Summary: House and Wilson are at the park. Fluffy.

Pairings: House/Wilson Slash.

Category: General/Romance

Timeline: Sometime in the Duckling Era. I don't really reference anything.

Rated: K+

Seize the Day

"Just…don't think about it so much." Greg House sighed and tilted his head back, letting the late afternoon sun beat down on his face, neck and forearms. "You just have to feel it, let it-"

There was a loud crash and the cynical doctor looked up, bright dots appearing before his eyes from where the sun had been. And there was James Wilson, flat on his ass in the middle of the sidewalk; collared shirt with rolled up sleeves and black dress pants now undoubtedly dirty.

"Yeah." House snorted despite himself. "Just like that."

His best friend scowled at him as he stood up, brushing himself off as he went. House thought absently that his ruffled appearance was highlighted even further by the fact that he wasn't wearing a tie.

"Excuse me if I've never ridden a damn skateboard before," the Oncologist growled, snatching said item from the ground with a flourish.

The crippled man grinned as Wilson sat down next to him at the picnic table and lowered his head dejectedly. "I suck at this."

House nodded. "Yup. You really do."

"Thanks," the younger doctor dragged out that word, rolling his eyes and trying to hide the fact that his lip twitched in want of becoming a small smirk.

Had they not been out in public, House thought he might have done something uncharacteristic, like patting Jimmy on the back or grabbing his hand in his own.

But since they were in public, far away from the hospital, to be fair, but in public all the same, he smartly decided against it. He settled instead for just spreading out on the top of the table until he was lying down and almost comfortable.

"Just try again," he started spinning his cane in lazy circles above his head after he'd re-pushed up the sleeves on his long-sleeve T-shirt. "You'll get it."

"This has never been my strong suit," Wilson mumbled even as he was pulling himself off the bench seat and standing. "I've never been athletic. Even in school, I never had the coordination do to more than run or lift weights."

House snorted when he pictured his friend running track or in a gym lifting bell-bars. Wilson's teenage self came complete with acne and long, dangly limbs in his imagination. "I can believe that."

"Ass," Wilson breathed under his breath as he got back on the skateboard and pushed with his foot hard enough to gain momentum. He was doing pretty well, House conceded, until he had to swerve suddenly to avoid a crack in the sidewalk.

His arms failed in a comical windmill motion as he lost his balance and landed gracelessly in the grass to his right. House watched as he tried to get up, failed, and then to decided to just lay there, letting his appendages flop down beside him dejectedly.

House was smiling broadly by the time he pulled himself up from the picnic table and hobbled over to where his friend was laying. "Wanna just buy your patient a stuffed bear and call it a draw?"

Wilson groaned, lifting the heels of his hands to his eye sockets and rubbing hard. House gingerly lowered himself to the ground next to where he was still sprawled out, silently giving the younger man props for at least landing in the shade.

"Yeah…" he finally sighed. "Kid can draw his own blood and I can't learn how to ride a lousy skateboard."

House played with a strand of grass absently. "You were standing up too straight; you're supposed to keep closer to the ground."

"You told me that," Wilson sighed and sounded tired, "But when I did that, I felt like I was gonna fall over."

"Yeah, but you didn't," House pointed out.

Wilson rolled his eyes before shutting them and lifting one arm so he could tuck it behind his head. The other, somewhat unexpectedly, came out and wrapped around House's forearm.

"We're in public," the older man pointed out when it became clear what he wanted.

"We're nowhere near the hospital," he countered, and tugged until House had no choice but to lean backwards, his head falling somewhat expectedly onto Jimmy's shoulder.

The Diagnostician took a few moments to get comfortable, shifting his leg a bit, moving his arm so it wasn't stuck between them, putting up a mental block so he could ignore the fact that he and his male lover were now lying together in public. Not only were they putting themselves on display, they were being romantic.

If Wilson's body heat, and his hand playing lightly with strands of his hair, didn't feel so damn good, than the other man wouldn't have allowed anything like this to occur.

"So, how'd you learn to ride that thing?" Wilson kicked his foot in the general direction of the skateboard and House could feel him glaring.

"I don't know," the older man sighed contently and closed his eyes. "Some kid just asked me to ride with him one day and I said yes. It wasn't that hard."

"Where were you?" His lover inquired lightly. House knew that, for whatever reason, Wilson liked to hear tales from House's childhood.

"Uh…" the older man tried to think back to that rainy, humid day and the kid with whom he'd befriended. "I was about eleven, twelve, so…probably Japan."

He felt Wilson nodding and a slight breeze washed over them and the sun was going down behind them and House felt comfortable and content so he kept talking. "My dad was on leave; my mom was hosting a party, or something, so I didn't have to be home right after school. I was just wandering around and this kid from my base saw me."

"Sounds nice," Wilson mused, running his hand gently through his lover's thinning hair still.

"Anytime my dad wasn't around was good." House snorted.

The Oncologist, House could tell, wanted to push that statement, as he'd never gotten an in-depth explanation of his relationship with his dad, but – luckily enough for both of them – he chose not to.

"Maybe I should try again," Wilson sighed; his words came out with no ambition behind them. "I mean, how hard can it really be?"

"I broke my arm skateboarding once." House shared, though he hadn't intended to.

Wilson's hand stopped and the Diagnostician could feel his hot breath on his head when he snorted deeply. "And you're telling me this now?"

"You didn't ask," he said flippantly, but couldn't hold back a grin. "Besides, as long as you stay away from Vodka, undercurrents and West Virginia, I don't think you'll be able to mimic that particular set of circumstances."

"…do I even wanna know?"

House shook his head back and forth, intentionally prompting his lover to start moving his hand again – which he did - while asking, "How old were you then?"

"Twenty-two," House grinned when Wilson chuckled.

"I guess I'll tell Jake that he wins," Wilson sighed eventually, but House could hear the grin in his voice. "I think you'd like this kid."

"I doubt it." The cynic grunted.

"He'd like you," Wilson amended. "You should meet him."

"Wilson," House said warningly. Since they'd gotten together, there had been several rocky moments and a few fights, all prompted by his lover's need to…help him. Try to make him adapt, become friendlier.

The younger man sighed. "I know," he said tiredly, and by now, that was probably true. "But maybe, just for a second, you could drop by his room? He's fifteen and he doesn't have a dad in the picture."

House gritted his teeth, "I've already got an employee with daddy issues, I don't need your patients too."

"Chase isn't dying." Wilson pointed out, his tone was an attempt at light, non-confrontational.

House thought about it for a moment, and deduced logically that the key to any relationship was always picking your battles. "Maybe," he conceded.

"Great," his voice was bordering on jubilant and House could practically feel the smile he was sporting.

"Oh, shut up." He grumbled and rolled his eyes when Wilson laughed. "Let's make out or something."

House pulled himself up slightly so he could look at his lover's face. After so many years of friendship and –now – so many months of a more personal relationship, Wilson was much more adapt at keeping up with House.

So when his lover spoke bluntly of making out in public, Wilson didn't reel back and blush; he grinned and said, "Well, we are sittin' under a tree."

"K-I-S-S-I-"

House got interrupted from his perfectly harmonized melody by the full lips of his young lover. He wasn't complaining, though. No, he was kissing back and trying not to smile.

Because it'd been a long time since he'd been this damn... not-miserable.

Fin.