Author's Notes: So in one of my very lovely reviews, I got the suggestion to add more emotions. So, I took the advice, I hope, and did my best. Let me know! In another review, someone asked if I was ending this here. God no! I am VERY long-winded. And I have SEVERAL more ideas for not only this fic, but so many more to come. I hope everyone is enjoying! Please keep reviewing! Next chapter will be up soon!

Love

There was a sneaker pressing against his ribs. His whole body ached. His head was pounding. Memories of crying himself to sleep brought tears back to his eyes and made his heart break further, if that was even a possibility.

"Get up." There mere sound of Greg's voice eased the pain he felt in his chest, even if the words were harsh and emotionless. The door opened, the older man stepping around the younger, still on the floor. Forcing his body to comply, he pushed himself into a standing position, feeling each of the protests coming from his aching muscles. "Why didn't you just come in?"

He struggled to move, hobbling into the apartment. "Because…you kicked me out last night."

Calmly, "What did you care? You'd already left."

"What are you talking about? I was here and you screamed at me to get out."

Still calm, "Shut the door please. I don't need my neighbors hearing our lovers quarrel." He cracked open a beer while he waited for the door to be shut, then continued. "Emotionally, you'd already left me." He didn't try to hide the depression in his voice, determined to make the younger man feel guilty.

"I'm tired. The only sleep I've gotten is what you woke me from. My body aches. My head is pounding. My heart…I don't even know the right word. Please just stop beating around the bush and tell me what the hell I did!" Silence followed. He begged. "Greg, please."

He pointed his cane accusingly. "There!"

Flinging his arms out, "What? There what?"

Walking toward him, "When you're here, you call me Greg."

"So you're mad at me because I don't call you by your last name?"

"No! Don't be an idiot!" His frustration was climbing. "I'm mad because right after we kissed, I asked you to stay and you called me House. I brought up permanency and you retreated!"

"I didn't retreat! I was…scared."

His heart melted. He didn't know whether to be shocked or worried. "Why would you be scared?"

"Because. Because it's taken me over fifteen years to get to this point and I don't want to ruin it by not thinking things thru."

The thought of being worried left his mind. "Bullshit!"

"Dammit, Greg! Don't do this." Panic set. Of course he was scared. Terrified even. But knowing the reason why and admitting it out loud were two different matters.

He dropped his cane against the nearest table and set his beer bottle down before closing the few feet between them. He was close, breathlessly close. "Tell me."

Tears threatened his eyes. The moment of truth was facing him. This was it; there would be no turning back. After a deep breath, "I was scared because…because I…I love you."

The three simple words hit his heart lack a Mack truck. His knees nearly buckled. But he kept steady by the look he found in the eyes that were searching his soul. With tenderness he didn't even know he possessed, he pushed his hands into the thick hair at the back of the younger man's neck and pulled him toward him, pressing their lips together in the gentlest of unions.

He made one step back and took the hand that seemed to hold his heart and guided the man that admittedly loved him into the bedroom. When they reached the threshold, Wilson finally spoke. "Greg?"

Placing his fingers over the other man's lips he spoke just above a whisper, tenderly stating simple facts he knew to be true. "Shh. This is your home. You love me. You want to be here. It's midnight. We're tired. Let's go to bed. We'll talk more in the morning."

Silently, they both stripped down to their boxers and climbed into bed in unsure motions. Just as they laid down, "Oh, two more things. One, I don't cuddle…because of my leg. Two…I love you too James." There. He'd said it. Of course it was true, obviously. Part of him knew a long time ago. By now the other part, the stubborn part, was letting him say it out loud. With that one phrase, his heart lightened. Everything was going to be okay now.

Their hands met on the mattress between them moments before they drifted to sleep, both finding peaceful dreams, content to finally be happy in life.

The buzz of a cell phone woke them from their slumber hours later, hands still entwined as if they'd just fallen asleep.

Glancing at the caller ID, he pushed the sleep from his voice before answering. "Hello?"

Cuddy's voice made him pull the phone from his ear, "Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be in the clinic two hours ago!"

"Good morning to you, too. I'm fine by the way."

Almost believing he might be hurt, "Did something happen? Are you okay?"

"You're so gullible! I'm fine! I had a meeting with Wilson this morning. I talked him into taking his job back. We're on our way in now."

"Well…don't think you're getting out of these clinic hours!"

"Add them to my tab." He flipped his phone shut, blocking the annoying voice on the other end of the line. "You awake?"

"Long enough to hear you lie to Cuddy."

"So I didn't talk you into taking your old job back?"

He rolled over, careful of his partner's leg, and gazed into still hazy blue eyes. "I was talking about us being on our way in now."

"Did you have other plans?"

"I did. I guess they'll wait. I need a shower and I don't have any clothes here."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Did I mention that I love you even though you point out all my faults?"

"Did I mention we need to get to work before the wicked witch of Plainsboro casts more clinic hours on me?'

With a laugh, he rolled and got out of bed, heading right for the bathroom saying over his shoulder, "Give me five minutes and I'll need something to wear to the hotel."

