Title: The Department Meeting, Epilogue

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: SLASH; mature adults only

Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, but I wish I did.

Note: This concludes the story.

Summary: House and Wilson finally have their department meeting.

James Wilson and Greg House sat slumped next to each other on the uncomfortable couch. House's leg was killing him, and his face showed it, but there was a deeper pain in his body and the cause of THAT was sitting next to him.

The two men's bodies were practically shoulder to shoulder; their hands could have easily touched, but they didn't. There was a tension in the air that had been there for several days. House allowed his head to drop back on the back of the couch while he closed his eyes. James Wilson had fixed a great meal; had helped him wash up the dishes, and then had promptly frozen him out. The fact that the man looked like he was ready to run out of the apartment added nothing to House's security, but then the exhausted, heart-sick man had to ask himself why James Wilson was, at the moment, sitting so close to him?

Forcing his tired body to move, House raised his head and asked, "Well, what shall we do now?"

Wilson rubbed his face. "Heck, if I know; this is your meeting - - not mine."

"Okay, Doctor; how about this? Do you still want to be my friend?"

Wilson sat up, staring into the startling blue eyes. "I already offered that, but you threw it back it my face. I've changed, House. I've declared my independence." Seeing the slight amusement in the blue eyes, Wilson grimaced, but continued. "Oh, I know that amuses you, but if you want me to be your friend; there's got to be some changes made."

House continued to stare then cleared his voice and asked, "And you're saying this because?"

Wilson bristled but, once again, held onto his temper. "I'm saying this, Doctor House because I've done enough for this so-called friendship; what have you done?"

"What do I have to do?"

"Not a damn thing!" As Wilson started to stand, however, a strong hand gripped his wrist and pulled him back onto the couch. James Wilson was completely surrounded by Greg House. He was wrapped in a bear hug that he had not experienced for almost 2 decades.

"Calm down. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I meant - - what do you want me to do to try and get back in your good graces?"

Wilson's body continued to tremble, whether from his recent anger or because of the arms still wrapped around him. After a moment, however, he calmed down enough so that he was able to move a few centimeters out of the range of Greg House's body and the devastating effect that it was having on James Wilson.

"Our friendship has been pretty one-sided. We had sex for one year; then you left and we continued our friendship - - from a distance. You got more and more famous; I got more and more married." Wilson stopped for a moment, sharing a small smile with the man who still held him in a loose embrace. "Then you told me about Stacy . . . I was happy and sad at the same time. I knew that our friendship would never be the same. I liked Stacy . . . I still do. Then she called me about your infarction."

Wilson dropped his head on House's shoulder for a moment as he recalled the terrifying hours when he thought he would lose the man that he had loved for so long. The agonizing months during House's recovery still sent chills through the younger man. "I guess what I want is some respect . . . some equality. Julie kept asking me why I didn't marry you instead of her or some other woman since I kept running out on her to be with you. God, what a fool I was. I hurt all three of them, looking for something that I never found."

Greg House leaned forward to whisper in the ear near his mouth, "Maybe you just weren't looking for the right person?"

James Wilson sat up with frost in his dark eyes. "Now, what's that supposed to mean? You dumped me remember? You had Stacy. You've been quite content with my friendship - - after all, it stopped you from losing your job. So what the hell are you going on about now? My friendship can't be too important to you. I've never even got one 'Thank you'."

House sat back against the couch; his back sending spasms through his whole body. His sad eyes stared back at the younger man. "Why are you bringing this all up now? It's been 18 years; I would have thought I used up all your patience before this?"

"Is that what you want? For me to dump you this time?"

"No." The word was barely a whisper.

"Then, what do you want?"

"I haven't slept much in four days. Would you be willing to continue this department meeting in the bedroom?"

The younger man hesitated for a second, but the humanity in him could see the exhaustion in the older man. Greg House had pushed himself to the edge so Wilson nodded, standing up to help his friend lift up from the couch. House barely made it onto the bed before another back spasm shuddered through his body. Gently, turning the suffering man over, Wilson carefully removed House's jacket and shirt. He began to massage the knotted muscles. For a few minutes the pain was almost unbearable but finally Wilson began to feel the knots relax. Wilson continued to rub, managing to remove House's trousers so that he could massage all the way down the body. He hesitated to massage the damaged leg, but the Vicodin had finally done its job so that Wilson was able to lightly caress the injured leg.

