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It’s a cool summer morning when Gregory House wakes up to an empty bed, rolling over to feel that the spot next to him is ice cold. Normally, there would be a body there for him to toss his arm around while pretending to still be asleep- the warm, strong body of his best friend, James Wilson. He isn’t sure why he enjoys the man’s fleeting, accidental touches so much, but he does. He wishes he would have woken up to James right next to him and finds himself trudging out of bed and going to the kitchen in search of that familiar warmth.
When he gets there, he finds that Wilson is already fully dressed in a button up with slacks, dress shoes, a tie, and a nice jacket.
“Mm…” House grumbles, standing in the doorway and scratching his chest.
“Mornin’,” James’s words are warm and welcoming just like the rest of him as he walks past Greg and gets the kitchen in order. The other man’s voice is just like it always is in the morning, an octave or two deeper, raspy and hot in a way that stirs something in him he prefers not to think about. Greg looks at the clock to see that it’s only just now six- they don’t usually go in until eight- and in the process of checking the time, he also notices that James has made coffee and that there’s a perfect amount left for him in the pot. He wants to be snarky and make a joke about it, but he chooses not to since he doesn’t have the energy to muster up anything even remotely clever. “I didn’t expect you to be up yet, so I put the rest of the pancakes I made in the fridge, but there’s plenty of leftovers for you. They’re blueberry with cinnamon- your favorite.”
“Mhm,” House responds in a lackadaisical manner and watches Wilson, who’s standing right behind him and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves.
“I’m going to leave for work now. They have me coming in earlier than usual for a consult, but I’ll see you for dinner,” For dinner? House blinks at that, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before turning to the coffee machine and grabbing his favorite mug so he can pour himself some coffee from the batch Wilson made. Normally, they’d eat lunch together . Did Wilson forget, or was he just going to be that busy today? Before he can ask or even think about it too much, he feels thick, muscular arms wrapping around his waist from behind and plump lips kissing the back of his neck. The affection makes his body feel like he’s on fire as he struggles to process it, but he doesn’t get the chance to say or do anything in response- Wilson is already pulling away with a nervous laugh and scratching his chin with an apologetic look. “Oh! Whoops? I guess I was going on autopilot for my mornings with Julie… Uh… I’ll be going now. I’ll see you at lunch? Don’t be too late!”
So, it was an accident. House can’t help the disappointment that washes over him at the realization that Wilson didn’t purposefully kiss his neck so tenderly or hug him in a way that made him feel safe for the first time in decades. Wilson was just thinking about Julie. Again . House feels a tinge of jealousy bubbling up in his chest, and it’s made that much worse when Wilson rushes out the door just as fast as he turned House’s world upside down.
Though House never thought he’d spend a morning alone thinking about Wilson’s ex-wife, he currently can’t help himself.
Greg constantly wonders about James’s long string of relationships, marriages, flings, and everything in between. The oncologist is accomplished and attractive- it makes sense why he’s so successful with women at first, but in the end, everything always falls apart. Greg can’t help but wonder what the common denominator is- it’s one of the few things about the younger man that he hasn’t figured out. Yet .
Greg stands there, one of his hands shakily going to rest against the spot James so absentmindedly kissed and the other hand gripping his coffee mug for dear life. He rubs it like that’ll bring back the comforting warmth of those plush lips, but it does nothing for him, and he finds that he wants it to happen again… And again , and again . Other images start flashing in his mind- of James kissing his neck, his lips, his face, his shoulders, and… Other places; unsavory places that he’s never thought of having another man kiss before. Shaking his head, Greg decides to push the thoughts to the back of his mind, but as he sips his coffee and gets ready to go to work for the day, just one thought lingers at the forefront of his rattled brain;
What the fuck…
~
When lunch comes around, House and Wilson still eat together, but they don’t face each other. It’s awkward and silent, and House doesn’t dare to steal Wilson’s food- no, it feels too intimate now. He has his own sub sandwich, which he takes tiny little nips at while staring into his own lap. Wilson is the first to speak.
