As I am terrified that I'll get booted off I have edited the smex scene in this. The link to the full and unedited version be in my profile. Enjoy.
Spoilers through House vs. God
The first time James Wilson finally made himself believe that he could never have Gregory House was when he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. Even during the incident, he'd known he was being the stupidest he'd ever been. There were some things James thought he would never be stupid enough to do, and sleeping with a patient was one of them. Sometimes, though, James got to a point where he couldn't take it anymore, where he had to do something to stop whatever vicious cycle he found himself in. His emotions had overrode his reason, but when it came to things involving House, they often did.
James had been staying with House for a couple months when he'd realized that he definitely had a problem that needed to be corrected. He'd come in late and exhausted from work to find House passed out on the couch, the television casting changing light and shadows over his face. The ensuing rush of affection and reflexive reaction had caught him completely off-guard. He hadn't even thought about it at the time, but he'd placed his briefcase down, hung his coat up, walked over to the couch and stooped over, leaning in… With a jolt, he'd stopped himself to discover his face inches away from House's. Without thinking about it, he'd been leaning in to kiss House, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He couldn't be completely sure when, but somewhere along the line, he'd gotten comfortable living with House. Things had become (he inwardly cringed at the term) domestic between them. Hell, the way they argued over House refusing to do the dishes, the way James cooked for him, the way they continued talking even through the bathroom door… it was like they were an old married couple. House had even let-up on the pranks completely after he'd realized he was only hurting himself in some cases; that prank with the bowl of water hadn't been the most well-thought-out.
After the initial rough-patch of anger and arguments when they'd been learning how to live together, there hadn't been that many problems. James had actually enjoyed it for a while. He'd enjoyed the nights spent in companionable silence sitting next to each other on the couch. He'd enjoyed the jokes and friendly sniping. He'd enjoyed being able to put aside the banter and just talk sometimes, mostly about things of little or no consequence. Living with House was at times exasperating, interesting and eye-opening, but overall it was fun. James had never been in a living situation he could describe as being fun before.
But what he'd realized around the time that he'd nearly kissed a sleeping House was that it was making him want things he couldn't have. After that, it became painful. It was giving him a glimpse into something that would never be, it was torturing him with the ultimately unattainable. By the end of the third month, he'd decided that something would have to change. He couldn't take it anymore. He'd rather force himself to stay away from House completely than to have what he wanted dangled in front of him like a carrot. He couldn't let himself hope that things would change between them. He'd seen enough shattered hopes in his line of work that he wasn't too keen to experience some a little closer to home.
He loved House. That realization in itself was still too new and raw. Staying with House was just pouring salt in the wound. It was just driving home the fact that House may care about him to some extent, but he would never love James back. That was so certain to James that it hurt. He couldn't make it stop hurting, but he could refuse to let it get to him.
He sighed and grabbed his coat. He'd been looking for apartments for a few days, and hopefully he'd be able to move out of House's place by the end of the week. He still hadn't gotten around to telling House yet. He ran the conversation over in his head as he walked outside to his car.
He stopped when he noticed a small, huddled form sitting on the bench. As he walked past, he saw the short mop of reddish-brown hair, the deep rings under the eyes, lines of stress etched into her face. He looked at his watch. She had left from their appointment almost an hour ago. Something must be wrong.
"Grace?" he asked, walking over to where she sat.
"Doctor Wilson," she greeted quietly. Even when she was in pain she had that soothing, melodic quality to her voice.
"What are you still doing here?"
"I suppose my friend ran into some trouble at work. I don't have my cell-phone with me, so I decided to wait for a while. I guess I'll just catch the bus now that it looks like she's not going to come."
She winced as she shifted on the bench. They'd been trying to adjust her meds for a while now, and the newest cocktail hadn't been working the way it should. She'd been in a lot of pain lately. James hated when he lost a patient. The worst part was knowing that he'd lost her, but still seeing her regularly, watching her slowly deteriorate until eventually…
"Well, the next bus doesn't come for another half-hour. You need to rest. Why don't I give you a ride home?" he asked. She gave him a gentle smile.
"Thank you, but you don't have to do that."
"No, really it's fine. I insist," he flashed his most charming smile. She ought to be home in bed, not sitting on some godforsaken bench and trying to ignore the pain.
"Well… alright."
Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of her apartment, and she invited him in for coffee. From his interviews with Grace, he knew that she was pretty much alone in the world. No parents, no siblings, only a few friends who had their own lives to deal with. She'd always been strong, ever since he first started treating her. Sometimes he wondered how she kept going. She must be starved for any real human interaction. He accepted her invitation.
