And onto the seventh post for these fics. You can find the first post here, the second post here, the third post here, the fourth post here, the fifth post here and the sixth post here.



Title: Surprise!
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 084. Celebrate
Word Count: 1216
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: None

Foreman walked into the expensive restaurant and stood at the door, looking around uncertainly and feeling like a bit of an idiot. The restaurant’s maitre d’ came hurrying over and gave him a tiny bow.

“Do you have a reservation, sir?”

“Uh, I’m...meeting someone. I think the reservation is under the name James Wilson.”

The maitre d’s face brightened. “Ah, you’re a member of Dr Wilson’s party. Come with me, sir.”

Foreman followed the man through the half-full restaurant and into a large private room in the back.

“Andre will take your drink order, sir,” the maitre d’ said with another bow then he left.

Foreman looked around the room and relaxed a little when he saw Cameron and Chase were already there, wearing expression that were as baffled as his own.

“Sir? What can I get you to drink?”

The question came from an impeccably dressed young man who waited with just the right amount of obsequiousness for Foreman’s order. Foreman blinked then ordered a glass of red wine and the young man, presumably the Andre the maitre d’ had mentioned, bowed and hurried out of the room.

After Andre had returned with his drink, Foreman wandered over and joined Chase and Cameron.

“Does anyone know what this is about?” he asked.

Chase shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I have no idea but isn’t this place terribly expensive?” Cameron said.

“You know what they say,” Foreman said after taking a sip of his wine. “If you have to ask about the price, it’s too expensive for you.”

Cameron didn’t get a chance to reply as Cuddy walked into the room. She joined them after getting her drink from Andre and Foreman was surprised to see that she looked as baffled at he did.

“I take it you don’t know what this is about either,” he said.

“No idea,” Cuddy replied blithely. “But since I’m not paying, I’m going to enjoy myself no matter what it is.”

Foreman snorted with amusement then his eyes widened when he saw who had just walked into the room. He heard Cuddy choking quietly beside him and Chase and Cameron’s noises of surprise. Shortly they were joined by Stacy and Mark and there was a moment of awkward silence.

“I don’t suppose any of you know what this is about?” Stacy asked.

“No idea,” Cuddy replied with a small smile. “But James seemed adamant that I should be here. He left a message for me from wherever he and House have been on holiday to make sure I’d be able to make it.”

She came to a sudden halt and her eyes widened as she saw who was walking into the room. A horrible suspicion started to flood into her mind as she started to put one and one together. She smiled into her wine glass as both House and Wilson’s parents joined them.

The group made slightly baffled conversation for about half an hour before the sound of a snarking voice followed by a warm, laughing reply alerted them and they turned to face the door and House limped in followed by Wilson. House raised an eyebrow as he saw them all then he turned to Wilson.

“You did this, didn’t you?”

Wilson’s face was full of wicked amusement. “It’s more fun this way. You get to see the looks on everyone’s faces all at once. And we get it over and done with in one go.”

House snorted and raked the group with a sardonic look. “At least you got a private room. This could get ugly.”

“Greg, what’s going on?” Blythe House asked, a look of slowly fading confusion and dawning comprehension on her face.

House shifted his sardonic look to Wilson. “You’re the one with all the experience. You tell ‘em.”

Wilson rolled his eyes and stepped up next to House, deliberately taking his hand. He took a deep breath and House was the only one who knew he was trembling slightly.

“House and I have just got back from Canada. We got married.”

There was a moment of utter silence as everyone took that in, more than one person glancing down at the identical gold rings on the left ring fingers of House and Wilson.

“Greg?” Blythe said tentatively.

House gave his mother a slightly exasperated look. “Yes, we got married. It’s legal in Canada.”

Underneath all of this, Foreman and Chase had exchanged glances that started off as incredulous then ended up as amused. Finally the two of them broke out into snickers.

“Er, congratulations,” Chase said in a voice full of laughter.

