House has been invited to Wilson's parents House for thanksgiving every year for eighteen years.
He has gone every time, mostly because Wilson dragged him.
But this year Wilson isn't going to be dragging him.
Wilson doesn't even want to look at him, or have anything to do with him.
So House isn't going to go, even when he gets the post card with the group picture from the last year, with a somewhat drunk Wilson hanging on to an even drunker Mathew, who is in turn holding on to House. House is watching them, an amused expression on his face.
But as he hasn't called to tell Diane that he's coming, Diane calls him.
He explains that Wilson wouldn't want him there.
She says that's chicken feathers, and he's coming.
House tries to explain about the bus crash, and that Wilson pretty much hates him now.
But she doesn't listen.
"you're coming," she prounounces, "and if you're not here, I'm going to drive to your apartment and drag you out kicking and screaming. You're just as much a part of this family as James is, as far as I'm concerned. We've known you almost twenty years, Greg."
House sighs, and grudgingly says he will come.
Mostly because he can imagine that Diane *will*, in fact, show up at his apartment if he isn't there.
So he comes.
And stands outside the door, feeling incredibly awkward.
Then a car pulls up behind his bike—which he has driven despite the wet roads, because it's a whole lot easier to maneuver the bike out of the Wilson-packed street.
This is the only day he calls Wilson by his first name in an attempt to communicate something other than humor.
James's uncle Ed claps House on the shoulder, nearly making his knees buckle, which causes his thigh to shoot sharp pains in protest, "Greg!" he basically roars—uncle Ed is nearly deaf—, "are you trying to get a cold?! Knock on the door, boy!"
To most of Wilsons' family, House is a boy.
It isn't derogatory—they call everyone under fifty a boy.
"I'm not a boy anymore," says House, managing half a smile. He doesn't mind uncle Ed, "I turned fifty this year."
Ed's eyebrows, like a gray version of James's tame hedgehogs, go straight up into his hair, "Well aint that something."
He reaches past House to knock on the door.
Diane Wilson opens it, and she's pretty much glowing, her cheeks flushed red from the heat of the kitchen she has no doubt been in all day long, "ED! And Greg, oh, come here."
House grunts, as she pulls him into a hug.
"James told me what happened with his girlfriend. Oh, Greg, I'm so sorry!"
Ed edges past them through the doorway.
"uh… James is here already?"
She nods, "of course! He came to help me cook! Geraldine couldn't make it this year, laid up in Minnesota with the flu."
Geraldine was Diane's sister, and usually helped Diane cook.
"That's too bad," he says, politely.
Diane rolls her eyes, "come on in, dear!"
She all but drags him into the warm, brightly lit, noisy Wilson house.
She shoves him into a group of people, although gently.
House finds himself surrounded by Margret and Jonathan and Sammy and Eliza and Elizabeth and Amy and Steven. The fact that he can remember all of their names is testament to the fact that he's seen them every year for eighteen years.
Amy takes his arm, and immediately starts asking if he's gotten a girlfriend yet.
It's twenty minutes later, when Matt, James's younger brother, rescues him by physically dragging him out of the throng, excusing them as going to help in the kitchen.
Instead of the kitchen, Matt leads him out to the quiet room with the piano in it. later, everyone with even a bit of musical talent will play something on the piano, and that includes House. Diane will take his arm, and tell him she absolutely must hear god rest ye merry gentlemen, even though she's Jewish, and it's not Christmas yet.
She'll drag him into the room, and sit him down, and he'll play it and sing, and because most of the musically talented people in Wilson's family mainly play other instruments, he'll get roped into playing request after request. Before the infarction, he would stay there all night, and get drunk, and actually let himself enjoy feeling that he wasn't quite the odd one out. Now, he can only play for a few hours before his leg starts giving him hell from using the pedals.
And this year…
He feels incredibly awkward, being here.
As soon as they are in the room, Matt grips him around the shoulders, pulling him into a big hug. Wilson's family loves to hug people.
House sighs, as Matt lets go.
Matt looks at him, long and hard.
"God, Greg. You look terrible."
House actually laughs at that.
"Thanks," he says, dryly.
Matt rolls his eyes.
"I just want to get one thing straight."
House blinks, "okay…"
"Just because James is mad at you, does not change the fact that I've known you since I was in high school. You're family to me, Greg, and family to everyone else here. So don't even think about feeling you shouldn't be here."
House blinks for a moment.
Then he allows himself a small smile, and nods.
Matt claps him on the shoulder, and grins, sitting down on the piano bench, "good. How's life?"
House snorts, Matt rolls his eyes.
Amy joins them again, and starts off on Matt about girlfriends.
Amy has yet to figure out that Steven is Matt's boyfriend. Even though they've been together for eight years. And both of them have come. Together. Every year. In the same car.
They're still sitting there, House on one of the folding chairs scattered throughout the House, Amy on the other end of the piano bench, when James come through, carrying a large bowl of Carmel popcorn.
He stops cold in the doorway, upon seeing House.
They haven't seen each other in two months.