"Why don't you tell me where the coffee is and I'll get it ready? You should sit down," he said when they got inside. She was moving slowly, almost as if every step hurt, so he helped her over to the couch. When he let go of her arm and moved back, he couldn't decipher the look on her face. After a moment of silence, she looked away.
"Thank you. The coffee pot is on the left counter, coffee in the cupboard just above it."
When he went to the kitchen, he found that the only thing in the cupboard was the coffee. Frowning, James looked in the other cupboards only to find them equally as bare. The fridge was nearly empty as well. He put the coffee on anyway and went back to the living room.
"When was the last time you ate?" he asked. "I couldn't help but notice that the cupboards were a little… empty."
"I just ran out of things yesterday. I was planning on going to go to the grocer's… but I've just been so tired…" she trailed off, almost as if she were ashamed of herself.
"Well, you're going to need to eat sometime in the near future. It's kind of important," he said with a smile. "Why don't I go out and pick up some groceries for you?"
"If you don't mind…" she said hesitantly. "I mean, I really don't want to be a bother, but things have just been so…hard lately. I feel completely useless."
James frowned. It was sad to see her like this. She'd come to accept her illness, but she had refused to let it slow her down. It seemed like it was becoming too much for her. He leaned over and squeezed her shoulder gently.
"You're one of the strongest people I've ever met, Grace," he tried to reassure her. "You are anything but useless." She lifted her face to look at him, her lips quirking up in a smile.
"Thank you."
An hour later, he'd filled her cupboards and fridge with groceries and made dinner. After they ate, he helped her into her room at her request. She sat down on the mattress, looking better than she had a couple hours ago. Probably because she'd had another dose of pain meds since then. The dinner probably helped, too.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asked.
"Yes. Much better now, thank you." There was a slightly awkward silence.
"Well, if you're sure you're okay, I should probably get going…" he said. He turned as if to go, but she reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"No. Stay. Please." She tugged him closer, looking at him imploringly. His eyes widened. Jesus, why hadn't he seen it coming?
"Grace, I don't think that's…" he trailed off, and she stood up, standing so close to him he could feel her breath on his face. Everything in him was screaming to back away, to get out, but for some reason he couldn't move.
"Please, James…" she began, her voice desperate. "Please. You've always been so kind to me, and… I need to know that I'm not dead, not so alone. I've felt like I have been for so long now. I don't know how much more of this I can stand. I-I…I just… need you. Please." She was crying now, tears spilling down her cheeks as she shook slightly.
Maybe it was his own fear and loneliness reaching out to hers, trying to find someone who could understand. Maybe it was the fact that she was in so much pain all the time, and he didn't want to see her go through any more. Maybe it was because he'd always admired her, always thought she was a wonderful and beautiful human being who didn't deserve the cards she'd been dealt. Maybe it was because James was a complete sucker for anyone who "needed" him. Whatever the reason, he stopped thinking about it so much, and pulled her closer.
She immediately brought her arms up to hold him, almost desperately trying to bring them even closer together. She lifted her head, leaned up and brought their lips together. She kissed him deeply, gently, exploring as if it was the last time she would ever kiss anyone. With a start, he realized that it might very well be the last time. She tugged on his shirt, sitting down on the bed, pulling him down with her, and James forgot to think at all.
The next morning, he woke up in a strange bed with Grace tucked into his side, her breath coming steady and even, sleeping deeply; probably for the first time in weeks. He had the obligatory moment of mental panic. He was so fucking screwed… and not in the good way.
Just before he was ready to start hyperventilating, he looked down to see her beautiful face gently relaxed in sleep. The stress lines that were almost always there were completely smoothed out, and there was even a slight smile on her lips. He felt a small amount of affection seeing her like this. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.
He liked Grace. She was a good person, and she needed someone to take care of her. She was dying. She deserved a little kindness and affection in her final months, didn't she? If he could provide that for her, was that so terrible? Maybe he deserved to have someone to care for who would appreciate it, who would care back…
And that's where it all came back to House. A wicked part of his mind whispered that maybe this was just what he needed, a distraction from his best friend, something to stop him from dwelling on the fact that he would never get what he really wanted, that his love would never be reciprocated. Maybe this would help him get over House, or at least get to a point where he could deal with his feelings and accept that he could never have House the way he wanted.
