Adding Fuel to the Fire

Sorry for being late on updating guys, this has been finished for awhile, but I finally got my lazy ass to post it. Plus I gave it a once over and fixed some things, hopefully Wilson seems less infatuated with House now. I mean of course he likes him, but I don't need to shove it down your throats, y'all know what happens anyway XD. Hopefully this is in character and done well. I still have doubts, but hopefully it doesn't disappoint.

Chapter three shall be posted sometime after December 18th, not sure how many of you are following my rambles in writing form XD but be on the look out. Chapter three should make you all happy ;3

Yes..I used y'all and you all...I'm tired XD.

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Not soon enough had a sunset broke in the sky. Finally he was clocking out; with his shift over he was just relieved to be getting to his new home. Rubbing the back of his neck slightly, he grunted in discomfort. That same intern had followed him all throughout the day. Come to think of it, he did not have enough free time to even take a relaxed breath. Though he was disappointed in being restricted from seeing what the news had to say, he assumed there had not been many stories about anything else beside a celebrity getting pregnant or some cocaine bust. Walking out the sliding doors pushed a chilling breeze against his body, which seemed to take the strain off. It was only a matter of time before House clocked out, so he walked over to his car and leaned against the body with his gaze facing the hospital. For a second, he managed to catch a glimpse of House’s bike sitting in the handicap space.



Before much time had passed, House suddenly emerged from the doors. His mood had improved over the day with the torture of his peons, plus getting his way with keeping Wilson at bay from reaching the tv. Still, he caught sight of Wilson waiting for him, checking his watch a moment before crossing his arms, he seemed more relaxed then anxious. Something was different about him, however. House had always noticed a boyish charm Wilson had to him, but something about his demeanor now seemed to bring out that attractive quality more. Along with the idea of someone waiting for him, with the desire of his presence, something about that seemed to lighten the emotional burden he had been carrying. Once Wilson seemed to notice he was approaching, hearing the sound of his cane upon the asphalt, he smiled up at him and pushed himself off the car. That’s when he noticed they were the only ones in the lot, only accompanied by scarce rows of cars.



House reached for his keys, which seemed to send Wilson the signal as he began to open his car door. After he fired up his engine, hearing the sound of Houses engine following in pursuit, he rolled down his window to look at House, who happened to already be staring back.



“So how far out is your house?” House asked as he covered his head with his helmet.



“Not too far from work, near the freeway by Cherrywood, just follow me.” he replied simply before rolling up his window.



House obliged by revving the handle on his bike, the engine roaring as Wilson’s car began to back out of its space. Once he had room, House pulled out behind Wilson and shifted, both vehicles now facing the curb that lead to the road. Following Wilson, both men pulled out into the street and headed for Wilson’s new home. The whole ride House could only focus on how he was going to pull this off. Now that he was living with Wilson it could be easier to keep him distracted from flipping on the news. Many ideas rushed past his mind, like being sure to ask where something was as soon as the television was turned on, or asking Wilson to go out of his way to the twenty-four hour store to get chips and beer. Either way, James was bound to find out sooner or later. House only had roommate leeway for a few days while his apartment was being so called fumigated.



Wilson’s mindset had been in an entirely different route. He was thinking on how living with House again could be entertaining, aside from the messes. Still, House always served as a better source of company then any wife he ever had, which was strange. It shocked him how he preferred being with House compared to someone he was supposed to be spending the rest of his life with. True, he figured House and he would be in each other’s lives forever, but how he was thinking it seemed as House was taking a place of a spouse. His eyes glanced up from the stretch of road to gaze at the image in his rear view mirror. A smile crept along his face. House was sexy riding that bike of his; but how better would it be for him to be riding on the back of that bike with him. Wilson quickly shook the thought from his mind; this train of thought must have been the result from a lack of sex. Instead, he focused his attention on the scene before him. The road separated by two stretched rows of trees, the setting sun seeping through the leaves gaps which created unique designs on his car as he past; a temporary distraction from what beauty lay behind him.



Twenty minutes passed and Wilson finally pulled into the driveway with House in close pursuit. Once he turned off his bike, House got off and stared at the house as he removed the helmet. It was a one story with an outstretched lawn, two trees beside the major framework with one covering the fence to the backyard on the opposite side. There was a collection of bushes in front of the window and near the fence on the left side by the fence. Before even seeing the interior of the house, this place already suited Wilson perfectly, a page out of a Better Homes magazine. Wilson seemed to have a prideful grin on his face, still basking in the joy of finally owning his house.



“The insides better, come on.” Wilson stated before approaching the door.



“I hope it has a basement, we can build a dungeon and do naughty things.” he replied trailing after Wilson.



