Title: Doors
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Amber kicks Wilson out and he ends up at House's. What happens when truths are revealed?
Spoilers: Spoilers for Season 4 after Amber began dating Wilson
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing
Author's Notes: I got this idea while I was watching the end of Season 4 when House, Wilson and Amber are in the restaurant and House says, "Oh my god, you're dating me." I hope you all like it!

"Oh my god…. You're dating me"

A knock sounded on the door to Gregory House's apartment startling him for a moment before he realized that he knew that knock. He was sitting at his piano playing some random tune and didn't feel like getting up so he called out, "Use your key!"

The lock clicked then the door opened allowing entrance to a disheveled Wilson and his suitcase. House's eyes drifted over to the suitcase in alarm. The last time they tried to live together, the diagnostician almost killed his friend; he didn't think he could handle it again no matter how good of a cook the oncologist was.

"Don't worry," Wilson offered after seeing where his friend's blue eyes had drifted, "I'm not here to see if I can move in. I just didn't want to leave it in the hallway." He shifted weight from foot to foot, never actually being comfortable. In truth, Wilson didn't know why he was here except to inform House of the current events of his life. However, that in itself was a foolish decision considering House for the most part doesn't really care unless it directly affects the scruffy doctor.

House's attention went from the suitcase back to his piano without even sparing a glance at his friend. "Good." He said truly meaning it.

Wilson nodded his understanding. He knew that trying to live with House the one and only time they had tried was an utter disaster and neither he nor House were in any hurry to try that again. "I uh," he paused to worry his lip, "I just thought I'd let you know that Amber kicked me out so I'm moving back to a hotel until I can find a place."

House's head snapped up from the ivory keys of his piano. His mouth became slightly agape as his eyes honed for the first time the darkening bruise on his friend's cheek. "What happened?" He asked calmly with a point towards the other man's face.

Wilson shrugged, "She wasn't in the best mood when she'd kicked me out."

"Cutthroat Bitch hit you?" House asked unsure as to why he was surprised. He wouldn't put it passed Amber to be violent but he had almost become completely sure that she actually cared about Wilson so the fact that she'd hit his friend was a little shocking.

The oncologist offered another shrug, earning a grimace for his troubles, "Yeah." He paused, thinking of saying more but then he noticed a look in his friend's eyes that meant he should probably just get out of there to avoid having to explain. "Anyways, I should go. Just wanted to let you know in case you began to wonder why I couldn't always buy you lunch."

He turned around to begin to leave but pain flared in his side with the twisting motion, momentarily taking his breath away with a gasp. His right hand curled around his stomach, gripping his left side. Unfortunately this left enough time for House to stop him from leaving which was not something he wanted.

House's brows furrowed in concern, something that most people in the hospital never saw or thought he was capable of doing. Had CB actually beaten his friend? Instantly, the diagnostician was by his friend's side wondering what he could do to help but at a loss since he didn't actually know what was wrong.

Cerulean blue irises scanned clinically and diagnostically over his friend's hunched form. Judging by the way Wilson clutched his side, House guessed that he had, at the very least, bruised ribs but some nagging feeling quietly whispered that the damage was probably worse than that.

With gentle hands, House led Wilson over to the couch then sat down to his friend's right. "Let me see."

Wilson held up a hand, "No, I'm okay."

"Pfft, judging by how heavily your jaw muscles are working – no you're not." House scoffed openly. Inwardly he was a little worried that there was something really wrong that the oncologist didn't want him seeing. "Now, let me see." He instructed again a little more firmly than last time but still managing to keep his tone soft.

He reached out then began to peel Wilson's suit jacket off his shoulder, wincing when the younger man winced and gasped again with the movement. Wilson kept his hands busy by unbuttoning his dress shirt then un-tucking his undershirt so House could get them off easier.

Goosebumps drifted over Wilson's exposed flesh as the cool air kissed his skin. They became more pronounced as House's hands touched the bruises which littered his torso. Silently, the oncologist reveled in the feel of his friend's touch; allowing it to warm his heart while it sent shivers of anticipation through him.

"How did this happen?" House asked gruffly while he palpitated the deep bruise over Wilson's 5th, 6th and 7th ribs. He was pleased to find that nothing was broken but he was fairly certain that they were cracked.

"She had an arsenal of easily thrown objects. Bowls, plates, books – anything that she could get her hands on, she threw." Wilson explained while wincing when House pressed on a tender spot where the deepest of the bruising was.

