Title: keep you like an oath
Fandom: House MD
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1508 words
Content notes: Werewolf AU. Sexual humor.
Author notes: For the "Wolf" square in my FFW bingo card and the "Supernatural Happenings" square in my genprompt-bingo card.
Summary: Wilson comes back to their condo at six in the morning, naked and with twigs in his hair.



There’s something off about Wilson.

Ever since they got their condo, he’s been acting… skittish. Like there’s something he’s omitting, a secret he should perhaps let out but hasn’t, even though they’ve friends for sixteen years and he knows his life story like the back of his hand. There can’t be anything he’s missing, right?

Well, he thinks so, until a nondescript day where Wilson doesn’t come home at the usual time.

He tries to think of one and a thousand reasons why. Maybe a patient is dying, but Wilson would’ve acted weird in a way he knows well if that was the case. Maybe he has a commitment or a date, but he hasn’t seen anything on his calendar. Maybe he just went out for a drink.

He knows he’ll be back by midnight at the very most. But then he isn’t— and then he isn’t even later than that. House is starting to consider calling the police because his friend is missing, but maybe he should use the two day protocol for that. Maybe he’s taken a page off his book and decided to become unhealthy by isolating himself. It’s a mystery that House puts off until he’s awake when his alarm rings.

He wakes up not by his alarm but by the front door of their condo being slammed open and someone stumbling in. He takes a few minutes to get used to the light, and then he sees him.

“WILSON?!”

He doesn’t look like usual. One, he’s naked— even through sixteen years of friendship, House can’t recall a single time where he’s seen him fully naked (perhaps one or two times when they were both drunk, but the memories are too blurry to confirm that). Two, he’s a lot hairier than usual. Like way too much body hair that doesn’t look quite right on Wilson. And then the last thing— the twigs and dirt on his hair.

“What in the hell were you doing last night? Did you try to emulate Feral Pleasures to go back to the old times?”

Wilson’s head snaps up and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights before he promptly covers his privates with his hands. “House!” he hisses.

“That’s not an answer. It sounds more like what you were saying last night.”

Wilson opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “Can I explain after I take a shower?”

“Yeah, you smell like wet dog,” House deadpans. “I can deal with your morning glory, by the way, no need to be ashamed of that bad boy.”

Wilson sighs and lets his hands off his dick before walking to his bedroom, soon enough the telltale sound of the shower echoing through the condo.

House turns on the TV and watches dejectedly as he tries to figure out just what could’ve happened last night. Did Wilson have a wild night and lose his clothes somehow? Then why the twigs? It doesn’t make sense.

About forty-five minutes later, Wilson comes out of his room with boxers on and little else, still quite fuzzy. He sits down on the couch, a foot in between him and House, and he fiddles with his hands nervously.

“So, why’d you get home naked at…” House looks at his watch. “Six in the morning?”

“You’re not gonna believe me,” Wilson tells him, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. He yawns a little. “But, I’m a werewolf.”

House blinks. “There’s no such thing as—”

“Then do me a favor and explain why I’ve got so much body hair. Oh, and I’ll start shedding by noon. Good luck with cleaning that up.”

House snorts and rolls his eyes. “I don’t believe you, I’m sure this is just some—” He pulls himself closer and touches Wilson’s newly grown body hair and he’s surprised to find out that it’s both quite thick and surprisingly… soft. Almost fur-like. He pulls it like it might be glued onto Wilson, and it doesn’t come off in the least, only earning a yelp of pain from Wilson. “Well, I’m reconsidering that.”

Wilson snorts. “As you should.”

“How —” House takes in a breath. “How did you keep this secret for well over a decade?”

“We’ve never lived together for over a month,” Wilson tells him. “Only Cuddy and my ex-wives know.”

“Why Cuddy?”

“So she knows why I’m a disaster the day after the full moon.”

“Ah.” He draws in a breath and keeps playing absentmindedly with Wilson’s furlike body hair. He almost likes it. “Are you going to sleep on the couch?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Just to antagonize you when it’s with fur all over.”

House snorts. “You’re a bitch.”

“Eh.” Wilson shrugs a little as he gets himself comfortable on the couch. “You can say that when I’m in heat.”

“When you’re what?”

Wilson doesn’t hear him, though, immediately passing out on the couch as soon as he gets a comfy position on it.

House sighs and stands up. He guesses this is a new thing he’ll have to get used to— but he’s always been good at getting used to the things Wilson does or has or is. This is just one adjustment amongst many.

*

Wilson has it down like clockwork, considering that by two minutes past noon, there’s already a flimsy but noticeable amount of furlike hair around the couch he’s still sleeping on.

House watches him in between cooking lunch, having taken the day off as his fellows take cases they can tackle on House-less. He notices the fur and he huffs, going back to the kitchen, a bit annoyed by the fact this is something he somehow hadn’t known. For how long had Wilson kept this from him— had he been bitten like in those fictional accounts, or has it been something that’s gone on for his whole life?

Wilson wakes up for lunch and he settles on their table.

“Are you not going to put a shirt on?” House asks, huffing a little.

“It itches,” he replies before starting to eat, really going at it like it’s nothing. It seems like mere seconds by when he’s done with lunch.

“Jesus Christ,” House says under his breath.

“I burned thousands of calories last night getting my entire body transformed into a wolf-like creature, I think I’m allowed to eat like it’s the end of the world.”

“At least have some decency,” he grumbles as he keeps eating from his plate. “So, when did you start becoming a creature by full moon?”

“I got bit at a party,” he tells him, shrugging. “About two years before I met you. I was in med school.”

“How did you come across a werewolf at a med school party?”

“He wasn’t transformed,” he replies, taking a sip of Coke. “Even werewolves who are in their usual selves can turn someone. It’s… pretty wild, honestly. I have no idea why he bit me while he was in his right mind and not full of wolf adrenaline and what-have-you.”

“Did he just come up to you while you were chatting up with a girl and was like, hey lemme bite you, or what?”

Wilson stammers and blushes, looking intently at the table. “I was dancing with him.”

If House was holding anything, he’s sure he would’ve dropped it. He sucks in a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. “You never told me you liked men.”

“I never said or implied—”

“Wilson, if you’re at a college party dancing with someone we all know it’s full-on grinding. You’re not fooling anyone.”

He stammers more. “And… you’re cool with it?”

“Wilson,” House says again, “you’re fucking blind. Your gaydar is broken. I’ve been silently pining for you for years!”

Wilson’s eyes widen. “What?! You’ve been— you’ve been what?”

“I assume you too?” House presses on, trying to ignore how his anxiety skyrockets. What if he’s also bisexual but not into him? That’d be so terrible.

He swallows. “Yeah, me too… but also are you sure you wanna like, do anything, dating a werewolf isn’t like, super easy—”

“Wilson, I like your fur body hair, shut the fuck up. Let me kiss you.”

House circles the table as much as his leg protests and Wilson lets him kiss him.

It’s languid, like they’ve got all the time in the world, and House can’t help but soften up and put his hand on Wilson’s cheek. He’s got a hint of stubble, perhaps because of his transformation— Wilson never lets himself not shave in the mornings.

It’s one of those little things House knows like the back of his hand, one of those cute things he loves about Wilson.

He kisses him and it’s all quiet, and it’s all good. Perfect, even.

They pull away after a while, both smiling.

“I love you,” Wilson tells him before his eyes widen. “I’m— I’m so sorry.”

House snorts. “You fucking dork,” he tells him. “I love you too.”

“Oh,” Wilson replies, pulling him into another kiss. “Oh.”

There’s fur lining his chair, but neither of them particularly mind.