Title: Floating
Characters: James Wilson/Greg House
CD & Song: History For Sale, Ugly Side,
Rating: A light PG-13
Author's Notes: Writen for the FicAlbum Challenge over on livejournal. This is my first House fic. Be kind, although I know it's bad. )
Disclaimer: I do not own or am in any way associated with House or Blue October. If I was Wilson and House would have hooked up a long time ago and Blue October would be playng my prom.
Floating
James Wilson looks out the rain splattered window of his lonely office, tears welling behind tightly closed eyes, when the door swings open. The tear's cause limps in and takes a seat in the chair across the desk.
He opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, and then, "Tears?"
James clears his throat and quickly swipes the back of his hands over his eyes. "I must of sneezed."
They hold each other's stare for what seems like an eternity. James can feel the cobalt blue orbs reading his thoughts, staring straight trough him, and he can't move. He's frozen. Finally he speaks.
"I heard she left you." Greg says, punctuating the last word with a raised eyebrow. Before James can answer, he continues. "Is that why you're here so late? You can't sleep in an empty house full of so many memories?"
James sighs and turns his eyes to the ground. "I slept, somehow."
The older man leans forward in his chair. Those inquisitive eyes are on him again. They both know this conversation isn't about his latest wife leaving him, it's about something bigger: bigger than her leaving him, bigger than labels, bigger than the both of them.
"Do you dream?"
James' heart jumps into his throat as he looks straight into Greg's eyes again. "I dream. I mean, I uh, dreamt of nothing." His voice sounds timid and scared, foreign to his own ears.
That's one thing, among many, that this man does to him. He turns his world upside down. Sure, before House came in, he was lost, but now that he's here, it's a different story. He's no longer able to breath, it's like a northern degree has dove into his heart. He can't feel his extremities and all he can hear is the rush of blood in his ears., but at the same time, it's like he's recovering.
All James ever wanted was for Greg to see his favorite part of himself; not the side that was self-doubting and unsure, not his ugly side, but here they were, he can't stop his tears, and Greg's damn eyes just keep on looking.
"Why?" Greg asks, as he stands.
i My God /i , James thinks, he's like a CB radio, let the conversation flow. He knows, and yet he still asks, so James will follow his lead.
"Why.." He swallows a dry lump in his throat as House comes to stand right in front of him, "what?"
Greg kneels before him and slowly shakes his head. "Don't prolong the inevitable. Why?"
James can feel the rage rising in the back of his tortured mind. i Play/i If anyone was playing, it was Greg. Whenever they're together he feels like he's shoved into Greg's cage, a place of ripping judgements and harsh realizations. A place where the only thing that matters is a kick and a scream. To him, distance means don't let me go. That's why, he remembers, he feels the way he feels and the rage slowly dissipates. James leans his forehead against Greg's, surprised when he doesn't pull away.
"You can't know, but you have to, I guess." He whispers, each word dripping with fear.
James opens his eyes. Greg's expression is one of silent understanding. He knows, without being told. They stay that way, leaning into one another, the only sound their light breathing, until Greg breaks the dark mood. He presses his lips to James' in a swift affectionate kiss, no lust behind it, no wanting, but so much love, and then silence again. House stands.
"I don't have to know anything you don't want me to, Jimmy." He's smiling a soft and serene smile and James can't help but smile back as he leaves the room.
He's left to his state of pondering again, only now, he's more confused. It's calmer then before, but now, it's as if he'll always be searching for that kiss to light his heart. He's stuck between the moon and Greg House. He can't be far, he thinks as he clicks his desk lamp off , he can't be far.
end
Reviews would be helpful and I would love you forever! )