After a few minutes without any sounds from House, Wilson assumed his friend had fallen asleep so he stood up. Immediately House's body reacted. With some difficulty he turned over, now sprawled across the bed with only briefs to cover his body. Lifting his arms above his head, House slitted his eyes into a sensuous look and hissed breathily, "Hey big boy, like what you see?"

Wilson smiled slightly. "Yeah, obviously much more than you do." House looked at the tent that Wilson's trousers were making and then at his own, less than aroused groin area.

"Yeah, that's what the Vicodin does for me. Really takes some encouragement from the right person to . . . uh, get a salute."

"Well, maybe Dr. Cameron will sacrifice herself to give you a 21 gun salute."

For a moment House looked confused then he seemed to see the humor in Wilson's remark. "She's really got you going, hasn't she? Are you still mad that she got to see the Monster Machines and then got that 'date' with me?"

"Well, you did spend a thousand bucks on the Machines, didn't you? You know I wanted to see them, but . . . well . . ."

"You were cosying up with Stacy. weren't you? Did her husband know?"

"You moron, she wanted to talk to me about her husband."

"Oh that makes it even cosier."

"Believe what you want. She knew her husband wasn't well, and she wanted the best . . . the very best to examine him and that's you . . . so she asked me how to get you to do the exam."

For a moment, James Wilson thought that he had ruined everything, but then Greg Wilson surprised him.

"Well, she has good taste in consultants, but lousy timing. I really hoped I wouldn't have to see her for another 40 or 50 years."

"Why do you blame her? She saved your life."

House shivered slightly. Wilson automatically reached over and covered him with a blanket. "I had to blame her. I couldn't blame you. You weren't there, and besides I needed you."

Wilson was so shaken that he almost didn't respond, but finally he whispered, "Why did you need me?"

"That's the trouble with our friendship - - you never listen. I told you. I'm in love with you. How could I blame the man I love? Besides that, I needed you there to make me want to live."

Wilson collapsed onto the bed, just missing House's legs. He sat for a long time with his back to a concerned House. Finally, Wilson straightened up, turning to face his tormentor. "Do you remember the day that you finally woke up out of your sedation?"

"How could I forget that?"

"I stepped outside when Stacy told you what she'd done. I don't know what you said to her, but I saw the result. She looked so pale. I walked back in, but you said nothing. I waited and waited, but nothing; then that night you flipped back the sheet on your bed and invited me to lie down next to you."

"Yeah, I needed you so much that night . . . and every night since then."

Wilson nodded his head, amazed at how blind he had been. "That must be what Cuddy saw."

"You think?"

"It's been a very long meeting, Dr. House. I propose that you get some rest, and I'm going to head on home and do the same."

"You could sleep here tonight."

Wilson's face hardened, "Friends don't sleep with friends."

House's pleading blue eyes stared at the man, standing by the bed, "Is that all you want from me - - friendship?"

"How can I ask for anything more when we don't even know how to be friends?"

Wilson could see the incredible hurt that those words caused, but he was determined to see this through. In his heart, he knew that Greg House was his only true friend, but if he didn't stand up for himself now, he would be lost. He had thrown away three wives over this man. . . No, that wasn't fair. Greg House had nothing to do with Wilson's failures as a husband. James Wilson had been in love with the scruffy faced individual who had caused him such pain and such ecstasy for 18 years: was he now prepared to throw it all away?

"You're right. It's so easy to love you. You're beautiful in face as well as soul. You're the best friend a man could have. I should have told you, 'Thank you' before now, but here it is, 'Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for standing up to Vogler for me. Thank you for caring enough to want me to live.'"

Just as he had done some five years before, the gaunt, exhausted man pulled back the blanket covering him and silently pleaded with the younger man to lie down beside him. For a moment, Wilson hesitated then moved forward. Swiftly removing most of his clothes, he climbed in next to House. For the next several minutes the two men lay side by side in the dark, saying nothing. Finally, House whispered, "Jamie?" With that invitation, James Wilson moved silently into his friend's arms. Within seconds, both men surrendered to their total exhaustion and slept.

Early the next morning, Greg House woke, badly needing to pee. He noticed, however, that the other side of the bed was empty. His heart immediately began to race; his feeling of euphoria that he had slept without further need of Vicodin badly damaged by the fear that Wilson had left, but then he heard a noise in the other room. Getting up slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, but upon returning to the bedroom found a large mug of coffee waiting for him. Smiling, he sat down quickly as his right leg felt as if it would give out. Looking at his clock, he started to get up again to take a shower when James Wilson, clad in House's cleanest robe, re-entered the bedroom.