James is a lot thinner than he was before.
Then again, House had lost some weight too.
Though… James looks like he's lost a lot more than House has.
James finally tears his eyes away from House, and walks through the room, carrying the bowl.
House watches him, but says nothing.
The small lifting off his gloom that Matt and Amy were starting to produce was gone.
House excused himself, and went to sit in the bathroom.
It smells faintly of vomit, which is odd.
Every single part of this house usually smells like food.
Well… maybe somebody had tried a new recipe that hadn't worked out so well. Or maybe great uncle Ted got to drinking a bit too early.
Whatever the cause, the whiff faded quickly, and House sat on the toilet, head in his hands.
He finally takes a vicodin, and limps out.
He opens the door on… James.
Who sighs, and pushes him back into the bathroom.
House blinks at him.
"What? Are you going to hit me? Yell at me? What?"
"Why are you here?"
House is silent.
"Why are you here?!"
House sighs.
"Your mom…"
"Yeah, House. My mom. Not your mom. Go home to *your* family, House. Get out of mine."
House stares at him.
James cannot imagine, how much he is tearing House up, right now.
Or if he does, he doesn't care.
House isn't sure which is worse.
James grabs House's shoulders, and yells, "I don't want you here!"
House grips James's arm, as James starts to slump down.
"Wilson!"
House lowers James to the floor, and it's such a small bathroom, that James ends up basically in House's lap, as House checks his pulse.
It's there, but rapid and faint.
"Wilson? Hey, James. Jimmy, wake up."
James groans, and slowly uncurls himself, disoriented and weak.
House grips his shoulders, as he struggles to sit up.
"Jimmy," he says, softly, "what the hell have you been doing to yourself?"
James looks at him, brown eyes telling nothing of what he's feeling.
"I…" he looks embarrassed, "I've been in the kitchen all day, I guess… I got too hot."
House nods, seeing James's anger of minutes before is gone.
James is unsteady on his feet, as House helps him up.
"Come on," says House, almost gently, "let's get you upstairs."
He watched, as James nods, and opens the door, calling Matt's name.
It takes a few minutes, but Matt fights his way out of the crowd.
"What happened?" he asks, looking between House and his unsteady looking brother.
"He fainted. Looks like some mild heatstroke from that oven of a kitchen your mom thrives in."
Matt laughs, quietly, and takes James's arm, "you always have to be a martyr, huh James?"
James shrugs, a slightly sheepish smile reaching his lips, "sorry."
House follows them up the steps, and gets a washcloth from the upstairs bathroom wet, sitting on the edge of the bed in the room that used to be James, David, and Matt's, but is now the guestroom.
House remembers him, James and Matt hanging out in this room when Matt still lived in it.
James is curled on the bed now, his tie and vest on the floor, shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
He looks pale rather than flushed, but House doesn't notice.
He does notice how thin James seems has gotten from the little House can see of him, but again… he's lost weight too.
He sits on the edge of the bed, while Matt hovers nervously a few feet away, "is he okay? Can you check his pulse again?"
House rolls his eyes, but does gently wrap his hand around Jimmy's thin wrist.
His pulse is still quite rapid, so House decides to do it the old fashioned way, and drips cold water over James's chest, then folds the washcloth into thirds, and presses it over Jimmy's forehead.
Wilson eventually seems to recover, and House lets him get up, but tells Matt to tell Diane what happened, and keep James out of the kitchen.
James sits on the bed, alone in the room with House.
He looks at the older doctor, sighing slightly.
"Thanks, House," he says, quietly.
House nods.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, like I did. I'm just really… cranky… today."
House shrugs.
James sighs, and grips House's hand.
"I really didn't mean to be angry at you, House. Not anymore. I… I can't forget, but I can forgive."
House nods, "I… I'm glad."
Wilson smiles, weakly, and House heaves on his hand, pulling the younger doctor to his feet to the best of his abilities.
Wilson stumbles, and nearly falls.
"Damn, Jimmy," growls House, gripping his friend's arm, "lie back down."
Wilson sighs, and slowly sits.
House sits next to James, and they stay there until Matt jogs up the steps, and tell them dinner is about to be served.
House feels a bit odd, being the more steady of him and Jimmy.
But Matt is steadier yet, so he's the one who takes James's arm, making sure he doesn't fall on the steps.
Diane is waiting for them in the hall outside the dining room, "James, are you alright? Greg, is James alright?"
House nods, "yeah, just the heat in that death-oven you call a kitchen."
She snorts, and takes James's arm, making absolutely sure he gets to his seat alright.
House smiles despite himself, and sees there are three open seats.
He takes the one to the left of James, and Matt sits to the left.
After that, House is completely absorbed in this huge puzzle that is Wilson's family.
He analyzes each and every one of them, and by the time he's run out, someone is talking to him.
He turns to them, finds that they are Great-aunt jerry, who used to be great-uncle jerry, but isn't anymore, and hasn't gotten around to changing her name.
Or maybe she has, but everyone just still calls her jerry.
