I've never written a holiday-type of story, but I felt inspired this year. However, I did NOT want to do a Christmas one, since those are done so often. Instead, I went for a change of pace. I like this story, and the song that's sung in it as well. Contains male-male pairing! Don't like, don't read.
Disclaimer: I do not own "House, M.D.", its characters, etc. The song is "Patience" by Guns N Roses, which means that I don't own it in any way, either. I only own this story and its plot.
Quite a Celebration
It was a cold, late-December night. New Years Eve, to be precise. Dr. Gregory House had just finished solving yet another mysterious case. He let out an annoyed sigh. The diagnostician limped into his office, leaving the door wide open, and sat at his desk. If only the patient had informed him from the get-go that he had been restoring a rather old building, then he wouldn't have wasted over four days just to figure out that the man had mesothelioma.
His piercing blue eyes looked at the clock, which read '11:30'. Damn. He didn't have time to make it home and be drunk before the clock struck midnight. He vaguely wondered if Cinderella had been as pissed about nearly missing her curfew as he was about not being able to drink.
The diagnostician sat back in his chair, popping a few vicoden. If he wasn't drunk to greet the New Year, he could at least be high, he mused to himself. He put his legs up on his desk and leaned back, grabbing the acoustic guitar he had brought with him that day to entertain him while his team worked. He settled on a song that seemed to fit the night's mood, and began to play the tune and sing the lyrics.
xXx
Dr. James Wilson was dog tired. He had been up and around almost ever since he had arrived. As if caring for his own patients wasn't enough for Cuddy, she had him in the E.R. fixing up the drunken idiots who had decided to joy ride this particular night. Needless to say that in addition to being tired, he wasn't in a particularly good mood.
He stalked down the hallways towards his office, more than ready to go home and get some sleep. Forget celebrating New Years, it wasn't that big of a deal anyways. He was beyond convinced that the only thing that could possibly accommodate him right now was his bed.
That's when he passed by the office of his best friend, and heard the incredibly beautiful song floating out of the doorway.
"--I sit here on the stairs/'Cause I'd rather be alone/If I can't have you right now, I'll wait dear--"
Wilson stopped short and changed his course, heading into House's office rather than his own.
Blue eyes opened and settled upon the other's face, but the fingers and vocals kept going. The two doctors stared at each other for a good few moments, neither faltering nor breaking the connection.
"--Said Sugar take the time/'Cause the lights are shining bright/You and I got what it takes to make it--"
Wilson felt himself walking closer to his friend, eventually sitting down in an empty chair directly in front of the other's desk. He was leaned forward, his eyes now on the fingers that played.
"--I need a little patience, yeah/Just a little patience, yeah--"
His eyes trailed up the long sleeve clad arm strumming the guitar, up the neck, and soon he realized he was fixed upon the lips of his colleague.
He couldn't bring himself to look away, didn't want to, no matter what the little voice in the back of his head insisted. He knew House was a friend, he knew House was a fellow doctor, and he knew that neither of those facts seemed to hold much weight against his wants.
"--I ain't got time for the game/'Cause I need you/Yeah, yeah well I need you/Oh, I need you/Whoa, I need you/Ooh, all this time."
Once the song was over, the diagnostician set his guitar down gingerly. pulling his feet off of his desk, "So, what brings you here? I suppose you wanted a change of pace and the next step up from cancer patient is cripple."
Wilson blinked, and slowly shook his head. House wasn't sure whether it was because he was clearing his head of the obviously dirty thoughts that had been coursing through it, or to negate his comment.
"I, uh, I was headed for my office when I heard you..."
The blue eyed man shrugged, "So? You've heard me play before."
"This time, it was different, I guess. You don't tend to sing while you play. Maybe it threw me off."
"Of course it did, Jimmy boy." House roughly got to his feet, and grabbed his cane. He picked up his bag and turned to stare at Wilson silently for a few seconds, "Well, I'm all drugged up, so how 'bout giving the cripple a ride home, and in return I suppose I could let you crash at my place for the night...?"
Wilson nodded, "Give me a minute to get my bag."
"I'll wait here, if it's all the same to you."
xXx
Wilson parked right out front, and turned to look at House. He nearly jumped when he found the man staring right back at him, inches away from his face.
"H-House?"
"Guess what? I know what you were thinking about while I was playing my guitar earlier." he replied in a sing-song voice.
"God, how much vicoden did you take?"
"Enough to make me comfortable enough to do this." House managed to scoot even closer to the other brunette.
He put a hand on the back of the oncologist's head and gave it a push, closing the distance between their lips.
The kiss was clumsy, but sweet nonetheless, as most first kisses are.
Wilson flushed at the thought. His first kiss. With a man.
The other broke the kiss, unable to keep himself up towards Wilson any longer.
Wilson's hand reached up to touch his own lips, as if not fully believing what had just happened.
"House, I--"
"Just blame the pills."
"I... yeah. Okay."
Once he had successfully gotten the drug-influenced man into the apartment, Wilson flicked a light on. No sooner had he done so than the light was flicked back off.
"So, how d'you propose we see where we're going?"
"I know my way around here well enough."
"Well, good for you. Let me rephrase then: how d'you propose I see where I'm going?"
House smirked, "No need to worry, Jimmy boy. I've got it covered."
"House, I swear, if you're planning on playing some sort of prank on me--"
"Why don't you just shut up?"
Before the man knew what was going on, he was shoved up against the wall of the apartment, and given a forceful kiss.
He felt the assaulter's weight shift so that more of it was on him. He heard the cane fall to the ground, and seconds later his cheek was caressed by one hand while the other settled on his waist.
His eyes widened as he felt an unfamiliar tongue trying to push his mouth open. Finally, he relented, and was further assaulted. He tasted the hot, foreign saliva and tilted his head back to deepen the kiss.
After a while, the other pulled back and both stood there, breathlessly staring into each other's eyes.
Wilson was the first to find his voice, "H-House... Greg... I-I..."
"If you don't want to, then fine."
"That's not what I was going to say! Just... give me a minute to let my brain catch up with the rest of me, okay?"
A smile graced the diagnostician's face, "Sure."
After minutes of silence, Wilson swallowed hard, and looked back into House's eyes.
"Well?"
"I, uh, don't really know how--"
"Not to worry, my pretty. I'll take care of you."
xXx
For the first time in a good long while, House didn't wake up to sudden leg pains. Instead, he heard Wilson's cell phone alarm go off.
The other made to reach for the cell phone, and found that he couldn't due to the somewhat heavier man's weight. He looked over his shoulder and saw blue eyes, wide awake.
"Would you mind getting off of me for a second?"
"Sure. But as soon as that phone's been silenced, I'm getting back on."
Dark eyes widened, "Wh-What? You want another go? We have to work today!"
He was answered with a smirk and, "It won't kill us to take the day off. I'll just call Cuddy and tell her that my leg is acting up and your ass is killing you."
This earned him a punch on the arm.
"Ow! It's illegal to punch a cripple!"
"And it's illegal to make comments like that."
After rubbing the sore area, House settled back on his pillow, "Well, this was the second best New Years celebration I've ever had."
"What was the first?"
"The one where I got drunk, passed out, and woke up to find my college roommate's drunk girlfriend giving me head."
"Of course."
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I hope you liked it. If not, oh well. Comments/Reviews or whatever are welcome. Flames will be used as an alternative power source to gasoline.