Shit. What would House say when he found out? He'd probably shout at him for being such a moron, probably make a few biting remarks about James' inability to keep it in his pants… James stopped that line of thought. He could never let House find out.
House couldn't find out because no one could find out. If anyone did, he'd be out of a job. Besides, he didn't need House, of all people, questioning his morals. It would just be a big hassle and it wouldn't solve anything. He ignored the small part of his mind that said that wasn't the real reason. That he wanted to believe that maybe House would be upset with him past the concern of a friend, the censure of a colleague. That maybe House would be angry at James because he'd slept with someone, because he'd lied to him about it; not just because that someone was a patient.
James could see the way House would look at him, the amused and teasing grin that would light his face as he'd make a few rude remarks, tease James about it, and then turn and go back to listening to his i-Pod. The way that House wouldn't care that James had slept with someone, that he'd made a huge mistake, beyond the amount of biting comedic material he could get out of it. James had already learned recently just how disinterested House was in his love-life except when he could torture him with it. If House found out than any small amount of hope or denial would die out completely.
He thought that that, above everything else, would show him just how impossible it would be for House to ever come to care for him. That small, irrational part of his mind would like to think that House might even be jealous or hurt by his… "relationship" with Grace, if even just a little. James didn't think he was ready to deal with the fact that House would never see him as anything but a friend.
Grace shifted next to him, her eyes fluttering as she woke up. She tightened her grip around his waist and raised her head from where it was resting on his chest.
"Morning," she greeted with a smile, leaning up to kiss him.
"Morning," he replied, his hands rubbing across her back.
"Stay with me?" she asked, her eyes suddenly serious.
James answered the only way he possibly could.
"Okay."
The first time Gregory House realized he might feel something for James Wilson beyond simple affection and lust was also the first time that Wilson successfully lied to him about something important. Sure, Wilson had lied to him before, but it had never been about something this huge; something that could've helped him figure out his case sooner. At first, Greg attributed his anger to that. He was angry because Wilson was standing in the way of his puzzle, because Wilson had lied to him just like every stupid patient he'd ever had.
But even within those first few moments of uncovering the truth, of outing Wilson in front of dry cleaner, tax accountant and guy from the bus stop, Greg realized that this amount of anger was a little too much for it to be perturbation at having an important clue kept from him. Honestly, half the fun of the puzzle was the challenge of figuring it out, getting around the road blocks that people threw up in his way. Greg had gotten so angry that he'd been stupid enough to call Wilson on it in front of three other people. Three people who could easily figure out where Wilson worked and report him. Greg hadn't been thinking about that, though. He'd just wanted to see Wilson squirm, to see him suffer. He wanted Wilson to feel a bit of the betrayal and anger he was currently going through.
When he got right down to it, his reaction to finding out that Wilson had been sleeping with cancer chick wasn't the reaction of an understandably pissed-off best friend. He'd had problems with jealousy when it came to Wilson before, but it had never been as strong as it was now. Greg was feeling disappointed not only because Wilson had lied to him, but because he'd thought that maybe Wilson would lay off the Casanova impersonation for a while… at least until his divorce was finalized. Greg had been looking forward to having Wilson's attention resting solely on him for that small amount of time. To have that yanked out from under him was kind of irritating.
After Chase's call and the resulting epiphany, Greg suddenly felt the need to get out of the room. He couldn't stand the look on Wilson's face. He kind of looked like a pissed-off kicked-puppy. Greg also couldn't stand the way his stomach was tying itself up in knots. Wilson being Wilson, though, hadn't taken the hint and had followed him into the kitchen.
"Tell them my name isn't Wilson," he said almost desperately as Greg looked through the fridge and grabbed a tupperware full of fruit for Steve.
"Most people in your situation just have their careers to worry about. You've got that and divine retribution," Greg sniped.
"Tell them," Wilson insisted. Greg was so angry that he could barely see straight, and the fact that all Wilson was worried about was his career just brought the anger up a notch.
"Tell me how it happened, and I'll tell them whatever you want," he bargained. It might not be the best thing for his unraveling psyche, but Greg wanted to know whose fault it was so he could know whether to strangle Wilson or cancer chick or both.
Wilson sighed and shook his head.
"She'd had a bad day, pain-wise," he began. "Her ride didn't show up to take her home…"
"So you offered," Greg prompted.
"Yeah. She didn't have any groceries. She was too sick to go out. I figured I could afford to take a half hour and pick her up a few things and…"
"Stay and make sure she's okay…" Greg added, revolted at the triteness of it.