"Where else did she get you?" House asked while his eyes scanned his friend's back. He noticed a bruise snaking over Wilson's right shoulder so he gently turned the oncologist to face him. His face wrinkled when he saw a deep scratch stretch from the edge of the younger man's collar bone around to his shoulder socket. A rainbow array of bruising surrounded the cut like it stemmed from the wound instead of a blow.

"Where are you going?" Wilson asked as House stood up. It wasn't like he was keeping tabs on the man and an abrupt change of place wasn't out of the ordinary for him but it was still odd.

"Judging by how red that scratch is you left without cleaning it out so I'm going to go get some peroxide and band-aids." House reasoned.

Wilson shifted uncomfortably while House went and grabbed the first aid kit he kept under his bathroom sink. Since it was something he didn't use very often, the kit was one of the few things that he kept stored below the waist level.

House quickly cleaned out the cut, inwardly wincing when his friend would elicit quiet hisses of pain. "What did you do?"

Wilson scoffed bitterly, "I come to you covered in bruise to let you know that she kicked me out and you think it was something I did?"

"Yes." House answered simply. "I spent the first week I found out trying to get Amber to dump you-"

"Yes, I know, I was there."

"AND she wouldn't do it no matter what I offered, leading me to believe that she really liked you. She put up with sharing you and punishment when the agreement had been broken. She wouldn't just kick you out for no reason which leads me back to 'What did you do?'"

"I-" Wilson began, his eyes studying his shoes intensely, "I told her about what you'd said."

"Idiot."

"Well, we were trying to get busy but then she stopped and asked me what was wrong. I wasn't thinking straight so I told her which she immediately took the wrong way."

"I wonder if it had something to do with you thinking about another man while trying to do her?" House mocked.

Wilson glowered at his friend, the look more impressive with the bruise on his cheek. "She accused me of being in love with you." He finished lamely.

"You denied it right?" House asked, almost hoping that his friend didn't.

Wilson winced, "No." He answered very quietly. "That's when she began to throw things at me and told me to get out."

House stared at his friend trying to decide if he hadn't denied the idea because it was true or because he had been so shocked by the insinuation that his brain had shut down. Wilson was a very articulate man, not easily surprised into silence and therefore able to keep up with House easily so if something had him stunned into silence it either means that it was so outrageous a suggestion that he didn't bother deigning it with a reply OR it was true.

Anxious, scared brown eyes met searching blue and things connected. House took most of the fidgeting Wilson had been doing to be from the pain that no doubt coursed through his body but what if it wasn't? What if the shivers he'd felt ripple through his friend at his touch hadn't been from the cold of his hands or from the 70 degree air hitting his flesh? What if it had all been in pleasurable anticipation?

No, it couldn't be, that was ridiculous! There's no way that Wilson, the one person who was the most precious thing in the world to House, was in love with a crippled, misanthropic, bastard like House.

Yet something in those milk chocolate irises nudged its way into House's doubts. After staring for more than five minutes, the diagnostician was able to nail down what he was seeing underneath the pain, fear and anxiousness; Love.

House finished cleaning out the scratch then applied Neosporin and a band-aid. He walked into the kitchen to pull out an incredibly old and well-used bag of frozen peas then came back and gently applied them to Wilson's shoulder. He didn't know which area hurt his friend worse; his shoulder or his side but since the shoulder was closest and would allow him to run a soothing hand over the oncologist's back, he chose the shoulder.

"Is it true?" He asked gently.

Wilson dropped his head in defeat, "Yes." His eyes once again dropped down to his shoes not being able to bear to see the anger and possible disgust in his friend's face that he knew was coming. It also helped served to hide the tears that trickled down his cheeks like a slow-starting rainfall.

He started when a comforting hand with long, pianist fingers touched his back, massaging soothing circles into the skin. He lifted his head to look into loving ocean blue eyes that studied him with adoration.

"Took you long enough." House joked though they both knew it wasn't a joke.

Wilson opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out as House's mouth had covered his, giving tender nips to his lip. He sat in a stunned stupor for no more than thirty seconds before he grabbed House's head and pulled the older man towards him while doing his best to ignore the fire that spread through his side with the motion.

He must have made a sound because House pulled back with a concerned look on his face, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Wilson assured with a goofy smile.

"Oh, god," House began recognizing that smile, "we aren't boyfriends now are we?"

"Oh-ho yes we are." Wilson replied in his usual, dorky Wilson way.

~It is often said that when one door closes, another one opens~

There you are folks! I haven't figured out if this will be a one-shot or if I will continue this. Part of me says to continue but a small part thinks it's good on it's own. What do you think?