Title Glass Walls
Rating PG-13
Pairing House/Wilson (Established)
Word Count 2,343
Spoilers None
Summary House gets into one of his moods when he finds an interesting case. Wilson copes.
A/N Writing established House/Wilson is even harder than I thought it would be. Wow. There's really not a lot to go on.



As always, Wilson woke up well before House. He took a few minutes to lazily watch the rise and fall of House's chest before getting up and starting his morning routine – and no matter what House said, it was not too long, damnit. Already naked, he got into the shower.

By the time he got around to the “making breakfast” part of the routine, Wilson could hear House beginning to stir. He knew this part well – House would try to resist the inevitable, then start swearing under his breath as he searched for his Vicodin, and fifteen minutes or so later, he would finally drag himself out of the bedroom and start making himself semi-decent for the rest of the world to see.

House entered the kitchen dressed in, from what Wilson could tell, only, a robe, and the thought brought a smile to Wilson's lips. “Morning,” he said, to which House just nodded in reply. Wilson leaned over a bit to give a quick, chaste kiss.

Pausing for a moment before pulling back, Wilson went in for a second, deeper kiss.

He couldn't help it; the relationship was still very new, and Wilson always had the urge to touch House whenever they were simply in the same room – which, admittedly, made things a bit awkward at work, as no one knew about them, and Wilson intended to keep it that way. At least for now.

“Why can't you get up at a decent hour?” Wilson asked after they broke the kiss. He went back to packing his breakfast to eat later.

“Aw, the oncologist wants to get laid in the morning,” House said. “Brings a whole new meaning to 'early bird catches the worm,' though.”

“It's always about sex with you,” Wilson said with mock indignation, shaking his head. “It would be nice to actually, say, have breakfast together once in a while, or get into work at the same time.”

“Why? So we can walk in separately so no one gets suspicious?”

Wilson tugged at his sleeve nervously; House had a way of stating basic facts and making it sound like some crime punishable by death had been committed.

“I have to go,” Wilson finally said. “It's this new concept called 'getting into work on time.'” Wilson went into the living room to pick up his briefcase, and he paused at the door for a moment, feeling as though he should say something more than just “see you later,” but a goodbye kiss would definitely be out of place.

Wilson finally settled on the truth. “I love you,” he said cautiously.

“Yeah,” House replied.

~

While staring down a particularly formidable pile of paperwork, Wilson noticed House had walked out onto the balcony, a cup of coffee in his hand. Wilson decided to take a break from looking busy for a minute, and went outside.

He leaned against the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder with House; Wilson glanced over into the Diagnostics conference room to check if there were any fellows about that might be observing. Satisfied to find the room empty, he leaned more heavily against House from over the divider.

“Looking for a case,” House explained. “One that doesn't suck.”

“Hm.”

They stayed like that for a while, even after House finished his coffee.

~

Wilson stretched his hand, trying to get the cramps out; sometimes he wondered why they still bothered with pen and paper now that computers could be used for nearly everything. He rubbed his wrist and glanced at his watch.

“Why, Jimmy!” House exclaimed as he came into Wilson's office. “I'm not sure what that gesture means, but I'm pretty sure it's obscene.”

“You just wish it was obscene,” Wilson said with an eye roll. He shook his hand out. “Found a case?”

House nodded. “Open-and-close. It was lupus, for once.”

“Amazing. Lunch?”

“Feed me, Seymour.”

Wilson gestured towards the door. “Ladies first, Audrey.”

“Ha.” House rose from his seat and headed for the door. Wilson stopped House, getting the sudden urge to touch him, as though he needed to remind himself that, yes, House belonged to him. As though he could read Wilson's intentions by just looking at him, House said, “What happened to 'no fooling around at work'?”

“One kiss is not 'fooling around,'” Wilson said, already helping himself to House's lips.

~

Wilson locked up his office and headed to House's; there was nothing odd about them leaving together, he told himself nearly every day. They did it all the time as just friends. He found House sitting in the dimly-lit office, trying to balance his cane on the back of his right hand.

It was the kind of thing he only did while thinking about a case. Wilson hoped he was on the cusp of coming up with the solution, or at least that all that could be done tonight were tests to be run by House's fellows. He tried not to get his hopes up, since House appeared very focused.

Once Wilson sat down, House seemed to finally notice he was in the room. He stopped playing with the cane and brought it to his side, as per its intended use, but didn't sit down. Yeah, Wilson thought, too much nervous energy to even sit down. “Found a more interesting case?” Wilson asked.

“Turned out the lupus wasn't lupus. Should have seen that one coming.”

“Ah,” Wilson said with a nod. “So you'll be a while? I can wait.”

House thumped his cane against the carpeting, looking thoughtful again. When he stopped, House said, “You should go.”

Looked like “a while” was going to be a long while. Disappointing. He would definitely have to eat dinner alone, at least. Wilson knew, objectively, that it only felt like a tragedy because he had grown used to spending nights with House. But that didn't stop it from feeling like a tragedy. “Alright,” Wilson said with another nod.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering what he should do now. Anything too intimate was out of the question, as Wilson's mind had a running commentary of “glass walls glass walls glass walls” every time he walked into this office. But he wanted to touch House one more time before going, to make sure this was real and he wouldn't reject the contact. Anything would do, and plenty of it innocent to onlookers.

Wilson got up from the chair. He knew he was a coward, but he didn't want House to know just how deep that cowardice ran. “Night, House,” Wilson said casually. Couldn't give too much away.

~

In the morning, Wilson found House slumped over on the couch. He shook his head, knowing House's leg would start acting up once he woke up, and wondered what time he got in. He saw that the TV was on, so House must have stayed in the living room while watching something rather than doing so to keep from waking Wilson up. Wilson was fairly sure House was nearly physically incapable of being that considerate.

