-scene-
House did not sleep well. He had awakened from fitful nightmares on several occasions, groping desperately beside him, only to have his fears confirmed as he found that the man whose presence he so ardently sought really had left.
As he readied himself for work, his stomach gave a low growl. Even his appetite had grown accustomed to the younger man's presence. He grimaced. No time, and he didn't want to eat anything anyway. He wanted to see Jimmy.
-scene-
The door was locked, which meant he was going to have to go around. "This sure as hell better be worth my while." He grumbled, climbing over the wall, using his cane for leverage. He slowly lowered himself before limping over to the glass door, jerking it open.
There he was.
Wilson was fast asleep on his office couch wearing the same shirt and trousers he'd been wearing the day before, using his jacket as a poor substitute for a blanket.
House poked him with his cane. "What? You miss sleeping on a couch that much?" he demanded.
Wilson jerked awake, sitting up quickly. "House!" he exclaimed, as if being caught napping by the teacher. "I… um…" he blushed, looking down at his stockinged feet. "I have some things to take care of so…"
House stared at him. "Are you telling me to leave?"
"Um…" he hesitated and shrugged.
House stiffened a bit. It wasn't hostility he was getting from the man, per say, but certainly not a friendly reception. "Then say it." He replied a bit snappish.
"Say… it?" the man gave him a puzzled look.
"Tell me to leave. If you don't want me here, then tell me to get out."
"House…" he sighed. "You know that's not what I meant."
"Oh?" he asked. "What did you mean then? And what did you mean by leaving last night?"
Wilson blushed again, more deeply this time, betraying the fact that he'd been avoiding the subject. "Can we not do this right now?" he begged quietly. "I can't do this right now."
"Fine." House spun around, heading back towards the balcony. "Whatever."
"House…" he hesitated. "I'll… I'll see you at the party tomorrow, okay?"
House paused, then turned slowly. "You're… not coming home tonight?"
Wilson pursed his lips a moment. "I um… I think I should get a motel room… for now."
It was like he had been punched in the gut. House just stared at the man for a second, scrambling to collect his wits. "Okay." He replied calmly, though inside, he was anything but calm. "Fine. I'll see you." He turned quickly and left, back out and over the wall to his own office.
Once there, he sat, gripping the edge of his desk, just concentrating on breathing. In…. out… in… out. Anything else was too much at the moment. He felt sick. His leg hurt. His hunger was all but forgotten. He fished around in his pocket with a shaking hand, withdrawing his orange prescription bottle. He shook it. Five pills left. He could always get more. He popped the top, counting them out into his hand; two for the leg, one for his stomach and two to numb his mind; seemed reasonable. He popped the pills into his mouth, swallowing twice, then sighed, running his hands through his hair. How had it come to this? He wondered.
-scene-
The day crept by unbelievably slow, but it didn't really matter. House was not looking forward to going home. He fished through the stack of manila folders on his desk, trying to find one worthy of his attention; anything to keep him from returning to his apartment.
"House…?" Cameron's voice interrupted him timidly. "It's eight o' clock."
He glanced up. She was standing just a few feet inside of his doorway, flanked by Foreman and Chase; all three of them looking quite tired. "Go home." He told them. "There's no reason to stay here any longer."
"…Then why are you?" Chase ventured.
House stared at him. "I've got a hot date with the nurse in pediatrics." He replied. "But she's into kinky role playing and my neighbors don't like noise. Do you think this suit makes me look like a school principal?"
Chase shook his head, turning to go. "Sorry I asked." The other two followed suit, though Cameron more reluctantly. She gave House one last wary glance before exiting the office.
Once they had left, House rested his head on the desk, sighing deeply. There was nothing. Not a single pressing file. He had no excuse to be there and he didn't feel up to inventing one. Slowly, he limped to the coat rack, snagging his jacket from the hook. He winced painfully. His leg was hurting bad, and he'd used the last of his vicodin earlier. He'd have gotten one of the kids to fill the prescription for him, but his mind had been elsewhere and it was too late. He bit his lip, huffing a little as he made his way to the elevator. Once the doors closed, he leaned heavily against the wall, shutting his eyes against the pains of the day. Wilson…
What had gone wrong? Things had been building up to such a crescendo; how had be misread the moment?
