Title: Insomnia
Author: Wanderingwidget
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: House/Wilson (pre-slash)
Summary: Wilson's a light sleeper and he can't sleep until House does.
Spoilers: Possible up through episode 207 (just to be safe)
Warnings: Possible OOC-ness, House's commentary, and a fluff quotient well into the thousands.
Author's Notes: I have this thing about taking cannon, fannon, and anything else that tries to tell me how a character is, and trying to turn it on its head.
Contrary to popular belief Greg House did not -usually- suffer from insomnia. He had his occasional bouts with it, and even before Med School he'd been more than able to go for days on only caffeine and cat naps, but by and large he was a deep sleeper. James was the exact opposite and -as all of his ex-wives and lovers could attest- the neighbor's creaking floorboards could keep him up nights.
He'd been worried about Greg's new roommate when he'd offered James the guestroom. Rodents were nocturnal, the thing lived in a metal cage, it had a wheel. Still, James usually hadn't have any problem sleeping at Greg's before. The guestroom was small but comfortable. The bed was Greg's old Sealy and the walls were covered with overstuffed bookshelves. Greg hid his paperback collection on those shelves, everything from grocery-aisle romances to serial mysteries and -of course- novelizations of his various TV shows. There was something warm and fuzzy about being surrounded by his friend's guilty pleasures. James figured that it was the fact that if he commented on the books -in public or private- Greg would come as close to blushing as he ever did.
As it turned out it wasn't Steve who'd been keeping him up every night for the last week.
It was the click of the light switch that woke him. He rolled onto his side and stared at the strip of orange light spilling under the door and across the floor and waited for the inevitable not-really-quiet knock that he'd gotten each night previous. Instead he heard the uneven shuffle of Greg's socked feet, the sound of creaking leather as he settled into his armchair, and the slip-slide sound of what was probably Greg flipping through a magazine. James frowned, Greg actually sounded like he was trying to be quiet.
He suspected that the novelty of having someone else around to purposefully wake up, and force to keep him company, had actually worn off two days earlier and that last night had simply been Greg being stubborn. He rolled out of bed with a sigh and a hiss as his bare feet hit the cold floor.
"What, do you have bat ears?" Greg muttered without looking up from his People. He was slouched in his chair, legs thrown up on the ottoman and chin tucked close to his chest. The lamp light gilded the arch of his cheek and the gray strands of his hair, and it deepened the circles under his eyes.
"You look like shit." James said. He leaned against the wall, just inside the living room.
"Been missing my beauty sleep." Greg flipped to a new page, raised his eyebrows. "Did you know Kilmer played a gay P.I.?" He scanned the article.
"No. I didn't."
"He kisses Robert Downey Jr." He said, and then flipped the page.
James waited, rested his head against the wall, and watched the play of shadow across Greg's expressions.
"Christ." Greg tossed his magazine away, watched as it slid across the coffee table and hit the floor, rubbed at his eyes. "I feel like someone replaced my eyeballs with dust bunnies."
"Sleep deprivation can do that." James said.
Greg shot an annoyed look at him. "Gee, are you a doctor or something?"
"You know, I think I may be." James rubbed at the back of his neck, then made a decision and jerked his chin down the hall and towards the bedrooms. "Come on."
Both of Greg's eyebrows bounced up. "Not that it's not tempting, Jimmy, but I think I'm a little too tired tonight. Busy day at the office and all that."
James rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I want our first time to be special. I'm planning on taking you to Uraku for your birthday."
"You think I'll put out for overpriced raw fish?" Greg said.
"I think you'd put out for a bottle of Root Beer and a microwave burrito. Now come on. I can't sleep unless you're asleep."
"Not my fault you're such a freak."
"I know." James said. "Call this payback for the last four nights." He turned back and headed for Greg's room.
Greg grumbled, but James could hear him levering himself to his feet. The guest bed was comfortable, even if it was old, but Greg's bed was exponentially better. It was one of those latex-foam affairs and had probably cost more than the damn motorcycle. James frowned and rubbed a hand over his face, then climbed on in.
"Go ahead, make yourself comfy." Greg said. He was standing in the doorway.
"Don't mind if I do." James snuggled deeper into the covers and curled his toes. God, why didn't he have this bed?
"Move over."
James wiggled two inches to the side -as Greg lifted the covers and awkwardly slid under then- and then he promptly wiggled back, wrapped an arm around Greg's shoulders, and pulled him down.
"Hey!"
"Hush." James used his arm to adjust their positions and then drew Greg's head down to rest on his chest.
Greg jerked his head up. "Your heart is beating too loud."
"Not as loud as your mouth." James said, and sighed when Greg settled back down. "Just close your eyes." He threaded his fingers into Greg's hair and closed his eyes, gently stroking.
Greg took a couple of deep breaths then grunted. "James."
"Yes?" James stilled his fingers.
Greg sighed and seemed -for a heartbeat- to press closer, then he pulled back. "It's been a long time." He muttered. "Since I've -you know- slept with anyone."
Scoffing, James pulled him back down. "Your ATM receipts say otherwise."
"That's not what-"
"I know. If I promise to ignore any purely biological reactions on your part will you relax and go to sleep?" He moved his hand lower and started rubbing Greg's stomach through his tee-shirt.
"Keep petting me like a rabbit and you don't get to blame me when the snake comes out to play."
"Shut up Greg." James kept the petting up. He listened as Greg's breathing evened out and grew deeper and didn't even notice himself drifting off to sleep too.
James dreamed he was a little boy again, sitting alone in his bedroom and trying not to make too much noise. In his dream the door was pushed open, a comfortingly familiar shape outlined by his dim nightlight. In his dream it was Cuddy -not his mother- who came and laid down next to him. She pulled him close, pillowing his head over her heart, and whispered his clinic schedule to him until finally he fell asleep.
End