Yesterday is a wounded animal, a house, m.d. fanfic

Yesterday is a wounded animal

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just do this for fun. House MD belongs to David Shore. The song "Ayer es un animal herido" (Yesterday is a wounded animal) belongs to Mikel Erentxun, a Spanish singer (who, by the way, was also fan of House M.D.).

Although this fic was inspired by the song that gives it title, it's not a songfic as lyrics are not part of the fic. However, I've translated the song at the end of the fic in case anyone wants to read it.

Warnings: Spoilers of the series finale. This fic contains slash. Physical relationship between men is mentioned, although there is nothing explicit. Don't like it, don't read it.

"Wilson." House called softly to the form that was standing outside the motel room. "You shouldn't be outside. It's very cold and your immune system doesn't-"

"Cold helps me to breathe better," Wilson interrupted his friend. He sounded absent, as if his mind wasn't in the here and now.

"Must I remember you what happened the last time you stayed outside for long? And that time, the night was warmer than today." House couldn't hide the anger he felt tinging his voice. However, after a few moments, a grimace was drawn on his face. How on earth had this happened? When did he become the one who cared for the irresponsible friend? When had the roles been reversed?

"Wilson..." House repeated thoughtfully, watching the steam coming out from his own mouth as he uttered his friend's name. He watched as the mist melted and diluted in the air until it disappeared completely. He felt a tightness in his chest. Just exactly like his friend's life, fading bit by bit, until one day would disappear altogether.

"Not even stars have an infinite life." Wilson said absently, staring at the starry sky. "Stars are also born, and they die."

Both friends remained silent for several minutes, without moving from the spot they were in: House leaning at the door frame, Wilson leaning against the outside wall of the motel room a few feet away.

"It has been an amazing dream. The two of us on the road, with nobody who was telling us what we could do or not, going where we wanted to go when we wanted to, and without any regard for what other people could say." Wilson said, smiling, still looking at the stars. He turned to look at those beautiful turquoise eyes. He added, with infinite sadness reflected in his voice. "But dreams also have to sleep when the night is over, when the day wakes up. And my night is coming to an end."

House looked away. His eyes were moist. It's because of the cold, he tried to deceive himself. He wanted to get Wilson to be quiet. He didn't want to hear what the oncologist had to say, but a lump in his throat prevented it. He knew that the time for keeping up with their escapade, their flight, had to come to its end. But he didn't want to hear it from his friend's lips, because that would make it real.

"My night is coming to its end and it can no longer follow you in your days. I want you to live those days, Greg, although I am not there anymore to light your way. But I'm not going to force you to do anything. I'm just asking of you that you give life without me a try, that you don't throw the towel in the next second."

"Wilson …" That was all the words House was able to say before the tightness he was feeling in his heart reached his throat, effectively preventing him from speaking.

"Sshhh, House," Wilson silenced him. His voice had sounded so close that House, surprised, looked up to find him within his own personal space. He hadn't heard him move.

"Tell me that you'll try it, that you won't follow me straight afterwards." Wilson whispered, while stroking his friend's stubbled cheek.

House nodded slightly, the pain clearly written on his face. Wilson gave him a little smile. He knew it would be all he was going to get from him and, anyway, he didn't want anything else. His friend's life had been full of pain, both physical and emotional, and the oncologist didn't want a promise made to a dead man was the only thing it would tie House to life. He wasn't going to condemn him to a life of misery and pain. No. If House was going to get on with his life, it should be for his own reasons. His reasons for go on living should be of his own, not borrowed ones.

But, at the moment, he was still alive and, in the meantime, he was going to do anything in his power to make House as happy as he could be, given the circumstances. And if there was something that made his friend happy...

He ran his hand down the diagnostician's shoulder and arm and, then, he took his hand in his own. He stepped forward and gave him a soft kiss on his lips.

"But while I'm still alive, I want to get the most out of life. Let's go inside. I want you to make love to me." He pulled his friend out. After a brief hesitation, House let himself to be carried away.

Unlike all the other times, the diagnostician didn't mock Wilson's words. Because, as much as he had denied it by telling to his friend that it was only sex every time , the truth was that it was much more. It was something that he would never dare to confess to himself. Not when what they shared had its days numbered. Not when what they shared was going to be demolished, destroyed with his friend's last breath.

"I'm still not going to tell you that I love you," he said in a whisper.

"I know," Wilson replied simply. He no longer cared that House was never going to tell him that he loved him. It was unnecessary. The diagnostician said it with his actions every time they made love. For that was what they did, as much as his friend insisted on it being only sex. As House had always said, everybody lied. And that included himself.

Both men entered in the dimly lit bedroom. When the oncologist went to turn the lights on, House stopped him. He didn't want that his friend saw the wet strokes that crossed his cheeks. Even though it's only because of the cold.

Yesterday is a wounded animal - Mikel Erentxun

As a countdown / of infinite life

I chain myself again / to the steam that your name leaves / when it's said to the cold.

This scene of love / have notice of demolition.

There's no time already / for more / escapades

there is no time already/ for more / escapades

Our mistake was to believe / that dreams never sleep.

My night is no longer able / of lighting / any of your days anymore.

Yesterday / is a wounded animal.