Exchanging looks; the two men just stood in silence. Greg's cheeks were still stained with tears, while James' were bright red and infuriated as he started to pace back and forth. "We're not going," Greg whispered, barely able to bring his voice up.
"Oh yes we are, I want to meet this motherfucker and give him a piece of my mind," James snarled, picking up the pace as his pacing quickened and became more agitated as he repeatedly and increasingly rapidly clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, barely reeling in the anger.
"No, you don't. Like I said, I've moved past it. We don't have to see them again. James, you're getting mad, come sit down," Greg said in an unusually soft tone, "this isn't even getting to the stage of telling my family that I'm gay." A quippy, self-depreciating joke raced through Greg's mind, but he muted it before it could accidentally slip out and make a bad and increasingly concerning situation worse; "my family are… conservative, James, you know that. They're not going to accept me being with a man,"
James threw up his arms in anger as black fury and tunnel vision blocked him out; "that's your big concern? Them finding out you're gay is what you're worried about? Nothing else? Nothing else at all comes to your mind to think about why these people are going to hell, and need a fast-track ticket there?"
Greg just shrugged, "what else can I say James? I'm over it all. A lot of things happened, a lot of other things happened, but it was a long time ago… you're just mad, let's be rational here…"
"Of course, I'm mad!" James screamed, grabbing a plate and throwing it against the wall, shattering it to shards and making Greg flinch; "you just told me that your uncle- and who knows who else- molested you growing up- and you expect me to be CALM?!We can't all just shut off our feelings and shove everything down in a trifecta of isolation, alcohol, and drugs, Greg!" James continued to rant and shout.
Greg looked back up at him with shocked eyes that seemed to behold some fear behind them; before James looked up at his lover, saw the childlike, animalistic fear in his eyes; and rushed over. "Greg, Greg; I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you- I'm just angry, that's all. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm not mad at you. Go sit down, I'll clean up this mess," James placated; before squatting down to begin gathering up the shards of China, until a panicked cry of pain racketed through the apartment.
Greg looked up from where he'd been resting on the couch and saw a rather rapidly widening pool of blood on the floor, and felt his own blood run cold; "get a towel, or something, Greg! I'm bleeding!" James shouted in a panic, staring at the laceration down his forearm; he'd fumbled some of the sharpest pieces of the shattered China plate and dropped them, one of which slashed down the inside of his arm.
Dropping the cane in horror and shock, Greg limped as fast as his legs could carry him and pulled several towels down from the linen cupboard and raced back over to James, who wrapped one around his arm and started placing the other towels on the floor; "what the hell are you doing?" Greg yelled in shock; "who gives a shit about the floor! Get up, put pressure on it!"
James grabbed another towel and pressed it into his arm, wrapping it around the wound; "I think I need to go to the hospital," he mumbled.
"You don't say!" Greg yelled back, on the phone with 911 and unlocking the front door, "hurry!" he yelled down the phone, feeling a rare external panic rush through him, "he's bleeding!"
"Greg- I feel… I feel woozy, I think… I think I'm going to pass out…" James mumbled, each word growing slower and weaker as he staggered slightly, Greg leapt underneath him and helped guide his friend down onto the wooden floor, the pain pulsating through his leg at these actions being scarcely felt in light of the pure terror and adrenaline pulsating through his body.
The ambulance officers were there in a matter of minutes and got the two of them to PPTH probably within about 20 minutes of the initial accident; once James was stitched up (under the eagle eye of Greg, who appeared to only make the treating staff more nervous with his presence, given his notoriety, well known temper and even more well-known protective possessiveness over James Wilson), the couple were told to wait a moment for the staff to gather the discharge paperwork.
While they were awaiting the paperwork to be officially cleared to leave, Cuddy walked in, Greg heard the clip-clop of her heels on the hard hospital floor and barely got an eyeroll in to James who just smiled back as she walked in. "Food poisoning becomes an arm laceration, does it, Wilson?" she muttered under her breath, before glancing at Greg; "House? What are you doing here?"
"He was at my apartment, decided to paint my kitchen in blood," House sniped back, but there was no aggression or defensiveness in his voice, it was filled with something else that Cuddy could only pinpoint as concern?
"We need to tell her," James mumbled under his voice to Greg.
"The hell we do! What business is it of hers? I only told you because you half coerced me!" came the indignant response.
"Firstly, no, I didn't. And secondly not that thing, the other thing," James mumbled, as they exchanged glances, having a silent conversation, saying everything but speaking nothing.
"Boys!" Cuddy interrupted loudly; "I'm a busy woman! Stop with this little charade you have going and just spit it out!"
"Fine. But I'll tell her," Greg grumbled, before sitting up straight, grabbing James' uninjured hand in his own and looking Cuddy earnestly in the eyes with unbreaking contact, "we're fucking each other!" he proclaimed. Cuddy's eyes widened and James coughed and spluttered in shock, shooting Greg a look of what the hell was that? "Oh, don't act so shocked and surprised James, it's hardly news to you, is it? Given that you were balls deep in my asshole last night, fucking me like it was the last days of Rome. Not to mention, that blow job you gave me, absolutely superb! Chef's kiss! So, it's official; your thrice divorcee wunderkind oncologist and your temperamental but genius diagnostician are officially boyfriends!" Greg grinned over at James; Cuddy glanced at him too. She didn't put it past House to pull a stunt like this, to say such things just for pure shock value and to get a rise out of whoever he was saying it to- nor was it the first time he'd told her something similar, so she looked over at Wilson to gain a more accurate read on the situation. Given that he was currently sinking further down the bed and pulling the blanket up to try and cover his head, Cuddy gasped, "its true!"
