Well...was going to hold off until the weekend, but I got impatient. :P Once again, don't own House. If I did, Huddy would be dead and House/OC would rule...

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Over the next month, Johnny settled in New York, writing songs for his new album and scouting bands for his new label. He had finally managed to convince Bella and her band to come in a lay down a few tracks, even though she wasn't convinced that she wanted to sign her life away on a recording contract just yet.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the rough-and-tumble guitar player he had met at his last gig. The one he had dragged to the underground club, the one he had smoked a couple of joints with, the one he had finally dared to touch and kiss.

Johnny hadn't heard from him since, but he wasn't terribly surprised. House was hardly the first man Johnny had hooked up with that had disappeared on him, never to be heard from again.

He sighed a little as he lit a cigarette and took a long drag while he listened to a demo CD someone had sent him. Weak guitar, off-rhythm drums, screaming singer. Johnny immediately hit to stop button to halt any further assault to his eardrums.

His cell phone rang from its resting place on the desk, and Johnny quickly picked it up and flipped it open to answer. "Rocket."

"Uh, hey." The gravelly baritone seemed somewhat uncertain. "It's House."

Johnny could hardly believe his ears. "Hey man, how's it going? Ain't heard from you in a while."

"Work's been keeping me busy." House answered. "I finally managed to get a weekend free. That invitation still open?"

"Hell yeah." Johnny smiled widely and rose from his chair, running his hand through his blond hair. "When are you coming?"

"In a few hours." House told him. "Figured I'd take the train."

"Well…when you get settled, call me." Johnny told him. "We can get together somewhere."

"Sounds like a plan." House answered, his response somewhat guarded. "See you soon."

Johnny hung up his phone and tossed it on the desk, butting his cigarette as he did so. Now he could allow himself to get excited, at least a little. There was still no guarantee that things would go too far between them, but at least House was coming.

He left his office and rode the elevator down to the studios where Bella and her band were huddled over the sound board, deep in discussion with the producer.

"Rocket, help us out." Bella called out as soon as Johnny entered. "Old boy here seems to think we need a smoother sound. I say we should be closer to our live sound."

"Let me give it a listen." Johnny sat down at the sound board and pressed a few buttons to listen to the playback.

He frowned as he mixed the track, finally settling on a mix he liked. "There, how's that?"

Bella beamed and threw her arms around Johnny's neck. "You're a genius. It's perfect."

"I won't say it's perfect…" Rex grumbled. "But it's not so rough. We might be able to sell that."

"Yeah, because that's totally what this is about." Bella rolled her eyes and released Johnny.

"Music is a business, kiddo." Rex told her. "The sooner you learn that, the better."

"But what about artistic integrity? Soul? Doesn't that mean anything?" Bella argued. "I mean, look at Rocket. He hasn't sold out."

"Yeah, look at me." Johnny laughed bitterly. "Twenty years in the business and nothing to show for it. That's where artistic integrity gets you."

Bella patted Johnny's arm. "I wouldn't say you've got nothing to show for it. You've got a devoted fan base that fills every club date you do, and people are still buying your CDs."

Johnny shrugged. "Still. If anyone can find the balance between marketability and artistic integrity, it's you."

His phone started ringing before Bella could respond, and he turned away from Bella and Rex to answer. "Rocket."

"I made it." House responded.

Johnny felt a little thrill course through him. "Cool, man. You bring a guitar with you this time?"

"Yep. Brought my Flying V."

"Get the hell out." Johnny was stunned. "This I've got to see. Where are you staying?"

House rattled off the hotel information while Johnny scribbled it down. "Let me know when you're ready to meet up."

"Give me an hour."

"Done. See ya then." Johnny snapped his phone closed and shoved it in his pocket.

Bella arched an eyebrow at him as he returned to the sound board. "Got a jam session?"

"Something like that." Johnny nodded. "House just showed up."

Bella frowned before her face lit in recognition. "Oh, him! Cool, have fun. Get some while he's here."

Johnny chuckled to himself as he left the studio. There was far more to it than Bella was thinking. He wasn't just trying to get laid. He could make that happen if that was all he wanted.

He and House had forged a connection that night, somewhere in the midst of the music and the smoke. Johnny still felt it, all these weeks later. He was curious to see if House felt any connection, too.

For all Johnny knew, the man just wanted to finish what they had started. That seemed unlikely, but what the hell? Johnny was fine with that scenario.

He paid the cab driver and stepped out at the address House had given him. Suddenly doubt began to creep over him. Would he even recognize House? After all, the majority of their contact had taken place in a darkened club in a haze of smoke. Johnny considered himself damned lucky that he remembered anything about that night.

As soon as he stepped into the lobby, all his doubts evaporated. House looked just as Johnny remembered him, tall and long limbed, that scruff still outlining his strong jaw.

