Archive of Our Own

Nurse Brenda stood behind the nurse’s station as House arrived fifteen minutes late for clinic duty. As a matter of course, Wilson walked up to the station to sign out of clinic duty fifteen minutes past his scheduled time.
 
"Have you guys heard? Radiology's got a new betting pool about you," Brenda said casually.
 
House and Wilson’s eyes locked for a moment, and then both looked at her.
 
"No, but my fellows are all fired if there is one and they haven't told me," House said.
 
"So what's this one about then?" Wilson asked, his voice light.
 
"This one is the House-and-Wilson-no-way-just-did-it-the once-they-are-so-still-fucking-so-when's-someone-gonna-find-proof betting pool," Brenda said smoothly.
 
House and Wilson in unison let out a loud sigh.
 
"That's a terrible name, not nearly as catchy as the last one," Wilson deadpanned. He signed the bottom of the form he was completing, closed the file, and said, "It's not gonna get anything close to as many bets."
 
"Oh, I don't know. A lot of people came straight out of the first pool and bounced right into this one," Brenda informed them. "Not me though, not yet. Any chance of a heads up, guys?"
 
"Stick your money in the never column,” House said witheringly. He picked up the patient file on the top of the pile, grasping it with difficulty with his burned hand, and walked off towards the waiting area.
 
***
 
Back at his desk, Wilson was looking through his calendar for a free slot to schedule an appointment with a patient, when he noticed the following Friday afternoon had been blocked out as leave time from the hospital.  He frowned. He hadn't booked that.
 
Wilson found a slot for his patient, booked them in, and opened up House's calendar. Somehow he wasn't surprised to find that House had the same afternoon off. 
 
He looked at the date; Friday was October 19th. He started to have an inkling of an idea.
 
At the end of the day, Wilson went to House’s office, where House sat behind his desk with his legs stretched out on the top of his desk. Wilson sat down opposite House's desk, leaned back in the chair and folded his hands behind his head.
 
"So I seem to be on vacation next Friday afternoon," Wilson said in a casual tone.
 
"Ah yes, I cleared that with Cuddy for you," House said, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
 
"And did you actually give any reason?" Wilson inquired, straight-faced.
 
"Of course," said House, as if the reason was obvious. "I said that despite the fact that we usually fail to remember public holidays, birthdays or any other significant dates, we were recently made aware that Saturday is the twentieth anniversary of when we first fucked. And to mark that, we're spending the weekend fucking each other senseless in a swanky hotel in New York. So we need Friday afternoon off to drive up there."
 
A smile creased the corner of Wilson's mouth. "That's what you told Cuddy?"
 
"That's right."
 
"No, you didn't."
 
"No, I didn't," admitted House. "I told her we were going to a monster truck rally."
 
"House, you're not telling me you passed up a monster truck rally for a romantic weekend in a hotel."
 
"Of course not," House said indignantly. "I checked statewide and there's no monster trucks or decent ball games or gigs or films or anything worth doing on Saturday. Cuddy's not going to know that. And who said anything about romantic? Dirty weekend is how I'd describe it."
 
"Ah, well I'm very flattered that's how you want to spend the weekend, when there's so little else on," Wilson said in a solemn tone, and stood up to leave.
 
"I wouldn't be too flattered; I had to give a credit card when I booked, so I gave yours," House said brightly.
 
Wilson groaned, shook his head and left. But the smile didn't leave his eyes. House would deny, even under torture, that this was a big romantic gesture. That didn't matter because Wilson knew it was, and House knew that he knew. New York was where they'd met all those years ago. And it was also a House-style apology; House’s way of saying sorry I nearly killed myself. Again.
 
***
 
A couple of days later, House limped into Wilson's office and dropped into the chair facing Wilson. Wilson, buried in paperwork, barely glanced up.
 
"So this fancy New York restaurant just rang me," House said.
 
Wilson looked up.
 
House carried on, "They wanted to check if my reservation for Saturday night was for eight or eight-thirty, ‘very sorry to bother you Dr. House, our records aren't clear.’"
 
