Title: Remembrances of Rainy Days Past

Author: Josephine

Fandom: House MD

Characters: Wilson, OFC

Rating: R

Category: Romance, smut

Summary: The first one holds a special place in our hearts.

"James! James!"

Lifting his head and peering past the raindrops clustered on his glasses and coming down in a heavy sheet, James Wilson tried to find the owner of the vaguely familiar female voice. He was quite soaked, and just wanted to get back to his place, take a hot shower, and climb into bed. Hopefully the telltale bandana still wouldn't be on the doorknob when he got there, it often seemed his roommate's girlfriend lived with them more than she did her own place. Maybe he could move in with her roommate; Jill was awfully pretty… she had a boyfriend though, he thought he remembered—well, that would work out fine, she wouldn't ever be there and he could finally get some sleep.

"James! Over here!"

In the near distance, James finally saw an indistinct form on an apartment balcony waving to him, lit by a flash of lightning. Sighing, he half jogged, half squelched over to see who it was and what they wanted. It better not be Geraldine Mills; James had promised himself he had lent that giggly airhead his notes for the last time. Of course, that's what he had said the previous time, and the time before that.

"What on Earth are you doing in this monsoon, James?" The decidedly amused voice floated down to him; finally in the lee of the building James looked up to see a heart shaped face with light brown eyes surrounded by a mass of curly, frizzy coppery hair smiling at him.

Not Geraldine. Not at all.

"Ms. Munro." James swallowed hard, surprised to see Adair Munro, the admired from afar TA for a Freshman Romantic Literature class he had to take as an elective last semester. His eyes drifted to the V neck of the dress she wore, where the act of leaning over the balcony had accentuated her already ample charms. "I'm, erm, walking home. It wasn't, um, raining when I left," he finished lamely.

"You live in Foxchase, don't you?" At his surprised nod, Adair shook her head. "That's a long walk, James, even when it isn't raining. And it's not supposed to stop anytime soon. You know these late summer storms we get." Another flash, then a roll of thunder emphasized her remark. "Come on up and wait it out with me." She turned, obviously not expecting him to argue, and James obeyed, walking toward the building's open hallway, urged on by a gust of rather cold wind for early August.

The door to 2-C was waiting ajar for him, and he pushed it open further, walking into an apartment that looked like a flea market from the '60's. Batik printed sheets hung over the walls, in lieu of conventional seating, large overstuffed pillows in every color under the sun lay scattered on the floor, and a healthy handful of candles, all lit, dotted the various small tables spread about.

Adair chucked at the expression on his face. "Eclectic, I know. But it's a haven after banging my head all day on the wall, trying to introduce linear Engineering minds to the glory of Wordsworth and Keats."

"No, I--- like it," James finally got out, trying to identify the subtle scent drifting through the room that tickled his nose.

"Don't lie, James." The chuckle turned into a rich laugh. "Pre-meds are almost as bad as Engineering students, although I was surprised with the insight shown in your paper on Keats."

"I, er, felt connected, somehow." James was silent a moment, then began to speak again. "I met a lady in the meads, full beautiful - a fairy's child, her hair was long, her foot was light, and her eyes were wild."

Stopping in the middle of removing James' thin windbreaker, Adair raised an eyebrow. "La Belle Dame sans merci. Interesting choice," she murmured, taking the jacket into the bathroom to drip over the tub and returning. "You are soaked. I think I have some things Roger left when he took off." Her dress fluttering after her, Adair turned into her bedroom, and James could hear her rummaging around, opening and closing drawers.

"Roger?" Blinking a few times, James tried to collect himself. Ever since Adair had called to him from her balcony he had felt like he was in a waking dream.

Adair came back, holding what looked to be a pair of cotton drawstring pants and a thin t-shirt. "Old boyfriend."

A funny little twist turned in James stomach.

"He said something about finding himself and took off one day." She looked at him, then at the small puddle that was forming on the miniscule patch of linoleum that passed for her foyer. Sighing, and with a smile tugging the corner of her mouth, Adair turned her back to James. "I won't look. Much," she added very softly, as movement in a mirror on the far wall caught her eye, and she angled herself slightly so James was reflected in it. He paused, then began to undress and peel off his clothes, a well-muscled body emerging, a little on the lean and pale side.

James clutched his shirt to his groin, the rest of his clothes heaped around his feet. "Ok, I'm ready—" Cut off by the pants and shirt thrust at him, and still in a daze at what exactly was happening, he dropped his own shirt and quickly as possible put Roger's old things on.

