House pulled his robe tighter around his shoulders, sipping from the mug of warm tea. It was an Earl Grey kind of day, the air crisp and fresh in the light of new morning. Behind him, he heard Wilson's heavy footfalls.

He turned and smiled, offering him his mug. "G'morning, sunshine. You're up surprisingly early. Tea?"

"Please," Wilson grumbled. He was clad only in boxers, the Beatles shirt from the previous night, and a single sock, but standing on House's front stoop in his underwear didn't seem to faze him much. "I actually… feel pretty okay, considering just how drunk I really was."

"Wait until later. That's when it'll really hit you. Hangovers like to lull you into a false sense of security, then get you down and kick you where it hurts," House cautioned.

"This is why lightweights like me shouldn't drink." He sipped and sighed, handing the mug back to the older man. "Thanks, I needed that."

There was a pause. Cars drifted by, headed for the early shifts. It was only six in the morning.

"What did I do?" Wilson finally asked. It was the million dollar question, naturally.

"You confessed," House answered softly.

"C-Confessed…?"

"Yes. It was all very dramatic and poetic and such. You got gay cooties all over me," House joked. Wilson huffed.

"Can you please take this a little more seriously? For once in your life, take it seriously. It won't kill you," he snapped. His arms folded over his broad chest. "House, I don't know what drugs you've been taking, but I confessed my love for you. That's kind of a big deal and you're acting quite nonchalant and almost mocking about the whole thing. I don't need to be mocked." He chuckled humourlessly. "You know what? Forget it. Forget I said anything. I think I'll just go home and leave you be."

He turned and strode purposefully towards the bedroom to get changed when House called from the doorway.

"I'm sorry."

Wilson stopped. Turned. Waited.

"You're right, James. I am sorry." House walked in, shutting the door behind him and setting his mug on the coffee table, his gaze never leaving his best friend's. He seemed at a loss for what to say. "You were drunk. I thought… I don't know what I thought. But I thought something. I thought wrong. I'm sorry."

His words hung in the air, and at last, Wilson gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry too. For snapping at you like that. It was uncalled for. And, sorry for ruining our friendship," he groaned, eyes downcast.

"Don't say that," House breathed, taking a few tentative steps towards Wilson, "don't say that. You haven't ruined anything."

He closed the distance between them entirely. The oncologist looked nervous and vulnerable, hands shaking, staring at the floor in embarrassment. His thick brown hair was tousled and messy, clothes rumpled, breathing carefully measured… Slowly he lifted his gaze to meet his friend's, a mere inch or two between them.

"You haven't ruined anything," House said.

His cane fell to the floor with a clatter as he pulled Wilson to him, crushing their lips together in some spontaneous fervency. Wilson was more than a little stunned, but as House's tongue nervously traced his bottom lip, he gave in completely.

It was just as excellent as he'd imagined it. Better, even. He slipped his hands between them and untied the knot on the robe, the only thing keeping him from feeling bare skin. House let his robe slip from his shoulders and down, where it lay forgotten as Wilson let his fingertips roam, eliciting shivers from his unlikely partner.

House growled, tearing the shirt from the other man's torso and throwing it unceremoniously to the ground, one hand around Wilson's waist while the other snaked down, driving their hips together. Wilson moaned as the diagnostician scraped his teeth across the soft flesh of the younger man's neck, fingers dipping below the elastic waistband of his boxers to grab a goodly fistful of Wilson's ass.

Wilson, pupils blown, pulled away, shoving his companion down onto the couch and climbing on, recapturing his lips and raking his hands through the silver hair. House eagerly rose to meet Wilson's movements, sliding the younger's boxers down to caress skin.

"G-Greg, I…" Wilson panted, "I-I've never… I mean I'm not-"

"If you want to stop, tell me. We'll stop immediately. You okay?" House said softly, thumb brushing across his friend's cheek.

"Yeah. More than okay."

"Good," House grunted, grinding their bodies together and catching the other off guard.

Wilson groaned as House's hand slipped between them, wrapping his slender fingers around Wilson's shaft and stroking gently. He responded quite enthusiastically, increasing his pace until he couldn't take it anymore, thrusting with wild abandon into his best friend's grip.

"Oh fuck… Oh fucking fuck…"

He collapsed into a sticky heap on House's chest, breathing hard. It was better than any fantasy he'd ever come up with. Beneath him, House laughed, planting gentle kisses across Wilson's moist skin.

"You still okay?"

"More than more than okay," Wilson breathed, pulling his boxers back up. House snickered.

Moments passed. Wilson could feel the butterflies knocking around as he finally made up his mind. He held House's crystal blue gaze as he edged lower and lower, trembling fingers fumbling with the drawstring on House's pajama bottoms.

"James, you don't have t-"

"I know. But I want to," he interjected, tongue swiping his lips as he gently slid the pants down.

His stomach did backflips, the bottoms slipping down over House's narrow hips, then past a smattering of hair, and finally down to his knees.

"Oh jesus… Ohhh jesus," Wilson muttered.

It just kind of… lay there. It looked relatively similar to his own, so it was nothing new, but even so… It was weirder somehow. Alien. He stared at it. House waited uncertainly.

"You don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with," he said. "I'm not going to be upset if you want to st- holy shit."

While he had never given a man head before, he had watched enough porn to know what giving head was supposed to look like. Hesitantly, he grasped House's firm manhood and slowly stroked downwards, his mouth following close behind.

It was easier than he'd expected it to be. He'd always wondered what secret there was behind the whole process, but it was about as secretive as rain being wet. It really was as easy as putting it in your mouth and bobbing your head. House let out a husky moan, burying his hands in Wilson's hair.

"Oh god…"

Wilson pulled away briefly, blushing. "Say my name…?"

House grinned. "James… please don't stop."

The way he breathed his name sent shivers up Wilson's spine. The more aggressive he became, the louder House's groans became in turn. The older man fought to keep still, but it proved to be quite the challenge; Wilson just looked so damn cute sucking his cock like that.

"J-James… Fuck…" he growled, then with a final thrust, arched into Wilson's eager mouth.

Wilson coughed and choked, spit and cum dripping down his chin. House sat up, worried.

"Oh god, are you okay?" he asked, wiping some of the fluid from his partner's face. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to get carried away like that."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Wilson reassured with a grin. "Besides. You looked pretty fuckin' hot."

House snickered. "So, want a shower?"

"Only if we have shower sex," Wilson said with a flirty grin.

House chuckled, brushing a few stray chestnut locks out of Wilson's eyes and nodding.

"Deal."