-ding-
He stepped out of the elevator, heading for the parking lot and his motorcycle. He fumbled with his cane, leaning hard on the bike as he swung his leg over the seat. It was days like this that he found it hard to deny he was crippled.
-scene-
The ride home didn't take nearly as long as he'd thought, or nearly as long as he'd hoped. He looked at the four short steps up to his apartment with dread at their seeming insurmountability. It wasn't his leg; it wasn't the presence of any pain, more the lack of a presence.
The apartment was dark. Even with the lights on, it seemed dark. He felt drained by the thought of another night without Wilson, another night in the big empty bed; too big for one man; it had never seemed so lonely before. He toed off his shoes, leaving a trail of clothing to the bedroom, too tired, too upset to care enough to pick them up. It wasn't that late, but he flopped down in bed anyway. He didn't feel like watching TV or playing the piano or much of anything. Steve squeaked at him from the cage on the nightstand. House gave a shuddering sigh, sitting up. He moved over to the other side of the bed, opening the cage and dumping in a handful of pellets for the rat to munch on.
He watched numbly as Steve sorted through the pellets, looking for the choice one to nibble. After a moment, he fell back on the bed again, staring at the ceiling. How could he fix this? He couldn't; he realized. If he went to Wilson, apologized, said he'd been drunk, stressed… but he couldn't do that. Maybe things would go back to how they had been before, but that wasn't enough anymore. That hadn't been enough for a long time.
He watched as the headlights of passing cars made shadows on his ceiling and slowly, in spite of himself, he drifted off to sleep.
-scene-
It was eleven o' clock. House stared at the alarm clock in utter shock. He had never overslept in his life. Though the typical response would be to hurry and get ready, he didn't. He just continued to stare, trying to make sense of something so impossible. After almost ten minutes, House finally rose, limping painfully to the bathroom to get ready. On his way out, he stopped, noticing the blinking red light on the answering machine. He felt an odd anticipation, a flutter in his chest, but he wasn't quite sure why.
He limped over to the machine, pressed the button, and waited.
"House, its nine-thirty, where are you?" Cuddy. He pushed the button again.
"House, its ten o'clock! Did something happen?" Cuddy again.
"Um… House… it's… it's…" Cameron. He pressed the button with a sigh, feeling disappointed. He turned to go.
"House…" he stopped, turning back around. "Hey, look, it's almost eleven, I… are you okay? I'm coming over."
As if on cue, the door opened. There stood Wilson, flushed and out of breath. He blinked a few times at House.
House stared back.
"You…"
"I got your message." He grinned.
Wilson sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. "Come on. The car's running."
House watched the man for a second as he turned to go, then followed after him.
The ride to the hospital was odd. House felt like he was in an episode of the twilight zone as Wilson chattered on about the morning's chaos, the entire issue between them seemingly resolved overnight. But it wasn't resolved, not in House's mind. He didn't like just being brushed off as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed.
But he didn't have the opportunity to pry. It was Christmas eve, and already, the hospital was swamped. For some reason, the holidays always seemed to bring out the best in people from ladder falls to oven burns. Foreman, Chase and Cameron had already been pulled for E.R.
"No." House said sternly, before Cuddy could open her mouth.
"House, you know how it is around Christmas! We need you in the E.R."
"I'm not an E.R. doctor." He defended.
"And you also don't have any cases." She replied, pushing a name badge into his hands and pushing him towards the emergency room. Before he could protest, he'd been swept up in the hustle and bustle of "Christmas Joy".
-scene-
Sixty-five stitches, seventeen staples, three burn treatments, and five broken bones later, and House was punching out. He sighed deeply, feeling more dread for the office Christmas party than he had been for the morning in the E.R.