"Yeah."
"And never leave," Greg said, his bitterness seeping through. "You told me you got an apartment, but you moved in with her. You lied to me," he pointed out next, trying to keep his tone as light as possible. It wouldn't be good to let Wilson know how angry he really was.
Wilson whispered out a choked, "Tell them," and gestured emphatically towards the poker table. Greg fought back an eye-roll. He didn't think he could get more disgusted with his friend than he was now. He leaned to peer around Wilson's shoulder.
"His name is not Wilson," he announced, "and he's screwed up worse than I am." He finished with a pointed glare in his friend's direction.
"Okay, yes, I lied to you. I'm sorry."
"Half the doctors who specialize in oncology turn into burnt out cases, but you," Greg began with a gesture towards Wilson, "you eat neediness." There was a little more resentment in his tone than he was looking for, but he hoped it got his point across.
"Lucky for you," Wilson observed, turning around and walking away.
The second Wilson turned his back on him, the anger Greg had been holding at bay sky-rocketed. If Wilson thought they were done, he had another thing coming.
"Thanks for the game, guys," Wilson said while grabbing his coat. "I don't think I'll be coming back."
"You're a functional vampire," Greg stated from the kitchen doorway. "Sure, you're heroic, useful to society, but only because it feeds you." Wilson ignored him, leaving and closing the door behind him. Greg bit back an exasperated sigh.
"There's nothing worth stealing, so don't even look," he told the three guys still sitting at his poker table, then followed Wilson out the door.
"You don't just have a fetish for needy people," he exclaimed when he got outside. "You marry them!" Wilson threw his hands up.
"Here we go," he said without turning around.
"You mean it! And then time passes and suddenly they're not so needy anymore," Greg said. He realized that this wasn't just about cancer-chick anymore, It was about every useless woman Wilson had ever gotten involved with. "Your fault. You've been there for them too much. They're getting healthy, independent, and that's just ugly."
Belatedly, Greg realized that maybe he shouldn't be going after Wilson like this, that maybe he was giving away too much. He couldn't help himself, though. It was like suddenly all of his resentment for all the women Wilson had ever been with was crashing over him, and he was powerless to stop it. There was even a large amount of resentment towards Wilson mixed in there. Greg wondered if the only reason Wilson ever had anything to do with him at all was because he saw Greg as being "needy". If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was people pitying him. That it would come from Wilson hurt more than Greg would've expected it to.
"God, you must be pissed at God right now," Greg continued, not letting up on the assault, "for making her all happy."
"Why are you doing this?" Wilson asked, suspicious and more than a little angry himself. Okay, so Greg had definitely given away a little too much with his diatribe.
"Because you're being stupid!" he explained. The excuse sounded lame even to his own ears. Wilson laughed bitterly. "You know what you're risking by sleeping with a patient." And that was so not convincing anyone. Greg hadn't seemed too concerned about Wilson's career when he was shouting about his mistake in front of three other people.
"Oh, that's crap!" Wilson said. "You're not mad because I'm risking my job. You're not even mad 'cause I lied to you. You're mad because I lied to you and you couldn't tell!" There was something disappointed and bitter in Wilson's eyes as he said that.
"Yeah, you got me nailed," Greg said sarcastically, even though Wilson had it partly right. He turned and started walking away. Greg was thankful that Wilson didn't seem to suspect anything else, didn't seem to suspect the real reasons.
"Yeah. That's why you didn't want me in your poker game," Wilson continued. Greg stopped and turned around, "because when it comes to being in control, Gregory House leaves our faith-healer kid in the dust." Wilson had followed him across the street and pointed an accusing finger at him. "And that's why religious belief annoys you. Because if the universe operates by abstract rules you can learn them and you can protect yourself. If a supreme being exists he can squash you anytime he wants."
"He knows where I am," Greg stated, refusing to let Wilson get to him.
And perfectly timed, his cell-phone went off. And perfectly in character, Wilson offered to drive him to the hospital even though they'd just had their only real fight in months.
Greg had to put everything on hold for a while as he figured out how to raise Jesus from the dead (metaphorically at least). It wasn't until later that he was really able to examine what had happened between him and Wilson.