“Thanks for, uh, not mocking me this morning,” The oncologist murmurs as he forks his food, his face bright red. “I really appreciate it. I was almost expecting you to- I mean, I know how you are with things like that… But it means a lot that you didn’t. I guess even you understand what a hard time I’m going through right now, and you’ve already done so much for me-”
“Yeah, no, I get it,” House shakes his head dismissively and barely manages to hide the disappointment in his tone. “The divorce just happened and you’ve got your old routines; old habits die hard, as they say.”
Briefly, Greg looks over at his best friend. He can tell that James is still uncomfortable, that he can’t just pretend to sweep the issue under the rug like Greg can; it’s evident in the way he uncomfortably eats his macaroni and cheese with a furrowed brow and nervous sweat building on his forehead. He wonders if this will permanently fuck up their relationship or if this’ll be like every other weird encounter or argument they’ve had where things just fade back to normal on their own.
Before he can say anything else, Wilson gets up and storms out of the room with his trash, not saying so much as another word. All House can do is sigh and get up. It’s a short day today since he’s been working a lot lately, so he gets off in just a few minutes- Cuddy won’t rag on him for leaving a little early just this once, he thinks. That thought has him quickly sneaking out into the parking garage, only to bump into-
“Cuddy, watch your step,” The diagnostician mutters and catches himself with his cane. His boss stands in front of him and gives him an exasperated look with a hint of amusement hidden behind it- nothing new, honestly. “You almost took me out there.”
“You’re leaving? You don’t technically get off for another half hour. Not that you ever clock yourself out anyways with Wilson here to do it for you,” Cuddy looks at him and furrows her brow while pushing back a few of her raven locks. She’s as gorgeous as always despite being stressed and overworked, something about her beautiful smile making House smile in return. “I guess you did seem distracted today.”
“Is that so?” Greg mumbles nonchalantly. “Why, I didn’t even notice.”
“Right, and I’m sure Wilson didn’t notice how distracted he was over you either. What’s going on between you two?”
The question has him racking his brain for a response. Did he act that differently? Did Wilson act that differently? Or has this just been something that’s been building up for a long time? He spent an embarrassing amount of his day thinking about it; about the tension in their friendship, about why the kiss fucked with him so much, about why Wilson reacted the way he did. He’s come to the conclusion that both of them are simply touch-starved; House from years of on and off relationships and isolation, Wilson from being freshly divorced and constantly alone. It’s no wonder. A biological reality, he tells himself, and he plans on convincing Cuddy that it’s nothing deeper than that.
“What? Oh, nothing…”
“Really? He couldn’t even look at you today,” Cuddy shakes her head at him and scoffs, as if his denial is ridiculous. House starts to wonder if it is. “And you kept staring at him… Even more than usual.”
“If you’re trying to imply something, just come out and say it to my face.”
“I think that you and Wilson have had tension building for years now, and it’s finally reared its ugly head. Now what happened?”
“ Tension ? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You look at him like he makes your world spin,” Lisa crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him, her expression all knowing. Greg suddenly feels like the woman is able to see straight through him, and he has to resist the urge to shift uncomfortably. He’s just glad that there’s no one else in the parking garage to hear them. “And when you’re not looking, he looks back at you like he’s terrified of what the two of you could be. Don’t tell me you had no idea.”
“He just got divorced.”
“And you wonder why this is the third one? Why he keeps going through relationships like they’re revolving doors while keeping you at an arm’s reach?” At that implication, Greg’s jaw goes slack. Did Lisa really just suggest that James has been in so many relationships to hide the fact that he’s gay? Is she also suggesting that Greg is gay, too? Fuck, is she right? Has he really been that stupid to not notice it this entire time? “I think he’s hiding more than you realize.”
“He’s always been a horrible liar. Truth is, he couldn’t hide shit from me even if he wanted to.”
“It’s not like he’s ever had the chance to lie to you. Have you asked him about it? Did you even know?”
“No, I-” House shakes his head and lets out a sharp sigh before pushing past the younger woman. “I’ve gotta get home. Thanks for whatever the hell this was.”