"So what did you say?" Wilson asked innocently.
 
"I said they must have the wrong number, I didn't make any booking."
 
"No, you didn't."
 
"No, I didn't," House agreed. "I said eight-thirty sounded about right." He glared at Wilson. "I googled them afterwards. You have to wear a jacket and tie to get in that place."
 
"Only to get through the door," Wilson said, with a pacifying air. "I'm sure you can take them off once you're in."
 
"And as they have my name, I guess you gave my credit card when you made the booking."
 
Wilson shrugged. "If I got the hotel, you're still getting the best deal here."
 
"It was my idea!" House said indignantly, and he stood up to leave. He didn't let up in his glare, but he leaned across the desk and flicked Wilson lightly on the arm. Wilson knew House was pleased.
 
***
 
The weekend did not get off to a good start. In fact, it could hardly have been worse.
 
Friday turned out to be a bad leg day for House. His thigh muscles started to spasm in the morning, and although he would have denied it with ferocity had Wilson dared ask, Wilson could see House was in a lot of pain.
 
Aware that the car journey to New York would make it worse, and conscious of House’s most recent near-death experience, Wilson even briefly considered suggesting they didn't go, but realized House would never agree. The best thing was to try and ride it out. Wilson made sure he at least did all the driving.
 
By the time they arrived at the hotel House was grey-faced and sweating, and had popped at least twice as many Vicodin as Wilson would have considered safe. And those were only the pills House had let him see. Wilson bit his lip each time and didn't say anything; now was not the time. They got to their hotel suite and House muttered something about lying down for a bit. Wilson just nodded, and let House crash.
 
It wasn't difficult for Wilson to give House some space, because their penthouse suite on the fiftieth floor was the largest and most luxurious set of hotel rooms that Wilson had ever been in. He reflected wryly on the contrast with his own small hotel room, which he had lived in so long. This was an alternative universe of a hotel room. He wandered through the rooms, admiring the masses of space, the quality of the furniture and the size of the wall-mounted plasma TV screen.
 
Wilson flipped through the chunky leather bound list of facilities available and found the hotel would even provide a Playstation and games, on request. He phoned down and had one delivered. It kept him happily occupied for the next hour.
 
The evening drew on and as House appeared to be sleeping soundly in the bedroom, Wilson decided not to wake him and instead pulled a chair over to the window, which was floor to ceiling glass over the whole of one side of the room. Wilson sat looking out of the large window for a while, into the city at night. There were many darkened windows, and many lit ones; some with blinds pulled down, some with curtains pulled shut, but most just open to show a peek of office, hotel room or apartment behind.
 
Eventually Wilson nodded off, and woke at the noise of running water in the background. It sounded like House was having a bath. It seemed like too much effort to get up, so Wilson drifted off again, and only woke properly half an hour later when a pair of hands landed on his shoulders, followed by a nose nuzzling the top of his head.  
 
"Hey, House," Wilson said sleepily.
 
"Been watching people at their windows?" House said in an undertone, moving to nuzzle Wilson's neck. He was wearing a hotel white fluffy bathrobe.
 
"You can't really see people unless they're right up against the glass," Wilson said, with a yawn. "It's just nice... being so high up... watching the lights... so peaceful."
 
He leaned back towards House, pushing the side of his head against House's face. 
 
House put his chin on Wilson's shoulder and looked out at the New York skyline. "Up against the glass, eh? Seen anyone doing anything... interesting?"
 
House's hands snaked down Wilson's chest and suddenly Wilson was wide-awake. House was, obviously, feeling better.
 
"It's after midnight," House stated. "Time to celebrate."
 
"Waiting for the anniversary? House, you've become a hopeless romantic in your old age," Wilson teased, and thought (but didn’t say), You’ll be saying ‘I love you’ next… no wait, you already did that.

 
"I want to fuck you up against the glass. Is that romantic enough for you?" House challenged.
 
Wilson turned his head and they kissed deeply.
 