House was seated on one of the padded benches in the lobby, a guitar case at his feet and a thoughtful expression on his rough face. He thumped a cane rhythmically between his legs, not noticing Johnny's approach.

"House?"

He lifted his head, meeting Johnny's eyes with his own bright blue. Johnny was startled. He sure as hell hadn't noticed those during their last encounter. If he had, he was sure he wouldn't have forgotten them.

House greeted Johnny with a cautious nod. "Rocket. Good to see you."

"Same." Johnny gestured toward the guitar case. "Need me to grab that?"

"Couldn't hurt." House rose from the bench, leaning on his cane while Johnny picked up the guitar case, and the two men crossed the lobby and left the hotel.

Johnny hailed a cab, and the driver opened the trunk to house the guitar while House climbed into the backseat. Johnny wasn't far behind, folding himself into the backseat next to House. "So I was thinking we could head back to the studio for a while, maybe play around and see what we come up with."

House looked puzzled. "I thought you had the other kind of jam session in mind."

"Maybe later." Johnny answered. "I'd kind of like to see how the musical one goes first. If it goes anything like the last one…could be something."

House nodded, looking thoughtful, and Johnny had a hard time trying to figure out what was on the other man's mind. "You alright, man? You seem a little…off."

"Fine." House seemed startled, shaking his head. "Crazy week at work, that's all. I'm kind of having a hard time leaving it behind, I guess."

Johnny nodded. "What do you do? Besides play killer guitar, that is."

"I'm a doctor." House told him.

"No shit!" Johnny was impressed.

House shrugged casually. "Yeah. I've been running Diagnostics at Princeton-Plainsboro in New Jersey for about seven or eight years. The guitar thing is just a hobby."

"Hell of a hobby." Johnny was still a little stunned at the revelation. "So what do you do in Diagnostics? Aside from, you know, diagnosing folks."

"You ever watch that 'Mystery Diagnosis' show?" House asked.

"Once in a while."

"That's what I do." House explained. "Well…not just me. I have three fellows that work for me. They do most of the work. It's a learning experience for them, and fulfills my teaching obligation to the hospital."

"That's really freaking cool, man." Johnny told him.

House shrugged. "It has its moments. Still not as cool as playing music for a living."

"Bet it pays a hell of a lot better. More reliable income, anyway." Johnny tapped on the window that separated them from the driver. "Right here, brother. And if you'd pop the trunk, that'd be cool."

He paid the driver and both men climbed out. Johnny pulled out the long case and gestured House to follow him. "Studios are in the basement. We'll take the elevator down."

They took the elevator, exiting and striding down the hallway. Music wafted out of a couple of the studios as they passed, and Johnny caught a slight smile light House's rough face.

Yes, he had definitely made the right move by inviting House here. The man clearly had a passion for the music, and Johnny hoped House would drop the mask that he was trying to keep intact.

He unlocked one of the studios and flicked a few switches, and the place came to life before Johnny's eyes. "Plug in and have a seat, man. Let's see what comes out."

House opened his guitar case and pulled out the Flying V. As far as Johnny could tell, not only was it original, but it was in mint condition. "Holy shit, man, that's a beauty."

House beamed with pride as he plugged in and started tuning up. "I've got a few guitars, but this one's my favorite."

"I can see why." Johnny was a little jealous, even as he pulled out his beaten up Les Paul and tuned up.

Johnny watched as House's fingers moved up and down the fretboard, his face scrunching up as he hit what he obviously thought was a wrong note before starting the riff over.

After the third try, he made a sour face and shook his head. "Something's just not working. I don't know what the hell the problem is."

"No worries, man." Johnny answered, picking up where House left off and creating his own riff. "It's just a couple of guys sitting around jamming. No pressure."

House nodded and started in again, a serious expression crossing his rough face. This time he seemed more pleased with the result, a slight smile lighting that face. He seemed to relax after that, easily riffing off of Johnny and finding his own groove.

Johnny trailed off and watched as House almost seemed to lose himself in his music, oblivious to Johnny's presence. He slowly unstrapped his guitar and parked it in a nearby stand, easing himself into a nearby chair to watch the other man continue playing.

It didn't take Johnny long to recognize the song House had moved into. It was one of his own, after all. Johnny hadn't played it himself since he had recorded it about ten years prior, and he doubted anyone else would have recognized it.

House was putting his own touch on the song, changing the tone ever so slightly, and damned if it wasn't an improvement on the original. Johnny wished they were recording right now. He could see this as a possible bonus track for his next album.

He mentally filed the idea away and refocused on House. It was almost a shame the man had decided on medicine instead of music. Johnny could only imagine what House could have come up with if music hadn't been a mere hobby for him.

