If this were the kind of stuff I usually write, my beta reader yarroway would be listed as coauthor: not only were my grammar and English usage corrected, but a fine-tuned ear helped me when I got my characters wrong. A key scene was substantially rewritten.
PS yarroway disagreed on the co-authorship issue, but the point is that in my field you really get people listed as coauthors for much less than she did.
It's Monday morning, and the big "Welcome Back Boss" party is going on in full force. The ER patients are mildly puzzled by the balloons but they enjoy the free sodas and snacks. Everybody else knows what's being celebrated: Cuddy's back to work. All over the hospital toasts are being made. And at 9 am everything stops and she is officially reinstalled as Dean of Medicine.
She gives a moving speech about her fight with cancer and her aims for the next fiscal year. The auditorium is full, with people standing in the aisles well beyond what safely regulations will allow; at the end of her speech there's a five-minute standing ovation. She doesn't forget you either, and a short round of applause goes to "the doctor who saved my life so that I can keep bothering you all".
You don't have lunch in the cafeteria; there's a small celebratory reception in a nearby restaurant. There's delicious food and champagne and nobody feels guilty about taking two hours off. Even Cuddy doesn't seem to mind the idea that none of her Department Heads are at work in the moment.
Actually, one of them is there. After a short phone call from the men's bathroom you now know that House is spending the whole day in his office, working. He wasn't there in the auditorium either, and he hasn't tasted any of the free food available in every corridor.
When you go back to Oncology at 2 pm the general mood is one of happiness, enthusiasm and optimism, something very rare in those corridors; they're proud of Cuddy being healed and prouder of the fact she trusted her own people to cure her.
Both on your Oncology rounds and as you later do your clinic hours, you overhear scraps of conversation among nurses. House's absence at the party has been noticed and discussed. It is only later, while you drive home, that you realize that this was the easiest way for him to communicate to the whole hospital that they're not a couple any longer.
When you arrive home on the table there are several cartons of Chinese takeout, untouched. And six empty beer bottles. And House's forehead over his arms.
He finally straightens up and looks at you with bloodshot eyes, while you warm up dinner in the microwave and open you own beer. "How was the speech? And the lunch?"
"It went well, but it's good you didn't show up - you would have found it soppily emotional. How about you? Did you eat anything at all today?"
"I had two packs of potato chips. And one whisky." House swallows an ibuprofen, obviously not the first one this evening. "One very large whisky."
"Still sure you made the right decision? You look horrible."
"That's because I worked all day." House stands up. "No, I did the right thing. I'm just feeling sorry for Cuddy. Because I didn't lie to her but I didn't tell her the truth either. And I'm sorry for Rachel. I even feel sorry for Lucas, can you believe it?"
House goes to the organ and starts playing. It's clear he doesn't want to talk anymore today. You pull out a bunch of files and pretend to work, while you listen to the stream of sad music.
You're relaxing on the couch, the tv on mute, your feet up. Life has been good this week: no patient died for a record two consecutive days, and no child for a whole week. And after five weeks sharing home with House has become a pleasant habit. It's like Sam and Cuddy never happened. You sigh and wish this could go on indefinitely.
The door opens and you can hear House walking in. "How come I can smell no dinner? It's 7 pm already, you slacker!"
"You must have been very busy with your patient, House, if you forgot the day of the week. It's Thursday isn't it? Pizza and movie night."
"I had forgotten indeed. Why don't you order the pizza while I have a shower? I did have a long day today - and it even was lupus in the end! Unbelievable."
About thirty minutes later, you pay the pizza delivery at the moment when House walks into the living room with damp tousled hair, dressed in a rock band t-shirt, jeans and a mischievious grin. He has a small pile of DVD's in his hand.
"I see you already selected what we're going to watch tonight."
"I'm in the mood for porn. Not the usual L word, the real thing. Do you mind that I got yours? I haven't watched any of it for a long time."
Both of you know that "long time" is code for "before Sam and Cuddy" but there's no need to say this aloud. You don't even bother voicing a complaint about him helping himself to your own stuff, you just sit down and start eating the pizza. "Sure we can share mine. Let me see what you chose." Idly, you grab the first DVD from the top of the pile, and you almost choke on an anchovy. "Where did you get these?"
"Can we skip the rethorical questions, please? You know precisely where I got them. Third dresser drawer, right, below the formal shirts. You know I'm good at snooping." House smiles at you, and keeps talking in what should be a reassuring tone. "Don't worry, I was careful and you won't need to iron the shirts again. I also boiled and disinfected all of your toys after trying them."
"You did what?"
"Relax, that was a joke, I only looked at them. Although some were definitely tempting."
House takes advantage of your momentary speechlessness and keeps talking.
"Look, we've watched porn together a million times, and it was usually mine. Can't we watch yours for once?"
"Ok, but only after we're done with the pizza and move to the couch."
"Deal."
"House, we've already seen two of them. You don't... don't really have to watch a third. I'm bisexual, right? I still like straight porn as well. We can still watch mine, you know well enough where it is."
