059. Food

(This is a prequel to the prompt Christmas – basically it's what happened before House got to Wilson's office. And I'm in the middle of writing a sort-of sequel to Christmas as well.)

Merry Christmas

House pulled up in front of the serviced apartment building and scowled. He mentally vowed never to trust his mother again. He was sure this was all her fault; manipulating his father into taking a holiday over Christmas that just happened to include a two day stopover in New Jersey. And then his mother had started in on him, insisting that this suspiciously fortuitous coincidence meant that he could come over and spend Christmas with them. Oh, and even better, because they were staying in a serviced apartment instead of a hotel, she could cook a proper Christmas lunch for them. Between the offer of good food and the guilt she'd used so effectively he'd ended up saying yes about two weeks ago and he'd been disgusted with himself ever since. He'd much rather have spent his Christmas at the hospital with Wilson, talking rubbish and avoiding treating patients.

He sighed and grabbed his cane from the passenger seat before opening the door and climbing out of the 'Vette. He leaned over and reached back in, snatching up the present he'd bought for them then he limped towards the doors to the apartment complex with an air of resignation. In far too little time he was standing outside the door of the apartment his parents were in and he reluctantly knocked. The door opened quickly and his mother beamed at him.

"Greg! Happy Christmas! I'm glad you decided not to avoid us this time," she said with an indulgent smile.

"Hi, Mom," House said with a reluctant smile as he let his mother hug him. "Well, you did lay the guilt on pretty thick."

He handed her the present and limped into the apartment, ignoring the merry smile and chuckle his comment provoked.

"Merry Christmas, Greg," John House said with a smile and slightly awkward nod.

"Hi, Dad," House said, rather determinedly not returning the compliment of the season.

John's lips twitched slightly at that and he waved a hand towards the living room. "Have a seat. Let me get you a beer."

"Thanks," House muttered as he limped into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

For the next half an hour, House engaged in conversation with his parents that was reasonably adult, only a fraction desultory and without the majority of his normal quota of sarcastic remarks. His mother flitted in and out of the room as she kept an eye on their food and House managed to not drink his beer too quickly. His father kept the conversation on lighter subjects even after they sat down at the table and everything went rather well up until the point that Blythe brought the dessert out.

"So, Greg, is there anyone special we should know about?" she said with a wicked smile and placed the bowl of ice cream in front of him.

House rolled his eyes as he picked up his spoon. "I think you asked me that question last time I saw you."

"Well, I didn't get an answer last time, so I thought I'd better ask it again," Blythe replied with a laugh.

"There was probably a reason I didn't answer it last time," House replied truculently.

"Well, I would hope it was because you'd found someone," John said indulgently. "You can't keep going on like this, Greg. That young woman who works for you, she seems to like you. Why don't you take a chance? Can't be any worse than the way you live now."

House actually flinched at that and his face darkened slightly. "I'm fine the way I am," he snapped. "Everything in my life is just fine."

Both John and Blythe looked surprised.

"Then…you are seeing someone?" Blythe ventured. She hadn't missed the defensive way Greg had reacted to John's question and she wished her husband would stop treating their son like he was one of his subordinates.

House looked down at the table. He knew he should tell the truth but there was a cold, hard angry part of himself that was still about sixteen and sick to death of the way his Dad ragged on him all the time. And that part had the upper hand right now and it wanted to strike back and hurt and he knew just the way to do that.

He shrugged in a manner he knew his mother would understand and made a noncommittal sound.

Blythe looked startled for a moment. "You are seeing someone?" she asked again, suddenly unsure if Greg was telling the truth. "Why didn't you say something?"

"You won't like it," House said flatly, still refusing to meet his parents' eyes.

A sinking feeling began to flow through Blythe. "Oh, Greg, it's not…Stacy, is it?"

She was infinitely relieved when Greg rolled his eyes; she'd always liked Stacy well enough and couldn't never thank the woman enough for saving her son's life but she also couldn't forgive her for walking away, not matter what the reason or how much Greg had pushed. In Blythe's eyes, if Stacy had truly loved her son then she wouldn't have let Greg push her away.

"She's married, Mom," House said in a 'well, duh' tone. "And no longer working at the hospital."

"Oh, of course," Blythe said hurriedly.

"Is it that young woman we met last time?" John asked with a grin. "She was very nice."

"No," House replied shortly then decided to go for broke. "Wrong gender."

A sudden sharp silence fell in the room. Blythe's eyes widened as what Greg had said sunk in; she'd suspected that Greg had…experimented when he was at college from some of what he'd he said…or rather carefully not said at the time.

"Do we know…him?" she asked carefully.

That small, savage, sixteen-year-old part of House was crowing gleefully at the expression on his father's face as he answered.

"Uh, yes," he muttered. "You've met him."

"One of the other doctors that works for you?" Blythe asked, her eyes drifting over to her husband and not liking what they were seeing.

"No," House said shortly. "And…urgh. No, well, you know him."

Blythe's eyes widened further. She knew her son didn't have many friends, much to her distress, so that really only left one option and, well, she'd always wondered about Greg's relationship with James in spite of the fact that James had been married.

"James?" she asked softly.

"So you're a fag now, are you?" John said harshly.

"John!" Blythe snapped as House snarled, "It's called bisexual, Dad. Have I disappointed you again?"

"Yes!" John yelled.

House flinched backwards as Blythe gasped, "John!" again, his eyes going wide for a moment then he shut down completely, his face went blank and expressionless. He grabbed his cane and surged to his feet with enough force to send the chair toppling over backwards and a sharp stab of pain up his thigh. He ignored both of these things and limped towards the door, ignoring his mother's plea to stay.

The lift arrived with gratifying speed and he punched the floor button and the door close button with a fierce anger. When the lift doors opened again, he limped out of the building and got into his car, tossing his cane onto the passenger seat. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel for a moment until he saw his mother coming out of the front door of the building. He had no desire to speak to her or let her talk him into coming back upstairs and he definitely didn't want her questioning his relationship…his nonexistent relationship…with Wilson. He quickly started the car and peeled out of there with a screech of tyres.