

He cannot force himself to look away from the pills even as he hears the front door open. The creak of the hinges is followed by gentle footsteps and yet House does not bother to look up.

“You going to leap across the room and grab them out of my hand?” He asks as the intruder reaches the bathroom.

“Not unless you want me to,” Wilson replies.
His voice comes as a surprise, he is the last person he expected to see right now. 

“I honestly thought you were Cuddy,” House states, finally looking up, taking him in.

Wilson looks somber, exhausted, but even despite it he manages a smirk. 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” He replies, but there is no venom in his voice, he sounds genuinely apologetic. “I heard about what happened,” He says eventually and House feels incredibly annoyed at him all of a sudden.

“Did Foreman send you?” 

“No,” Wilson replies, barely looking up at House. 

“Then why are you here?” House tries to catch his gaze, “Don’t you have a girlfriend waiting for you?”

At the mention of Sam, Wilson’s lips press into a tight line. “House…” He starts.

“Oh, god, don’t tell me you proposed already,” He rolls his eyes theatrically, “That is so typical”.

“I ended it,” Wilson says suddenly. 

Silence hangs in the room with House simply staring at him, waiting. He is aware that Wilson is doing the same, waiting for House to break the silence. For once, in his life, House decides to comply.

“Why?” He asks, prompting Wilson to continue. “It couldn’t have been that bad”.

“It wasn’t,” Wilson breathes, “It was honestly pretty great, I just wasn’t happy. I thought that if you moved out things would suddenly click into place, but they never did, because no matter where you are, you’re always, annoyingly, at the front of my mind”.

House felt his heartbeat quicken as he took in every word, the pills in his hand now an afterthought. 

“That’s why none of my relationships will ever work out, because no matter how hard I try, you are the only person I am ever happy with,” Wilson starts speaking faster, as if he needs to get the words out, otherwise something terrible will happen.

“I am the most screwed up person in the world,” House says, “The fact that you keep coming back to me means you are just as screwed up”.

“I know,” Wilson nods and takes a deep breath, “What does it say about me that I am in love with you?” 

In one of the very few instances in his life, House does not know what to say, so he decides that maybe actions speak louder than words.  

He has to prop himself against the bathtub, so he can get up on his feet, but he manages eventually and in the next moment. Slowly, he moves closer to Wilson, moving one inch at a time, allowing him every opportunity to back away, before he allows himself to press his lips against Wilson’s. As soon as he is sure that Wilson is fine with the development, he deepens the kiss. For some reason, none of this feels sudden or unwarranted. It is a culmination of twenty years that was always obvious to everyone but them. House brings his hand up to cup the side of Wilson’s face. He feels Wilson’s own hands travel up to his chest and allows himself a hint of pleasure before he registers a slight push. 

“Wait, wait,” Wilson says against House’s lips and forces him to pull away. “Are you high?”
“God, I hope not,” House declares and demonstratively drops the couple of pills that were still in his hand. 

This seems enough to convince Wilson and he pulls House back against himself, letting all the built up emotion out in a single fit of passion. 

Wilson is still wearing his tie, even though it is way past midnight. Almost instinctively, House reaches towards his neck and yanks the tie free without allowing himself to break contact with Wilson even for a second. He is painfully aware of Wilson’s own hands traveling up his shoulders and absentmindedly pulling the leather jacket off his back. House keeps leaning against him, urging him to move out of the bathroom. They move to the bedroom blindly with House’s fingers moving across Wilson’s chest absentmindedly, occasionally yanking loose the buttons on his white shirt. 

“You know, you’re kind of a slut,” House breaks off momentarily when he hits his back against the wall of his bedroom. 

“Well, I can leave if you want,” Wilson replies, his gaze narrowing.

“Okay, okay, shut up,” House retorts, this time grabbing Wilson by the hand and pulling him directly towards the bed. 

…

Wilson stirs awake and immediately registers House’s touch. His hand is draped around him in a manner that is almost shy. Wilson reaches up towards it and interlaces his own fingers with House’s, giving his hand a slight squeeze.

“Morning, honey,” House says, emphasising the last word, seemingly to annoy Wilson. “So now what?” 

“Well,” Wilson hums, “Breakfast?”
“That works,” House nods. 

Wilson is the first one to get out of the bed, reaching for his pants that were left carelessly at the foot of House’s bed. The thought does not bother Wilson as much as it once would have. He dresses and as soon as he puts the shirt on his shoulders, he feels his phone buzz in the back pocket. He reaches for it. The screen clearly illuminates Cuddy’s name and Wilson takes a moment to glance at the clock. Both he and House are unapologetically late and there can only be a handful of reasons why they both could not show up. 

“Yeah?” Wilson answers the phone, clearly peaking House’s interest, as he pulls himself up into a sitting position behind Wilson. 

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” Cuddy immediately sounds apologetic. “But I was just wondering if you heard from House, he’s not answering my calls”.

Wilson glances back at House as he sits down at the edge of the bed. “Um, yeah, I’m actually with him right now”.

He is painfully aware of how much House is holding back to not groan. 

