-September 1981, Baltimore-

House first met Tim in college. They'd been at the same dodgy introduction party in some small flat. It had been stuffed full with students; all buzzed with alcohol and drugs.

House decided to celebrate starting his last year in pre-med and had thus gone to as many parties as he could in the beginning. It had been just another night.

Tim also enjoyed partying, but when House had gotten to know him better he found Tim preferred more underground places to spend the night to the mainstream parties. This party had been, something in between. House had seen a couple of girls tongue-kissing on a couch in the middle of it all, so he wasn't going to complain. Not one bit.

Then he'd spotted Tim. He'd been dancing in the tiny pocket of the floor that had turned into a dance floor. His eyes closed, as he jumped to the music. With dark blonde hair, three or four inches long. Long enough to move as he bobbed his head back and forth to the music. He wore a loose white button-up with thin black lines in a chequered pattern that moved in waves with him as he jumped. He was really nothing special, but House had found himself stuck looking at him.

After a while House, downed the last of his drink and moved through the crowd to refill his cup. The kitchen, where all the booze was, was small like the apartment. Still, it had quite a few people mingling around and a bit more smoke lingering.

The music was slightly lower in there, but not by a lot. He could still hear the lyrics to Ashes to Ashes well enough from the other room.

He found a bottle still half full of vodka and poured some into his clear plastic cup. Soon after, something moved at the corner of his eye, and he turned to look to his side.

There he was again. The guy he'd seen dancing. Now looking over the bottles on the counter, seemingly deciding which one to pick instead of dancing. He dragged a hand through his hair and revealed a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He smelled slightly of sweat mixed with cologne. For some reason, House found it more enticing than anything else.

"Don't pick the bourbon, it tastes like cat piss," House said in a loud voice over the music.

Tim had turned towards him, looking startled. It had been the first time he'd seen House. Then he'd given a quirked smile and nodded.

"Thanks for the warning," he'd answered before picking up the gin and pouring it into a cup. He took a sip, before glancing to House again, his body shifting a little closer to him. "You a new student too?"

"No no, I'm just in town for the parties and wild, wild sex," House answered with fake sincerity.

"That so," Tim said, looking amused. "What's your subject?"

"Medicine. You?"

"Good to know we have a doctor-to-be when someone passes out," Tim had said with a playful smile. "I'm going to study film."

"And you'll be helping the world one tearjerker at a time I presume?" House had said. Not with a mean tone per se, but he knew it was a comment that would've agitated most. Tim had kept his smile. Amused. Intrigued.

"Something like that," he said. "What's your name?"

"House," House said.

"That's no name," Tim said. "I bet your friends call you something else."

"Gregory. Though no one calls me that. I don't have many friends; can't imagine why," House said with a fake frown. "Most people either call me asshole or moron."

"Greg," Tim said with a nod, ignoring all else that House had said. "I'm Tim."

He'd held out his hand, and House had only hesitated for half a second before taking it.

They'd left the party that evening together. Not to sleep together, but to get some food from a 24/7 open diner near campus.

House learned that Tim had worked for a couple of years with his father before deciding what he wanted to study. Or rather, it had taken a year or so for him to convince his father to let him study film. He seemed glad to be there, even if his laugh came out a bit strained when he said that his father was still far from thrilled about his choice.

Tim was rather expressive when he spoke. House was too, though while he leaned more towards sarcasm and making fun of people, Tim seemed more open. Why he found House to be a fitting partner to eat a midnight burger with, House would never understand.

Following that night, they somehow became friends. First from bumping into each other at parties and eventually Tim suggesting they have lunch together. House had no reason to say no since he preferred Timothy over most people he'd met on campus.

Tim would come by House's small campus room and sit for hours. House spent some of the time studying while Tim read on the bed or listened to the radio. He'd stubbornly spent half of his time reading with squinted eyes instead of putting on his reading glasses. With time House learned that if he threw the pair on the bed next to Tim he'd put them on without pausing his reading.

He learned that Tim loved a greasy burger and would eat them any day over a healthy salad. He also spent half his time snacking on over-sugared fruit snacks claiming them to be good for his health.

They both spent hours talking and joking, as much as in silent comfortable silence.

House never ceased to make fun of Tim's major, but Tim was rarely offended by it. He seemed more amused if anything. When Tim would complain about an assignment House would poke him with a rolled-up magazine and start complaining about what he needed to know for his upcoming medical exams. When he started listing medical terms Tim didn't know Tim would just laugh and shake his head.

Occasionally, House hung out in the house Tim shared with about fifty other dudes (it wasn't really that many but it sure felt like it). He only lasted there for so long, and, surprisingly, most of Tim's roommates didn't like him as much as Tim seemed to. Not that Tim seemed to mind as he said he preferred staying in House's room either way.

Tim was always House's friend, but pretty soon he became something more. Quite a few moments charged with sexual tension and a couple of drunk fucks later, they became somewhat of an item. That's when House learned that Timothy snored, even though he vehemently denied it whenever House brought it up.

Tim was clearly gay and House had no preference when it came to bits as long as he got off. The sex didn't surprise him too much. The initial friendship had been more shocking. But most shocking of it all, was when he realised he'd fallen for Tim.

It wasn't just that Timothy was a good friend and an attractive man. House could only explain what he felt for Tim was love. It was the first time he'd ever experienced it, but there was no other explanation. Nothing else had ever felt quite the same.

It took him a long time to say it to Tim. Tim, who murmured his love against House's lips as they lay together in bed at night. Who looked at him like he hung the stars. He was sure Tim understood it was mutual long before he said it back. And when House finally did tell him, Tim just smiled and replied 'I know,' before giving him a most filthy kiss.