"Have a seat," Adair called over her shoulder as she walked into the small kitchen. "I'll get you something to drink." She popped her head back around the corner. "Do you keep kosher?"

"Huh?" Caught off guard in the middle of attempting to maneuver himself down onto a pillow, James lost his balance and landed with a thump. "Um, no, not really…"

"Good. I have some stew in the crock pot, I think it will stretch to two."

James shifted, trying to get comfortable. "You really don't need to bother." How did one sit on these things? he wondered. Fluffing and pounding a few of the large pillows into something resembling support, James warily sat back.

"It's no bother." Adair's voice, close now, made him look up in surprise as she gracefully sat down. She handed him a large mug, then piled two pillows up and leaned against them.

"So James Wilson, what were you doing walking home in the rain at six o'clock on a Saturday evening?" The gentle smile on her face took the inquisitive sting out of her words.

Taking a cautious sip of the obviously hot liquid in the mug, James savored its slightly spicy taste before he answered with a shrug. "I was at the library."

"Studying?"

"Not really. I mean, I should have been, but…" He lamely trailed off, staring at the steam rising from the mug. "I had to get out of my apartment. My roommate's girlfriend was there again, and those places barely fit two people as it is," he said in a rush.

Adair chuckled again. "Been there, done that. I feel your pain. You don't have a girlfriend to stay with yourself?"

"Uh uh." Embarrassed, James took another sip, hoping the warmth of the tea would explain away the blush he knew was stealing over his cheeks.

"In between, huh? Me too, ever since Roger split. It happens." A soft beeping came from the kitchen and Adair sighed as she got up. "Hopefully not for long though, right?"

James nodded gently, then scrambled to follow her. "Can help at all?" He watched as from an amazingly tiny oven Adair pulled a foil wrapped lump, which she then tossed at him.

"You can open the bread up," she said, indicating a nearby wooden cutting board with a jerk of her head.

Juggling the hot loaf, James set it down and opened the foil up, the warm, yeasty smell making his stomach growl, which in turn made Adair laugh.

"From what I remember about growing boys, I'd better give you the lion's share of dinner. Although, maybe not so much a boy anymore," she teased, remembering what she had seen in the mirror.

"You have brothers?" James asked, as she placed two stew filled earthenware bowls next to the bread.

"Just three sisters. But plenty of cousins." By the time she had turned back from getting the spoons, James had taken up the board and was waiting for her. She smiled at his gallantry, and went back into the living room. "You can set it down on the floor, there's really no room for a dining room type table anywhere in here. Do you mind if I don't close the curtains? I like to watch the rain at night."

"That's fine," he said, watching as Adair turned up a space heater that was glowing away in a corner.

"Not quite a fireplace, but it'll do. The landlord is so stingy he doesn't turn the heat on until Thanksgiving," she groused good-naturedly, settling down beside him. "Do you want a sweatshirt or something?"

James shook his head automatically, fighting a shiver at the reminder of how chilly it was. The apartment had been cozy when he first came in from the cold rain, but now he realized that it was only slightly warmer than outside.

"Mm hm, well, I have some afghans over by the TV if you want one. In fact…" Attesting to the small space she lived in, Adair leaned over only slightly and plucked two throws, setting one next to James and curling up under the other. "At least my electric bill is low."

"So you have three sisters?" He busied himself with the almost violently colored afghan, trying not to appear like he needed all that much.

"Mm hm," Adair answered around a mouthful of the stew. "Three sisters, one, albeit large, bathroom. Good thing two of us were low maintenance."

Holding the warmth and flavor of the stew in his mouth, James thought about that for a moment before swallowing. "Low maintenance?"

"Yeah, you know, we didn't spend a lot of time in front of the mirror worrying about how we looked." Shivering slightly, Adair scooted closer to James. "How do you like it?"

"The stew? It's good. And high maintenance would be…"

"My sister Georgianna," Adair snorted. "Hair perfect, clothes perfect, the best looking guy as a boyfriend even if he was a jerk. Ran with the 'In Crowd'. Was a cheerleader too, although that doesn't always mean anything." Adair glanced over at James, her expression thoughtful. "What were your girlfriends?"

"Mine?" Wincing at how his voice cracked, and stalling for time, James reached over for a slice of bread, dunking it in the thick stew broth. "You know, a little of both, I guess." He shrugged, taking a too big bite and almost choking on it.