"You don't have to get up."

"Hmmm! Are you kidding? Cuddy will kill me if I'm late to clinic again. Not that I care, but I can't stand to hear Cameron whimpering when she has to cover for me."

"No, you moron, you're on sick leave."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I called Cuddy about a half hour ago and told her, as your Physician Of Record that I was busy putting you through a series of tests because you didn't seem too healthy. I am going to finish those tests today, and then we were going to have a department meeting to go over the results of all these tests so the end result is that she's given us both the day off. So you don't have to get up."

James Wilson smiled shyly, seemingly embarrassed by what he had done. House, on the other hand, smiled benevolently. In his best WC Fields' voice, he mimicked, "My boy, my boy, you make your father proud!"

"Thanks, Dad. Now, get back in bed. I'll fix some breakfast before I head to my apartment."

Speechless. Greg House was without words. He had slept with his best friend . . . well, slept next to his best friend, and now . . . said best friend was leaving. Fear swept through the diagnostician. "What'd I do, snore?"

Wilson's left eyebrow shot up, "No more than usual. You really should have an ENT check you out sometime."

House grimaced but controlled his fear. "Thanks, but at his prices; can't afford it."

Wilson shook his head. "Oh come on, everybody knows you're well-paid, and you don't have three alimony payments to make either."

"Neither do you since your first two contestants re-married."

"That's just a technicality. I have a lot more expenses than you do, especially paying for take-out and movies when someone comes over and mooches off of me."

"I do not, 'sides you know that all my money goes to pay for my dear, widowed, sick mother in the nursing home and the three charities that I single-handedly help to run."

A snort of laughter burst forth from Wilson's handsome mouth, trying to swallow a laugh, he let out a garbled burst that sounded somewhat like, "Your mother's been in the ground for years."

"Yeah, that's what makes it so expensive - - servicing her in the ground. Man those orderlies really hate that."

James Wilson broke up at that, laughing so much that he was forced to sit on the bed, carefully staying away from House's legs.

After a moment, House continued, his voice now very quiet. "Stop it, Jamie."

Wilson started to turn to face House with the perfect "Innocent Me" face, but couldn't maintain it because he knew what was troubling House. Shaking his brown hair, he couldn't meet House's blue eyes.

"A few years ago, if you had been given the day off, you would have been eager to have your wicked way with me, what's wrong this time?"

"I'm not 18, and you're not 28. We should have learned a lot. Pain and change have thumped us pretty good. It's not just about hopping in bed and having sex. Can our friendship stand another go-round?"

Despair filled the blue eyes, unconsciously the slender man rubbed his leg, "So that's all it was - - sex? God, what an idiot I was. We can be friends and have sex, but we can't be best friends and make love. Okay, Wilson; I'll take whatever you can give me. As usual, I'm taking again. How do you like them apples?"

Wilson's handsome face was screwed up in a frown. Fury seemed to be barely contained in the man. "What the hell are you talking about - - making love? When did we ever make love?"

"You're damn right, Dr. Wilson. I fell in love with you, but every time we got the hots for each other while in Med School, it was sex, plain old S-E-X 'cause you didn't want anything else. So I walked out after one year, holding on to what I could get - - your friendship."

James Wilson sat there, staring. His mind went blank. The only images that his mind could see were the ecstatic moments when two bodies came together in mutual release of passion and caring. Sex - - is that all House thought he was getting. Whispers began to float into the images of declarations of . . . love. The voice was House's. God, did I really not hear them? Dropping his head, Wilson's body began to shake. His throat felt raw and full of pain as he tried to avoid the tears that threatened. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

Finally, he looked up, "I . . . I thought you were just interested in sex. I thought that's what you wanted. I shut out everything else when you walked away. I guess I really blew that."

"Perhaps, a better choice of words, but it does convey some of our activities. Now, what do you want, James?"

Not since their first meeting had Greg House called the younger man, James. It had sounded so stilted, so formal. He had always used Wilson or . . . the oh-so-special - - Jamie. A bewildered look crossed Wilson's face. "I . . . I don't really know. I guess I want you to be happy, and you to be my friend again."

House's armor was in place as he asked, "Again?"

"Yeah, I figure our patience if you've ever had any must be pretty used up, by now. I would like to have a hand in making you happy. You've had a lot of bad things happen, and I would like to see some good things happen for . . . both of us."

"So you want friendship and happiness, is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"No . . . no, it definitely is not."

"Oh."