As he walks to his car, he runs a hand through his peppery locks and thinks about the conversation with Cuddy. The question isn’t if he likes women or men- no, he’s always liked women, always gotten along with and been attracted to them just fine. He’s never used them to hide anything, any relationships that he’s had have been either strictly sexual or genuine rather than some sort of cover up, and he sees them just like he sees men. But then again, that’s the issue; he’s always liked women so much that he’s never had any reason to suspect that he may also like men.
Now, he does, and the revelation is an interesting one. It’s not exhilarating, but it’s not crushing either. It’s just… There , and honestly, he doesn’t mind it much.
So, he likes men. Great. But what he does mind is liking Wilson in particular.
Now he has to shove down the fact that he likes Wilson specifically to prevent ruining their relationship any more than he needs to, because he knows that with Wilson’s slew of relationships with them, Wilson likes women and only women- which is fine. What Cuddy said earlier was nonsense. House knows he can’t expect anything more than he deserves. After all, how convenient would that be for Wilson to love him back so easily? Nothing like that has ever happened to Greg, and he doubts that good fortune is falling upon him now.
The only issue is that he definitely does miss that kiss from earlier… He’s just touch starved, he tells himself. Him having romantic feelings for James is a whole other issue… Right?
Right.
~
Upon getting home, House tries to ignore all the alarms going off in his brain about his newly discovered feelings for Wilson in favor of replicating the warmth from that kiss this morning. First, he changes into comfortable clothes- one of Wilson’s soft t-shirts and a pair of the younger man’s sweats that are too big on him- then, he makes a cup of hot coffee, sits on the living room couch with his favorite soap playing, and wraps Wilson’s fluffy blue blanket around his shoulders. It’s warm, sure, but it’s not enough- not him . Instead of watching the soap opera on the television screen a few feet in front of him, he allows his eyes to fall shut and replays the memory of that kiss over and over again- at least until he hears the door to the apartment open.
“You home?” James calls from the doorway and walks in. The sound of his suitcase being set down as he enters the living room is loud and makes Greg flinch before he settles back down and sips on his coffee. James stands behind him- too close for comfort, so close that Greg finds himself hunching forward and pulling the blanket over his head like a hood so he can avoid James’s gaze. “House?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” He grumbles.
“Huh? Did you get sick?”
“No.”
“Let me check your temp,” James says and reaches for his forehead, but the diagnostician flinches away and scoots to the other end of the couch to avoid the touch he craves so desperately.
“No- I don’t have a fever, I’m fine!” Greg snaps in retaliation and moves even further away, only for James to snap right back.
“Something is clearly wrong with you! I mean, what the hell? You never act like this! What is it?”
“Fine! Yes, there is something wrong!” House hunches forward and takes a big drink of his coffee, hoping to drown his embarrassment in it. His makeshift blanket-hoodie starts to fall off his head, which reveals his ruffled peppery locks and bright red face. “You made me realize this morning that my body is extremely touch starved; a biological reality! If this blanket and coffee cup don’t simulate human touch well enough, I’m having a girl over, so don’t get too at home.”
“I’m right here, you know?” James suggests and leans over the back of the couch. Greg flushes even darker at the suggestion and finds that he can’t even look anywhere but in his lap. “Your best friend, ready to hug you for free!”
“This morning was uncomfortable enough.”
“Haha, I wasn’t talking about more pecks, but…” Suddenly, Wilson’s hands are resting on the crooks between his neck and his shoulders. Those hands- firm and warm and big- squeezing just the right spots. The sensation lights House’s entire body on fire once again, and his coffee cup is quickly abandoned on the coffee table as his blanket falls off of his shoulders. “How about a massage?”
“Fuck,” He breathes and tilts his head back, grunting when his head hits Wilson’s chest at the same time the younger man’s hands start getting to work. “ Fine .”
“Is that good?”