Everyone headed to the main lobby, which had been decked out in tinsel, garlands and ornaments. There was a banquet table laid out and a mini bar and somewhere, a stereo was pumping Christmas music into the room. The night shift had taken over in the E.R. and they'd get their holiday cheer in the morning, with a bonus to boot.
House hesitated outside of the door to the lobby, stealing himself for an evening of false smiles and forced small talk. Just then, he heard a step behind him. He turned around to face a slightly bedraggled looking Wilson. He'd been in the pediatric E.R. all morning, and by the looks of it, it had been a rough one.
House stared at him, unsure what to say or do.
"Hey," Wilson gave him a lopsided smile. "Let's go in." he nodded towards the room.
"…Yah." House replied after a moment, then paused. "About before…"
"Don't worry about it." Wilson cut him off. "We're… we're okay."
He could have accepted that; could have nodded, forced a smile and entered the room, but for some reason, he didn't. "No." he replied steadily. "We're not okay."
Wilson blinked up at him, his confidence faltering. "House..?" he asked, his voice confused and a little hurt.
"I said we're not okay." House replied angrily, stepping closer to the man. "You can't just act like nothing happened; like nothing's different! I kissed you!"
Wilson looked away, blushing. "House… it's… you were drunk."
"No I wasn't!"
Wilson stared at him now, surprised, fearful. "That's… it's not true." He shook his head.
House pushed him into the nearest room, not wanting to be seen. The last thing they needed was the entire office being privy to their argument.
"Dammit, Jimmy…" he bit off. "Don't you get it at all?" he shook his head, aggravated. "I have hated all of your wives. Every nurse you dated, every woman you smiled at…" he punched the examination table.
"House," Wilson shook his head fearfully. "What are you saying?"
House sighed irritably. He grabbed the man's tie, pulling the younger man forcefully against his body. "Someone who will love you…" he kissed the corner of the man's lips softly, "for who you are…" he moved his mouth over to capture Wilson's, "not for who…" and kissed him again softly. "they think they can make you into." He deepened the kiss, pressing his lips against Wilson's, passionately, almost fiercely.
After a second, Wilson's lips parted, and House drew back a bit, preparing to be yelled at, scolded, anything, but instead, he was shocked as the younger man's tongue brushed against his own and Wilson's hand moved up to tangle in his thick curls.
"Mmm…" the younger man moaned and House felt his entire body shiver.
He pushed the oncologist backwards and onto the table, deepening the kiss even more as his hands roamed roughly down the younger man's body. He slid a hand under the man's shirt then paused, pulling back, quirking his brow appreciatively. "Jimmy…" he commented, lifting the man's shirt, revealing a toned six pack.
Wilson grinned sheepishly, his cheeks tinted pink and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a creased piece of paper. He handed it to House.
House stared at it confused for a second before unfolding it. He stared at the scrawl on the paper for a second before grinning widely. There, in his own handwriting, were the words "Hottie with a body" and his name. He looked up at the younger man.
Wilson chuckled nervously.
"You little…" House shook his head. "You knew all along."
"Well…" he shrugged noncommittally. "I didn't know I just… hoped."
House leaned in and kissed him softly. "Let's get out of here." He murmured against the oncologists lips.
Wilson nodded, hopping down off of the examination table, preparing to follow the man. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Wait, one second." He fished an envelope out of his shirt pocket.
House stared at it confused, then opened it. Inside were two tickets to the next monster truck show in the area.
"What's this?" He asked the younger man.
Wilson pursed his lips. "In case I was wrong." He replied.
House felt a sharp pang in his chest at those words and he wrapped his arms around the younger man, drawing him in close to kiss his jaw. He didn't say anything. There was no need for words.
-scene-
The two stumbled up the steps to the apartment, hands here, lips there, barely able to remain decent long enough to get inside.
"Nn…" House grunted as he pushed the younger man against the wall of the hallway, fumbling for his key.