"A happy medium, then." Still thoughtful, Adair reached for her own bread, nibbling at the crust.

James sighed contentedly, leaning further back against the cushions. He was full, sleepy, and finally warm. The empty bowls had been put into the sink, and the mugs filled with more of that soporific tea. An occasional lightning flash illuminated the swaying trees outside, the rain pattering steadily against the sliding doors. The dim room was rather cozy; other than the faint fluorescent coming from the kitchen, the only light came from the space heater glowing in the corner. Sometime in the last hour he and Adair had ended up burrowed together under both afghans. James supposed he should move away, or even go home, but he was so very comfortable, and Adair felt so nice and soft against him. He could feel her thigh pressed to his, and every breath carried the scent of her hair. Visions of her leaning over the balcony flooded his mind; that funny little twist was back, but this time it didn't stay in his stomach. It traveled south, making his arousal harder to conceal.

"Tell me about your girlfriends, James." Adair's spoke softly; James recognized the throaty sound from her class, and a few lines of 'My Soul Is Dark' read in that voice came to him before he recalled himself.

Lethargic, all desire for pretense gone, James sighed. "Isn't anything to tell. Never had one."

Adair was silent a moment, then sat up enough to lean on one hand and look at James. Her face was in shadow, and at her continued silence he began to worry.

"None?"

James shook his head. "I… it just never… worked out."

Leaning forward, Adair let her cheek hover next to James'. Her breath was warm against his skin, and his heart began to thump painfully in his chest, almost as bad as the ache in his groin.

"Any stolen kisses?"

"A—a few." She was so close, all he had to do was turn his head…

Instead, Adair did it herself, a light brushing of her lips. James was frozen to the spot until her tongue peeked out and ran along the crease of his mouth. Then he jerked back slightly, heart pounding in his ears.

"James?" Puzzlement colored Adair's voice and clouded her eyes, but she didn't pull away from him. "Would you rather not?"

"No, I would, it's just…" Unconsciously James licked his lips as his gaze held to Adair's mouth, the shivers that had run though him at their touch still a pleasant buzz. "I might not be very good, I don't know how." Adair smiled kindly, and emboldened, he continued. "But I learn fast."

"Come here," she whispered, and they met half way, another light touch before James took the lead. His tongue came out to tease her mouth, and Adair opened to him, drawing him further into the kiss until he pulled away again, reluctantly this time, breath huffing.

Trailing the tips of her fingers over his jaw, Adair sighed with satisfaction resting her cheek against his. "How far do you want to take this, James?"

James swallowed hard. "I don't know."

"Don't lie," she said with a laugh, and tweaked his earlobe.

Wondering at how he dared to say it, he whispered back, "All the way, Ms. --"

"Adair, James. If I'm going to take you to my bed, I can't have you calling me Ms. Munro. I'm not that much older than you are."

"A—Adair, then," James agreed. "Adair." This time it was a sigh across the soft skin at the base of her throat. Not understanding quite what he was doing, only going by what made him feel good, James kissed the fluttering pulse there, then moved down the slope of her chest until he dropped a kiss on the pale swell of her breast.

"Bedroom, James," Adair gasped. "Now."

Mutely nodding in agreement, he scrambled to his feet after her, goose bumps rising over his skin as the blanket fell away. Adair sidetracked to turn the heater off, then lacing her fingers with James', led him past the kitchen, down a short hallway to her room.

Adair's bedroom was a near copy of the living room, but done in shades of green and blue that complemented her burnished hair and fair coloring. Another space heater was in the corner, and the glowing coils lit up this room just like its twin. James felt a small sense of ease, he had grown comfortable in the living room; a change in décor night have thrown him from the dream like state he was in.

"First this." Adair's slim fingers lifted the hem of the t-shirt James was in; Roger must have been smaller as it took a bit of tugging to get the tight shirt off. But it finally released him, and James was happy for the warm light the heater gave off, it hid his studious pallor very well. Hesitant, he let Adair's hands wander over him, tracing the hollows and valley of his muscles before he found the courage to do the same. James pushed the cardigan that Adair was wearing off her shoulders; it dropped to hang on her bent elbows, revealing the deep V of her sleeveless dress.

Slowly, quietly, concentrating wholly upon the one in front of them, James and Adair undressed each other. Cardigan, dress, pants, bra and panties. Eyes devoured each emerging inch of skin; fingers skimmed over where eyes had been, stroking and kneading.