“Jesus Christ,” House puts his hands over his mouth to prevent any unwanted noises of pleasure from the feeling of those skilled fingers slipping underneath his t-shirt and working his freckled skin. Wilson just keeps going, and even better, he leans down far enough to press a kiss against the back of House’s neck- just like this morning. The diagnostician gasps and turns to look at the brunette, who’s just giving him a sheepish smile. He realizes that his assumption about Wilson only being attracted to women must’ve been wrong, either that or he’s dreaming right now. “Hey…”
“I’m touch starved, too,” Wilson murmurs, desperate and a bit whiny in a way that makes House shudder as the oncologist’s hands shove the blanket the rest of the way off of him. Then, Wilson’s face is in his neck, kissing and nuzzling and nipping, and the arousal that shoots straight to House’s core is intoxicating and terrifying. “Y’know… I haven’t done anything like this in a while. I didn’t even see just how touch starved I was until this morning.”
“Touch starved? I think you mean horny,” Greg chuckles as James plants a kiss on his cheek.
“And you?”
“Touch starved… But I think the treatment works all the same.”
And I don’t have to pay for this.
Wilson leans far enough over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around House’s body. House just stares, jaw slack. Had Wilson always had such large, strong arms and broad shoulders? Had he always had such beautiful brown eyes? Had he always smelled so good, like teakwood and coffee? Had he always had such plump lips and defined eyebrows? Had he always had such silky, wavy brown hair and such a kissable face? Shit, had House always been so in love with him?
Before he can talk himself out of it, he grips the sleeves of Wilson’s shirt, allows his icy blue eyes to fall shut, and pushes their lips together. Wilson kisses like he lives, soft and kind and thorough. His lips are plump, thick, and a beautiful rosy pink. His lips move in tangent with House’s like soft pillows at the same time that he moves onto the couch with House and pulls the older man into his lap.
“Is this my shirt?” James breaks the kiss to ask whilst tugging at the shirt. He leaves the taste of coffee and chocolate lingering on Greg’s thin, chapped lips. “It looks better on you than it ever has on me.”
“It’s just a t-shirt, you fucking sap,” House laughs and shakes his head, drowning in the warmth that Wilson provides. “Why don’t you get it off me?”
“I’d love to,” Wilson grins and pulls the shirt off of House’s body, to which the diagnostician shivers and looks away. He can’t help but feel self-conscious. Sure, he’s older, he has a difficult job, and his leg doesn’t exactly make staying in shape easy, but it’s rare that he shows his body to people who he hasn’t paid to take care of him like this. Wilson is here of his own free will and could decide that the lack of defined muscle or overabundance of chest hair is too much for him to want, and House’s anxiety is suddenly through the roof until- “You know, I always thought your body was beautiful, but it felt weird to say anything about it given the fact that… Well, I’m sure I don’t have to explain.”
“Mhm,” Greg hums in a dismissive manner, unsure of how else to respond to something so heartfelt and intimate. He almost doesn’t believe the words- at least not until he looks into James’s eyes and feels the hot intensity of chocolate brown pouring into icy blue. The look the younger man gives him is genuine and wanton, vulnerable and needy. All the most delicate, weak parts of James are on full display for Greg to see, and the older man briefly feels guilty for knowing that he never wants to have to let his walls down the same way. “Never would’ve taken you for such a romantic, Wilson.”
“Really? Why not?”
“I think you know,” Greg laughs in a way that’s sardonic enough to make James laugh along with him, the two men cracking up and feeding off of each other’s bittersweet amusement until they’re almost in tears. Finally, it dies down, and the two are left staring at each other with Greg in James’s lap and James staring into his eyes with his sunkissed cheeks dyed bright red. “Holy shit , Wilson.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I just-” House cuts himself off and takes it all in; Wilson’s hands resting on his bare waist, fingers teasing the waistband of his sweats, lips brushing his neck. “I’m not used to this.”
“Used to what?”