He enjoyed seeing the sudden frown on Wilson’s face, followed by an irritated eye roll. Messing with his friend was always a pick me up, maybe living her e awhile wouldn’t be so unbearable. Wilson on the other hand gritted his teeth before slipping the key into the lock and twisting it. Pushing open the door, Wilson placed his coat on the rack and immediately retreated into the kitchen.



House glanced along the walls, taking in the scene around him. It seemed like an average two bed and two bath house. The living room was the first thing he came across, in the back sat the kitchen blocked off by a separate wall, but he could still see Wilson moving about through the gap. Along with the kitchen, he spotted a dining room right to the left of the polished floor of the cooks’ domain. To his left, back in the living room sat a television and a couch, along with a few boxes placed about from the move. The right side lead down a hall to the bedrooms, the masters in the far back before him, and then side rooms leading to the spare room, bathroom and laundry room; aside from being immaculately clean it was quaint.



“Anything in particular you want for dinner?” Wilson asked, catching Houses attention from the gap in the wall.



“Surprise me, I always fill up on candy.” House replied, popping a single pill in his mouth before shoving the bottle back in his pocket.



Kicking off his shoes in a random direction, he headed straight for the couch, dropping his leather coat somewhere on the floor. Plopping on the couch, he kicked his feet up and placed his arms behind his head. Soon he could hear Wilson rummaging the fridge for any speck of food to prepare something decent. Looking around, he looked at the boxes before calling out to Wilson.



“What kind of movies do you have?” he asked, still looking and the untidy stack of cardboard.



All Wilson managed to find was some ingredients for chicken pasta; he figured it would due for the time being. He would need to take a trip to the store before too long and gather more of a variety of options to cook with. Raising his head from the fridge, he spotted House spread across the couch, feet resting carelessly on his polished wood coffee table. Sighing and shaking his head, he grabbed all the ingredients in hand and pushed the door closed.



“The box in the TV should be have the DVD's, there should be something you like in there somewhere.” he replied, making his way over to the table.



While Wilson busied himself with dinner, House hoisted himself from the couch and limped over toward the box. Painfully lowering himself, he began digging through Wilson’s possessions and began tossing them over his shoulder if they failed to meet his approval.



“Crap, not enough action, boring, documentary, crap. Wait?” House replied, suddenly seizing his careless discard as he came upon what appeared to be a chick flick.



Staring for a moment, he twisted it to the back to read the summary. Slowly a grin crossed along his cheeks, suddenly his friends’ femininity made sense. The rest of the movies lay scattered about as House began to chuckle softly before shouting loud enough to reach Wilson's ear.



“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice rising with a hint of laughter, “You actually own the Notebook?” he laughed in a short burst.



“It’s probably Bonnie’s, it must have gotten mixed up in there.” Wilson called with a groan of annoyance from the other room.



“Yeah sure.” House replied before tossing it aside and continued on the search for something decent, preferably an action movie or at least a dark comedy.



Wilson just ignored him as he began to boil the water for the pasta. Once the noodles fell into the water he took a quick glimpse of the chicken. Honestly, he didn’t think the Notebook was such a horrible movie, but if House knew that he would never live it down, besides it was still probably an ex-wive’s movie. The best way into a woman’s pants was to watch a chick flick with her first. He just hoped House found something he liked, or else he would be the one sent out to rent something while he cooked. He wondered if going out to catch a movie would have been a better idea.



“Found it!” House called out.



Finally, something he found that was to his tastes. Even though he and Wilson shared similar interests when it came to movies, Wilson had a habit of finding enjoyment in more dialog consumed films. House on the other hand, was content watching things blow up, people getting punched and even a little horrible translation of a martial arts film. Grasping his leg, he assisted himself up with a small twitch of pain in his face. Once he was standing the pain seemed to subside slightly. Placing the DVD in the machine, he made his way over to the couch before throwing himself on it again.



“Should I start it now or wait for you?” he asked, merely wondering if he should wait for food.



He poked his head into the room, shocked that House even bothered to ask if he wanted to wait. He smiled, pleased from Houses kind jester and that he finally found something that interested him. Still, House seemed impatient for the food to be ready; his stomach seemed to be very verbal about the matter. Quickly he covered the pot of vegetables to allow them to steam and rushed into the other room and took a seat on the end of the couch. This gave him easier access to the kitchen. Nodding to House, he leaned back as House clicked the remote to start the film.



“The food should be done in a hour.” Wilson stated, while he got himself comfortable.



“You know, you’re going to make a great wife someday and the guy will sure as hell be lucky. I mean, you cook, clean and you have a tight ass...” he replied, eyes drifting along Wilson’s form, a smirk plastered on his face. “What more could a guy ask for?” he asked.



