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The Truth, 8/9
Title: The Truth 8/9
Author: damigella
Spoilers: Fic starts at the end of S7E8 then goes AU
Warning: Slash, eventually. Adult themes.
Rating: NC-17 (M)
Word count: 1800 approx.
Disclaimer: don't own anything, except my hope.
Summary: Second person, Wilson's POV.
Author's note: To my beta reader![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=1)
yarroway the miracle worker my deepest thanks. Dear readers, you don't know how much better this chapter is than what it was before. But I know, and yarroway does. Thank you.
Chapter 7
You slowly wake up. It's 6.30: like most mornings, you're early enough to switch the alarm off so that House can sleep. You enjoy the time you spend in bed, the warmth radiating from the sleeping body near yours, the early morning light sneaking in through the closed curtains, always accenting a different detail: the delicate nose, the high forehead, the narrow chin with its unruly collection of hair. You also like to think of your new daily routine together, including breakfast (you eat just before getting out, House as soon as he wakes up), lunch and, when work duties allow, dinners and evenings and weekends.
You still haven't told anybody, apart from the brief interview at HR. You can still remember the very surprised face of the clerk who, a month after he had collected signatures testifying the end of House's and Cuddy's relationship, officially put on record the beginning of your own. But the uncertainty and fear that had accompanied the beginning of your love is vanishing fast. Every day as it passes strengthens your faith in each other and in the strength of your love.
Another look at the watch. It's 6.50. Your lips barely touch House's sleeping forehead, and then you get out of bed. A new day starts.
*******
You have lunch together every day, always at the same table.
"Tonight I'm taking you out on a date. Get home early and make yourself look good. We have a table for two at French Connection at seven." You look at House, and hope that he will not take amiss the "make yourself look good" part. The restaurant doesn't have a formal dress code, but still...
"Is this a joke? It's one of the most expensive restaurants in this area!"
"You'll have to be extra sweet to me afterwards, then."
For a moment you wonder whether anyone else can hear you. Then you ask yourself why would you care whether they hear you or not.
******
At seven sharp you both get out of the cab in front of the restaurant. House is elegantly dressed, although without a tie. You like him in his everyday clothes, but his tall, fit proportions are definitely more visible when better dressed. You feel so lucky, and then you feel a bit shallow for liking his body so much. And then you don't care, because you know you like all of House, not just the body but also not just the unique brain. Either half wouldn't be enough.
"So, what was I supposed to talk about now? Remind me... shoes, earrings, DHA?" he asks, once the waiter leaves.
You can't help laughing. House still remembers your advice.
"At least it's not the same restaurant where I proposed to you."
This time it's House's turn to laugh. But then his face becomes serious.
"You know, I wish I had known then what I know now. It's not like I hadn't had moments of suspicion, mind you. When you bought me the organ I couldn't believe my eyes. But you were sending such mixed signals."
You try to explain. "I was trying to deceive myself, not just you. I had to overcome a lot of hurdles to accept the truth. And when I finally talked to you I was terribly scared."
"Why? What were you afraid of?"
At that time, you weren't even able to put in words your fear. "That you would be disgusted. That we wouldn't be friends anymore."
"You were very wrong. First of all, even if I were straight, I wouldn't be homophobic. And there's nothing wrong with same sex attraction, even if unreturned." House sips his wine and nibbles the hors d'oeuvre. "And secondly, you are my friend. You accept me the way I am, without needing changes. And I do the same for you." One more sip.
House has learned a lot about expressing his feelings verbally. You know that he has had to change something deep in himself to trust you with so many words, and you feel that it is one of the deeper signs of his love.
He goes on talking. "As I thought about what you said, my main feeling was guilt. Guilt for not noticing before, and fear that by doing so I had involuntarily hurt you in the past. And of course, sadness because I couldn't return your feelings. Because I was committed to Cuddy. It was in the course of the next few days, or maybe weeks, that a small voice started whispering in my ear 'Had you known before making a commitment...' but by then it was too late."
"House, speaking of commitment, there's another thing I'm still concerned about. We both want a committed relationship, and I'm worried I will fail. I mean, my track record is not so good." You are ashamed of yourself. But you have decided there will be no lies in this relationship, so you can't tell House it will never happen. You hope it won't and you know it won't happen soon, but ever? You can't say.
