Title: The Five Stages Of Loving Gregory House
Fandom: House, MD
Characters: Lisa Cuddy, Greg House, James Wilson
Prompt: 004. Insides
Word Count: 2095
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Those five stages don't always apply to death when it comes to James Wilson.
Author's Notes: Originally going to be a whole lot of angst. My sister got annoyed and smacked me around, demanding some humor or some fluff. After all, all I've been posting lately is Hurt/Comfort. Time for a twist. I took the five stages of death and applied it to love. It was going to be friendship, but eating muffins makes you think funny things. Feel free to demand a sequel--I already know about a dozen reviewers who'll demand one. Oh, SLASH. HOUSE/WILSON (one sided) WITH CUDDY THROWN IN TO BE THE MEDIATOR.

Denial
At first, the person thinks, "It can't be me. I'm not really dying. The doctors made a mistake."

(I am not in love with Gregory House.)

James Wilson was not gay.

In fact, if he were to stand in front of a gaydar, it would read him as undetectable and say 'be gone, ye creature of foul straightness!' But, unfortunately, the closest gaydar around wasn't really a piece of machinery, but a person, and the person claimed that even the plant in his office was gay, so that was no use.

But really--Wilson wasn't gay.

He wasn't in love with House. That right there was a definite.

All those funny feelings in his stomach? A minor case of indigestion. The lunch lady might've been a little off today and put a wee bit too much zing instead of the zang.

The light-headedness he felt? Lack of sleep. He had been stuck staying up till the wee hours in the morning with one cancer patient after another, and by the time he could finally go, it was already time for him to start his next shift.

The clenching in his heart when House said 'I love you'? That certainly wasn't by the fact that he said 'I love you' all together. Nope, not at all. It was from the fact that House had scared him half to death by electrocuting himself to prove a point, that asshole.

James Wilson was certainly not in love with Gregory House, no matter what Cuddy said when she pointed out with a smile all the little hearts doodled on his patient files with JW loves GH written inside them.

-----

Anger
Once the reality of impending death is recognized, feelings of anger and resentment take center stage. Anger may be directed at younger or healthier people or toward the physicians who cannot save the person.

(I deeply despise Gregory House.)

"What's crawled up your butt and died today?" House raised an eyebrow, twirling his cane as he stared hard at the man across from him, who appeared to be simmering in his lab coat.

"Nothing, House, nothing." He slapped a hand fiercely when it went at his sandwich. "Get your own damn food."

"I think something is up. You're never this bitchy. So tell me, latest girlfriend dump you? Crushing on someone but they don't want you in their pants?"

'Oh if only you knew.' Wilson thought with a wary sigh.

"What are you two up to?" Cuddy sidled up beside the table and pulled up a chair. "Skipping out on work?"

"I'm not, but he is." House pointed to Wilson with an air of innocence. He received a roll of eyes and a head shake.

Wilson could feel Cuddy's prying eyes on him, and he attempted to ignore her by focusing on opening his bag of chips. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the bag wanted to create a hassle and popped loudly, sending a shower of salted food all over his lap and tray.

House barked out a laugh and Cuddy rubbed her forehead awkwardly as she tried to stifle a building laugh.

Wilson groaned, staring at the mess before he began to brush off the chips. "You know what, I'm not hungry anymore."

The other man perked up. "Mind if I eat your sandwich?" He made a grab for the food, but yanked his hand back when Wilson stopped his.

The oncologist stared fiercely at the man before he sighed, taking the plate off the tray, and dropped it in front of the man. "Take it. It's not like it's going to get eaten."

"Wilson," Cuddy broke in, "Mind if I see you in my office for a few minutes?"

He frowned and House made an obnoxious noise that sounded awfully familiar to a taunt consisting of "Oooh! You're in trouble now!"

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Bargaining
By the next stage, the person attempts to make a deal with God, such as promising to do good deeds in exchange for a few more months or years.

(Please send me some sort of sign about Gregory House's feelings towards me. Anything, I'm begging you.)

"Have you told him yet?"

Cuddy was a smart girl, but she was sometimes a little too good for her own--well, good.

He looked away, just feeling that damn redness that threatened to appear on his face and highlight his ears like an art display. "What's to tell him? There's nothing to say."

She smiled at him knowingly. "Oh I'm sure there's plenty to say, but it's just forming the right words that'll take some time."

He slammed a fist on her desk, startling both her and himself for the sudden movement. "Damnit Cuddy, this isn't something you can just come right out and say! It's not like--like saying you like their shirt! It's a life changing statement that I don't want to say because I don't want what we have to change."

Cuddy raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

He frowned, staring at her blankly.

"Are you sure you want to keep it going at just friends, James? I'm sure that if House knew, he'd think otherwise."

"He'd treat me like a puzzle and try to figure me out, that is all he would do."