Wilson merely rolled his eyes in response to Houses comment; he must have been in a real sexual mood this evening. Maybe House needed to get laid, too, so now both were sexually frustrated; House, unlike himself, was more verbal about it. House kept the smirk on his face as he looked toward the television as the beginning credits rolled across the screen. He enjoyed watching things with Wilson. It was better than watching things alone, not to mention he was able to pester Wilson during the movie as well. Wilson just watched the movie in silence for the time, letting the wave of frustration leave him as he sunk lower into the couch. Houses movie filled with the pointless violence he adored also enabled Wilson to forget about all his patients and the hospital and just enjoy his time with his friend. Before he knew it, a hour was up and a sudden beeping came from the kitchen.



Getting up from the couch, he headed for the kitchen and removed the chicken from the oven and placed it on the counter. Once the vegetables were drained in the sink, he began to mix the now limp noodles into the sauce. The meal was put together in a rush; he wanted to get back into the room, just trapped in a lazy mood wanting nothing more than to eat and sleep. Tossing the chicken on the plate, he headed for the living room and handed Houses his plate. While his friend began scarfing down every morsel on the plate, he leaned back and placed his own on his lap. House didn’t mind whether his manners were proper or not; Wilson should have been use to it by now.



Once he decided to take a break, he clinked his fork against the side of his plate, catching Wilson's attention mid-consumption. Wilson stared at him with his fork hovering in the air as he waited for House to speak. Pointing his fork to the television, he obviously had not finished chewing before he felt the need to talk. Wilson quickly placed his own food in his mouth while House found room in his in order to admit a coherent sentence.



“What’s the black guys’ role in the movie?” House asked, muffled from all the food still lingering in his cheeks.



“He’s the villain, he use to be a chauffeur for a mobster. When his boss died, he used his intellect to rise up, becoming one of the most powerful crime bosses.” Wilson replied, eyes rolling from having to explain the plot to House.



It was one of Houses quirks to ask him the plot rather than paying attention himself, not to mention his friend’s lack of manners made his face cringe in disgust. Houses face seemed to twist as well, as if he was having a sudden thought. Wilson waited for House to reply as he took another forkful of chicken into his mouth.



“Why does the black guy have to be the villain, and why was his job being a chauffeur, to think we feel we have come so much farther than the fifties. Now Foreman’s different, he’s my errand boy, but he is a classy errand boy with a degree.” House asked, shoving a gathering of pasta into his mouth as he pondered his own questions.



It was just a movie, but House found pleasure in starting conversations that had the potential to end in an argument. Wilson didn’t seem to mind as he continued to eat his food. House was making some strong points; still, he doubted they were trying to portray the man as inferior on account of his race. After all, he seemed to be making a powerful transaction of power, so he disagreed that the movie had racist undertones. Finally deciding to swallow what had been in his mouth, House asked another question.



“Is the white guy Irish?” he asked, turning toward Wilson.



Wilson's face distorted slightly when House asked about the guy being Irish, wondering how it was relevant.



“Um...I’m not sure, it’s Russell Crow, and he’s a veteran cop after Frank who’s Denzel Washingtons character. Why?” he asked, raising one of his brows.



“He just seems Irish, you notice that? It just seems that certain roles are given to certain ethnicities. Like the greasy mechanic being Italian or the threatening gang member is always black.” House explained, trying to clarify his point.



“Or how the Mexican is always a gardener or a pool boy?” Wilson pointed out, smiling more at this point.



By this point, Wilson was barely focusing on the movie, with the conversation taking an interesting path. House set his now empty plate aside. It had been rather satisfying for something placed together so quickly. He would have complimented Wilson, but he worried about it coming out awkward. For him, the easiest way to give a compliment was through sarcasm. Letting the chance pass by, he watched Wilson set his unfinished meal aside and prop his feet up on the table. Unlike House, he took his time eating his food, as he was enjoying the conversation. Now more relaxed, he turned his head to face House as House took the cue to continue.



“It normally doesn’t bother me, but when all these bleeding hearts wishing for a racist free world continue to give into stereotyping it becomes a pain. Not that television should be censored, but why can’t people just admit that hoping for a racist free world is an empty wish? We should just accept the fact, since when we stop with race we’re going to find something else to hate anyway.” House continued.



During his rant, Wilson seemed to just nod in agreement with him in silence. At times, Wilson would actually be staring at Houses eyes. He never realized how blue they were, or how many different shades there were. For some reason, as he gazed at House, he could see a feeling of sincerity as he spoke. Normally he didn’t see this passion House possessed when he spoke out about something. Soon enough though, House noticed he had been ranting and created an awkward situation. So, breaking Wilson from his thoughts with a sudden question, both seemed to take their attention elsewhere.