Half an hour later, Wilson pulled his car into his old spot in the lot of PPTH, feeling completely at home. He was just about to get out of the car when he felt the grip on his arm. His eyes met blue eyes, now filled with love and a bit of hesitance. "You okay, Greg?"

His first name, uttered as though it were common to come from the young doctor's lips, brought a sense of love and acceptance to his own heart that he couldn't explain. There were so many things he couldn't explain when it came to his newfound love. Part of it terrified him. Part of it calmed him. This, this moment, the love he found in the pair of nearly chocolate eyes and the tenderness in the voice that could completely turned his world around, this comforted him. "I am now."

"Good. Now let's go. I don't want you working overtime in the clinic."

Both men laughed as they walked into the building, thoughts of getting back to normal pushing any possible tensions away. They parted in the lobby, Wilson heading to Cuddy's office and House to his own.

His ducklings were already gathered around the table, symptoms on the whiteboard. Flipping the switch in his mind into work mode, he meandered into his personal office and yelled over his shoulder, "Who wrote on my board?"

Foreman, always one to stand up to his boss, replied, "Some of us got to work on time today and decided we should try to diagnose our patient."

Coming back thru the open door, "I was busy. And you didn't answer my question."

"What does it matter?"

"It matters because I asked. Duh!"

Kutner finally spoke up, "Me, okay? Can we get on with our diagnosis now?"

Before he could answer, Thirteen butted in, "Are you smiling?"

Was he smiling? Seriously? He really had no idea. Going with sarcasm, which always seemed to work for him, "How does that relate to our patient?"

"Doesn't. But it's an interesting fact."

Trying to ignore her, "Fantastic. Now someone fill me in."

Foreman started spouting off medical facts and conditions then morphed into possible diagnoses, all the while, Thirteen never took her eyes off her boss.

Once Foreman finished, House started giving orders. Pointing first to Foreman, "You, MRI." Then to Taub, "You, draw blood and get urine." To Kutner, "You go help the dark one with the MRI." Finally Thirteen, "And you, stop staring. You're starting to drool. Then, since you're so good at it, go pry into the sick guy's personal life." No one moved. "Go!" Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone finally decided to follow orders and he moved into his office wondering just what the hell happy people did while they were at work.

He didn't have much time to think before a familiar silhouette appeared at his door. "You all set?"

"Start tomorrow."

"Good. Come 'ere."

Tentatively, he took the few steps toward the desk, leaning his hip against the edge. "I thought we weren't going to do this here?"

"We're not doing anything."

In hushed tones, "You're practically undressing me with your eyes."

He looked around, confirming his next statement. "There's no one here."

"Good excuse."

"Shut up."

"Yes, Dear." The electricity between them was undeniable, and both men wondered how they'd ignored it this long.

"You picking me up tonight?" 'Please.'

"You think I'd make you walk home?" 'I never would.'

'Of course not.' "No. I was just confirming."

'There's really no need.' "Good. I'll be here at six."

"What are you gonna do today?"

Faking offense, "Are you already checking up on me?"

"No. I was just going to suggest checking out of your hotel."

"You want me to move in with you?"

"Don't act so shocked! You live in a hotel! How hard would it be to move back out?"

"Are we really having this conversation at work?"

"Technically, you're not working. Really, my boyfriend came to visit me at work." And somehow those words didn't seem strange to him.

With a gleam in his eyes, "Didn't know we were playing that game."

Warning, "Wilson!"

Just above a whisper, "Greg." His lips met his partner's in a brief and gentle flutter. It originally was meant to tease, but quickly turned into more. Their lips parted but came back together, tenderly seeking the love of the other pair, neither man caring who might walk in. When the younger doctor pulled back with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face, "Just visiting my boyfriend, right?"

"Slut."

"You love it."

Sheepishly, "Yeah."

Standing, "See you at six."

"Okay."

Wilson headed for the door, but before stepping out, he looked around and turned back. "Love you."

"Love you too, James."

Hours later, nearing time to head home, Cuddy shouted his name as he tried to duck out of the clinic. Pretending to ignore her, he headed to the elevator and pressed the up button.

Before the doors opened, she was tugging at his arm. "There are files with case notes on my desk."

Staring at the lighted numbers rather than turning toward her, "Happy for you."

"They're yours! Did you actually review your patients' charts and write up your notes?"

"Well it was either that or make up some clinic hours. I figured that was the lesser of two evils."

"You didn't have a soap to watch or a coma patient to visit?"

The elevator doors opened and he stepped in, only to be followed by his boss. "Damn! I knew I forgot something!" After a stern look, "What? Are you actually complaining because I'm doing my job?"

"No…no. I'm just trying to figure out if you'll continue to do your job now that Wilson's back, or you'll morph back into being an ass."

With an animated expression, "I'd go with the second choice."

"Figured."

He cell phone buzzed. After flipping it open, he read 'Don't be mad. I'm sending a taxi to pick you up at six. Trust me. Love you.' Snapping it shut just as the doors whooshed open, he turned to Cuddy saying, "Sorry. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a patient who needs me." Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. He did have a patient.