Point number one of interest was that though Greg had been able to deal with Wilson's many trysts in the past, it didn't seem like he was able to deal with them anymore. Just the thought of cancer-chick holding Wilson close, of Wilson spending every night in her bed… it was enough to make Greg want to scream and yell until his voice was hoarse. It was enough to make him want to go tell cancer-chick in no-uncertain terms to keep her grubby, radiation-ridden hands off of his best friend, thank-you-very-much. It was enough to make him want to pull Wilson close and show him just who he belonged to, that if he went around whoring himself out he'd have to deal with Greg punching him in the face and then fucking him into next week.
Point number two of interest was that it seemed as if Greg had some unresolved resentment built up against Wilson. He wasn't sure of Wilson's motives towards him. That uncertainty bothered Greg. Was Wilson just hanging around because he saw in Greg another one of his charity cases? He didn't like the idea that all he was to Wilson was a way to feed his need to be needed. God knew that Greg didn't need Wilson. Wanted him, yes, was obsessed with him even, but he didn't need him.
Point number three of interest was that Greg had finally come to a point where he was ready to just give in. Wilson had said they were okay after the fight (well, he'd implied it, anyway), but what would happen the next time around? The only solution that Greg could see was if he stopped lying to himself and finally went after what he'd wanted for so long. He didn't really have much to lose, did he? Even if he made an overture and Wilson rejected it, Wilson was the type of guy who would stick around anyway. What the hell, he already had the obsessive jealousy and possessiveness when it came to Wilson, he might as well be getting sex out of it.
He'd let things calm down between them first, though. Greg still had a lot of thinking to do about the whole cancer-chick thing and his feelings in regards to his friend. Greg hated thinking about his feelings, but he supposed that in this case it was necessary. He'd wait for a while and see how things developed.
Contrary to popular belief, Greg could be patient when he needed to be.
The first time Gregory House kissed James Wilson things got a little out of hand. The night it happened hadn't really been anything out of the ordinary, either. Actually, it all seemed a little… anti-climactic. Then again, real-life was never anything like the movies or romance novels. James certainly hadn't seen it coming. After all, he'd come to the decision that Greg would never want him, and it was easier to try and forget about his attraction, or learn to deal with it, than it was to spend the rest of his life mindlessly pining after his best friend. He hadn't counted on the fact that Greg had decided to do the exact opposite. And like most other things, when Greg led the way, James followed.
It was a Friday night about a month after the whole incident with Grace, and things seemed like they were finally back to normal. Greg had invited James over for dinner and television (well, not so much invited as popped his head into James' office and grunted, "My place, seven. Bring Chinese,") and James had eagerly accepted. Anything to get him out of his boring hotel room for a night.
They'd finished eating and were channel surfing, sitting companionably next to each other on Greg's couch like it was any other night. James had pointed out that they could have just watched the TV Guide channel, but Greg insisted that that took all the fun out of it. For some reason, though, Greg had allowed James to be the one controlling the remote.
"Hey, wait. Go back," Greg said after James skipped over the hundredth channel of the evening.
"What? Why?" James asked, going back anyway. "I didn't think you liked reality television."
"It's The Simple Life. Any show with breasts and bodies that fake hardly counts as reality television."
"Ah. I wonder if she considers raking animal manure to be a step up or a step down from the porn?"
"Normally, I'd say that shoveling horse shit is always a step down from having sex."
"But in this case you aren't because…?"
"If you'd actually seen it, you'd know. She spends half the time talking on her cell-phone, sounding insanely bored. There's nothing worse than bad sex. Especially if you're paying for it."
"I suppose you would know this from your vast amount of experience in the area," James observed. Greg snorted.
"Whereas the sex you have is always fraught with guilt and shame. That always makes sex better," he snapped. "Considering the amount of guilt and shame involved in your last affair, I'd say the sex must have been fairly phenomenal. Though it would probably had to have been, anyway, to be worth risking your job over." The cruel comment hit James like a slap to the face. He took a deep breath.
"Drop it, House. Honestly, it's been a month. I would've thought that even you, overbearing and self-obsessed as you are, would have been able to let that go by now." His voice was bitter and more than a little petulant. "Why the hell does it matter to you so much?"
And with that simple question, the entire mood of the room changed. James felt Greg tense beside him. Greg paused for a moment, weighing his options, and made a decision. He reached over and snatched the remote from James, turning the television off with an almost violent click. James turned towards him on the couch, his eyes questioning, waiting for the explosion he probably thought was coming. Greg smiled wickedly and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, ignoring the way he went rigid, and leaned in to slam their lips together.