“Do you have beer?” House asked.



Simply nodding, Wilson rose from the couch and retreated to the kitchen. House took that moment to rub his face lightly. He normally didn’t mind getting into rants. Besides, it could have gone longer. With Wilson staring at him, it made things more awkward. It had been awhile since House had some intimate company to the apartment, and now he would be deprived of any more until he got a new place. So he must have been sexually frustrated, and maybe that was the reason for the sudden come ons toward his male buddy. Luckily, there were two bedrooms; he was going to need some private times for himself if he had hope of relieving himself. Wilson ripped two beers from their carton before pushing the door closed with his hip. Taking a moment to breathe and relax, he walked into the living room and handed House one of the beers on hand. With his now free hand, Wilson cracked open the bottle with a bottle opener before taking a deep swig of the carbonated liquid before resting it on his knee. Aside from being thirsty after the starch and chicken, he was also hoping to push away his sexual thoughts. Soon enough, he headed for another drink.



“You want to get plastered and do something we both will regret in the morning?” House asked, taking the bottle opener and opening his own before drinking some himself.



Wilson stopped mid sip, his hand floating in the air with the bottle leaned slightly toward his mouth. He was frozen by Houses proposal. After a few seconds, he chuckled lightly and turned to House, but seeing the look on Houses face caused his grin to plummet instantly. Was House actually being serious? The look in his eyes screamed yes. Not being clouded by drugs or anger, he was seeing clearly and was dead serious. There was a glimmer of innocence to Houses gaze, and his damn eyes always managed to deceive what he was trying to hide. His eyes showed no signs of sarcasm, but Wilson knew better then to trust House completely. He was a master of disguise. Still, those eyes seemed to leak honest, causing Wilson's heart to pound against his chest. His eyes gleamed back at Houses for a moment; Houses seemed to respond before Wilson shook it off hoping House did not take notice. Instead, Wilson faced his beer.



“I think we both need to get laid.” Wilson replied in an ‘as a matter of fact’ tone.



House seemed to chuckle lightly. Wilson's reply could be taken both ways, and that’s what James intended. A part of him wanted to do it, and using being drunk as an excuse would rid of any shame. Still the logical part of him said that each of them just felt this way because there was a lack of sex in their lives.



“That’s why I suggested it.” House replied, his tone returning to its usual sarcastic tone.



He took another swig of his beer to alleviate his thoughts. He was actually attempting to risk the relationship he had with his one friend to satisfy his urges. Wilson just chuckled in response, hearing that familiar tone brought a small amount or relief. Though he still slightly wished that House wasn’t joking, he shook the thoughts out of his mind as both men noticed the movie had ended. He enjoyed the fact he could get lost in a conversation with Wilson, which could be reasoning for his feelings. Many specialists said that if you hang around someone long enough, sexual tensions arise. He was disappointed that he missed the movie, but after taking another sip of his beer, Wilson reached for the remote. Once the DVD menu vanished out of sight, it was replaced with a random cable channel. House eyed Wilson, wondering what he was up to.



“Since the movies over I’m going to see what’s happening on the news. Some intern kept following me around and I never got a chance to watch it.” Wilson explained, flipping through in attempt to locate a new station that reported the best stories.



House fell into a panic, cursing to himself as his eyes immediately drifted away from Wilson. They darted around in attempt to think of something to distract Wilson. He was short on time. He had to think fast, which called for acting irrationally. Wilson, on the other hand, just smiled as he browsed around. A logical reasoning for his feelings was how much time he had been spending with House. Once he managed to jump a nurse, these homosexual feelings would subside. He was just lonely and he did love House; but not in that way, he couldn’t. As Wilson settled for a channel, Houses gaze drifted back to Wilson. There was no other choice; he had to do something that would trap Wilson’s attention. Reaching over, he gripped Wilson’s shirt and jerking him closer, his lips pounded against Wilson's.



Wilson’s eyes shot open, pupils dilating in shock. House was actually serious. He could feel a gentle brush against his hand before the television was clicked off by House’s doing. Even before he could hear the newscaster the world seemed to fall silent in an instant. House kept his eyes closed, unable to look into Wilson’s eyes knowing what he was doing. Both hearts were racing, one from fear and one from shock. By this time, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Wilson to breathe. At this point he wasn’t sure whether to slap House across the face, cracking against that rugged, stern jaw; the other option would be to just give in. Maybe they just both needed sex, but for the first time, Wilson was not urging for a female, which was strange. Surprising the both of them, Wilson's eyes drifted closed, giving in as he began to kiss back.