Author's note: I am totally blown away by the fact that this story now has 100 reviews. Honestly, I never thought a story of mine would make it to triple digits. A big shout out to JulieandJulia for being the 100th review. In the spirit of the Academy Awards (BTW, Hugh Laurie was robbed. Again.), I would like to thank everyone that has contributed to this milestone: BertieTiger, Blackbirdox, cathepsut, elizajay, hilson, House Fan, i luv ewansmile, JulieandJulia, Lady Makbeth, LoriB, Lylaa, maybe not today, micetea, PerLuminisPropinquus, Rhastahippy, Shota-Hunter, slashfan54, Story Fan, TombeDeLaLune. I want all of you to know that I really appreciate your taking the time to review this story.

Chapter 16: Holiday Plans

Aside from a 2 AM break for pain meds and James helping Greg make a trip to the bathroom, both men slept soundly throughout the night. The next morning, Greg was enjoying one of the rare times when he was awake before James, and he luxuriated in the feel of the other man's body against his. There was a light knock on the bedroom door, and as he opened his eyes, he saw his mother hesitantly open the door and poke her head inside. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw their bodies entwined on the bed, and then she smiled hesitantly. He raised a finger to his lips, and then carefully began to slide away from Wilson's sleeping form. By the time he was at the edge of the bed, she was there to ease his legs down onto the ground as he sat up, a feat nearly impossible on his own due to a lack of thigh muscle on his right leg and abdominal muscles rendered nearly useless by a couple of incisions carved into them.

After a detour to the bathroom, he managed to make it out to the couch in about half the time it had taken yesterday. She helped him get settled on the cushions, and then brought him a plate piled high with food.

"Trying to fatten me up?" he inquired.

"You're too thin," she explained.

"Except for the potbelly," House grumbled.

She smiled at the slight sign of vanity in her son. The infarction had robbed her son of so many things, including pride in his appearance. While he'd never been a clotheshorse like James Wilson, he'd always dressed with a certain flair and had taken some care with his appearance. She knew that some of the details had been abandoned because the basic mechanics of living had become harder, but she also knew that he'd given up on his appearance because in his mind, people only really saw the cane.

She looked down at where her son's fingers were absently tracing his belly. "You know you aren't fat. You're pregnant! You know, when I was pregnant with you, your father used to say I was sexier than ever." She had to laugh at the utterly appalled expression on her son's face.

Greg was saved from replying when Wilson wandered into the room looking adorably rumpled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "House? Why didn't you wake me? You shouldn't be walking around by yourself." He finally noticed the third occupant of the room. "Oh, hello Blythe. Good morning."

She stepped around the couch to pull him into a hug. "Good morning, James. Now have a seat and I'll dish you up a plate." She waved off his offer of help, and shortly reappeared with another plate, piled almost as high as the one she had given her son.

They were all eating in companionable silence when Greg finally inquired, "where's dad?"

"He's running a few errands for me. He'll be back in a few hours."

After breakfast, House and Wilson channel hopped until they found a movie worth watching, while Blythe cleaned up in the kitchen. At lunchtime, she made them all sandwiches, before her son limped back into the bedroom for an afternoon nap.

When he reappeared that evening, he could only stare in shock at the changes in his living room. "What the hell is a tree doing in my house?"

"It's a week until Christmas. I know that you two have been busy, but there's no reason why I can't help you decorate," his mother explained.

House could only stare at his mother in shock as he gripped the handles of the walker a little tighter. "We don't celebrate Christmas." At her confused expression, he felt that he needed to offer an explanation. "For one thing, Wilson's Jewish."

Her smile faltered and she was instantly contrite. "Oh, James, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

At her crestfallen expression, Wilson immediately jumped in to reassure her. "Don't worry, Blythe, we can have a tree. I don't mind. I always wished we could have a tree when I was growing up." He immediately looked guilty. "Just don't tell my mother! She'd probably have a heart attack if she knew."

"Traitor," House grumbled softly so that only Wilson could hear.

Blythe smiled at James before turning to her son. "I've been searching around, but I haven't been able to find your ornaments."

"My ornaments? There aren't any," he mumbled.

She frowned. "But you did have some when Stacy was…" her voice trailed off and she immediately looked contrite. "I never realized she took them when she left." Her face brightened as she made plans for finding new ornaments.

House looked pointedly at Wilson, until the younger man nodded, silently agreeing that it was best that Blythe not know the true fate of the ornaments, smashed on the floor in a drunken rage a few months after Stacy had left. Wilson had been there the next morning to clean up the shards of glass and broken metal.

House looked back up at his mother. A tree with a bunch of damn ornaments was a small price to pay for the smile on his mother's face. House looked over at the offending tree. "It's crooked."

The following week, Wilson went back to work, and House was alone with his parents until Wilson came home around 6 PM. In the mornings, he'd lie on the couch and watch cartoons until lunchtime. In the afternoons, his mother would go shopping for ornaments for the tree, and House would hide in the bedroom, supposedly taking a nap. And sometimes, it wasn't even a lie. When James came home, they'd eat the dinner Blythe had prepared, and then John and Wilson would hang the ornaments on the tree, under the strict observation of Blythe and Greg.

On Wednesday, Wilson shyly displayed his contribution to the Christmas tree.

"Candy canes! Have you lost your mind?" House snarled.

Wilson smirked at his lover, an expression he had stolen from House. How dared he? House tried to keep up the bluster, but it really was impossible seeing how Barry had been by and had given House back his cane and had declared that House could work form home starting the day after Christmas. Already the fax machine and the telecommunications gear were installed and ready to be used.

House scowled as Wilson proudly hung all twenty-four candy canes on the tree. Wilson was admiring his handiwork when Blythe dropped her bombshell. "James, I've been talking with you mother, and we thought it would be nice if we could all have dinner on the twenty-fourth. If we ate around 3 PM, there'd still be plenty of time for us to catch our plane to John's sister's. Your brother and his wife have already said that they can make it.

Wilson looked over at House, who was looking decidedly shell-shocked. "I don't know. I think it might be too much for Greg."

"Not if he rests in the morning, and if he's too tired, he can go back to bed after dinner." She continued, guessing where Wilson's weak spot was, "we've been planning the menu and your mother is planning on making latkes."

Wilson looked helplessly over at House, who finally shrugged and gave in. It seemed that both men were incapable of denying their mothers when they had their hearts set on something.

TBC