“Oh,” Cuddy breathes, “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, no, not really,” Wilson lies, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible, “He almost relapsed, I think I should keep an eye on him to make sure he stays safe”.

“Oh, god,” She sounds guilty, “Look, I can be there soon, are you at his place?”
“No,” Wilson says, desperate, “I mean, yes, but you don’t need to come. You’ve been through enough, I can handle it”.

He notices House arch an eyebrow in intrigue. 

“Okay,” She says after a moment of silence, but there is hesitation in her voice. “Take care, Wilson”.

“You too,” He says finally and hangs up the phone.

“James Wilson, the boy wonder oncologist, lying through his teeth,” House smiles and moves closer towards him. “That’s really hot,” He declares finally and moves to kiss Wilson’s neck.

“Okay, as much as your libido is admirable for a man your age,” Wilson starts, moving out of House’s way to which he receives a groan of disapproval. “I have to stop you, because you smell really bad, please go take a shower”.

“Are you gonna go with me?” House asks, giving Wilson his best attempt at puppy eyes. 

“Don’t get needy,” Wilson states, “I’ll go make us some breakfast”.

Us leaves his lips too easily but neither of them seems to mind. 

As he listens to the rushing water, Wilson makes two black coffees and scans the fridge and pantry for anything that can be constructed into a semi decent breakfast. He finds a half empty bottle of soy sauce, a carton of milk, three pieces of stale bread and a box of thai takeout that is at least a day old. 

“How can you possibly leave like this?” He asks House as soon as he is out of the shower and in the kitchen, wearing a bathrobe that might be a little too short.  

“Well, until very recently I lived in a different place,” House says, “It was magical, food used to just appear in the fridge”.

“That’s because I did all the grocery shopping and you ate my food,” Wilson states, moving House’s mug closer towards him.

“Like I said,” House repeats, bringing the mug up to his lips, “Magical”.

“Do you want to move back in with me?” Wilson asks, surprising himself as well as House, who stops halfway through taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, you’re serious,” He says eventually, setting the mug down, “Don’t you think we’re moving a little too fast in our relationship?” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. 

“Is twenty years too fast for you?” It is Wilson’s turn to take a sip of the coffee. It burns his tongue and he sets the mug aside immediately.

House’s gaze narrows. He studies Wilson for a long moment, looking for something in his expression.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” He asks finally. 

“Okay, look,” Wilson sighs, “I feel like we should talk about what… this is”. He gestures vaguely at the space between House and himself. 

“Well,” House takes a moment to take a seat across from him. “That is a table”.

“Oh, my god,” Wilson sighs in exasperation and buries his face in his hands. He does not need to look up at House to imagine the shit-eating grin on his face. 

He is sure House is about to throw some other quip at him, when there is a knock at the door. Wilson’s head whips up and he immediately glances towards the door. House is frozen with the mug halfway up to his lips and momentarily he glances back to Wilson.

“Did you call someone?” He whispers aggravatingly. 

“No, did you?” Wilson replies in the same tone. 

The knock sounds again and this time is followed by a voice. 

“House!” The voice, despite being muffled by the door, is still unmistakably Thirteen’s. “I know you’re here, open the door”.

House and Wilson both lock eyes. 

“Why is she here?!” House demands with a hiss.

“You didn’t show up for work,” Wilson replies in an exaggerated manner.

“Neither did you!”

“House,” Thirteen calls out again, accompanied by another knock.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Wilson sighs, “I’ll open it”.

Before House can protest, Wilson is already at the door, putting on his best now-is-really-not-a-good-time-and-we-apologise-for-the-inconvenience expression. He swings the door open and immediately comes face to face with the woman, who seems to curb her objection as soon as she sees him.

“Wilson?” She asks, her eyes widening slightly. “What are you doing here?”
“I… am helping my friend through a rough patch, what are you doing here?” Wilson states, hoping she didn’t notice the slight pause.

“No one has seen him since yesterday,” Thirteen quickly replies. “I thought he might’ve gotten into trouble,” She pauses, “Or died. Either way, I want to know whether or not I should be starting to look for a new job”.

“You wish,” House’s voice replies before Wilson can, as he suddenly appears behind him, having changed from the bathrobe into a more appropriate t-shirt and sweatpants. “You’re stuck with me, until I fire you myself, which from the looks of it can be very soon, why aren’t you at work?”
“Why aren’t you?” Thirteen is quick to reply.

“I was just at the site of a major accident and sustained injuries, Wilson is helping me deal with that, all of which Cuddy knows,” House starts speaking faster.

“Well, she didn’t tell any of us,” Thirteen rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll get out of your hair. Get better”. She says that last part as if she is still not entirely convinced by House’s story, but knows better than to argue.

“Will do, bye bye,” House smiles, pushing Wilson aside slightly and shutting the door in front of her himself. 

Wilson waits for a few moments, trying to make out Remy’s retreating footsteps. 

“Well, I don’t think she suspected a thing,” Wilson turns back to House as soon as he is sure Thirteen is no longer a threat. 

“Let’s keep it that way,” House says as he moves closer to Wilson and to his surprise kisses him again. 

