But as he kept watching, the more unbelievable it got, right before his eyes. There was a pause. Wilson couldn't tell if it was done, if either of them were speaking; he could only see House's chest heaving. The pause ended with another kiss. Another kiss. Slower, and without the angry head-jerks from before. House's coat shifted, like Foreman was doing more than just touching now, and, holy hell, Wilson couldn't tear his eyes away. Couldn't believe this. Something was going on, and Wilson couldn't believe he'd missed it. Hadn't picked up on it. He tried to think, if there was something he'd missed. Some kind of sign that would give House away. If he'd seen Foreman--
Foreman. Or Foreman's briefcase. Wow. It had to have been Foreman's. It sure as hell hadn't been House's, or House's pathetic attempt at a gift for him. Wilson almost laughed out loud. Foreman had probably been there. No wonder House had been trying to kick him back out as quickly as possible. Jesus. He really hadn't expected this, of all the things that could have possibly happened. Of all the things he could have possibly seen. He'd had his suspicions for a while now that House was bisexual. Wilson had never said anything, but he'd wondered. Raised an eyebrow and filed away times when House would make a comment that seemed to reveal that House knew about...certain things, or when Wilson would catch House leering at a man's ass almost the same way he leered at Cuddy's. House had never said anything one way or the other, and Wilson never brought it up, but he hadn't really put it out of his mind. You couldn't put anything out of your mind, when it came to House, or you'd end up being blindsided and knocked on your ass. But as much as he'd suspected about House--and nothing against Foreman--he'd never really suspected this. Wilson leaned forward, holding on to the steering wheel, squinting to try to get a better look, nearly throwing himself back in an irrational attempt to hide when House abruptly shoved Foreman away.
no subject
Foreman. Or Foreman's briefcase. Wow. It had to have been Foreman's. It sure as hell hadn't been House's, or House's pathetic attempt at a gift for him. Wilson almost laughed out loud. Foreman had probably been there. No wonder House had been trying to kick him back out as quickly as possible. Jesus. He really hadn't expected this, of all the things that could have possibly happened. Of all the things he could have possibly seen. He'd had his suspicions for a while now that House was bisexual. Wilson had never said anything, but he'd wondered. Raised an eyebrow and filed away times when House would make a comment that seemed to reveal that House knew about...certain things, or when Wilson would catch House leering at a man's ass almost the same way he leered at Cuddy's. House had never said anything one way or the other, and Wilson never brought it up, but he hadn't really put it out of his mind. You couldn't put anything out of your mind, when it came to House, or you'd end up being blindsided and knocked on your ass. But as much as he'd suspected about House--and nothing against Foreman--he'd never really suspected this. Wilson leaned forward, holding on to the steering wheel, squinting to try to get a better look, nearly throwing himself back in an irrational attempt to hide when House abruptly shoved Foreman away.