Sleeping in the closet of the Torrance home was getting old even though it had only been three or four days. They couldn't stay there forever. Wilson hoped to change their sleeping situation soon with a little help. Very soon. That night, if it was possible. But the sun hadn't set yet and House was still asleep. He wasn't going to risk burning himself or House by opening the door before dark. All he could do was sit back and wait for a little while longer.

He still found his night vision fascinating, being able to everything so crisp and clear even in the pitch black. Wilson looked down at his sleeping friend who was sprawled on a pile of comfy pillows. House, finally free from his pain and his addiction. House, his best friend and lover, who would be at his side for as long there was a ground to walk on. The greatest gift one friend could give to another. And House was adjusting very well to his new life. Wilson found himself wondering what he would have done if House had turned him away that night in his apartment. Where would he be now? Sleeping in this closet alone all the while missing his best friend more than anything? Or back at the apartment, forcing House to change his mind? Or not giving him a choice at all...

No...no, he could never do that. Never. How could he even think of it?

The last of the daylight fell behind the horizon. It was safe to open the door. As if on cue, House opened his eyes, all but casting an electric-blue glow in the closet. For a brief second Wilson thought he could see his shadow on the wall. No light to cast a shadow. Just his imagination running away from him again.

"Hello," Wilson greeted his friend. "Sleep well?"

Instead of greeting Wilson in return, House reached up and grabbed him behind the neck, pulling him down into a fierce and almost brutal kiss. Wilson was caught off guard at first, but then kissed right back with all he had, submitting as if he had any other choice. The diagnostician sensed it, fed off it, and the intensity grew as he pulled Wilson down on top of him and claimed him as his own. Because this was what Wilson lived and died for, why he went back to the apartment to give House this gift. The oncologist loved that his friend was so possessive of him. That's why deep down he knew House wouldn't have made him go away when he went back to 221B that night. The closet floated away and white noise filled his head. Lust overtook him as Wilson gave his best friend another deep, raw, crushing kiss.

And then House bit him on the lip.

Wilson pulled back, stunned. A strange sensation, not quite pain but an almost pleasurable stinging and burning ran along his bottom lip. House stared back, smiling a wicked smile. Flames roared to a blazing inferno behind his blue eyes, and a dark trickle of blood spotted along his mouth. His pink tongue flicked out caught every last bit of it. Wilson felt the shudder through his friend as the tiny amount of blood sent a delicious thrill down his spine. The warmth of it, the taste of it. It was better than Vicodin ever could be. More intoxicating than the best bottle of scotch. House was still staring at him hungrily, ready to devour him whole. Quietly daring Wilson to say something, to admonish him, to bite right back. Silence remained as Wilson let another drop of blood spill onto House's lips. It disappeared with another flick of his tongue. The wound on the oncologist's bottom lip healed, but there was still a smear of red on his chin. House pulled him back down and licked it off.

"I take it you did sleep well," Wilson muttered between his friend's continuing licks and nibbles and kisses.

"Mm-hmm. You taste so good, Jimmy. So very, very good."

"I take it you're hungry, too."

"I'm getting there," House murmured, nuzzling the brown-eyed man's neck, in no particular hurry to stop what he was doing.

"So let's go."

"I'm not finished with you yet."

"Let's go," Wilson said, reluctantly pushing himself away. "We don't have all night."

"What's the rush?" House frowned in disappointment, irritated.

"We need to find another place to stay."

"I thought they were going to be gone for another week or so."

"They are, but I don't want to chance it. And there's someone we need to pay a visit to."

"Who?"

It was Wilson's turn to smile a wicked smile. "My maker. Now let's put everything back where it was and get out of here."

They had fed well and were flushed and giddy by the time they climbed the front steps to a small but well-maintained home on the outskirts of town. Faint glowing light filled the front windows. There must have been several dozen candles burning. All the other houses were dark and silent. Just another quiet night.

"Can't your friend pay the electric bill?" House asked with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Wilson knocked on the door and said, "Candles are easier on her eyes."

"Her?" House was honestly surprised. "Charming the ladies right to the end, right, Jimmy?"

"Kinda sorta. We're going to be staying with her for a while, so it won't kill you to be polite."

"Hmph. Staying here, huh? Anyone I know?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

The front door opened before House could respond. In the doorway stood a young woman with short dark hair, porcelain skin, and shining eyes. The faint blush on her cheeks suggested she had enjoyed a good meal not too long ago. She was beautiful when Wilson knew her as a patient and lover, and now her beauty radiated off her like a nearly overwhelming force. She gave a warm smile and crushing hug to her old friend.

"James! I'm so glad to see you." She turned her attention to the other man on her porch. "Hello, Greg."

House smiled back. "Hello, Grace. How was Italy?"

--The End