They were never open around campus. A few probably knew. Those who knew what to look for mostly. But to most, they were only friends. Close friends.

Some evenings they went to the clubs where they could be open. Tim, with his pretty face and enticing smile, always had one or two guys eyeing him. A few tried to sway him from House's side, but Tim never seemed too interested.

The one time House suggested that they could keep the relationship open and try new things Tim had been quiet for a while. He hadn't said straight out no, but he'd explained how he had no need for that. Any other time House tried to mention it, ever so casually, to let Tim have a way out if he wanted, Timothy could always just push it away. With a smile. A look, a kiss, a hand-job.

And House had to admit that each and every time, he felt warm inside. When he had Tim by his side at night, he knew he wanted no one else there. He smiled to himself when he knew Tim, for some unknown reason, felt the same for him.

-March 2010, Plainsboroug Hospital-

"You never told me you liked musicals." House turned to see Wilson who'd spoken to him. He stood in the door opening to House's office, hands casually resting in his pockets. "That time I tried to invite you to Grease, you said you disliked the combination of bad singing and dancing mixed with bad writing."

"How're you not sure I just don't like Grease?"

"Because you also said, 'I hate musicals'," Wilson deadpanned, as he made his way inside. He looked around seemingly noticing how House had taken down all the pictures. His eyes lingered for a second on the pile of frames on the desk.

"Touché."

"I must admit that it took a moment, but I eventually recognised the Rocky Horror outfit," Wilson said.

"Really? Did the nymphs show it to you as a pre-game to the 'erotic film'? Perhaps to teach you a few moves before the big day."

Wilson sighed and glanced towards the ceiling.

"What? You didn't seriously expect me to drop it that easily?" House asked.

Wilson shook his head before sitting down in the pale yellow armchair that stood in the corner of the room, ignoring House's jabs.

"So," Wilson said. "Why Rocky Horror? Did the fact that it has 'horror' in the title lure you in?"

"No, I was actually going to see 'Rocky', but ended up in the wrong theatre."

"Dressed like that?" Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"A normal Friday night out. I certainly had the legs for it back then."

"I'm sure all the ladies swooned," Wilson said with a huff. "Also, I thought you were against religion. I didn't realise it was because you were already in a pop culture cult."

"Sorry to disappoint you. First rule of cult club, don't talk about cult club. I'd invite you to the next meeting, but no outsiders," House said. Then a bit more seriously. "We both gotta admit: I've done worse things."

"True," Wilson said. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms against his knees and squinted slightly. "Yet, you hid this picture in a book no one would ever think to look inside of. Why?"

"Everyone does weird stuff in college. Just look at you," House said. "I did a lot of weird stuff for booze or a blow job. Or both."

"Right," Wilson said, standing up. "Except that's no reason for you to hide this. Either you just forgot it—which it obviously isn't—or you are, for some reason, embarrassed about this picture. More than every other awkward thing you've ever done."

Wilson walked closer to House's desk. He reached for the first frame in the stack and held it so he could see the picture inside. House's jaw tensed slightly. He should've hidden all of the frames in his desk drawer instead of leaving half of them on top of the desk.

House shrugged. "I don't have a photo album. You know how light-sensitive old photographs are. Didn't want to let this beauty fade away like Chase's virginity after the puberty-fairy granted him his looks."

"Only that's not it either," Wilson said. "Something about this reminds you of something. You kept it hidden, yet close enough to be able to be able to look at if you wanted to. You just don't want anyone else to see it."

House was about to snap something back, but Wilson turned the picture to face him just as he looked up.

The picture stared back at him. His eyes barely even saw himself in the picture. That wasn't where he instinctively looked. Years of looking at it had made it second nature to ignore himself.

His jaw tensed as he looked away.

"Hey, whoa. Are you actually embarrassed about this?" Wilson said, sounding even more pleased. "I know it isn't really a flattering picture, but I didn't think it'd actually get to you."

"I'm not embarrassed," House said fully sincere. Wilson didn't seem to believe him one bit.

"Sure. It's not that you just can't admit I got one over you."

He rose, putting down the picture on the desk right in front of House's eyes. House didn't flinch. He did look away again though. He didn't feel up to seeing him so close up while Wilson was in the room. Looking away from the picture was more instinct than anything else.

Wilson paused for a moment. Hovering. Eyes squinting as he looked at House. House knew that look and quickly rolled his eyes.

"I actually have a case to work on," House said in a bitchy tone hoping Wilson would leave him be.

"Does the picture make you… uncomfortable?" Wilson asked slowly.

"You make me uncomfortable," House said. "I can—and will—limp out of here."

"You avoid it," Wilson continued ignoring his trials to deflect. He was more thinking out loud than anything else. "It's not just embarrassment."

"If I tell you will you go away?" House asked. Wilson didn't answer, probably doubting he'd tell the truth either way. "Fine. I am secretly transsexual, and looking at the picture just reminds me all too much of the boobs I can't have. It also explains my fixation with Cuddy's breast. I envy her."

He spoke in a fake sincere voice, and even added a pout and big eyes, before turning back to his screen to ignore Wilson for real this time.

"Fine, don't tell me," Wilson said and turned to leave. "But I'm sure I'll find out why this is bugging you more than usual. Sooner or later."

He left House alone, who kept his eyes on his screen until he was sure Wilson had gone far away. House dragged another hand over his face, feeling tired.

He really needed to act better. Act more casual about it. He kept up the jokes, but they seemed to not fall quite as easily as usual. If he kept this up, Wilson would eventually go snooping around more. Not that he'd find anything, but he didn't want to risk it.