Disclaimer: I don't own House or CSI. This is slash. Naughty stuff happens. Don't like, don't read.

House sipped his scotch casually as he leaned against the bar.

After his attempt to see what lay beyond this life (for the curious, nothing, so don't bother), Cuddy had put him in a ketamine coma again.

This time though, it worked. House thought he almost wished it hadn't, because now he had no excuse for the snarkiness, and meant Cuddy thought he owed her.

Apparently ketamine was expensive. Who would have thought?

The fact that he owed her meant lots of extra clinic duties, which he never did anyway, and conferences.

House hated conferences with a vengeance. Smug doctors attempting to prove how much better than their peers they were while still acting humble was not his idea of ideal company.

"Well, after I saved the woman's life single-handedly in a hurricane, her daughter looked up at me and thanked me, and I almost cried. That is why I'm in the business really."

That was a lie. Most were in the business for money, (like Foreman) some were in it for the great pick up lines, (like Chase) and some were in it so they could feel better about themselves, (like Cameron). House was in it for the challenge, but at least he was honest about it.

Unfortunately, he still routinely had to go and tell idiots how not to kill a patient when you had no idea what was wrong with them, which was why he was in Miami right now.

The reason he was in a gay bar in Miami was a little more complicated.

This was the first time he had been let out without a babysitter. Okay, Wilson coming to one that had a famous oncologist lecturing had been believable, as had Foreman's presence at the Cranial Conference (yes, the alliteration was meant to make it more appealing). It was when Cameron tagged along to the Vegas one on kidneys that he got a little suspicious, and what Chase knew about the lungs could be written on a single cell.

So, now he was free, he had been planning on enjoying himself. He'd taken two weeks holiday for once the week long torture was finished, and planned on finding himself three weeks full of young, attractive, one night stands, male and female.

Then, after a couple of nights of fun in various clubs, he met Horatio in Club Specios. He had been getting bored with the plastic kids, and the man was definitely more than that.

Of course, they didn't make plans to meet again after that night, and surely it was just coincidence that House came back at the same time, when Horatio happened to be there.

And it must be coincidence that they'd been coming there nightly for the past five days too.

"Greg!" The familiar shock of red hair weaved its way in and out of the throng, finally emerging attached to a short man in black. "Sorry I'm late."

House frowned. He wasn't late, because House wasn't here to meet him… Who was he kidding? He sighed.

"It's okay. Tough day at work?"

"Yeah." As he ordered a drink, he elaborated. "Idiotic lieutenant working with me, thick as clotted cream. Young girl left to die in a park after being beaten up. You?"

"You know," House pouted, "It takes away all the sympathy points for me having to deal with morons all day when we talk about dead people. It isn't fair, they're automatically the most pity worthy thing."

Horatio laughed, "Well, I have the day off tomorrow, so probably no dead people. I could show you around Miami, if you wanted?" His voice betrayed a slight uncertainty as he asked.

House considered it.

"Sure. Meet at my hotel, at eleven? I have a lecture in the morning, but I'm free after that."

Horatio nodded, and finished his drink.

"Dance with me, Greg."

House loved dancing. Most people would have thought that after the infarction the activity he would most miss would be lacrosse, or running.

No, House revelled in the sweat and the sheer primal energy only found on the dance floor. The multi coloured lights, which spun wildly of slick bodies and the smell of sex in the air. Dancing was the closest thing to being on drugs that was legal.

And as he ground against the stocky man before him he could feel the beat pounding through his feet and he laughed with the joy that only comes from being able to do something you thought you never would again.

Horatio smiled at the sight, and kissed the man before him. While usually their kisses were slow and exploratory, each using their many years experience to make it perfect, this fit the music. It was wet and wild, and all teeth and tongues, and when House flicked his tongue gently against the roof of Horatio's mouth, he couldn't take it anymore and broke away.

"My house," Horatio gasped, "Now."

House didn't reply, just dragged the smaller man out to the car park, shouting for the barman to call a cab on the way.

Luckily, it arrived quickly, because both men were at that stage of drunk where they were left with no inhibitions, but still had full motor skills, and probably would have been arrested for public nudity if it hadn't arrived in ten or so minutes.

They groped each other shamelessly in the taxi, and the driver got to Horatio's house in record time, probably trying to get rid of the gay men in the back as soon as possible.

House paid for once, chucking in far more than necessary before chasing the red head out of the car. Horatio seemed to take forever to find his house key, not helped by the fact that House was grinding shamelessly against him.

"So sexy…" he whispered, nibbling on the back of Horatio's neck. Horatio whimpered quietly, finally opening the door, and slamming it quickly behind them. House had already made a start with opening his buttoned up shirt, and it flapped wildly as they raced up the stairs.

House took a moment to revel in the ability to do this. He'd heard of people who were allowed to walk after being in a wheelchair, and after a while it became commonplace. He knew that would never happen to him.

He grinned down at Horatio, tackling him onto the bed.

"What shall I do with you?" He asked rhetorically, kissing and licking along Horatio's collarbone. He made a long thin trail down the man's chest and stomach, vaguely aware that his clothes were being removed.

He tried to pull off Horatio's pants, finding it difficult. The button was sliding through his fingers, and he glared at it as Horatio laughed, reached down, and undid it himself. Now the pants came off easily, and House raised an eyebrow archly.

"Commando, Lieutenant?"

Horatio blushed, the colour almost matching his hair, and busied himself by finding the lube and a condom. House looked at the man's naked behind wriggling as Horatio tried to find the stuff, and his erection grew almost painful.

He pulled off his jeans, and reached around the other man, palming him with the ease of practice. Horatio gasped at the unexpected feelings, and his back arched with pleasure. He found the items, chucking them at House.

"Greg…" He begged, and House was quick to oblige, preparing him slowly, ignoring his pleas to go faster.

He slid in, and Horatio moaned, shaking with lust. A couple of thrusts, and House was finished, the tight warmth feeling so good. He flipped Horatio over, and kissed the top of his cock delicately. The urethra, his medical mind provided. He told his medical mind to shut up and took the man in his mouth. All those years of popping pills had done wonders for his gag reflex, and he massaged Horatio's balls gently, enjoying Horatio's keen as he came, deep in House's mouth.

"God, Greg." He said happily, snuggling up to the man. He felt House's chest vibrate as House chuckled.

"You only need to use one of my names…"

Horatio slapped him playfully, before yawning widely. It was already about one o'clock, which was far later than he should be awake. He drifted off slowly, still cuddled up to the other man.