By the end of the meal, he's stuffed, and he's stolen half of what was on James's plate, because James says he's still kind of nauseous from his bout of heat stroke, and only eats a little.
He's pleasantly buzzed, and actually doesn't protest more than five times, when Diane decides he's going to start off the music.
James is in the room for a while, but then House gets absorbed in the music and the people, and he looses track of his best friend, who is finally his friend again.
He plays a song he learned by heart in eight grade, looking around the room.
This isn't like James.
James always loves it when he plays.
House figures James's stomach might not be agreeing with him, and decides to excuse himself for a song or two, to check on his friend. It's not something he would usually do, but he's just gotten Jimmy back so recently, he doesn't want to risk something happening.
He finds James in the bathroom upstairs, leaning over the toilet as he suspected.
The door is partway open, and he doesn't think Wilson has heard him.
The younger doctor has taken off his shirt to avoid getting vomit on it, and as House studies him, he realizes… James hasn't just lost weight. He's lost a lot of weight. He's too thin.
And then House sees James's hand come up, and it's almost to his mouth, by the time House realizes what is going on.
And then it all clicks, and his chest suddenly goes cold.
House kneels, and pulls James's hand out of his mouth, just as he gags and heaves and vomits.
House pulls him away from the toilet, and James leans back against House's chest, panting, tears streaming down his face.
"God, Wilson," says House, reaching for the toilet paper, "you idiot!"
Jimmy just pants, gasping for breath, as House wipes his mouth.
He's still up against House's chest, and House can feel him trembling, his too-thin ribcage moving rapidly and in House's arms.
He's beginning to shiver, and his shirt was in the other room, as House takes off his own shirt and puts it over James's shoulders.
"God," he mutters again, "come'ere. Come on."
James doesn't protest, doesn't have the energy to care, as House leads him into the guest room, and sits him on the bed, the shirt falling off.
House pulls him close again, and he can feel himself being rocked, back and forth, which is soothing, and even though his throat burns, and his stomach muscles ache, he's calm.
He gently eases himself away from House, "I just ate too much, House. It's fine."
House stares at him.
Then he feels a hand slap across his face.
"You idiot!"
He closes his eyes.
He is tired… so tired.
The next thing he knows, he's lying on the bed, and something that smells of House is laid across his chest.
Matt is sitting next to House, but only House his holds his hand.
House is holding his hand, and rubbing his thumb over James's fingers, watching his friend's face intently as James starts to wake up.
"Hey," he says, quietly, as James looks at him, "how you doing there, Jimmy?"
James smiles, weakly.
"Okay…" he says, "what happened?"
"You fainted. Again."
James grimaces.
"Sorry," he says, sitting up, "what time is it? how much did I miss?"
House shoves him back down, though not very roughly.
"You idiot! Lie back down."
James looks up at him, hurt, "I wanna hear you play…"
House shakes his head, "I'm taking you home, Jimmy. You drive?"
James nods, "yeah…why?"
"I rode my bike, so I guess I'm driving your car. We'll pick the bike up later."
Wilson blinks at him.
"House… it… it isn't a big deal. I just ate too much."
House shakes his head, and tugs his shirt off James's chest.
James looks down at himself, then up at House.
"Why do you care if I'm a little overweight?"
House gapes at him, "Wilson, I can see your fucking ribs!"
James blinks.
Then he realizes.
House thinks he has an eating disorder.
But he doesn't… does he?
Sure, he tries to avoid eating too much, and when he does, he undoes it… but that's not… abnormal… is it?
He frowns to himself.
No, there isn't anything wrong with it. Someone would have noticed, if he was too thin.
Wouldn't they…?
He's been on sabbatical. Since he realized he had a problem with his weight, he hasn't been around anyone who knows him.
He looks at House, and his brown eyes are slightly panicky.
"House… I don't… I just ate too much."
House shakes his head, and grips James's shoulder.
"No, Jimmy. You didn't. Come on, I'm taking you home," he says, softly.
Wilson closes his eyes.
"I'll play for you when we get to my apartment."
Wilson nods, whispering, "okay."
And even though he's in a house with all the rest of his "real" family…
He isn't home.
House's apartment is his home.
House is his family.
Not that he doesn't love every single person in this house.
But House is his family, the family that he's found.
Matt is standing across the room, and he looks worried.
Wilson smiles weakly at him, as House helps him sit.
"Hey, Matt. It's okay. Alright?"
Matt nods, "get better. That's an order, even though I'm your little brother. I'll tell on you if you don't."
Wilson nods, laughing quietly, and Matt steps forward, helping him to his feet.
Wilson sits on House's couch, staring down at a bowl of chicken with stars, which is the only thing that House had in his kitchen.
He sighs, and takes a bite, as House starts up God Bless Ye Merry Gentlemen.
Then, looking across at his friend, he whispers, "thank you."
House doesn't stop singing or miss a note.
But his eyes fix on Wilson's, and he nods.
His eyes tell Wilson that it will be okay.
And that's something he desperately needed to know.