A/N: This is a difficult chapter that I'm going to rate M again. When you read it you'll know what I mean by difficult. I almost didn't post it as it's even extreme for my perverseness, but I decided to anyway. Please don't hate me.

Chapter 6

It was a little past eleven PM, the two friends sat in House's living room watching the post hockey game show. It had been a close contest ending with the Devils losing to Toronto in overtime. During the entire evening, House had kept an eye on his friend monitoring his behavior. Everything had gone well; Wilson was relaxed, enjoying the game, making jokes, snacking on popcorn and drinking pepsi. His drink of choice was actually beer, but House had given him such a hard time, he grudgingly gave up the idea. As a compromise, the older man abstained from drinking beer and stuck with iced tea.

"So, what do you think?" House asked, flipping the TV to the local news station as he lowered the volume.

"About?"

"Oh I don't know. Life."

Wilson tilted his head. "You're in a philosophical mood tonight."

"Happens."

He pointed to the glass of iced tea. "Lack of alcohol."

"That must be it," House said, quickly downing a Vicodin.

Wilson looked at him. "Drugs make up for it?"

"Drugs aren't always the answer."

His eyebrows went up. "Did I just hear you right?"

"What?"

"You live on drugs."

"That doesn't mean they're always the answer. Sometimes they're the question."

"That makes no sense," Wilson said, scrunching up his face.

"Makes perfect sense."

"Okay. I'll remember that the next time you try to stick me with one your needles."

House's face became serious. "I do that for your own benefit."

"I think it's more for your perverse enjoyment."

"Can't we both get something out of it?" the older man asked, smiling.

He laughed. "Let's go to bed."

House leaned into his cane and slowly stood. "You go ahead, I need to clean up some things in the kitchen."

By the time House came into the bedroom, Wilson was in bed lying on his back with his arms behind his head. "Took you long enough." House paused on his way to the bathroom, unsure of the other man's mood.

As he brushed his teeth he studied his reflection in the mirror, noting the weathered skin on his face, the scruffy three day growth, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He leaned against the sink thinking about his friend in the other room and how quickly their relationship had changed over the past three days. Again he wondered if Wilson had allowed him to get closer because of his recent vulnerability or if it was something he had wanted all along. He couldn't deny that he was happy about it, but also couldn't enjoy the benefits as long as his friend was suffering from the after effects of his injury.

"Hey, I'm lonely out here."

He smiled as he switched off the bathroom light and limped into the bedroom.

"Nag," he said, placing the bottle of Vicodin on the night stand and carefully lowering himself to the bed.

"Did you just call me a nag?"

"It's a term of endearment."

"You mean like asshole?"

"Yeah, like that."

House reached up to switch off the lamp as he lay down on his back allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moonlight peeking through the cracks in the blinds was the only illumination in the room.

After a few minutes he felt the bed dip as Wilson slid closer to him. Shifting his eyes to the side he found his friend resting his head on his elbow watching him, smiling. House noticed how young he looked in the dimly lit room, the bruises and circles under his eyes concealed by the darkness. He reached up and gently brushed back the wisps of hair that fell onto his friend's forehead, continuing to slide his hand to the back of his head and pulling him down for a kiss. James was very willing, lifting his body partially onto the other man's as their lips came together.

Something was wrong. "Jimmy, wait…."

Wilson's kisses were forceful, even hurtful. House turned his face away. "Jimmy…..stop."

James climbed further on top of his friend claiming his mouth again, unmindful of his damaged right leg. Wincing, House hissed into his mouth from the pain. Grabbing his wrists and forcing them over his head, Wilson continued what could only be called his assault, biting the other man's mouth aggressively and working his way down to his throat. House tasted blood on his lips.

"Jimmy, stop now!" House yelled as he tried to toss him off, but was almost powerless from the stabbing pain in his right leg, the one his best friend was leaning on with his knee. He stopped struggling, lying still underneath him waiting for the opportunity to push him off. That moment came when James shifted his body, his knees now straddling House's legs.

Using all his energy, House sharply pulled his left leg up managing to forcibly knee his friend in the groin, grimacing as he felt his knee hit its target.

Wilson cried out in pain, falling onto his back. Rolling away from him he curled up on his side groaning. House hurriedly sat up, deciding it best not to turn on the light. He was familiar enough with his friend's erratic behavior to know that his outbursts usually subsided quickly. He reached over to the night stand and grabbed some tissues, holding them to his bleeding lip.

"Oh god." James covered his eyes as it dawned on him what he had just done to his best friend.

House placed his hand on his shoulder to console him. He shrugged it off.

"Jimmy…."

"Don't… Greg. Please…I…." He stopped talking.

House was at a loss. He never could have imagined being in a situation like this with anyone, let alone his best friend, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it. He thought about it. Maybe he had overreacted. No, he hadn't. But his biggest concern now was Jimmy, his closest friend who was struggling…had been struggling for days…. it now being abundantly clear that he was unable to control his actions. His heart went out to him as he watched him lying quietly on his side, his back to him. He decided to try again.

Moving closer, he placed his hand on his shoulder again. This time he allowed him to keep it there.

"I'm…. so…sorry," Wilson said, barely getting the sentence out, his voice hitching after each word.

"I know." House's voice was soft and reassuring.

Wilson rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, the moisture in his eyes shimmering in the narrow streams of moonlight. He wiped his face with his hand.

"I need to go back to the hospital," he said, his voice barely a whisper. It was almost as if he was talking to himself.

"We'll go in the morning," House said, squeezing his shoulder.

There was silence in the room for several minutes. Wilson sat up facing the other side of the bed. "I'll sleep in the spare bedroom," he said as he started to slide out of bed.

"No." House grabbed his shoulder again. "Don't…stay here with me."

He let out a small sob. "I can't even look at you."

"Jimmy, I'm telling you that it's okay. I want you to stay here with me tonight."

Without saying a word, Wilson lay back down on the bed, his back still to his friend.

House slid closer to him, gripping his arm and giving him a small tug, drawing him closer. He pulled the blanket up over both of them, resting his right arm across his friend's chest. James tentatively intertwined his fingers with House's, the tension slightly easing from his body as he felt the other man squeeze his hand in return.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. House lay awake listening to him breathe as he slept.

tbc