Although it was still early by House's standards, Wilson decided to wake him up – he felt uncomfortable just watching House sleep in that position. He shook him by the shoulder; Wilson didn't know why he always started gently when he knew House was a hard sleeper when he did finally manage to drift off. “House!”

If pressed, Wilson would admit that seeing House with that shocked and confused just-woke-up look caused some glee – yes, “glee.” Probably because it was hard to get the expression from House at any other time during the day without doing something extreme like, oh, sawing his cane in half.

When House groaned in displeasure, Wilson began to look around for the Vicodin. He found them in the pocket of House's jacket; just as House let out a hiss, Wilson shook the prescription bottle in front of him and House snatched it away. “Good morning, sunshine,” Wilson said.

House swallowed two pills. “Definitely wasn't lupus.”

“Yeah, good to see you, too.” Wilson's hands went right to his hips, despite House having mocked him several times already for acting like a frustrated housewife. He let out a sigh; if House wanted to talk medicine, they were going to talk medicine. “Solved the case?”

“Nope.” House recapped the Vicodin bottle and waited for the effects of the narcotic to kick in.

“Shower?” Wilson suggested.

“Later.” Wilson rolled his eyes, surprised at House's inability to grasp subtleties at times. He went back to his morning routine and left for work before House, as usual.

~

From the corner of his eye, Wilson could see House climbing over the balcony divide. When House entered with a file in his hand, Wilson knew it was purely business, unfortunately. “Consult,” House declared, tossing the file onto Wilson's desk.

“It's never cancer,” Wilson said with a sigh and opened the file.

“It's never your mom.”

“How will I ever recover from that witty comeback?” Wilson looked at the x-rays inside; as he had guessed, it was definitely not cancer. Wilson shook his head and returned the file to a stumped-looking House.

“Well, I'm out of ideas. Guess my patient's gonna die.”

“You want me to hold your hand while you sob silently into my shoulder?”

“I think I'll pass,” House replied. He left through the balcony door, which Wilson, to this day, couldn't understand why House insisted using.

~

“What are you doing here?” House demanded as soon as Wilson set foot in his office. It was late, and for some reason, House sat in near darkness. Wilson glanced over at the conference room and could see Foreman and Cameron sitting at the table.

“You have such a way with words,” Wilson said, making himself comfortable in the chair across from House. “Another late night?”

“Is that what it looks like?”

“You know, an occasional simple 'yes' or 'no' won't take away from your Dr. Mean Scary persona.”

“But this way annoys you, and that's always a bonus.”

“Of course.” After a few moments, Wilson realized House was staring at him. “What?”

“Why are you still here?”

“As opposed to going home?”

“Yeah, that was kind of implied.”

Wilson shrugged. “Considering my main motivation for going home is right here, I thought it was an obvious decision.”

“Someone's giving out free sex? Is it Cameron?” House may be an expert at reflexively deflecting sentimental moments, but Wilson saw the faint half-smile he made before launching into sarcasm.

“Patients sue you all the time, and yet you've never had an employee take you to court. Fascinating.”

“She started it.” House saw Chase coming down the hallway; he got up and declared he was off to save the dead. Wilson decided to stick around for a while, in case House had an “aha!” moment anytime soon, and they could get home at the same time. He found something to read by the sole source of light in the room, the table lamp, to keep him occupied, and occasionally looked over at the conference room.

After a while, Wilson's stomach growled, and he started thinking about dinner. He didn't feel up to cooking, and House seemed to have never touched his oven, so the only options left were frozen food, take-out, or starvation. None of them sounded terribly appetizing.

“Wilson!” He jolted awake, almost knocking a few things off the desk and falling off the chair. Once he regained balance, he looked up at the form that he assumed was House, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. “You're still here?”

“That, or I have a twin I don't know about.”

“You should get some sleep – you're not funny and you're drooling all over my desk,” House said. Wilson noted there was a backhanded compliment somewhere in there; House was losing his touch. “Go home. I'm not going to be out of here any time soon.”

There was no point in arguing with him; Wilson got up, holding onto House's arm until the drowsiness drained out of him. “What time is it?”

“Isn't that why you wear that fancy watch?” House replied, eliciting an eye roll from Wilson. “It's almost one.”

Wilson began to lean forward, but rethought that idea when he saw Foreman enter the previously empty conference room. He really hated those glass walls. “Guess I should go, then.”

House gave him a nod as he walked out the door.

~

After an unsatisfying meal before some equally unsatisfying television (it just wasn't worth sitting through without House mocking everyone and everything), Wilson reluctantly got into bed, which, of course, smelled like House. He considered staying up a little longer, just in case...

No, Wilson decided. He needed his rest, for the sake of his patients. He rolled over and buried his face into House's pillow.

The next morning, he woke up still alone in the bed and in the apartment.

~

When Wilson arrived at the hospital, he was unsurprised to find House packing up in his office; the fellows seemed to have already vacated Diagnostics. As Wilson entered, House rattled off a long name of what Wilson could only assume was an obscure disease.

“That's 'good morning' in which language?” Wilson placed his briefcase on a chair and stood by House's desk. He couldn't help letting out a small sigh. “Going home?”

House nodded. “I tend to get a little cranky when I go without sleep for twenty-four hours.”

“Light weight.”

House swung his backpack over a shoulder and began on his way out before Wilson touched his arm. He looked down at Wilson's hand resting the blue fabric of his sleeve and asked, “Are you going to 'almost-molest' me again?”

“Yeah.” Wilson smiled slightly and slowly rubbed House's arm. Damn the glass walls; so he couldn't forget they were there, but at least he was making an effort. “Full-on molestation is saved for tonight.”

“You have no sense of adventure.”

“I'm with you. That's enough to last a few lifetimes.”