Wilson cannot find it in himself to protest and only relaxes against the touch, letting House push him against the wall, as he slowly moves his mouth away from Wilson’s face. Wilson lets out a soft moan as House’s lips keep moving along the side of his neck. 

“House,” Wilson calls out, trying to gather his thoughts.

“What?” House asks in-between kisses.

“No one can know about this”.

This seems to put House into a momentary stupor as he glances up at Wilson. 

“It’s too complicated,” He tries to elaborate. 

“Fine with me,” House shrugs and presses his lips against Wilson with a new-found force, as if letting him know with every fibre of his being that it is time to shut the hell up.

Chapter Text

The silence that hangs in the car as they drive to the hospital, makes House slightly uncomfortable. Usually, whenever Wilson gives him a lift, they talk the whole way there. Now, Wilson states silently at the road, as if barely giving House any mind. 

He had spent the night at House’s place and then volunteered to drive him to the hospital, but they barely talked in the morning, even about the huge and hard to ignore elephant in the room. 

“So yesterday was fun,” House breaks the silence.

“It was, yeah,” Wilson replies, briefly glancing back at House. 

House’s gaze narrowed as he tried to think about how to get Wilson’s attention for more than two seconds.

“We should do it again sometime,” He tries again.

“You mean skip work and have sex? Oh, definitely,” Wilson scoffs. “Although maybe after you move back in with me, because the logistics are a nightmare”.

That puts House into a slight stupor. 

“You were serious about that?” He asks after a moment.

Wilson’s attention is finally on House. “Well… yeah,” He replies simply. “Not if you don’t want to,” He adds quickly.

“Oh no, I was waiting for you to cook all of my meals and do my laundry again. It’s a little Freudian, but I think I’m into it,” House shrugs, “So, can I move my stuff in after work?”

“That might not be such a good idea,” Wilson frowns. “Sam wanted to drive by and pick up some of her things tonight”.

“Oh, and you’re afraid that she’s gonna see the hot piece of ass you left her for and get all flustered,” House makes sure he pokes Wilson’s side mockingly.

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Wilson replies just as he steers into his usual parking space. 

Just as Wilson puts the lever into parking gear and lets go of the steering wheel, House quickly undoes his seatbelt and grabs the side of Wilson’s face to turn it towards himself and presses a quick kiss to his lips. He manages to make the kiss as explicit as he possibly can in the limited time frame he allocates for himself, slightly biting at Wilson’s lower lip and licking into his mouth as soon as he is sure that Wilson is at least slightly into it. 

He pulls away a few moments later, leaving Wilson with a hilarious shock on his face. 

“So, let me know when Sam is gone,” House adds, as if nothing happened and quickly exits the car. 

He manages further than he expected before Wilson finally catches up to him.

“What the hell was that?” He demands, visibly toning down the frustration as to not draw any unnecessary attention towards himself. 

“I probably won’t be able to do that again for the entire day,” House states simply, “I’m savoring the moment”.

“Someone could have seen us!” 

“But they didn’t! Because you’re the only idiot who shows up so early for work”.

Once they enter the hospital the crowd of staff that is already squirming the halls seems to contradict House’s words. 

Wilson gives House a quick glance of disapproval before moving to write himself in, conveniently writing House in as well, since he is sure he won’t bother to do it himself. 

House is already near the elevators, when Wilson catches up to him.

They wait in complete silence for a few moments before the elevator arrives.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” Wilson says as soon as the doors close in front of them, “I really want this to work, I just think we need some time to figure things out”.

“What’s the opposite of dirty talk? Because that’s what this is,” House gestures vaguely towards Wilson. 

“I’m serious,” Wilson replies firmly, forcing House to retort. 

“Fine,” He says, “Besides not much has changed in our overall dynamic, it can’t be that hard to hide”.

“Thank you,” Wilson states just as the elevator dings. “I’ll see you around”.

Wilson exits first, while House lingers for a few moments more. He stops the doors that have already begun to slide shut with his cane and quickly exits, beginning to move towards his office. 

House is almost delighted by the array of shocked expressions he receives as soon as he enters the conference room.

“Gee, you guys look like you’ve seen a ghost,” House states with an overly animated chuckle.

“You’re… on time,” Taub is the first one to speak with his cup of coffee still stuck halfway to his mouth.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night anyway if you know what I mean,” He winks exaggeratingly, making sure to meet Foreman’s gaze, who frowns and turns away from him. 

“Cuddy found you a case,” Thirteen states, mostly ignoring House’s previous comment, although the slight curiosity in her expression does not escape his attention. “A skateboarder collapsed during a competition from sudden arrhythmia, no previously documented heart problems”. 

“Exciting,” House states, yanking the file out of Thirteen’s hands. 

“EKG, echo and head CT are all clean,” Chase adds as House reluctantly flips through the file, “There’s nothing on her neurological exam”.

“Even more exciting,” House adds, settling in the chair at the head of the table, “Conditions that cause intermittent heart arrhythmias, go”.

“Patient’s brother has severe, congenital muscular dystrophy,” Chase continues, “If she’s had a latent case of it…”

“Wouldn’t be sudden onset,” House replies, “Next!”

