Author's notes: So where have all my reviews gone? I know…it's the holiday season…but what better to do with your time than give the gift of a review? 

Commit

It was well into the middle of the night, closer to the next morning and James was stubbornly still seated in a chair beside Greg's bed, albeit a more comfortable chair from the Oncology wing, with his hand firmly entwined with Greg's. Doctors and nurses had ceased their incessant comings and goings when James had insisted he had everything under control and would call when he actually needed someone. Being a respected doctor, the staff had been submissive to his request. He, though, had denied the numerous requests made by Cuddy for him to go home, instead insisting that he stay by Greg's side until he woke up.

Sleep had come in short spurts, his body never relaxing completely, so there was no hesitation in his reaction when Greg's hand twitched in his. He stood immediately, leaning over the bed. "Greg? Can you hear me?" A slight mumble followed, barely audible, but enough to bring tears to James' eyes. "It's okay. Don't try to talk. I'm here."

He watched as Greg dragged himself from his unconscious state. Muscles began twitching and stretching, moans became more audible and his eyes finally fluttered open. A hoarse mumble for water came to which James quickly responded to. After a few weak sips of water the questions came. His voice was still low and a somewhat scratchy. "How long?"

"About twelve hours. Do you remember anything?"

"Being punched."

"Yeah, with brass knuckles."

"Patient?"

"Husband."

"Wife left him?"

"How'd you know?"

"Why else?"

"Good point."

"Stop crying and give me the news."

James wiped his tears. "You had a subacute subdural hematoma. I authorized the surgery. Why didn't you tell me that I'm your medical proxy?"

As if it was nothing, "Who else? Surgery?" His hand went to his head.

He wanted to probe further, but knew that Greg's needs were more important than his own. "Went fine. Minimal shaving. You still look great. I put you on corticosteroids, phenytoin and Oxycontin."

"Oxy?"

"No Tylenol. I knew you'd need pain meds once you woke up."

A smile came across Greg's face. A moment of silence passed as their eyes met. "Who knows?"

James' heart flipped in his chest. He knew exactly what Greg wanted to know, but worried about his reaction. Knowing there was no way he could lie, "Everybody."

"Good, then get in this bed with me. I'm not used to sleeping alone any more."

Greg scooted over while James crawled into the tiny bed. Not caring about the lack of space, he curled up to Greg. "I was so scared."

"Shut up and go to sleep. I'm fine."

"I love you, Greg."

"You too. Go to sleep."

Hours later, Cuddy walked into House's room. "You're awake."

"Sshh. He's still sleeping."

In a whisper, "He's been worried sick. He hasn't left your side."

"He's a fool. He should have gone home and gotten some sleep."

Disbelievingly, "He loves you."

"He's an idiot." A raised eyebrow look was shot his way. "I know."

Satisfied that she wouldn't get any better of an answer, "How are you feeling?"

"Headache, weak, tired. All to be expected."

Trying to sound authoritative, even in a whisper, "You two are taking some time off."

"I don't need any time off."

"Yes, you do."

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by James stirring at Greg's side. When he saw Cuddy standing beside the bed, he made a move to rise, but Greg's hold around his shoulders tightened and Cuddy said, "Don't get up on my account."

A blush rose to James' cheeks. "Good morning."

"Good morning Dr. Wilson. I'm glad you got some sleep. I was just trying to convince Dr. House that you two should take a couple weeks off."

His brain raced. His gut reaction was to say that they definitely needed the time off. But he knew Greg wouldn't approve. Hoping Cuddy would take the hint and Greg wouldn't realize he was giving one, "Are you forcing us to take the time off?"

His latter wish being crushed, "Very subtle."

James rose slightly, this time overcoming Greg's weak attempt to hold him against his chest. "You need to recover. Just take the damn time off."

"Are you my boss now?"

"No." He stuttered. "Yes…I…please."

"Don't be pathetic. It's not one of your best attributes."

Getting frustrated, "I'm not being pathetic. I'm a doctor recommending that you take some time off to recover from a bleed in your brain and from being unconscious for over 12 hours. I'm a man asking his boyfriend to take some time to relax to make sure he doesn't get sicker."

Greg squinted his eyes, "First argument was better."

The room was silent before Cuddy spoke, "When you get back, you can have another week off clinic duty."

Both men turned to her, one out of glee and one of thanks. Pushing his luck, just like he always did, "Two weeks."