Wilson stood up and looked out at the night sky. Up against the glass. He wasn't quite sure how this was going to work; House didn't do standing positions well, for the most part. And he wasn’t doing much with that burned left hand, either. House grabbed the back of the armchair, which he was already leaning on,  pulling it towards the window. Resting part of his weight sideways onto the arm, House put his other hand onto Wilson's chest and pushed him back against the glass.
 
Wilson leaned back against the window, and House let go of the chair and pressed the full length of his body up against Wilson’s body, pushing his lips, his chest, his groin, up against Wilson's lips, chest, groin. Feeling House's weight bearing down on him, Wilson found he had heightened awareness that behind him was a window, not a wall; just a sheet of glass holding him up, stopping him plunging down fifty stories onto a New York street. 
 
He reached out, and untied House's bathrobe. House was naked underneath, and Wilson reached in and grasped House's cock, already hard, and gave it a couple of swift tugs, House let out a strangled noise and reached to yank at Wilson's shirt buttons.
 
Wilson swiftly stripped off his own clothes. House, leaning with one shoulder against the window, extracted a condom and lube from the pocket of his bathrobe, then pushed the robe off his shoulders, and said, gruffly, "Turn around."
 
Wilson turned and was momentarily startled by the sight of the city below. He suddenly felt very naked indeed. Then House gave him a small push forward, and Wilson's forehead pressed against the window. He stared out and could see lights, other windows, movement behind them, all in a neon blur. He could feel House's breath on his neck and House's cock hard up against his ass, then pushing up inside, House leaning with most of his weight. Wilson put his own palms up against the glass. He arched his back and pressed back with his ass; House grunted, and put his right hand round to rest on top of Wilson's right hand. Wilson felt a tingling sensation at the cold glass under his palms and House's fingertips pressing against his knuckles. 
 
Wilson shut his eyes, then opened them, feeling his eyelashes bat against the glass. He looked out, and down, peering downwards as far as he could see; a haze of sidewalk, road, streetlights, cars, cabs, people; umbrellas - rain; and for a second felt he was falling, plummeting helplessly, and that House was falling with him. Wilson's body jerked involuntarily; House felt the movement, felt the moment, and grasped Wilson's arm, murmuring, "Got you." 
 
Wilson pushed his head backwards, breathing heavily now, caught between the fogged lights dazzling in the dark night in front of him, and House's body, flesh, real, earthy, sweaty, panting and grinding behind him, pinning him to the glass.
 
House's body convulsed as he came, then House collapsed into a sitting position on the arm of the chair. Wilson shifted position, putting one arm up against the glass. House reached out and clasped Wilson's cock in his fist; Wilson gasped and his balance teetered as House jacked him off swiftly with a couple of expert hand movements. Wilson then dropped into the chair beside House, and the two of them just stayed still for a few moments, breathing, and looking out into the night.
 
***
 
Some time later, Wilson awoke and woozily stumbled off out of bed and off to the bathroom. House was sound asleep and snoring slightly in the bed.  On his way back to the bedroom, Wilson walked past the large table in the living room of their suite, and stopped dead.  There was a small square blue box sitting in the middle of the table, illuminated by moonlight from the window.
 

How did he know?, Wilson thought as he stared at the box. 
 
He went over, and opened it, and it was a ring, a gold ring. How the hell did he know? Wilson took the ring out, and peered inside, read the inscription beautifully engraved there, and was dumbstruck.
 
He hesitated over trying the ring on, rejecting his left hand, as he had had far too many different wedding rings on there over the years. Eventually he put it on the middle finger of his right hand. It was a near perfect fit. Damn it, House.
 
Wilson padded softly into the bedroom, opened his suitcase and put the blue box inside. He then felt around carefully inside the case, and took out another small box - very similar in size and shape, but a burgundy color. He took the burgundy box back into the living room and placed it onto the table where the blue box had been.  Then he headed back to bed, laid down next to the still snoring House, and fell asleep within a few minutes.
 
***
 
An hour or so later, Wilson was woken by puppies licking his face.  As consciousness gradually returned, he realized it wasn't puppies after all, but House's tongue dropping wet kisses across his forehead, nose, cheeks and chin.
 