“Yes...congratulations,” Cuddy said, not far from being in the same state as Chase and Foreman.

“Thank you,” Wilson said with poorly disguised relief.

“I take it this one’s going to last?” Wilson’s father said dryly, ignoring his wife’s scandalised whisper of, “David!”

James smiled wryly. “Yes, Dad, I think it is.”

“Good,” David Wilson said with bemused satisfaction. “Does explain a lot.”

Stacy suddenly giggled into the still slightly stunned atmosphere of the room and when every one looked at her she had one hand pressed over her mouth while slightly hysterical merriment danced in her eyes. When she realised everyone was staring at her, she lowered her hand and looked directly at House.

“You did say it,” she said, her voice brimming with the same slightly hysterical laughter that was in her eyes. “I thought you were joking.”

House blinked and looked slightly blank then he grinned at her as he recalled the conversation she was talking about. Everyone else looked at the two of them with confusion while Wilson chuckled softly. He then stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Look, I’ve arranged for dinner,” he said quietly but firmly. “You are welcome to stay or go as you please.”

He and House immediately headed over to the long table set up on the side of the room, turning their backs to the group and talking quietly together.

Cuddy watched them for a moment then turned to the others, a small smile on her face.

“I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m not turning down a chance of an excellent meal I don’t have to pay for and an opportunity to mock the two of them.”

She turned on her heel and headed for the table. Foreman and Chase immediately followed her along with Cameron after a moment’s hesitation. Stacy looked at her husband and when he shrugged and smiled wryly they headed for the table as well.

The two sets of parents looked at each other. David and Rachel Wilson seemed surprised but accepting of their son’s latest marriage and they nodded to the Houses before walking over towards the table Blythe looked surprised and amused while John House’s expression was unreadable. Blythe looked up at her husband and raised an eyebrow.

“I am joining my son and son-in-law for dinner,” she said firmly, giving him a challenging look.

John sighed and offered his arm to his wife. “He always has to be different.”

Blythe laughed lightly. “Look at him, John. As much as he’s trying to hide it, he’s happy. Now smile. This is a celebration.”

John snorted but did as his wife asked as they walked over to join the others.





Title: Aging is Inevitable
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 085. Old
Word Count: 1818
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Okay, this is a bit sappy but I just couldn't resist.

The staff at the nursing home had a tendency to brace themselves and metaphorically gird their loins before they went into Room 28. The old man who lived in there had one of the sharpest tongues they’d ever encountered and he never hesitated to unleash his brand of sardonic, sarcastic humour on whoever ventured into his domain, which considering he was confined to a wheelchair was quite a number of them. He also never failed to berate them thoroughly if he thought they made a mistake either and he’d even driven some of the younger volunteers from the room in tears on more then one occasion.

The staff tolerated the old man’s foibles because in spite of his temper and sarcasm, he’d done them more than one good turn. He’d been a doctor once. None of them knew what kind of doctor, he’d never told them, but he certainly seemed to know a lot. He’d saved Mrs Kerry’s life shortly after he arrived, telling the staff to get over to her a full minute before she collapsed with a heart attack and when it turned out that the only staff available were volunteers with the minimum of training, he’d talked them through how to do CPR. He’d done it with a fair leavening of sarcasm and condescension and with the distinct air of a man who’d much rather have shoved them aside and done it for himself but his instructions had been clear and concise and he’d kept the two young women calm and working until the nurses and paramedics arrived. He’d then completely shrugged off the thanks from the staff and Mrs Kerry herself, getting quite cranky when anyone persisted.

The female staff all agreed that he must have been quite handsome when he was younger though they also all agreed that he was still very distinguished. His eyes were a lovely shade of blue and his thinning, slightly curling hair was steel grey. The nurses reported that he had some kind of leg injury with associated chronic pain, which was why he was in the wheelchair but none of them knew the details of what had happened. None of them dared to ask; they all suspected that doing so would end up in a vitriolic rant that would have them emulating those unfortunate young volunteers.