"Dr. James Wilson, you said you wanted a hand in my happiness . . . well then you're going to have to pitch in, my man. I'm really tired of waiting around for you to be done with your wives. I want to spend my time with you - - when Cuddy doesn't have us working in the salt mine, and I don't want to have to pretend to be some poor helpless patient who needs Dr. Wilson's attention. I'm tired of being the excuse for you skipping out for the evening on wife number 223! I want to be the reason that you come home at night, do you understand, Dr. Wilson? No games, no playing around, and fidelity because if I don't get that, you will regret it. You will regret 'any straying' whatsoever if I have to sick the 3 ducklings on you with all their neuroses and other ad infinitum problems, especially Cameron when she whines and "baby dolls" her way into your heart!"

House stopped, gasping for breath, waiting to hear from Wilson. When he got nothing, he continued, "Well, what's it going to be, Doctor? Are you going to give me the happiness that I so desperately want? Are you going to stick with me through thick and thin? I won't ask about in sickness and in health because you've demonstrated that you're pretty sacrificing there."

Still Wilson said nothing, just searching the beloved face, trying to read every emotion. Finally, House closed his eyes and surrendered.

In a desperate but loving whisper, he replied, "All right, Jamie, no more taking. You are and always have been my equal or my better. You scare me sometimes. I guess that's why, in my own inimitable insecurity, I've always demanded that you prove your loyalty, time and time again, by letting me take, by making you give. Well, no more. I want you in every way that YOU'RE willing to give me. If it's just friendship, then I'll have to accept that, but I want there to be more . . . if you do."

"That's all I've ever wanted. I love you, Greg House, but I want you to know that I like you too. Not too many people have ever said that to me, and I suspect to you as well, but that's what makes us different." Wilson hesitated for a moment then turned towards the bed, removing the less than clean robe. Smiling shyly, Wilson whispered, "You know, Dr. House, you conduct the best department meetings I've ever attended."

The scruffy, tired face smiled. Holding out his hand to draw the younger man into his arms, House kissed the slightly sweaty forehead, "Yeah, and I plan to conduct lots of them from now on, and you better not miss one of them, because I'm telling you straight - - you'll pardon the expression - - I can be a ruthless disciplinarian."

Taking the younger man into his arms, House laid down with the gorgeous body that was his friend. "Shall we discuss this further, Doctor?"

Nuzzling into House's chest, Wilson smiled as he said, "Get ready to fire away, Dr. House, because I feel a 21 gun salute coming on!"

Several hours later the two laid entwined in each other's arms, sated from mind-blowing orgasms. James Wilson was curled around his friend's body; his lips pressed to House's right nipple; his hand gently caressing House's relaxed cock.

House lay there relaxed with his eyes closed - - totally content, the pain in his body subsided to manageable levels. "Hmmmm, I don't think you're going to get even a one gun salute this time, Doctor."

Wilson smiled, gently kissing the aroused nub. "Wasn't tryin' to; 'm pretty worn out myself, but I've been thinkin'. Want to ask you a question."

House lifted his head slightly, peeking at his beautiful lover with one half-opened eye. "Isn't it a little late to be askin' now; should have read up on the subject before you threw yourself at me."

James Wilson raised his head, glaring at the sarcastic man he loved. "Not what I was going to ask."

"Okay, okay, what did your educational time in the johns with the boys miss?"

"You idiot, what I want to know is: do you really worship the ground I walk on?"

For a moment, House lay there silent then a look of disgust covered his face. "Nah, Cuddy's got that totally wrong."

Wilson tried to cover the hurt that spread through his body by only responding, "Oh," but House could see the devastation lurking so he hurried on.

"Why should I worship the ground when I can worship you and that gorgeous butt of yours?"

"Oh!" This time James Wilson smile lit up his handsome face, melting Greg House's heart. Wilson's eager mouth smothered his lover's lips then gently brushed the quiet cock. Hearing a tiny moan from the contented man, Wilson looked affectionately at the man in his arms. "You ever heard the end to Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture?"

"Sure, who hasn't? You mean where all those cannons are going off?"

"Yeah, that's what I meant. Well, how about you and me getting some sleep and then I'll treat you to a cannonade that will make your 21 gun salute look like rain drops on a tin roof."

Greg House leaned over and gently kissed the top of Wilson's head. "Hmm, now that sounds good: make love not war. Much better use for guns."

As James Wilson slid into an exhausted sleep, he mumbled contentedly, "That's a silver tongue you got."

THE END