"You're beautiful," James finally got out, and he saw Adair smile, a gentle, wistful kind and he knew immediately what she was thinking. "No, you are. It's not just because… I mean, I've seen naked women before... I sneaked my uncle's Playboys." Stopping before he dug himself further in, James changed the subject. "I'd thought you'd have freckles."

Adair laughed. "Thank you. Caillen and Nairne were blessed with an abundance of freckles. Georgianna has a dusting, much to her dismay. I inherited only the pale vampiric skin."

"And the hair." James wound a corkscrew strand around his finger.

"And the hair," Adair agreed. "It always gets like this when it rains." She raised her hands to push the frizzy mass away from her face, the action lifting her breasts at the same time, drawing James' eyes.

He brushed a palm over the nubby tips. "They're so hard."

"The cold. And you. Into bed, I'm freezing!"

They piled onto the bed with much shuffling and knocking about as they tried to get under the veritable mountain of blankets Adair used. Eventually they settled in, Adair supine, James on his side, propped up, looking down at her as she tucked and arm behind him and rested a hand on his back.

"Can I just touch? For a while?" Encouraged by her nod, James stroked her body, touching all the places he had only read about, only seen in a few minutes of pilfered time with his uncle's magazines. He watched Adair closely as she sighed and her eyes closed part way, the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth.

His fingers touched over her nipples, the bottom of her breasts, the sharp peaks of her hipbones and the warm plain between them. Slowly, encouraged by the increase in her breathing and the tenseness in her frame, James threaded his fingers through the copper triangle of curls into the slick valley below them. Finding a hard nub, he scratched at it lightly.

Adair bucked her hips. "Ohhhh, James…"

A hard throb went through him at the sound of his name, and James had to fight not to come. No matter how many lovers he had in the future, he knew he'd never forget this, the first time a woman called out to him in passion.

James kissed a stiff nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking. Adair's whimpers urged him on and he sucked harder, increasing the pressure with his fingers. It was fascinating, really, from a clinical viewpoint; increase in pressure showed a rise in vocality of the subject.

But James had other places he wanted to visit, and left the intriguing study for another time. Dropping kisses down Adair's smooth torso, he nudged her thighs open with his shoulders and settled down between them. His long fingers pushed her curls away and parted the folds to find the nub he had been teasing before. James breathed deep, the Adair's scent pushing him so close to the edge. Dropping his mouth, he let his tongue trace up the folds before he let his teeth run over the nub.

Adair truly wailed this time; her hands held his head and her hips pushed into his face. James wasn't quite sure what to do, but her taste drove him on so he slid his hands under her ass to bring her closer to him and kissed and suckled at her until with a choked cry of his name Adair orgasmed. Her body stiffened, her hands dug into his hair, and the pre-med part of James wondered if she was having a convulsion before Adair relaxed, boneless and sated.

"James…"

Still slightly worried, James crawled back up her body, lifting damp tendrils of hair off her face. "Are you, um, ok?"

"Sweet Baby James…" Before James could argue the epithet, Adair kissed him, deep and hard. "Dear God I want you in me." She reached between them and wrapped a hand around his shaft. At her touch stars exploded behind his eyes and he groaned, burying his head against her neck.

"I'm gonna come…" James breathed deep, great gulps of air, trying to hold back. Not like this, he didn't want it to end like this.

"Not yet, dear heart." Adair shifted him so he was stretched out over her, his shaft against her thigh. Sliding her legs up his, she opened to him, taking him in hand again to guide him in. "Right there."

"Christ!" James didn't think about the dichotomy of him calling out to Jesus, all he was focused on was the feel of Adair around him as he sunk himself into her: hot, and oh so tight.

"Oh yes… more, love."

James started slow, not wanting to hurt her, but at Adair's whispered urgings he moved faster, the awkward thrusts of his hips settling into a steady rhythm. All too soon he felt a somewhat familiar tightening in his groin, but a hundred times more intense than when it was his only hand bringing him pleasure.

"A—Adair…" He couldn't see, could barely breathe as the gate burst and he came hard, sobbing her name as she held him close.

Dr. James Wilson sat in his darkened office, staring out the large plate windows. Rain lashed against the glass; an occasional bolt of lightning arced through the sky, followed almost immediately by a painful crash of thunder. He was oblivious to the storm, however, for he was years and miles away, with a copper haired woman of his youth.