He woke up with a start and stared at the ceiling. He immediately knew where he was, but he had always been a light sleeper. He wasn't ready to look over at Wilson lying next to him. He could hear him snoring lightly into the pillow.

Slowly and quietly getting out of bed, he wondered what Wilson would say in the morning, what he would say in the morning. Would they make eggs and read the paper together? He chuckled to himself at the thought.

As he limped to the bathroom, he started thinking about his father. Part of him wished he could tell him how good it felt to screw a guy. He could see the look on the arrogant bastard's face.

He took a piss and then went to the sink. As he washed his hands, he looked in the mirror. He liked what he saw back. For the first time, well since that one time in college, he felt free. He knew it was a cliché, and he knew he could fall in love with women—he had once before—but this felt pure.

He thought about Cameron. She would have a bigger conniption than his father if she found out about this. What would she think? Would she still want him? A small smile tugged at his lips when he theorized that it might even make her want him more. She'd tried to "fix" him, to make him want her more than Wilson.

Going back into the dark bedroom, he stood there for a moment looking at Wilson. As Wilson turned over, his dark hair brushing across his face, he knew that Cameron would lose out.

He thought back to what started this six hours ago. It had been a long day. Their patient had almost died. Everyone else had already left. Standing in the conference room in the dark, he had an impulse. Maybe it was from the dream he had that morning. He had woken up with one hell of a—well, in any case, it was Wilson's fault.

Following the impulse, he stepped outside to the balcony. He saw Wilson at his desk, pen in his hand. He wondered what his hand felt like. After all of the years he had known him, he had only shaken his hand once—the first time he met him—and it wasn't enough to really know what that hand could do, how it would feel against his skin.

Having no idea what he was going to say, he knocked on the door. He knew he could never tell Wilson what he wanted, what he was feeling. He would laugh, if not punch him in the face and his life as he knew it would change drastically. He resigned himself to small talk when he saw Wilson smile at him and wave him in.

The man had a beautiful smile, but he reminded himself not to stare at his mouth.

Wilson sat down his pen. "How's your patient?"

"Alive." He stood there awkwardly and knew from the wrinkle in Wilson's brow that he was awkward, too. "She woke up from her coma about an hour ago."

Wilson nodded congratulations. "You're diagnosis was right. Again."

This time he nodded. "Yeah."

"So what are you doing tomorrow?" Wilson asked. It was his day off, too.

"I'd like to sleep in." He looked around the office. He had memorized everything in Wilson's office, from the color of highlighter in his pen cup to the Vertigo poster on the wall. He smiled, realizing that Wilson always had reminded him a little of Jimmy Stewart.

Wilson smiled offhandedly and looked at him. "Sounds like you're looking for someone to keep you up tonight." Jokingly, he asked, "Got anyone in mind?"

Not being able to control it, his eyes trained on Wilson's. The room closed in as neither looked away.

Wilson looked away at the window as he said a quiet, "Oh."

"I wasn't planning on telling you," he said. He looked anywhere but at Wilson. If he believed in therapists, he would have a crap load to tell her on Monday.

"When did this happen?" Wilson stood up, came around his desk and sit down on the edge. They were only a few feet away from each other.

He was having a hard time breathing. "I've always, uh, thought you were," he stammered. Screw it, he thought. His hand shot out, grabbing a surprised Wilson's head. Wilson had to hold onto to the other man's waist for fear of losing balance. His fingers wrapped around Wilson's soft brown hair and he pulled him towards him. Their mouths crashed together too hard and both winced in pain.

But neither let go.

They kissed timidly at first. He wanted to know how Wilson would react. To his relief, Wilson made the first move, dipping his tongue into his mouth. Wilson raised his hand to the other's head, pressing him even closer so that he could deepen the kiss.

Wilson pulled back and looked at the other man. "Are you sure about this, Chase?"

Chase smiled and yanked slightly on Wilson's hair. "I think you can call me Robert now."

Without saying another word, both left the hospital and got into Wilson's car. It took all of their will not to touch each other in the car, but both knew that the wait would be deliciously painful.

And they were right. As soon as they got into the apartment, Wilson pushed him against the front door. He took Chase's earlobe in his mouth and tugged hard with his teeth. Chase cried out and Wilson let go of his ear. Chase shoved him against the wall behind them, knocking a picture of Chase's mother off the wall. Chase kissed him again, his tongue teasing Wilson's as it slid in and out of his mouth.

Wilson moaned. "Where's your damn bedroom?"

Chase walked backwards, guiding Wilson as they literally ripped clothes off of each other. Both had been expected all of their lives to be safe, responsible. Neither had realized how much they had needed to be wild, to do something only they knew about.

Once in the bedroom, Chase tripped over a chair, causing him to limp over to the bed. Wilson pushed him onto the bed, leaned over and took off Chase's pants. Chase helped him with his buckle and soon both were naked.

Wilson was bending over on top of Chase when he stopped himself. Bracing himself with his arms on either side of Chase, his deep brown eyes stared into Chase's. "What is this?"

Chase in all of his innocence, brushed a strand of golden hair from his face and panting, said, "It's more than a fuck."

Wilson smiled and ducked his head for a quick kiss before he turned Chase around.

There was no top and bottom, dominate and subservient in this relationship. Wilson would take Chase first, but without saying anything, they knew Chase would take him after.

Chase stood there now in the dark, watching Wilson sleep. He had always been attracted to him, but he didn't know how much until that day House had hit him. Wilson had been there. For him. No one else had done that. Not once in his life. Not for him.

Chase got back into bed and quickly fell asleep.

He knew Wilson would be there in the morning.

TBC