She smiled again despite herself. "What makes you think he's not doing that right now?"

He whipped his head and stared at her. "Wha--"

"He's trying to figure you out, in case if you haven't noticed." She wagged a finger at him. "You've been acting quite strange lately and he wants to know why."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "He told you this?"

She paused. "If I said he did, would it still matter?" She gave him a knowing smirk and he made an exasperated noise before breaking down.

He pulled the chair close enough so he could rest his elbows on the edge. "Look, Lisa, I--I'm taking this slow. I want to know how he feels before I do anything, you understand?" She nodded and he continued. "I don't want to force anything on him without knowing what could follow. I--I don't want to lose him. Really, I don't."

She patted his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "You won't lose him, he's stuck on you."

He smiled back at her, but that didn't soothe the pain that kept clenching at his heart every time he thought about what would happen if he did do anything.

For now, he'd continue to beg for Fate to listen and quit being a bitch to him.

-----

Depression
Depression reflects the growing sense of loss over leaving behind loved ones and losing life itself. A sense of utter hopelessness may ensue.

(Gregory House does not love me. He could never love me.)

"You look like your dog just got run over by a train."

Wilson let out an exhausted sigh and nestled his face further into the crook of his arms. "House, I'm tired. Please go."

"Na ah," a teasing voice replied and he looked up to see House half-strutting, half-limping towards his desk, all the while twirling his cane. "I don't think I want to."

"House--" he began with a warning tone but House brushed it off--

--along with everything that was on his desk.

Wilson jumped up from his seat, staring in horror at the mess on the floor. "House! Why did you--"

"I'll clean it up in a little bit. I promise. Now tell me, why the long face." He swung his body onto the desk and made himself as comfortable as a cripple with a pained thigh could on a hard desk.

The way he was lounging slash posing was not helping Wilson whatsoever.

Any coherent thoughts he had were quickly being washed away by naughty thoughts of unspeakable acts and my, how would he look so good bound to his bed with Wilson's ties and --

--Wilson instantly whirled around and started to smack his head off the wall, alarming House.

"Hey, hey, Jimmy, what the hell are you doing? Hey, you're going to break the wall with that thick head of yours!" He jumped off the desk as fast as he could and hobbled to the frustrated man, pulling him away from the wall. "Wilson, start talking, what the hell is going on? I have never seen you so wired before--" he paused. "Except for the time when I slipped you amphetamines. But that's beside the point. What's going on?"

Wilson wanted to cry. He was so frustrated, he was so angry, hopeful, anxious, hell, he was feeling so friggen stupid at the moment.

It wasn't fair, why did he have to fall in love with House, of all the people in the whole wide world?

"Wilson?"

"It's--been a rough day. I lost several patients today," he lied, avoiding eye contact with House. "I've been up late, I haven't had a decent night's rest in God knows how long, and--I am just tired. Frustrated and tired."

'Frustrated and tired of not being able to figure you out.' he corrected himself.

House cocked his head before he nodded. "All right, fine. You don't want to tell me what's wrong, I understand." He turned to make his way out of the room. "Oh, and since you didn't tell me what's wrong, I'm not cleaning that." He pointed to the mess he had made before he marched out.

Wilson felt sicker than he had the day he found House lying in his own vomit, half dead from overdosing on Vicodin.

There was no way it would happen now.

-----

Acceptance
As the person works through the earlier stages, he or she eventually achieves some degree of inner peace and acceptance. The person may still fear death, but comes to accept it with a kind of quiet dignity.

(I love Gregory House.)

James Wilson was frustrated.

He was angry, he was depressed, he was in denial, and oddly hopeful.

So what if he had fallen from grace? He never really was perfect. So what if he saved a dozen or so patients at a time and lost hundreds at another, he was human. He was allowed to love, allowed to be imperfect. That was the beauty in being human.

The ultimate beauty of being human is being flawed, oh the irony.

He paced back and forth on the stoop, debating what to say. Should he come right out and say it, or come up with a lengthy speech in hopes of somehow spilling it out without really saying anything?

Nah, House would figure him out the second he said 'hi'.

The only reason why he was here was because Cuddy had enough. Well, he did too. But that didn't mean he was going to do anything about it.

She had literally dragged him to her car, threw him into the back seat and drove him to House's apartment before tossing him out into the street, demanding for him to make a damn move before the sexual tension got so thick that she'd have to force them to bang each other in the clinic on the desk in front of everybody. He refused to believe that she would go that far, but the moment she pulled out several packets of condoms and a tube of lube and picked up the phone to call House, he knew she was serious.

So here he stood, accepting the fact that yes, he did like (love) House, but was too much of a chicken-shit to say anything.

He took a breath and knocked.

It was a minute later when he found House standing in front of him with a perplexed expression on his face.

Wilson swallowed and looked him right in the eye before he spoke.

"House, I have a confession."

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