The final notes rang out in the studio, and House finally seemed to come back to the real world, glancing at Johnny with an uncomfortable expression. "Guess I kind of stole your thing. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, man." Johnny rose from the chair and approached House. "I think you improved on it."

"I don't know about that." House looked vaguely embarrassed. "I was just…you know, playing around with it."

"I like it." Johnny was almost nose to nose with House, and he wished like hell that Flying V wasn't between them. "You think you could repeat that?"

"Maybe." House answered carefully. "Why?"

"I'd like to use it on my next album."

House's face broke into a slight smile. "You've already recorded it once. Why do it again?"

"Sheeeit." Johnny snorted. "It was an obscure album track on an album that almost nobody bought. Besides, I like what you did with it." He shrugged casually. "It's a hell of a lot better than what I came up with."

House glanced down at the floor. "If you hadn't written it…I wouldn't have anything to riff off of."

Johnny reached out and took House's chin in his hand, lifting it so that he could look into House's eyes. "Sounds like we'd make one hell of a team."

House rolled his eyes and started to pull away. Johnny let him go. As badly as Johnny wanted things to go further, it would all blow up in his face if he pushed House too hard. If he inadvertently pushed House away, he could kiss the musical collaboration good-bye, and that was the last thing Johnny wanted.

He watched as House limped over to his guitar case and carefully put the instrument away, snapping it shut and smoothing his hands over it.

"You don't have to pack up, man." Johnny told him. "Hell, we've barely gotten started."

Johnny could see House's shoulders sag a little as he let out a short sigh. "I know why you wanted me to come here, and it wasn't just for the music."

"You're right about that." Johnny acknowledged. "Now why did you come here?"

House shrugged, his back still to Johnny. "Lots of reasons."

There was a long silence before Johnny spoke again. "Care to share any of those reasons?"

House finally lifted his head and turned around, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You know the guy I came to New York with last time?"

"Yeah." Johnny nodded.

"He's been…seeing someone. Means he doesn't have the time to hang out with me." House started to explain. "That, and…I was curious. Wanted to see for myself whether whatever…happened then was real. You know, the thing in that back room."

Johnny was puzzled. "You don't remember?"

"Oh, I remember." House replied, his eyes never quite meeting Johnny's. "I'm just not sure I remember it correctly, you know."

Johnny chuckled a little as he started to cross the room. "It was kind of hazy, huh?"

"Yeah." House answered quietly.

Johnny easily closed the distance between them, placing a hand on House's face and stroking his cheekbone with one thumb. "Trust me, brother. It was real."

With that Johnny leaned in, pressing his lips to House's. He could hear House's muffled grunt of surprise before the other man relaxed slightly, his hands spreading out along Johnny's waist.

Johnny pulled back with a slight grin. "You've done this before."

"With women, yeah. With guys…" House shook his head. "Not so much."

"Can't tell." Johnny murmured.

House didn't answer, his hands moving under Johnny's shirt, and Johnny slid his hand from House's face to the back of the other man's neck.

Their lips met again with a fierceness that both surprised and thrilled Johnny, and he could feel House's tongue push its way into his mouth. Johnny pushed back with equal force while moving his hands under House's button-down shirt.

House growled in response and pulled Johnny in closer while Johnny guided them to a nearby table off to one side of the studio. He leaned into House, bracing himself on the table while recapturing the other man's lips, feeling his reaction along with his own.

Johnny could feel House fumbling with the snaps on his Western-style shirt, and he pulled back enough to allow House to undo the shirt. He smoothed his hands over Johnny's bare chest, almost as he had done with his guitar case.

He reveled in the feel of those rough hands over him, leaning into House's touch as the other man continued to explore him, those deep blue eyes studying him with a serious expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" Johnny asked him.

House shook his head, a slight smile crinkling his eyes. "Nothing. Just still wrapping my brain around…" He waved one hand around. "…this."

Johnny leaned in and studied House closely. "You're thinking too damned hard about this."

"It's a curse." House grumbled, averting his eyes. "I think too damned hard about everything."

"Well, cut it out." Johnny gave House a hard, long, lingering kiss. He could hear House's breath catch in his throat at the move, and his whole body seemed to relax as he succumbed.

Johnny pulled away to see House's eyes flutter open, a softer expression taking over his face. "That's better." He gave House one more quick kiss. "Now, how about we move this little jam session elsewhere?"

House frowned. "Where did you have in mind?"

"I'm renting a place about three floors up." Johnny explained. "So what do you say?"

House's face smoothed out as he shrugged casually. "Might as well."

Johnny pushed off the table, the same rush that had overtaken him earlier starting to come back to him as he quickly snapped up his shirt. This weekend was getting off to one hell of a start.

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