Disclaimer: Don't own it. Wish I did.

One of Those Nights

It was one of those nights again.

He'd rented crappy movies just so he'd have an excuse to invite himself over. Of course, the fact that he promised to bring the food and beer helped, too.

To be honest, Wilson wasn't sure what movie was currently on the screen. He was too busy sneaking glances at House out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have that stubble rubbing enticingly against his face as that poisoned tongue and those evil lips invaded his senses.

"What, duck sauce on my face?"

"I…er…no. Why would you think that?"

"Because you've been staring at me all night."

"No, I'm just a bit distracted is all. Really."

House eyed him furtively for a moment, smirked and mumbled "liar," before turning back to the television and seemingly getting caught up in the movie again. Wilson softly exhaled a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding and glanced down at the floor, trying to get the delightful images of himself beneath House from his head.

Wait…himself beneath House? How the hell did he come up with that idea?! Kissing his best friend was one thing; he could even blame the beer if he tried hard enough. But sex…how was he going to explain that one?

"All right, Jimmy. You're ears are starting to smoke. Spill; and don't bother lying this time. You're too obvious."

"I…it's just…ah, House…"

"Really, is that so? Well, I'm hurt you kept the good news from me so long, Jimmy. What kind of friend are you anyway. You need to…"

House hadn't quite finished his tirade yet, but that didn't really matter. How could it when Wilson had suddenly slid very much into House's bubble and now had those oh so soft, I-make-the-nurses-have-wet-dreams lips pressed to his. House was talking about something just a moment ago. He just couldn't seem to remember what it was. Oh, well. He was sure this was much more enjoyable than talking about whatever, anyway.

Wilson was pulling away for air slowly, trying to look everywhere but House as if he'd surprised even himself with that one. Escape plans and excuses were popping into his mind a mile a minute. Christ, House was going to kill him. Then there was a hand on the back of his neck pulling him down, and lips locked to his, and a wonderfully talented tongue sliding into his mouth.

What was he worried about again?

When they separated this time, Wilson tucked himself into House's side and laid his head on his shoulder. Still half expecting the other shoe to drop, he let out a relieved sigh when House's arm snaked around him.

"When were you going to tell me, Jimmy?"

"Hmm…? Wait, are you saying you were expecting this," Wilson lifted his head to gaze at House with an adorable shocked expression on his face. House thought it was adorable anyway, and since House thought so, then that's just how it was.

"Of course I knew, Jimmy. Like I said, you're way too obvious."

"How long have you known?!"

"Oh, a while now. I was making bets with myself to see how long it would take you to work up the nerve to tell me yourself. You beat the latest set of odds. Good job, Jimbo!"

He should have been mad or upset or…something, but House was running his fingers through his hair now, and Wilson was pretty sure he didn't want that to stop so he kept his mouth shut.

House was watching him intently; he could feel those laser blue eyes burning into his skin. He sat up slowly, whimpering a bit when House's hand left his hair.

"What are you expecting from this, Jimmy?"

A small sigh and a bit of lip chewing from Wilson.

"I want…us. I want us to give this a try. Half the hospital already thinks we're together. Why shouldn't we be?"

"M'k. Works for me. However, if you cheat on me, I get the house and the car," House replied with a devilish grin.

"Are you serious?"

"About the house and car?"

A mild glare from Wilson.

"Oh, right. Yea, I'm serious. Aren't you, Jimmy?"

"Yea, Greg, I'm serious."

And with that and a soft smile, Wilson had his head back on House's shoulder and his eyes closed. The hand was stroking his hair again and he felt better than he had in ages. He hoped this would work. He needed it to work, but at least for the moment, he could put off his worries; because to James Wilson, there was no place better than where he was right now in Gregory House's arms.

Finis

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