“If it’s long QT syndrome, any startling stimulus could have triggered an arrhythmia,” Foreman states, “Why did you show up on time?”
“My time management skills are not a part of this differential,” House replies, “Taub, any ideas?”
“Are you back on vicodin?” Taub asks.

“Ideas, concerning the patient,” He makes sure to emphasise that last word, “And for your information, no. Do a scare test to confirm long QT”. 

Everyone just stares back at him, as if waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Just so you know, when I tell you to do something, I mean now,” House adds finally, prompting the fellows to quickly get up from their seats and rush out of the conference room. 

With only himself left in the conference room, House finally moves to pour himself a cup of coffee, while debating what to do for the rest of the day. The case seems fairly straight forward and he has way too much time until nine pm. This is why he never shows up this early, it makes the day seem endless. He can probably barge into Wilson’s office later, just to not betray the classic dynamic they have established. It is important for a relationship to not get in the way of their work life. 

For now, he chooses to settle in his office, finish the cup of coffee and go from there. However, as soon as he settles into a comfortable position, Cuddy interrupts the serenity by unceremoniously barging into his office. 

“A scare test?” She exclaims, lingering in the doors. 

“Where I come from, people usually start their conversations with ‘hello’,” House shrugs.

“The patient is nowhere near sick enough to justify the risk,” Cuddy continues, moving closer to House. “An angiogram and an E.P. study are much safer and very effective”.

“They are also much longer and unlike others here, I prefer to keep my patients from getting worse,” He replies but trails off, staring at Cuddy instead as she places her hands on her hips. He can now clearly make out an engagement ring, with a rock that probably costs House’s monthly salary, sparkling on her left finger. “Nice bling,” He retorts, “Where’d Lucas get the cash?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Cuddy states, but House cannot help but note that there is less determination in her voice than usual. She is pulling her punches.

“Are you worried about me?” He asks.

“What?” 

“Well, either that or you already feel the urge to have an affair with me and you are not even married yet”.

Cuddy relaxes her stance slightly. “Wilson told me you almost relapsed,” She starts and House feels the urge to roll his eyes at the concern in her voice, “As your friend, I am worried about you. So, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” House states, “Really”.

“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Wilson confessed his undying love to me and then we had sex, which did wonders to distract me from the pills”.

Cuddy regards him for a moment, as if deciding on her reaction. “Okay,” She says simply. “Good. Don’t go anywhere,” She adds quickly and walks out of the office.

…

Usually, whenever someone barges into his office unannounced, Wilson knows to expect House. So he is fairly surprised when he sees Cuddy march inside. She makes sure to shut the door behind herself, and stops in front of his desk, placing her hands on her hips, her eyes glued to the floor as she bites her lower lip slightly, as if thinking on what to say. 

“Hi,” Wilson smiles, momentarily looking up from a stack of paperwork, “Can I help you?”
That seems to get Cuddy out of her stupor. 

“I think House is on drugs,” She declares.

Wilson blinks in surprise and puts down his pen, completely focused on the conversation now. “What makes you say that?”

“Do you remember the last time he was high he made some comments about me specifically?” She starts and Wilson nods, “Well, today he told me that he slept with you”.

He hopes she doesn’t notice how his eye begins to twitch. “He what?”
“Are you sure he couldn’t have gotten his hands on a dose when you left yesterday?” She asks and for a moment Wilson doesn’t know what to say.

“Are you sure he’s not just messing with you?” He asks eventually, doing his best to draw any attention away from himself.

“If he wanted to mess with me, he would find a much more clever way to do it,” Cuddy scoffs, “I mean, you and him, who would even buy it?”
“Yeah, of course,” Wilson forces a laugh, “It’s just ridiculous”. 

“Please, talk to him, I’m afraid he won’t accept my goodness of heart after everything that happened between us,” She sounds genuinely worried and Wilson feels his gaze soften.

“I will talk to him,” He says finally.

He does not let the promise wait for too long. As soon as Cuddy is out, he follows, moving quickly towards House’s office. He pushes the glass doors with a bit too much force as he enters, which makes House jerk in his seat in a particularly satisfying manner.

“You told Cuddy?” He exclaims and House frowns.

“Yes,” He admits, “But it’s okay, she didn’t believe me”. 

“You told Cuddy!” Wilson repeats.

“She asked me!” House exclaims, mocking Wilson’s annoyed manner, “And she was very persuasive”.

“House, if this relationship is going to work, you need to listen to me,” Wilson tries to make himself sound more composed than he actually is. 

House does not reply, instead his pager gives a beep and he glances down at it, a shadow of relief washes over his expression.

“Oh, no, my patient’s kidneys are failing!” He exclaims theatrically, pressing a palm to his chest in shock. “I have to get going!” With that he gets up from behind the desk and marches over to the door as swiftly as his leg allows him.

“You better not be faking a dying patient to avoid a tough conversation,” Wilson places his hands on his hips and barely glances at House as he shuts the door behind himself. 

…

House’s patient does actually end up with kidney failure. The most likely theory is amyloidosis. House leaves his team with it, because he is the last person who will be able to convince the family that the brother can be a bone marrow donor. He has more pressing matters at the moment, he has to get to Wilson’s car before he drives away. 

