A/N: Things start to get slashy towards the end of this chapter.
Eventually he let go of my wrist, leaving a red ring behind where his grip had been.
"I think both of us could use a drink," he said, suddenly getting up and stalking off to the kitchen without turning around. The creak of cabinet doors and clink of glasses found their way to my ears. After a while I followed his path. A glass of brandy was waiting for me at one of the counter while he stood at the other end.
I stayed at my end and swallowed the brandy. From the corner of my eye I could him casting glances in my direction like he was surprised I was still there.
"After what I said to you in there," Greg said, breaking the uneasy silence, "you have every right to walk out that door and never look back."
"I could, but I'm not going to." The brandy burned my throat.
"I see. You're not going to let me off that easy. No matter how angry you get, you're going to see this through to the end."
"I'm not angry."
"You always were a lousy liar, Dr. Wilson," he remarked tersely, throwing back the rest of his brandy and pouring another.
"Okay, all right, I'm angry. But I'll get over it." I held out my now empty glass. He reached over and refilled it without comment. "Why are you so angry, Greg?"
Sloshing his drink around, Greg replied, "I just don't believe in happy endings."
"Did you believe that before or after the infarction?"
From his eyes came a glare so frigid I swear the room temperature dropped twenty degrees.
"You lashing out at me had nothing to do with a 'happy ending', so excuse me if I call you a lousy liar too, Dr. House." Greg was right about one thing, I wasn't going to let him off that easy.
"Twelve years and three marriages later, this is what you want." He took another gulp of his drink and took a leery look around the room as if he expected it all to be an elaborate practical joke.
"Yes," I answered.
"You want to be here...with me."
"Yes."
"How long have you wanted this?"
"I don't know. Too fucking long, that's all I can tell you right now," I said, setting my empty glass in the sink. The brandy roiled in my stomach.
His expression went from icy to incredulous. "So what the fuck were your marriages all about, window dressing?"
"Something like that." I chuckled flatly. "You're not the only one with conflicted feelings, Greg. For the record, I loved my wives. I regret divorcing them, not marrying them."
Crossing his arms as if he were suddenly freezing, Greg said, "You've been waiting for this for a long, long time. No more pesky wives or regrets waiting at home. Christ, Jimmy, you do have the patience of a saint."
Inching my way closer, I replied, "Now it's just you and me."
"And you chose a fucked-up, crippled drug addict over the wives you loved with all your heart." He looked around the room again, trying to find the hidden cameras and waiting for the punch line.
"Yeah, I did. And I'd do it again." In a blink his head snapped around as if he had an electric shock. "There's more to you than your fucking leg and your fucking pills, Greg." My voice was getting louder but I couldn't help it. He was going to hear everything I had to say even if it killed me. "Now during, say, the last dozen years or so, who has been the one constant presence in your life, the one person who has been there for you after your surgery and Stacy and everything else. Go ahead, Greg, tell me who it is and I'll tell you who was the only person there for me after the wives I loved with all my heart kicked me out."
A few beats of silence. "I don't need to answer that," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His arms were still crossed, trying to ward off a chill only he could feel.
I nodded in agreement. "No, you don't need to. Just answer this–does our friendship, relationship, whatever the hell you want to call it, does it mean anything to you?"
No response.
"Please, just answer the question."
Slowly and deliberately he uncrossed his arms and leaned back with a diminutive smile. "It means everything to me."
"You really mean it." It was more of a statement than a question.
Drumming his fingers on the countertop, he said, "What do I have to say to convince you, Jimmy. You got what you wanted, now just be sure you want what you get."
A nervous laugh escaped my throat. "Um...yeah, okay. I'll be sure to remember that."
"Any regrets so far?"
"No."
"Good," Greg chuckled. "It's a little early in the game for that kind of thing."
"You were the only who was there for me, Greg. I'll never forget that."
"Please, you don't have to say anything."
I walked over and put my hands on the counter on either side of him, basically pinning him in place. Looking in his eyes, I said, "Now that I have you, what am I going to do with you?"
Glancing down at my arms, Greg replied, "You've been dreaming of this moment for God knows how long. You tell me."
I'd never been that close to him before. Leaning in, I lightly touched my mouth to his. The kiss grew more deep and intense, both of us tasting each other and holding each other, not wanting to let go.
"Christ, Jimmy," he gasped, wrapping an arm around my back, burying his head between my neck and shoulder, "I could never hate you. No matter what, I could never hate you."