Unlike many of their residents, the old man got quite a few visitors. It was sad really, how many of the old people in their care had been more or less dumped there by relatives who would then make obligatory visits maybe once a month and stay no longer than fifteen minutes. The old man was a glad exception to that rule. The most infrequent visitors were two women who visited every now and then, though never together.

One always called the old man House while he called her Cuddy and they’d snap and snark and banter with each other, with the old man making lewd and lascivious comments and the old woman laughing at them, much to the staff’s surprise, and responding with tart comments that made the old man laugh in return. They always liked her visits because once she was gone the old man would be in a good mood for a while, his blue eyes alight with amusement. The staff had the impression that at one time the two of them had worked together.

The other old woman who visited called the old man Greg and those visits were always unpredictable and as such the staff were never entirely sure whether they were pleased to see her or not. Sometimes the two of them would spend their time talking quietly, seemingly reminiscing, laughing and poking fun at each other. Those were the good visits. They’d leave the old man mellow and smiling. But occasionally the visits weren’t that good. The two of them would start arguing, quiet, hissing words, her eyes snapping angrily, his blazing. Those visits always ended with the old man yelling at the woman to get out. Occasionally he’d try and get up from his wheelchair. He always failed and collapsed back into it, his face white with pain and taut with anger. The woman would storm out, leaving the staff to deal with the angry man though more than once they’d seen an old pain in his eyes after she left that had nothing to do with his leg.

There were others who visited. Three were regulars, in and out a few times a month. All three were around the same age and looked to be about twenty years younger than Dr House. They were all doctors and one at least was quite well known. Dr Foreman was a renowned neurologist, top of his field though word was that he was considering retirement. He was the most common visitor of this group of three. He and the old man had an odd relationship. There seemed to be a considerable amount of respect between the two but they still seemed to spend most of their time arguing and haranguing each other with what seemed to the staff to be the most shocking kind of personal abuse. Dr Foreman always left a variety of medical journals with Dr House with a mocking comment about keeping a senile mind busy that inevitably made the old man laugh.

The other two didn’t come quite as often but they were still there at least a couple of times a month. One was a soft-spoken Australian called Dr Chase, the other a kind woman called Dr Cameron. Both seemed to have a similar relationship to the old man as Dr Foreman. There was always a great deal of what sounded like abuse that all of them seemed to find terribly amusing, as though it was an old game that they played. All three largely tended to leave Dr House in a good, if somewhat pensive, mood so they were welcomed with smiles and cheerful hellos.

But their favourite visitor was another old man, Dr James Wilson. He came nearly every second day. He looked to be about ten years younger than Dr House and he was still handsome in a surprisingly boyish way for such an old man. He always charmed the staff, particularly the women, which always led to Dr House making some particularly sarcastic remark. Dr Wilson never got fussed about it, he would just roll his eyes and, on the days when the weather was good, he’d insist on going outside. He would come in the morning and spend most of the day. For a long time the staff didn’t understand why Dr Wilson came. The old man seemed to save up some of his most sarcastic and biting comments for the other man but Dr Wilson never got upset. Mostly he just rolled his eyes and sigh, sometimes he’d laugh and often he would give back as good as he got.

It wasn’t until Dr House had been there for nearly a year and a half that the staff found out why Dr Wilson was such a good visitor. The two men were out in the garden, heads close and bantering loudly as one of the nurses approached with Dr House’s medication. Dr House had just said something utterly scandalous about one of the women who visited, causing Dr Wilson to tilt his head back and laugh uproariously. Dr Wilson had then looked at Dr House with open affection on his face.

“I dare you to say that to her face,” he’d said.

Dr House had grinned, an expression that made him look years younger and surprisingly mischievous.

“She may be getting on in years but she’d still got the best breasts I’ve ever seen. I told her that last week.”