Surprisingly, even to himself, he gets to the car even before Wilson does. House leans against it and is delighted by the annoyed eyeroll he receives from Wilson when he finally emerges from the hospital. 

“Wanna give me a lift, handsome?” House smiles. 

“That depends, do you take cash?” Wilson moves his eyebrow mischievously as he unlocks the car. 

“Oh, are you scared your wife is gonna find out you max out your credit cards picking up pretty boys at parking lots?” House asks, turning around to follow Wilson with his gaze as he gets in his car. 

“Get in,” Wilson commands and it does not take House long to obey. “I’ll drop you off at your place, give you a chance to pack up,” He continues, as he turns the ignition. 

“A lot of my stuff is still in the condo, we can just go there,” House replies nonchalantly, catching a dirty look from Wilson, “Oh, right, Sam”.

“Yes,” Wilson nods, “She told me she was going to swing by around eight, I don’t think she will stay for more than half an hour”.

“And after that?” He eyes Wilson, a glint in his eyes. 

“I guess we’ll see,” He mimics House’s expression and adds a soft smile that only Wilson could pull off without seeming condescending. 

They drive the rest of the way mostly in silence, that gets occasionally interrupted by generic small talk. Eventually, of course, Wilson drops him off at 221 Baker street and House watches him drive away, feeling some sort of way about it. Maybe he’s just hungry. 

Emptiness nags at him as soon as he enters his apartment. It is quiet, but of course it is, nothing new here. It has just been a while since he lived alone, that’s all. He shuts the door behind himself, drops the keys onto the table and makes it to the kitchen. He quickly scans the fridge for anything worthwhile, but decides that maybe a beer is better than the three day old green curry. He is not sure what he is supposed to do. He has about two and a half hours to spare before Sam leaves Wilson’s, and before that he is alone with his thoughts. Absentmindedly, he opens the beer and checks his phone, checking (hoping) for a call or a text from the hospital, but the team is probably busy running a battery of tests in hopes to figure out what caused the girl’s kidney failure, so he probably has a few hours before he gets any update from the team. 

He drops onto the couch then, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and groaning from the sudden shot of pain. He takes a swing at the beer, hoping to distract himself and turns on the TV. He ends up watching a nature documentary about penguins. The narrator reads out a sappy text about how penguins mate for life as stereotypical romantic music swells in the background. House scoffs and turns off the TV. The silence might be worse than the cheesy documentary and House quickly gets up from the couch and moves back to the kitchen, opening the fridge and finding that nothing inside has changed. Well, now this is getting ridiculous. 

He shuts the fridge and shuffles back towards the couch. He quickly grabs the keys from his coffee table and heads out. He needs to get some air and his apartment is not the place to do so, as such he gets to the street. He is not sure where he is going to drive yet as he gets on his bike, but he is going to figure it out eventually.

Of course, he does not intend to drive up to Wilson’s apartment and he certainly does not intend to enter the building and get into the elevator and stop in front of his door, all of this happens on its own somehow, but since he is already here, he might as well knock. 

Wilson answers reluctantly, because, of course, he is still expecting Sam. The neutral frown is clearly replaced by an annoyed one as soon as he sees House.

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“Just thought I’d drop this off,” House replies and quickly tosses his helmet at Wilson, who, bless him, catches it without much effort. “I’ll be living here anyway, right?” He shrugs and invites himself in. To his own great surprise, Wilson does little to stop him as House pushes past him. 

“House,” Wilson starts as he shuts the door behind himself and quickly grabs House’s wrist to stop him from going further into the apartment. “I don’t know what game you think this is, but now is really not the time”.

“There is no game,” House scoffs, “I just decided to drop by”.

Wilson stares at him for a moment, probably unsure himself what he is looking for. His search, however, is interrupted by a doorbell. Sam, House figures.

Wilson lets go of him then and moves to open the door, stopping only momentarily to turn back to House. “Don’t,” He says. 

As soon as he opens the door, House notices Sam’s forced smile. Her and Wilson exchange pleasantries that are awkward for everyone involved and finally, he invites her in. Any attempt at maturity seems to evaporate from her as soon as she notices House.

“Why is he here?” She asks, pointing accusably at him.

“My friend just went through a break up, why wouldn’t I be here?” House says before Wilson can come up with a lie that wouldn’t have been convincing anyway. 

“Whatever,” Sam shrugs, putting on her best I-am-not-bothered-by-any-of-this face, “I’m just going to get my stuff”. She pushes past him and Wilson and into the bedroom she used to share with him. 

“I packed it all down into a box,” Wilson calls out to Sam and House has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes, because of course Wilson packed his ex’s bras in a separate box, so it is easier to pick up. 

“You keep going like this, I am going to start thinking you still have feelings for her,” House says as soon as Sam disappears into the room. 

“I treat my exes like humans, sue me,” Wilson shrugs.

“You are adorable,” House smiles and plants a quick kiss to Wilson’s lips just as Sam emerges from the bedroom, a cardboard box in her hands. 