For a moment, James was completely at a loss. His mind went completely blank except for a litany of, Waitaminute,whatthehell,timeout! Greg could feel that his friend wasn't responding, probably in shock, so he tried to get what he could out of it before James came to his senses. Greg kissed like he did everything else; no pretense, all tongue and teeth and heat, like he was giving one of his often-acidic speeches with their mouths pressed together.
It probably only took James a moment to get with the program, but that instant of confusion felt almost timeless. That is, until Greg did this absolutely sinful twisty thing with his tongue, dragging it over the roof of James' mouth. James couldn't stop the moan that rumbled through his chest. Finally responding, he pulled Greg closer, one hand going to his waist and the other threading through his hair. Greg shifted, bumping their thighs together (thank God James had sat down on his good side) and moved his own hands up, one resting on James' cheek, the other at the nape of his neck, his thumb rubbing a pattern under his friend's ear. He smiled into the kiss at the full body shudder he got in response to that.
After a few long moments of nipping, licking and sucking where James tried to give back as good as he'd gotten, Greg started to feel a crick in his neck. He tugged at James' shirt until he got the picture, moving to straddle Greg's lap, careful of his bad leg. They separated for a moment to take in deep gasps of air. James looked really good with his hair all disheveled, his eyes glazed and his lips swollen from kissing. Greg was about to comment on it (in a much more teasing manner, of course) when James dove back in, licking and scraping teeth down his friend's neck, ending with a bite that had Greg gasping and arching up. The resulting press of groin against groin was enough to make both of them moan.
Greg pulled James up for another kiss as they both set up a rhythm. Well, James set up a rhythm and Greg sat back and enjoyed it. His leg was protesting a little bit, but he ignored it. There were much better things to focus on, anyway. Like running his hands down James' back and squeezing that ass that had been driving him crazy for months.
James let out a noise that could probably be classified as a whimper and pushed them closer together. He was still having problems believing this was actually happening. Just kissing Greg was doing more for him than actual sex had with several of his past affairs. The stubble and the clothed erection rubbing against his own were certainly different, but in a good way. They assured him that this was real, that that was a man moving underneath his hands, that this was actually Greg he was making out with on the couch like they were horny teenagers. Finally, Greg pulled back with a gasp.
"Bedroom," he ground out, kneading at James' ass for a few more moments for emphasis, then pushing him slowly off his lap until he stood in front of the couch. Greg grabbed his cane and levered himself up, pulling James in with one arm to give him another quick and dirty kiss before he urged him towards the hallway.
James gave a slight smirk and started stripping as he walked in front of Greg. By the time he'd gotten to the bedroom door, he was dressed in nothing but his slacks and boxers. He paused for a moment to unzip and step out of the former before Greg caught up, following the trail of clothes.
"Show-off," Greg muttered before leaning down to bite at James' collarbone and tweak a nipple. James squeaked and Greg moved on to lave his neck with licks and kisses.
"You love it," he retorted a bit breathlessly.
"I'm going to ignore the absolute cliché that was that last statement," Greg said, pushing James into the room and onto the bed. He grinned. "And I never said I didn't."
CUT CUT CUT!
Yeah. If you wanna read the whole scene, go use the link in my profile. Srsly.
James finished cleaning them both off as best he could and tossed the used tissues. He slumped down into the bed with a long sigh. They lay next to each other for a few silent moments, staring at the ceiling.
"Holy shit," James finally murmured.
"That about sums it up," Greg agreed, his mouth quirking into a sardonic grin. "Not the best, but certainly admirable for a first time, especially considering that now there's practice and improvements to be made." James punched him in the shoulder.
"Bastard," he stated. Greg turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.
"What, you thought that sex was going to turn me into a sappy, sentimental, cuddly teddy bear?"
"No, but I thought it might shut you up for a few minutes," James replied. Greg snorted.
"Wishful thinking."
"I'm nothing if not optimistic. Now shut up and go to sleep."
Greg hadn't really noticed how tired he actually was until James had said anything. He pulled the covers across them both and rolled over, closing his eyes as he listened to James' even breathing next to him. Since the sex was over, Greg didn't feel the need to pull James closer to him. Really.
There was about a half of a foot of space between them, but for some reason the space didn't seem like it was separating them so much as simply filling in the gap. Greg wondered what the hell that meant right before he drifted off to sleep.
And if they ended up sprawling together, limbs tangling sometime over the course of the night, neither one of them said anything about it in the morning.
A/N: Nope, it ain't over. Don't worry. Still a couple chapters to go at LEAST. The way it's shaping up, it looks like this thing will never. end. sigh GIMME A REVIEW PLZ:D