Dr Wilson had laughed again. “I miss that,’ he’d said, suddenly pensive. “I miss you.”

“You’re here practically everyday,” Dr House had said dryly. “Don’t know how you manage to miss me.”

Dr Wilson’s smile had been gentle but tinged with wistfulness. “I meant at night. The bed’s very empty without you hogging the sheets.”

Dr House had snorted but the nurse had seen the same wistfulness on his face as well.

“You’re the one who didn’t want to move into a nursing home yet,” the old man had said acidly, belying his expression. “And you can’t lift me anymore.”

Dr Wilson had rolled his eyes. “The only nursing home that had a double room was too far away for you. We’ve got first dibs on the first double room to open up here.”

The nurse hadn’t wanted to disturb them but medication schedules waited for no one. She’d taken several steps back then walked forward again, far more noisily than before, deliberately stepping on a stick. In spite of the fact that she’d been yelled at by Dr House just two days before, she had found herself quite charmed by the conversation between the two men and the revelation of their relationship.

The staff looked forward to Dr Wilson’s visits. Although Dr House tended to be a bit snappish after the other man had left, he was still easier to deal with those nights.

But the best times came when Dr Wilson’s visits coincided with the visits of Cuddy or Drs Foreman, Chase or Cameron. The trio and sometimes more, however it was constructed, would be loud and snarky, sarcastic comments and amusing banter flying back and forth until some of the other residents would complain about the noise. Dr House always seemed to be in his element at those times, arch and imperious, snide and amusing, sarcastic and droll, and the others seem to slip back into well-worn roles with a certain amount of delight.

It was the general consensus of the staff that the day that a double room came free and Dr Wilson moved in permanently was one of the best, most interesting and most irritating days they ever experienced. Dr House had been rude, annoying, sarcastic and constantly in the way and by the end of the day more than one member of staff had been willing to strangle him. They’d seen Dr Wilson eye the staff with an experienced weather eye and hustle Dr House into their new room, wheeling him inside in spite of all his protests. But even the most irritated of staff had softened when the two old men had been discovered later that evening when dinner was being served asleep in their new bed. Dr Wilson was lying on his back with Dr House curled up around him, one arm lying limp on his chest and his bad leg thrown over his lover’s legs. Dr Wilson’s arms were holding the older man tightly and both looked so content that no one had had the heart to wake them. They’d simply organised for two meals to be kept warm and left the two men alone.





Title: Finding Things In The Strangest Places
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 086. Disappear
Word Count: 1614
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: None

Wilson was neck deep in paperwork when his door suddenly opened and a very pissed-off Cuddy stormed in. He looked up in surprise as she stopped in front of his desk and leaned on it, her hands in fists, giving him an excellent view of her cleavage. Unlike House, he dragged his eyes away from that view after the briefest of glances.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

Wilson blinked, forgetting about the cleavage on display immediately. “Uh, who?”

“House!” Cuddy snapped. “Where is he?”

Wilson frowned. “Uh, I don’t know. Have you checked his usual hiding places?”

“Of course I have,” Cuddy snapped. “As far as I can determine, he’s not in the hospital and he’s not answering his phone at home or his cell phone and he hasn’t answered any pages either.”

The first sliver of worry began to wiggle its way through Wilson and he frowned.

“That’s...unusual,” he said slowly. “He might not answer his home phone but he usually answers his cell and responds to pages. It’s not like him to completely disappear.”

He got to his feet and had grabbed his suit coat before he really knew what he was doing.

“I’ll go and look for him,” he said tightly as he headed out the door.

“Tell him I want him in my office the moment he sets foot in the hospital,” Cuddy yelled as he hurried away.

Wilson waved his hand in acknowledgement then concentrated on getting down to his car and over to House’s apartment. He knocked on the door but when he didn’t get an answer, he pulled out his key and let himself in. He was very determinedly not thinking about finding House crumpled on the floor because he’d fallen because he’d drunk too much or worse...overdosed. He shoved the door open as soon as it was unlocked and almost ran into the apartment. He did a quick search through the place then, after a quick phone call to the hospital, a second much slower one and when he got back out into the living room, he was frowning and highly confused.