"The key part of the above sentence being, of course, as well. Which means you also like this porn, and no wonder. It seems to be really high quality." House voice sounds relaxed and faintly amused. You wonder if he's just trying to embarrass you.
"House, don't tease me." Your sexual orientation hasn't been mentioned or even alluded to since what you both remember as the Lobster Road Trip.
"Who's teasing? I'm just interested. Look and learn, you never know what might come in handy. I also think that guy on the right looks a bit like Chase."
"I have never seen Chase undressed but I can't imagine he's even vaguely similar. In his third leg, that is."
"Great to hear you haven't lost your sense of humor. Or proportion. Now be quiet and pay attention, or you'll miss the plot points."
"Does this even have a plot? It's even worse than the others." You sip your beer. You wonder whether House can see your arousal and you regret the softness of the cloth of your slacks. At least there's not so much light and House is sitting far from you. "Come to think of it, I don't seem to remember this movie at all."
"That would be because this particular DVD is mine. Mom taught me to share."
Your eyes leave the screen, despite there being a lot going on there at this very moment, and focus on House's relaxed body, slouched on the couch as usual. "Why would you own gay porn?"
"Mmmh... because I'm in the closet. Or because, once you told me what the situation was, I tried to educate myself about the possibilities. I think I bought this the day after you diagnosed Cuddy."
"You mean, the day after I... told you?"
"Yes. I used to bat for both teams when I was in college. Then I felt more driven to women and... well, I wasn't so interested in relationships anyway. On the Kinsey scale I would be a 2, I guess."
You didn't even know that House knew what the Kinsey scale was. You look at him with what you suspect is an extremely stupid expression, while your brain tries to figure out the possible implications of what House is saying.
"Wilson." His voice is little more than a whisper. He has switched off the DVD player. The room is dim and quiet. House hasn't moved, but his eyes stare directly into yours. "Wilson, I... I care for you a lot."
"Are you serious?" You wonder whether this is a dream. If so, then you don't want to wake up.
"I already knew I wanted to do this when I broke up with Cuddy." House looks like he knows he has to say something, but words are hard to find. "I... thought long. We might try."
"House, you must know that I never..." here you can't go on. You blush furiously, stammer, and hide your face in your hands. You try very hard not to cry, and surprisingly succeed. You manage to lift your face again.
House pauses and thinks. His next words come out hesitantly, as if he were trying to approach a wild animal without scaring it away. "We should take it easy, not try too much in one go." Another pause. "This way, we can stop if anything feels wrong." He hasn't moved yet. He's looking at you, checking your reaction to his words. Trying to read in your face what you need to hear now.
"I'm scared." You think you said it, but House has. "I don't want to lose our friendship."
"Me neither." You smile at him. "I never even allowed myself to dream this could happen."
"I... I had imagined the first time I kissed you we would be standing." He grabs his cane and stands up, leaning against the wall. "Maybe not my smartest idea." You stand up as well. Your steps towards him are an acknowledgement of the distance you both have had to go to reach each other.
The first kiss is very tentative, just lips meeting and the warmth of House's body against yours, his left hand on the small of your back, both of yours behind his neck, your fingers playing with the greying curls. You wonder what feels so physically different from all other kisses in your life, until you suddenly realize that it is the first time you kiss someone taller than yourself and significantly more muscular.
Then you close your eyes, open your lips, and feel stubble on your face and a pulsating warmth enters your mouth and radiates into your whole body. Time is forgotten.
"I'm so embarrassed, this hasn't happened to me since my early teens." Except your girlfriend then didn't know enough about the male body to realize precisely what was going on, while House obviously does.
"Not to worry. Just go have a shower and put on your pajamas. At least I know you do like me and you're young at heart. And elsewhere." House is smiling so much it's hard to recognize him.
From the shower you can hear House opening his closet and chest of drawers. For a moment you're terrified he has changed his mind and is going to leave. As you get out from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you see him with his duffel bag. "What's happening?"
"I'm moving a few things of mine to your bedroom. Our bedroom. I always thought that's the more comfortable bed anyway, so I'll want to keep it in the divorce proceedings."
Thirty minutes and one makeout session later, luckily this time without embarrassing physical consequences, you drift off to sleep in House's arms.
The next afternoon your office door is not entirely closed, and you can hear Chase, Taub and Foreman talking in the corridor.
"What do you think happened to House?"
"What do you mean? He seemed fine today."
"He seemed too fine. He arrived early and he was whistling. I don't know what but it sounded cheerful. And when we did the DDX he occasionally looked out of the window and smiled for no reason whatsoever."
"Maybe he has a new girlfriend. Must be good after Cuddy."
"Definitely time for a new betting pool. Chase, are you organizing it again?"
"Of course. But we'd better hurry. He looks so happy I'm sure we'll find out who she is within a week or two."
Author's note: I obviously like suffering more than happiness. This was so hard to write.