"As I told you, sexual exclusivity is overrated. I mean, so long as it works for both of us, fine, but I'd much rather that you have a sex partner that's not me than have you be unhappy. As long as the partner knows that you're committed to me, that is." You know he already told you that. You still can't fully believe it. And yet you also know that the same is true for you, that his happiness is yours, and that if he were to need someone else in his life, for a night or forever, you would accept it, and accept it willingly.
"Actually, Wilson, I might not even being averse to an occasional threesome. With a man or a woman, as you prefer. But only if you want it, too." The blue eyes sparkle in the candlelight: you can't tell whether he's joking or not. Maybe he isn't. But his tone turns to serious again, and he looks in your eyes as he continues speaking. "The important thing is that we stay honest with each other and that our relationship comes before everything else." He has a sip of champagne. "Of course this is rather moot, since I haven't met anyone more attractive than you in the past fifty years and I don't see why this should happen in the next fifty."
"House... I would be falling in love with you now if I hadn't already."
********
The main course is paté de fois gras for you and escargots for House. Your conversation stops while the food is served, and then you're both distracted by the food. This time you both sample each other's entrée. When the plates start to get empty at the same time as the Bordeaux bottle House has a different, important topic to discuss with you.
"So, when do we plan to come out?" House has never been one to keep secrets, and he has no interest in hiding his happiness.
"You're right. It's time." You wish you were as relaxed about this as he is.
"Yes. And there's one person who definitely has the right to hear this directly from us, before anybody else."
House's face is almost in pain.
"Cuddy." You have been worried about this almost since day one. And House is right: she has the right to be told first.
"I don't know how I'll be able to do it." He's so sad it hurts you.
"I will talk to her. I've been her friend for a long time." You almost regret your words, but you know it's the right thing to do. It will be painful enough this way.
House sips his wine meditatively. "And then there's our families. What do you think? Should we phone or visit? At least no introduction will be necessary."
You think of your parents. Their deep homophobia which hasn't changed since your adolescence, and has been transmitted to your older brother. "You're right, we will have to tell our families. I only hope Blythe will take it well, because I'm sure no Wilson will." You sound sad and despondent to your own ears.
"I'm sorry about that." House really seems concerned. "I will be there for you when we tell." The blue eyes seem to look directly inside your thoughts. "I can't become a woman, but I'm willing to have a religious ceremony if you think it helps."
Even in your desperation you appreciate this most generous gift. "Religion is not the point. They've seen me married in a church, and they knew Amber and I were considering a secular ceremony. The problem is the one fact you can't change."
You add, as you try to explain, "I visit them regularly and I know what their opinion is in this matter. A cousin of mine has been kicked out of the family for being a lesbian. They talk of her like she were dead." You toy with the fork, then with the salt shaker. "The day I tell them will most likely be the last day I see them."
He tries to comfort you. "You can never be sure. Maybe they'll come around. It has happened to others, you know." Looking at him across the table, you can see he's hurt, and you nod. He knows how much closer to your family you are than he to his. He knows how much you dread losing this connection. But it can't be helped, unless...
As usual, House seems to read your thoughts. "I'm sorry about your parents, but I don't want to be in the closet. I love you and I don't care who knows that."
Suddenly the fear of losing your parents becomes a secondary issue. "House, you... you said it. I've been tiptoeing around the word love for weeks. Because..." You can't continue; the real because is that somewhere, very deep inside you, there is a last walled chamber, carefully preserving the word love as the exclusive property of heterosexual couples.
"So what? I love you indeed, and I know you love me too. It's a wonderful feeling." House takes the walls of that chamber and makes them crumble down. Not even dust is left, just a sunny, empty peaceful space. Full of happiness. Full of love.
The room seems to swim a bit around you. You reach out for House's hand and hold it as if you were drowning.
*****
In the cab that brings you home, you chatter freely, your mood restored.
"And then we have to tell everybody else at the hospital." House smiles. "Maybe we should rig the betting pool first."
"What do you mean?"
"Chase is running a betting pool on who my new girlfriend is supposed to be. Maybe we should arrange for a trustworthy third person to bet heavily on you and split the proceedings."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Chase has already asked me to rig the pool, of course." House's smile is so beautiful it takes your breath away. This is the man you love. And there's nothing wrong with it, and you don't care who knows it. Not anymore.
Chapter 9
Author: damigella
Spoilers: Fic starts at the end of S7E8 then goes AU
Warning: Slash, eventually. Adult themes.
Rating: NC-17 (M)
Word count: 1800 approx.
Disclaimer: don't own anything, except my hope.
Summary: Second person, Wilson's POV.