House doesn’t know how to answer- at least at first. He can get the words together in his head; he’s not used to the intimacy, to someone looking at him like they want him, to someone loving him, to someone touching him so tenderly, to someone being so close to him for free . But while he can piece the sentence together in his head, it feels like too much to say out loud when they’ve only just gone through all these other revelations today. So, instead of saying the words, he keeps them trapped inside and wildly gestures with his hands instead before answering-
“This,” He hisses. “All this.”
“Then let’s slow down if it’s too much for you,” Wilson suggests with a simple sort of sympathy that makes House want to sink into himself. Over the years, he’s slept with so many women; one night stands, flings, hookers, strippers, girlfriends. So why does the thought of being so close to Wilson make his stomach flip? “I understand. We don’t even have to do anything tonight; we can just go to bed. I know today’s been exhausting for the both of us.”
“I don’t get why you’re being so nice about this.”
Greg stands up and wraps his blanket back around himself with a huff, his cane awkwardly held in one hand.
“Are you scared?” Wilson asks with a sweet, understanding smile that makes House want to puke and jump back into his arms at the same time.
“I never said that,” Greg mumbles under his breath, embarrassed at how easily James is able to see right through him as he slowly trudges to his bedroom- no, their bedroom. James just follows him the whole way there with a chuckle.
“It’s okay to be scared, Greg,” First name . The diagnostician blinks at that and walks into their room, where he tosses the blanket onto the end of the bed and plops down onto the mattress. His cane is leaned up against the nightstand. “I’m scared, too.”
“What do you have to be scared of?” House scoffs and sits up on the bed. Wilson sits right next to him and wraps an arm around his waist.
“Everything. It’s like you said earlier, I’m not much of a romantic. None of my relationships work out, everyone always leaves, and if you leave after this, it’ll hurt ten times worse- because you’re my best friend, too. So… It’s a big risk I’m taking. Honestly, I’m terrified! After that kiss this morning, my heart was beating so hard I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest. I was so anxious about it, it actually felt like I was dying,” James laughs and shakes his head as he undresses. He takes off his jacket and tosses it to the side, followed by him loosening his tie and taking off his socks and shoes. “At first, I was just going to pretend that it didn’t happen, but after seeing how flustered you were over it… I decided that I couldn’t just let the chance go by like I always have with you. I had to make a move, even if there’s a chance it won’t end the way I want it to. Why are you scared?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Greg flinches at his own words, almost expecting it to turn into an argument about his fear of commitment and lack of vulnerability like it has with every other partner he’s had. Instead, no such thing happens. James just nods and continues to get ready for bed, taking off his slacks and shirt, which leaves him in just his boxers.
“Then you don’t have to,” James’s beautiful brown eyes flutter shut before he lays down on his back on the mattress and looks at Greg with a grin. “But it’s been a long day. You ready for bed? I think some, uh, cuddling would cure your condition.”
Wilson grins and holds his strong arms wide open, inviting and ready for House to crawl into.
“My condition, huh? And what condition could you possibly be referring to?” House chuckles, smirks, then quirks a brow.
“You being touch starved?”
“Ah, yes, my condition. I am very direly ill,” Greg feigns a loud cry and lays back onto the bed with a pained expression, his eyes fluttering shut. But then, he opens his eyes again, and they connect with chocolate brown ones that make him realize once again just how smitten he is with his best friend of all people; James fucking Wilson. “And my condition will continue to decline if you don’t help me right now by providing a cure, Jimmy.”
“Ha, yeah, okay. Now, c’mere, you dramatic ass,” Wilson, gentle as ever, wraps his arms around House’s body and pulls the diagnostician up to lay on his chest. “Good night… Sleep well.”
“Night, Jimmy,” Greg mumbles and rests his head on James’s left pec. It’s warm and comfortable, covered in a light layer of hair, soft but firm. The sound of the younger man’s beating heart quickly lulls Greg until he’s teetering the line between being awake and being asleep. Briefly, he thinks about how long it’s been since he’s been held like this and sighs. “You better sleep well, too.”
And, suddenly, Greg doesn’t feel quite as touch starved as he did that morning. With that thought in mind, he smiles and quickly falls into a peaceful slumber, looking forward to James’s morning kisses.