There was no sign of House in the apartment but there was also no sign that he’d gone anywhere. No clothes were missing other than what he might be wearing and his toiletries were still in the bathroom. He’d seen the corvette parked outside when he’d come in but…there had been no sign of the motorbike.

Wilson froze and paled then pulled his cell phone out, fumbling with it for a moment with his suddenly nerveless fingers before he managed to dial the number he was after.

“Lisa,” he said in an utterly sober voice that stopped her burgeoning rant before it even began. “Can you call around the local hospitals please?”

“James? What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly worried.

“He’s not here,” Wilson said with an eerie calm. “There’s no sign that he’s gone anywhere but his bike is gone.”

“You think he’s been in an accident?” Cuddy asked with alarm. “Surely he would have got the staff to call you? Or they would have found his wallet?”

“Not if he’s unconscious or if he’d been robbed. There are a lot of possibilities,” Wilson replied, stuttering to a stop as he found House’s cell phone and pager. “Please just make the calls.”

“Alright,” Cuddy said then she hung up the phone.

Wilson stared down at House’s phone and pager.

“Dammit, House. Where the hell are you?” he muttered as he waited. He didn’t want to leave in case House came home from wherever the hell he was.

About half an hour later, his cell phone rang. He checked the number then answered it.

“Well?” he said.

“Nothing,” Cuddy replied, now sounding worried. “None of the hospitals in the area reported anyone matching House’s description being brought in during the last twenty four hours.” She paused then continued dryly. “I also called the police. He hasn’t been arrested either.”

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed. “Alright. I’ll start checking some of his usual haunts though I can’t imagine him going out to any of them without at least his cell phone.”

“He hasn’t got it?” Cuddy asked with surprise.

“No, it’s here with his pager,” Wilson replied. “On the brighter side, his wallet is missing so I assume he’s got it with him.”

“Well...keep in touch,” Cuddy said, starting to sound worried. “I’ll keep an eye out here in the hospital and get his team to search through periodically in case he sneaks in through a back way.”

“Okay,” Wilson replied as he hung up.

He scrounged around for a moment until he found a piece of paper and a pen then wrote a large note simply saying “CALL ME!” and left it where anyone coming in the door would see immediately. He then left the apartment and got into his car, mentally planning the best route to the various bars that he’d found House in over the years.

Two hours later he was frustrated and frantic. There had been no sign of House in any of the bars and no one had seen him, in some cases in years. He drove back to House’s apartment and called Cuddy.

“No, no sign of him,” she said wearily. “Chase, Cameron and Foreman have practically turned the hospital upside down. He’s definitely not hiding here.” She paused then continued tentatively. “James, maybe we need to call the police. Unless you saw him last night, it’s been over twenty-four hours since anyone’s seen him.”

Wilson swallowed hard. “No, I didn’t see him last night but...let me call his parents. It’s...something of a long shot but he...might have gone there.”

Cuddy sighed. “Alright but we’re going to have to do something soon.”

“I know,” Wilson replied then he hung up and called House’s parents, taking a deep breath as House’s mother answered the phone.

“Blythe? It’s James Wilson.”

“Hello, James,” Blythe House said warmly. “How are you?”

“Um, fine. Uh, Blythe, is...is Greg there?” he asked tentatively.

There was a moment of silence and when Blythe answered her voice sounded wary and worried.

“No. Should he be? James? What’s going on?”

“He’s...disappeared,” Wilson replied helplessly. “No one’s seen him since just after lunch yesterday. He didn’t turn up to work this morning and he’s left his cell phone and his pager in his apartment. Everything’s still here but his motorbike is missing as well. We’ve been searching all day but he hasn’t turned up anywhere. We’ve checked all the hospitals in the area.”