Author's note: To my beta reader
yarroway the miracle worker my deepest thanks. Dear readers, you don't know how much better this chapter is than what it was before. But I know, and yarroway does. Thank you.Chapter 7
You slowly wake up. It's 6.30: like most mornings, you're early enough to switch the alarm off so that House can sleep. You enjoy the time you spend in bed, the warmth radiating from the sleeping body near yours, the early morning light sneaking in through the closed curtains, always accenting a different detail: the delicate nose, the high forehead, the narrow chin with its unruly collection of hair. You also like to think of your new daily routine together, including breakfast (you eat just before getting out, House as soon as he wakes up), lunch and, when work duties allow, dinners and evenings and weekends.
You still haven't told anybody, apart from the brief interview at HR. You can still remember the very surprised face of the clerk who, a month after he had collected signatures testifying the end of House's and Cuddy's relationship, officially put on record the beginning of your own. But the uncertainty and fear that had accompanied the beginning of your love is vanishing fast. Every day as it passes strengthens your faith in each other and in the strength of your love.
Another look at the watch. It's 6.50. Your lips barely touch House's sleeping forehead, and then you get out of bed. A new day starts.
*******
You have lunch together every day, always at the same table.
"Tonight I'm taking you out on a date. Get home early and make yourself look good. We have a table for two at French Connection at seven." You look at House, and hope that he will not take amiss the "make yourself look good" part. The restaurant doesn't have a formal dress code, but still...
"Is this a joke? It's one of the most expensive restaurants in this area!"
"You'll have to be extra sweet to me afterwards, then."
For a moment you wonder whether anyone else can hear you. Then you ask yourself why would you care whether they hear you or not.
******
At seven sharp you both get out of the cab in front of the restaurant. House is elegantly dressed, although without a tie. You like him in his everyday clothes, but his tall, fit proportions are definitely more visible when better dressed. You feel so lucky, and then you feel a bit shallow for liking his body so much. And then you don't care, because you know you like all of House, not just the body but also not just the unique brain. Either half wouldn't be enough.
"So, what was I supposed to talk about now? Remind me... shoes, earrings, DHA?" he asks, once the waiter leaves.
You can't help laughing. House still remembers your advice.
"At least it's not the same restaurant where I proposed to you."
This time it's House's turn to laugh. But then his face becomes serious.
"You know, I wish I had known then what I know now. It's not like I hadn't had moments of suspicion, mind you. When you bought me the organ I couldn't believe my eyes. But you were sending such mixed signals."
You try to explain. "I was trying to deceive myself, not just you. I had to overcome a lot of hurdles to accept the truth. And when I finally talked to you I was terribly scared."
"Why? What were you afraid of?"
At that time, you weren't even able to put in words your fear. "That you would be disgusted. That we wouldn't be friends anymore."
"You were very wrong. First of all, even if I were straight, I wouldn't be homophobic. And there's nothing wrong with same sex attraction, even if unreturned." House sips his wine and nibbles the hors d'oeuvre. "And secondly, you are my friend. You accept me the way I am, without needing changes. And I do the same for you." One more sip.
House has learned a lot about expressing his feelings verbally. You know that he has had to change something deep in himself to trust you with so many words, and you feel that it is one of the deeper signs of his love.
He goes on talking. "As I thought about what you said, my main feeling was guilt. Guilt for not noticing before, and fear that by doing so I had involuntarily hurt you in the past. And of course, sadness because I couldn't return your feelings. Because I was committed to Cuddy. It was in the course of the next few days, or maybe weeks, that a small voice started whispering in my ear 'Had you known before making a commitment...' but by then it was too late."
"House, speaking of commitment, there's another thing I'm still concerned about. We both want a committed relationship, and I'm worried I will fail. I mean, my track record is not so good." You are ashamed of yourself. But you have decided there will be no lies in this relationship, so you can't tell House it will never happen. You hope it won't and you know it won't happen soon, but ever? You can't say.
"As I told you, sexual exclusivity is overrated. I mean, so long as it works for both of us, fine, but I'd much rather that you have a sex partner that's not me than have you be unhappy. As long as the partner knows that you're committed to me, that is." You know he already told you that. You still can't fully believe it. And yet you also know that the same is true for you, that his happiness is yours, and that if he were to need someone else in his life, for a night or forever, you would accept it, and accept it willingly.