Jutting her chin up, "Fine. Just take the time, House."

His smile rose, "You are so easy."

With a glint in her eye, "Not as easy as Dr. Wilson apparently."

Defending himself, "Hey!"

"Oh, quiet down. Being easy is a qualification for dating me."

Rolling his eyes, James pushed himself to his feet, stretching in the process. "Better go get your meds."

"Isn't that what nurses are for?"

"I told them all to stay out last night. I was tired of them coming in and out. I have to go to the bathroom anyway."

Greg nodded before James left the room. "So, when do I get outta here?"

Folding her arms over the file against her chest, "We need another MRI before you go."

"I want to see my file."

"Are you going to press charges?"

Normally, he'd have a quick negative response. But now, his decisions weren't just his own. "I don't think James will let me drop this. You know…he'll make it out to be a near death experience…pain and suffering…yadda yadda."

Turning completely serious, "Tell me you're serious about this."

"Oh, I'm serious. You know how he is."

"That's not what I meant." She paused as he blew out a breath, his eyes rising to the ceiling. "House. He loves you. You should have seen how much he suffered! This better not be a game to you!" He was silent, for a moment too long. A hand rose to her mouth as she gasped. "God! House, no! You'll kill him!"

"Oh, stop!" He ran a frustrated hand over his face. He hated sharing his feelings, especially with Cuddy. But lately it seemed as though his emotions were the hottest topic going. "It's not a game, okay. It's just…confusing. In the past couple months he's gone from my best friend to my enemy to my lover. And now…now I can't even seem to have a thought without him in it. It's terrifying. I wasn't even like this with Stacy."

Relief settled in and her heart calmed to a steady beat. "You love him."

"I loved Stacy."

"You didn't trust Stacy."

He was silent as he pondered her words. She was right. How he hadn't thought of it before, he didn't know, but she was right. He trusted James. He had loved Stacy, but he hadn't trusted her. He had secrets from Stacy, secrets that he didn't keep from James. As if needing to voice his rationalization, "Stacy needed me to change; James doesn't."

"I know. Don't screw this up, House. Take the damn time and figure this out."

He was a highly intelligent diagnostician. He could solve some of the most complex medical puzzles imaginable. But this…love…a relationship…this stumped him. "How?"

She laughed, amazed at just how inept he was sometimes. "What confuses you exactly?"

"You want me to give him my class ring or something?"

"What did you do with Stacy?"

"We dated. We had sex. We moved in together."

"So?"

"We've already done all that!"

"Commit, House."

"Yeah, I'll just run down and buy him a diamond then we'll start planning the wedding."

She shook her head. "You'll figure it out. Just do…something."

Their conversation ended when James walked back in, medicine in hand. Morphing back into her profession, "I'll get you scheduled for an MRI."

He nodded as she walked out of the room then James asked, "What was that about?"

"What?"

"You could cut the tension with a knife."

With a shrug of his shoulders, "PMS."

Later that afternoon, after a clear MRI, he was released to go home. The weakness was near unbearable, so much that he had to ask for help getting dressed. His headache wasn't eased, even with the pain medication, each pound reminding him of a Cuddy's earlier words.

He plopped into the wheelchair without argument, wanting nothing more than to just go home and sleep. On their way out, James steered him to the pharmacy. "I need to get Dr. House's discharge meds. And a refill on his Vicodin."

With the word Vicodin, Greg suddenly realized the next step. "No." After an inquisitive look from both James and the pharmacist, "I…still have a bottle at home." His whole life didn't need to be on display. He'd talk to James later.

But his hesitation didn't go unnoticed. "Did I just hear you turn down Vicodin?"

He looked up to see Cameron standing over him with her arms crossed over her chest. "Head hurts. Making me delusional."

"If I had known all you needed was a brain hemorrhage to make you give up Vicodin, I'd have hit you a long time ago."

"Too bad you were too busy trying to get in my pants."

"If I had known you were into men, I wouldn't have wasted my time."

"Well, after I kissed you, I realized I needed to make a change."

With a smirk, "Glad I could help."

"Might not want to be happy that your lips turned a man gay."

"I prefer to think that I made you see the light."

Interrupting their pretend squabble, "Okay, okay. I think it's time for Greg to get his toys so I can take him home now." Greg flashed a scowl in James' direction. "Now don't argue. It's your nap time." Greg rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Dr. Cameron."