Wilson manages to notice her in his peripheral vision and jumps away from House as if he’s been burned. 

“Sam…” He starts.

“You know what,” She interrupts him quickly, “I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors”. She walks past them briskly. “Bye, James,” She says and shuts the door behind herself. 

Wilson stares after her for a moment, then buries his face in his hands. He stays like that for a little too long to House’s liking, so he decides to break the silence. “So… Now that she’s gone…”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Wilson yells with the kind of anger that House rarely hears from him. “One thing. I asked you for one thing and you couldn’t do it”.

“Well…” House starts with a chuckle.

“Get out,” Wilson cuts him off. 

That puts House into a momentary stupor. “What?”
“This isn’t going to work,” Wilson states, barely looking up at House, “You need to leave”.

House tries to catch his gaze, then lets out a quick nervous chuckle. “Are you breaking up with me?”
Wilson keeps his gaze on the floor. “Please, go”.

The next few moments seem to stretch on into an eternity. House stares back at Wilson, waiting for him to change his mind, before slowly moving towards the door. 

He drives back home with the silence becoming more and more unbearable the further he gets away. Once he is at his doorstep, he realises he forgot his helmet at Wilson’s. He does not care as much as he probably should. He falls asleep staring at the cracked ceiling and listening to the sound of the ticking clock.

…

“This is stupid,” House mutters to himself, rereading ‘James Wilson, M.D.’ over and over as he stands in front of the door. Eventually, he gets annoyed at his own indecisiveness and enters the office. Wilson is behind his desk, noticeably frustrated at the intrusion.

“Can I help you?” He asks, glancing up. 

“I’m sorry,” House blurts out and Wilson seems surprised by the sudden admission. “I want this to work,” House continues, “I’m assuming so do you, since, you know, you’re the one irrefutably in love with me”.

Wilson chuckles at that and House counts that as a win. 

“Okay, that’s all,” House sighs when Wilson says nothing else, “See you around”. He turns towards the door.

“House,” Wilson calls out, stopping the man dead in his tracks. He quickly gets out from behind his desk and pulls something out from behind the hanger. “You forgot this yesterday,” He states as he hands House back his helmet.  

“Right,” He nods, regarding his own reflection in the visor. “I want to change,” He says then, staring at the bags under his eyes. 

“Not too much,” Wilson states, “I am irrefutably in love with you,” He says, mocking House’s tone.

Now is House’s turn to laugh. That is when Wilson moves closer and presses a soft kiss to his lips. The kiss is chaste, but Wilson lingers for an additional moment to show that he really means it.

“So you’re not mad at me?” House asks as he pulls away.

“Of course I’m mad at you, you asshole,” Wilson punches his shoulder slightly. “But we can figure something out”.

Chapter Text

It happened gradually, Remy thinks. Over the course of the last week, House has shown up on time three times out of five, which might not seem like much, but is actually huge. He has become more patient, actually holding back on degrading commentary, at least around his team, and has barely made any inappropriate advances towards her or any other woman in proximity. He also seems… happier. She cannot quite put her finger on it, but something about all of this nags at her mind uncomfortably. 

“You called us back to work, because a lady might have had a seizure?” Taub asks, as he hands Thirteen the file, who, in turn, quickly hands it back to Chase without bothering to flip through.

They are huddled in front of the reception desk with House, who seems a little too occupied with studying a bouquet of red flowers someone left there. 

“A seizure while trying to commit suicide,” House replies, yanking one of the flowers out of the vase and bringing it up to his nose in a way that might have been theatrical, but seems anything but. 

“So send her for a psych eval, what’s that got to do with us?” Foreman adds, barely paying any mind to House’s sudden love for floristry.

“Why are you smelling flowers?” Thirteen asks and catches side glances from everyone, except House, who seems to be genuinely brought into stupor by her question. 

“You’re right,” He states, forcefully shoving the flower back into the vase, “Flowers are too easy, there has got to be a better solution to this”.

“A better solution to what?” Taub frowns.

“A private case I’m working on,” House replies quickly, “A very, very complicated case”.

“The patient is Alice Tanner?” Chase exclaims suddenly. 

“Are we supposed to know who that is?” Thirteen asks, briefly drawing her attention away from House’s weird behaviour. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” House scoffs, “What are they teaching the kids in school nowadays?”
“She’s the writer of ‘Jack Cannon: Boy Detective’,” Foreman supplies helpfully. 

“Beloved by millions around the world,” House adds with dreamy eyes. 

“By girls between 10 and 14,” Chase mutters, closing the file and setting it on the desk. 

House pauses then, his eyes bearing into Chase. “Look, the point is,” He continues, “If she kills herself, millions of fans of all ages and genders will be very disappointed”.

“So, we’re taking this case ‘cause you’re a fan?” Foreman raises an eyebrow. 

“No,” House says simply, “You’re taking this case because I said so. Do a full workup, observe her overnight, see if she has another seizure”.

A wave of disbelief washes over all of them. 

“What are you going to do?” Thirteen asks.

“Look for environmental factors, of course,” House states, “God knows what might be lurking in her huge, old, extremely expensive mansion”. A giddy smile appears on his face and disappears just as quickly. “Alright, have fun, kids,” He waves at them childishly and walks towards the elevators, while the four of them are left near the reception, doomed to clock in despite their will. 