"Actually, Wilson, I might not even being averse to an occasional threesome. With a man or a woman, as you prefer. But only if you want it, too." The blue eyes sparkle in the candlelight: you can't tell whether he's joking or not. Maybe he isn't. But his tone turns to serious again, and he looks in your eyes as he continues speaking. "The important thing is that we stay honest with each other and that our relationship comes before everything else." He has a sip of champagne. "Of course this is rather moot, since I haven't met anyone more attractive than you in the past fifty years and I don't see why this should happen in the next fifty."
"House... I would be falling in love with you now if I hadn't already."
********
The main course is paté de fois gras for you and escargots for House. Your conversation stops while the food is served, and then you're both distracted by the food. This time you both sample each other's entrée. When the plates start to get empty at the same time as the Bordeaux bottle House has a different, important topic to discuss with you.
"So, when do we plan to come out?" House has never been one to keep secrets, and he has no interest in hiding his happiness.
"You're right. It's time." You wish you were as relaxed about this as he is.
"Yes. And there's one person who definitely has the right to hear this directly from us, before anybody else."
House's face is almost in pain.
"Cuddy." You have been worried about this almost since day one. And House is right: she has the right to be told first.
"I don't know how I'll be able to do it." He's so sad it hurts you.
"I will talk to her. I've been her friend for a long time." You almost regret your words, but you know it's the right thing to do. It will be painful enough this way.
House sips his wine meditatively. "And then there's our families. What do you think? Should we phone or visit? At least no introduction will be necessary."
You think of your parents. Their deep homophobia which hasn't changed since your adolescence, and has been transmitted to your older brother. "You're right, we will have to tell our families. I only hope Blythe will take it well, because I'm sure no Wilson will." You sound sad and despondent to your own ears.
"I'm sorry about that." House really seems concerned. "I will be there for you when we tell." The blue eyes seem to look directly inside your thoughts. "I can't become a woman, but I'm willing to have a religious ceremony if you think it helps."
Even in your desperation you appreciate this most generous gift. "Religion is not the point. They've seen me married in a church, and they knew Amber and I were considering a secular ceremony. The problem is the one fact you can't change."
You add, as you try to explain, "I visit them regularly and I know what their opinion is in this matter. A cousin of mine has been kicked out of the family for being a lesbian. They talk of her like she were dead." You toy with the fork, then with the salt shaker. "The day I tell them will most likely be the last day I see them."
He tries to comfort you. "You can never be sure. Maybe they'll come around. It has happened to others, you know." Looking at him across the table, you can see he's hurt, and you nod. He knows how much closer to your family you are than he to his. He knows how much you dread losing this connection. But it can't be helped, unless...
As usual, House seems to read your thoughts. "I'm sorry about your parents, but I don't want to be in the closet. I love you and I don't care who knows that."
Suddenly the fear of losing your parents becomes a secondary issue. "House, you... you said it. I've been tiptoeing around the word love for weeks. Because..." You can't continue; the real because is that somewhere, very deep inside you, there is a last walled chamber, carefully preserving the word love as the exclusive property of heterosexual couples.
"So what? I love you indeed, and I know you love me too. It's a wonderful feeling." House takes the walls of that chamber and makes them crumble down. Not even dust is left, just a sunny, empty peaceful space. Full of happiness. Full of love.
The room seems to swim a bit around you. You reach out for House's hand and hold it as if you were drowning.
*****
In the cab that brings you home, you chatter freely, your mood restored.
"And then we have to tell everybody else at the hospital." House smiles. "Maybe we should rig the betting pool first."
"What do you mean?"
"Chase is running a betting pool on who my new girlfriend is supposed to be. Maybe we should arrange for a trustworthy third person to bet heavily on you and split the proceedings."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Chase has already asked me to rig the pool, of course." House's smile is so beautiful it takes your breath away. This is the man you love. And there's nothing wrong with it, and you don't care who knows it. Not anymore.
Chapter 9
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Actually, I like even negative comments, they mean someone cared enough about the fic to suggest possible improvements :-).
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What a marvellous description. This is what I want for the two of them -- that peaceful space.
I hope Wilson's family can learn better. Maybe the thought of giving up a son will help them to realize he's still himself, not suddenly some monster.
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The fic finishes soon, but I happen to know :-) that they will eventually come to accept them. Because their love for James is stronger than their prejudices.
However, not in all fics I write I take that viewpoint. I always think of his family as the origin for Wilson's careful respect for all formal rules. The pressure put on Wilson as a child I imagine as subtler, but no less strong and crippling than that put on House. And much harder to defend one soul's from.
The dark chamber in Wilson's heart was built when he was still in high school, if not earlier.