House, seeing him wake up, placed his right hand in the centre of Wilson's chest, and Wilson felt a cold metal band on one of House's fingers; House had discovered his own present.
 
"How the fuck did you know?" House hissed, and Wilson felt a quiet joy inside him at the confirmation that House hadn't known, that they'd come to the same idea independently.
 
"How the fuck did you know?" Wilson replied, giving House the same knowledge. He placed his own right hand in the middle of House's chest, letting House feel the band on his finger.
 
House dropped a kiss on his mouth in reply. They lay next to each other for a long time, gently necking, nibbling, caressing, simply delighting in one another's bodies, in being together.
 
***
 
The following morning they got up late, and spent a lazy day hanging around their suite, watching some TV, playing some Playstation, sending out for room service and generally being idle in a most enjoyable way.  Come the evening, they got dressed, and went out for the posh restaurant meal, which Wilson had booked the reservation. House submitted to wearing a jacket and tie without as much complaining as Wilson had expected, and actually kept the tie on for a while after they sat down at their table.
 
"You know," House said during dessert (cheesecake for Wilson and a sundae for House), "We show up at work on Monday with matching rings, people are gonna talk."
 
"They don't match," Wilson protested. They compared fingers. House's ring was wider, as befitted his larger hand.  Also the inscriptions inside were different, not that that could be seen, of course.  House's ring read Tuesday October 20th, 1987; Wilson's ring, in a different font, read more cryptically 19 years, 10 months & 3 days.

 
"Close enough," said House.
 
"People don't notice stuff like rings," Wilson offered his opinion.
 
House snorted. "You've got to be kidding me.  Your entire department used to gauge the state of your marriage by whether you were wearing your wedding ring or not."
 
"Really?" Wilson grimaced.
 
"Absolutely." House licked his spoon.  "So - do we care?"
 
Wilson leaned across and dipped his own spoon in House's sundae. "Let's play this one by ear. Maybe nobody will notice."
 
"Humph," said House skeptically, but Wilson offered House a forkful of cheesecake, and House let it go.
 
***
 
Monday morning, House and Wilson arrived at work together, at a reasonable time; Wilson had an early appointment and House had wanted to get a lift in.  As they passed by the clinic, Wilson stopped at the nurse's station to pick up some letters. House continued walking but bumped into Cuddy a few paces later.
 
"Morning, Dr. House," she said, and looked at him closely. "Good weekend? You're bright and early today."
 
"Can't wait to start treating all these sick people," House said cheerily. 
 
Wilson joined them, and Cuddy looked at him closely too. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. "You're wearing matching rings!"
 
House looked at Wilson with an expression that said, “We are so busted.”
 
Wilson glared at House, and said to Cuddy, "They don't match!"
 
"Like hell they don't." Cuddy grabbed Wilson's hand, as House's was clutching his cane, and peered at the ring. "I knew something was up this weekend! I checked, there were no monster trucks anywhere near here."
 
Wilson glowered at House again.
 
"Secret friendship club rings?" House offered hopefully.
 
"No way. I'm thinking engagement, civil ceremony -" Cuddy began.
 
"They're anniversary presents," Wilson said hastily, before Cuddy could take that line of thought any further.
 
"Anniversary presents and a dirty weekend away," said Cuddy with satisfaction. "I think that's enough for me to claim on the new Radiology pool. Thanks, guys!" She dropped Wilson's hand and strode quickly away, her high heels clacking on the floor.
 
Wilson turned his full glare on House.
 
"What?" House protested.
 
"You made her suspicious about the weekend deliberately so she'd join the pool and collect."
 
"Oh, Mr. Paranoid or what." House rolled his eyes. "Let's face it, Wilson, this was gonna happen sooner or later anyway." And he leaned towards Wilson and kissed him hard on the mouth.
 
In his peripheral vision Wilson could see people gawping. His first thought was “Why does this sort of thing always have to happen in the clinic?” followed closely by “fuck it,” and he kissed House back.
 
Then they pulled apart, bumped shoulders and walked on towards the elevator.
 
END