…

She is in the lab with Chase, preparing the blood samples Foreman and Taub got for routine testing. 

“Have you noticed that House has been acting strange lately?” She asks, making Chase look up from the microscope momentarily.

“Um, yeah,” He replies simply, “Ten years ago”.

“No, something is different,” She dismisses him and spins around in her chair, deep in thought. “First there were the behavioural changes, subtle, but prominent”.

“I don’t need help by the way, thank you for asking,” Chase says quickly, switching out the samples under the microscope.

“But the flowers,” Thirteen continues, barely paying any mind to Chase’s off-hand comment. “The flowers are weird, they don’t correspond with anything”.
“It’s House,” Chase says flatly, “He’s weird”.

“No, everything he does has its reasons and usually he is very clear about them,” She stops for a moment, “He is hiding something”.

“Great, you have figured it out, now can we…” Chase starts but quickly cuts himself off as he notices Thirteen get up and walk towards the door. “Where are you going?” 

“House is out at the patient’s home, right? So, he will not be back at his place for a while,” She says simply as she pulls her coat on. 

It takes Chase a few moments, but then his expression changes and he hops off the chair and rushes towards her. “You want to go to his place?” He exclaims.

“Yeah,” She nods, “Wanna come with?”
“Why?”
“Look for environmental factors,” She shrugs, “Come on, I’m driving”.

Chase lingers in the doorframe for a few seconds, before moving after her.

“How do you even plan to get inside?” He asks, once they are outside House’s apartment. 

Remy smirks and demonstrates the key that fits perfectly into the lock. “A few years ago, I noticed that House made a copy of my apartment key,” She states, as she unlocks the door, “So I decided to do the same”.

Chase watches her with a barely contained grin, as they both enter the apartment and stop in shock. The apartment is completely empty, except for the furniture. The bookshelf that is propping up the farther wall is clean, the writing table, the couch, the small kitchenette, every surface is clean. She moves through the apartment, briefly glancing into the bedroom. The bed, as expected, is stripped clean of the bedsheets with only an empty mattress remaining. Whatever clutter Thirteen would expect to be present in any person’s, but especially House’s, living room is absent. 

“Did he move?” Chase’s voice sounds behind her.

“Where?” She asks. “And why aren’t the locks different?”

She invites herself further into the bedroom, moving her hand along the dresser at the foot of his bed. Dust gathers on her palm and she quickly wipes it off. The layer of dust is not thick but noticeable, which means House hasn’t been home for weeks now and no one noticed. 

“Could he have moved back in with Wilson?” Chase supplies.

“No, Wilson is back together with his ex wife,” Thirteen answers absent mindedly as she checks every drawer for anything that might suggest that House ever lived here.

“What?” Chase frowns. “Why do you know that?”
She looks up at him then, her fingers still around the knob on one of the drawers. “Well, I sort of encouraged their relationship”.

“Why would you do that?” Chase asks and immediately catches Thirteen’s confused look, “Oh, right, you’ve only been here for three years, you don’t know about the bet”.

“What bet?” She arches an eyebrow. 

Chase huffs a laugh. “Years ago, even before I started working here, a bet was started,” He deliberately makes his voice lower as he talks, trying to add a touch of mystery, but he just sounds cartoonish. “Everyone bets on an approximate timeline of House and Wilson getting together, whoever is the closest gets to take the money”.

“No way,” Thirteen scoffs.

“The entire hospital is playing,” Chase shrugs, “I put my money on the year 2012, somewhere between August and November”.

“That’s ridiculous”.

“Actually, there is pretty complicated math involved,” Chase starts, “I can explain it to you…”

“Please don’t”.

“The point is,” He rolls his eyes, “If House moved in with someone, it would most likely be Wilson”.

Silence hangs between them as they weigh their options. 

“We are going to have to break into Wilson’s apartment, aren’t we?” Chase states eventually.

“We?” Remy raises an eyebrow.

“Well yeah,” He shrugs, “I’m an accomplice now, it’s too late to back out”.

“You also want to win the bet,” She supplies.

“I do, yes, you have no idea what kind of money is on the line,” He whines and she smirks. 

As he begins moving towards the door, she puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “I get my share, right?” 

“Of course,” He smiles, but Remy is not sure she believes him. 

The drive to Wilson’s apartment is not long, but once they get there it is already past eleven pm. 

“What are the odds that they are still not home?” Chase asks as they approach the door. Thirteen does not miss the use of ‘they’ in his sentence. 

“Only one way to find out,” She states and deliberately knocks on the door. 

“Brilliant,” Chase rolls his eyes. 

They stay still long enough to give whoever is on the other side of the door every chance in the world to open it. It remains quiet.

“I don’t assume you have the copy of Wilson’s key as well?” Chase asks. 

Remy simply eyes him, before she pulls out a long metal hook from her purse. Props of having your boss make you break into other people’s homes, you can eventually break into your boss’s home. 