Greg nodded enthusiastically and grinned wildly, Wilson murmured, his head under the blanket in embarrassment at Greg's wording, his feet and ankles poking out from the other end of the blanket as he laid there at least she knows, I guess. It was my own fault for letting him be the one to tell her.
"Well, congratulations, although I can't say I'm remotely surprised," Cuddy went on and James turned his head under the blanket to face her, the mound of his head turning, "get that stupid thing off your head," Greg muttered, pulling the blanket down off from James' head.
Cuddy smirked knowingly, "So you weren't sick with food poisoning last night, then?"
"Umm, no? Was I meant to be?" Greg answered.
"Apparently," and a hissed "yes," were his replies.
"Oh, in that case then, yes, absolutely," Greg nodded, as James pinched the bridge of his nose holding his head back in frustration, and Cuddy rolled her eyes.
"Well, I'm here to give you boys a lift home, unless you'd rather catch the bus," she continued after Greg pulled a face at her.
"A lift would be great, thanks, Lisa," Wilson answered, glaring again at his partner.
The three of them pulled up in front of Greg's apartment, and Cuddy followed them back up the pathway towards the door. "We've got it from here," Wilson blushed.
"He's so self-conscious," Greg responded, rolling his eyes at Cuddy, before increasing the volume of his voice, "it's okay if she participates in a three way, James, my cock will still be yours tonight!"
"A three way? With you two? I think I'll pass on that one," Cuddy quipped back.
"Aww, the Dean doesn't want a dirty, sweaty threesome with two of her department heads? How did you ever manage to make your way to becoming a Dean of Medicine, then? Because if I remember correctly, you climbed me like a tree back in college! I promise you that he's better in bed than he looks," Greg continued, pointing at James, who was rapidly wishing he could sink through the ground out of embarrassment.
"Hard work is how I became Dean. Something you," she pointed at House, "don't know anything about, and you," she pointed at Wilson, "are just as bad about when the two of you get together and he spreads his bad influence on you," James just brightened red and thrust his key into the door, stepping inside.
"Hard work on the pole, or hard work in position on a bed of a Motel six? Because if it's the pole, I've got one right here" Greg quipped back, holding up his cane and then glancing down at his crotch, "wait, I've actually got two!"
"Well, you are the expert on prostitution and using your body to get perks and privileges, aren't you, House?" Cuddy replied.
"Oh, you're so cute when you're jealous," Greg plastered on a fake smile, prodding her inside with the tip of his cane, "go on, in you go. Is your show name Trixie or Bambi tonight?"
There was something off about Wilson's mood that Cuddy immediately picked up on. While he would have ordinarily ignored their banter or even made a jab or two himself on both ends, he was silent and stiff from Cuddy's last comment. Instead, she and House got hit with a snap of "are you seriously going to let her talk to you like that, after… after," before pausing and stopping himself and shooting Cuddy the coldest, meanest glare she'd seen in a long time and stalked off to their bedroom, slamming the door behind him so hard the walls shook.
Cuddy stood there for a moment, staring in shock; "what just happened?" she asked, shook. The intensity, anger, and even hatred she'd read in Wilson's dark glare had sent violent shivers down her spine.
House shrugged at her, "no idea, he's probably PMSing or something, you'd know all about that," he flopped down on the couch and switched on the TV, "ooh, could you bring me over the bag of Burger King in the fridge, please?"
"Okay…," Cuddy responded, turning her stare from the bedroom door to the bloodied mess on the ground. Glancing between House staring at the television with one hand extended out to the side waiting to clutch the paper bag, and the wooden door Wilson was behind… for whatever reason; Cuddy sighed, well I brought them home; I guess its up to me to clean up this mess… Wilson is pissed at me over… something; but House is a good litmus test; the fact that he's so unbothered over everything suggests that everything is actually going to all be okay in the end. For all his problems, and there are many, he is a very good judge of character and situation. When he's relaxed like this, everything is fine; if he was stressed or anything then it would be time to worry.
"Do you want to go check up on Wilson?" Cuddy queried and House just shook his head.
"No. He'll be fine, he's just having a bitch fit, you know what he's like," House muttered, taking a slurp of his drink before sighing and slumping his shoulders, his voice taking on a much more serious tone, "we're just fighting at the moment. I'm supposed to be going to visit family back in South Dakota; I don't want to go, and James wants me to go. We'd been fighting about it all morning until he cut his arm. It's not about you, Cuddy, don't worry," Greg looked over at her and smiled kindly and genuinely at her.
"Oh okay, why don't you want to go?" Cuddy asked, watching House flip through his TV channels before settling on a rerun episode of SVU.
"It's a bit complicated, family dynamic stuff…" House muttered, before a light went off in his head and he glanced over towards the hallway as the idea of a compromise ran through his head, "but- actually, having you there might make things a bit easier; what do you say, Cuddy, fancy a trip over to South Dakota?"