She shoves the hook into the keyhole and bites her lower lip as she wiggles it around. Eventually, she hears a click and, satisfied, pushes the door open. 

It is dark, which makes Thirteen fairly certain that no one is home. She moves her hand across the wall and quickly finds a light switch. 

“You check the kitchen, I’ll do the bedroom,” Chase says, as soon as light fills the room. 

Thirteen shuts the door behind herself and moves into the kitchen. There are unwashed dishes in the sink, an unopened bottle of wine on the counter, but nothing that would indicate House’s habitat. 

“Thirteen!” Chase calls out.

“What?” She yells back as she checks the fridge. Aside from a plastic container with a distinct ‘property of James Wilson’ sticker on it, she finds nothing of note. 

“Come here, would you?” Chase says and she moves towards the voice. 

“What?” She asks again, lingering in the doorframe of the bedroom. 

“Two pillows,” Chase points to the bed with a satisfied grin.

“That does not mean that one necessarily belongs to House,” Thirteen shrugs. 

Clearly, Chase anticipated that, as he moves towards the closet and yanks it open, demonstrating a set of boxes, all of which have ‘House’s stuff! Handle with care!!’ written in House’s distinct handwriting on them. 

“Well, this is interesting,” She admits as she takes a few steps closer to Chase. They share a glance. Thirteen is not sure what they are supposed to do next. 

“This seems a little anticlimactic,” She states. 

Chase regards her with a long look. 

Before they can decide on their next course of action, Thirteen hears a key click at the front door. Chase’s eyes grow comically round and Thirteen imagines that she does not have a much better look on her. 

“Closet,” She whispers and moves. She practically jumps inside, with Chase close behind. The boxes take up most of the space so the two practically have to get pressed into each other to fit. 

“That’s not what I said!” She hears House’s voice exclaim, as the door creaks open. 

“You might as well have,” Wilson scoffs.

“No matter what I do, you always find something to complain about,” House groans, annoyed. 

“Oh, so this is my fault?” Wilson exclaims.

“My point exactly!” 

Thirteen briefly raises her eyes at Chase, whose hands hover awkwardly around her waist. He meets her gaze with the same confusion Thirteen imagines in her own expression. This all feels surreal, like she is intruding on something incredibly private, which, granted, she did break into their apartment. 

“You are unbelievable!” Wilson exclaims again and Thirteen hears footsteps move across the apartment.

“I apologised, didn’t I?” House says, his distinctive walk heard clearly as he follows Wilson. 

“That’s not the point!”

She hears Wilson move quickly through the apartment and into the bedroom. Her heartbeat fastens and she can bet any money that so does Chase’s. 

“House,” Wilson sighs heavily, “I am dating you, because I like you, not some made up version of you that brings me flowers and chocolates, for God’s sake I…”

“Shh,” House hisses suddenly.

“Did you just shush me?” Wilson exclaims, clearly fuming.

“Shh!” House repeats in a more aggravated manner and Thirteen imagines the look on Wilson’s face. 

For a moment, there is silence, then she hears House breathe out what seems to be a very disappointed sigh. 

“Thirteen, I’m assuming,” House raises his voice deliberately. 

She meets Chase’s eyes quickly before pushing open the closet door and stepping out. Wilson’s eyes immediately round out in shock, but House only hums a laugh to himself.  

“Wow, second time you had to come out of the closet,” He smirks. “And Chase too! Don’t worry, mom and I accept you as you are”.

“We’re sorry,” Thirteen says, raising her hands slightly.

“It was her idea,” Chase supplies, poking her in the side slightly. 

She shoots him a death glare, hoping that he feels at least a little guilt for throwing her under a bus. 

“We’re gonna go,” She states and starts moving towards the door. 

“Stop,” House says and she actually obeys. “You don’t bring this up to anyone. Ever”. He practically growls that last part as his eyes move between Thirteen and Chase. “Last thing I want is for you to start judging my choice in men”.

“Actually, I think you two are kind of perfect for each other,” Chase says suddenly, drawing even Thirteen’s attention. 

House and Wilson both stare at him, not entirely sure whether he’s joking or not. Eventually, House’s expression softens. “Okay. You can go now”.

“Good night,” Thirteen waves awkwardly as House follows them both towards the door and shuts it in their face. 

Thirteen feels as if she is leaving a one night stand as she walks down the stairs and out of the building with Chase lingering slightly behind. 

“You didn’t have to lie to them just so you can win a bet,” She says, turning back to Chase briefly.

“I didn’t,” He shrugs. 

Thirteen glances at him, now she is the one, desperate to figure out whether or not he’s joking. 

“I have worked with them for almost ten years,” Chase starts, catching her gaze, “There hasn’t been a day when House wouldn’t have mentioned him, even in passing. If you are willing to give up that much space in your head for one person, that’s love”.

“Or codependency,” Thirteen supplies, helpfully.

“The two aren’t that different”.

She laughs at that. 

As they get into the car, she remembers the first time she saw Wilson. He dropped by to give House some file, but the way House looked at him, it was like every mask he had ever tried to hide behind had come off. And Wilson is the only person who is allowed to see it. Maybe they are perfect for each other, she thinks, as she drives off.