“Oh,” Blythe said, sounding a little stunned. “That’s...that’s not like him.”

“I know,” Wilson replied. “I was hoping he’d gone to see you for some reason.”

“No, he’s not here,” Blythe stammered. “What are you going to do?”

Wilson swallowed hard. “I think we need to call the police. Put in a missing person report.”

He heard the gasp at the other end of the phone. “Yes...yes, of course,” Blythe said faintly. “You...you’ll take care of that, won’t you, James?”

“Of course,” Wilson said as soothingly as he was able to manage. “And I’ll keep in contact.”

“Thank you,” Blythe said weakly then they both hung up.

Wilson drew in a deep breath then let it out shakily. He was just about to leave to go to the police station when his cell phone rang again. He looked at the display and was surprised to see his parents’ phone number listed.

“Hello?” he said.

“James. Thank goodness,” his mother said with relief.

“Mom, what wrong?” Wilson asked, wondering what else could possibly have gone wrong now.

“Greg’s here,” his mother said with an odd note in her voice.

“What?” Wilson gasped.

“He turned up about...oh, three this morning,” she said. “He was in quite a state. He wouldn’t really tell me what was wrong, just rambled on rather incoherently about being stupid and making mistakes and hurting you. He didn’t seem to be drunk or under the influence of anything and he finally dropped off to sleep about half past seven. He’s still asleep and it didn’t occur to me until just a few minutes ago that I ought to let you know he was here. Your father doesn’t get back from his fishing trip until tomorrow and I had a couple of appointments this morning.”

Wilson fumbled his way over to the couch and sat down.

“Thank god,” he whispered, running one hand down his face.

“James? What’s wrong?” his mother asked with concern.

“Nothing now,” he said with relief. “House…didn’t exactly let us know where he was going. We’ve been looking for him all day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” his mother said with chagrin. “I didn’t realise. I’d have called sooner if I’d thought that he’d run off without telling you.”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Wilson said with a small smile. “Look, I’m going to come right over. Don’t let him leave.”

His mother snorted on the other end of the phone. “James dear, I’ll be surprised if he wakes up before you get here. He looked exhausted when I opened the door last night.”

“Yeah...well...he can surprise you at times,” Wilson said dryly. “Just...keep him there.”

“Alright,” his mother said calmly. “I’ll see you soon.”

Wilson hung up and scrubbed his face with one hand before calling Cuddy and letting her know the good news. He was walking out the door as he called her and he asked her to call Blythe to tell her the good news. He then hung up and tossed the phone on the passenger seat. He had no idea what had driven House to go to his parents’ place but he intended to find out.





Title: Pitched Battle
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 087. Disease
Word Count: 279
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: None

House had always liked a good disease. Well, actually he’d always liked a rare, confusing and puzzling disease that stretched his mind and made him think outside the square. One that had strange symptoms or, even better, one that had symptoms common to any number of other diseases or medical problems so that you had sort the wheat from the chaff.

He liked the challenge. He liked the timeline – that ticking clock that hovered in the back of his mind, counting down the seconds of his patient’s life and telling him how long he had to come up with an answer. Most of the time he beat that clock though many times it had been down to those last few final ticks. But not all of the time. But sometimes he lost, sometimes those seconds ticked away to nothing before he’d found the answer, sometimes death won a round leaving him frustrated and angry.

But now, for the first time in his life, House hated disease.

As he watched Wilson sweat and bleed and cry out in his fevered delirium, House hated the disease that had his friend in its clutches. This was worse than when Foreman was sick...much worse, a thousand times worse. Foreman was a colleague, maybe someone he kind of respected, but nothing more. Wilson was his friend, his only friend, his best friend and...maybe more? That was thought he couldn’t handle right now, shoving it as far down in his brain as he could so that he could think. So that he could win. Because he had to win this one, had to beat the clock this time. If he didn’t...it didn’t bear thinking about.





Title: Lost Things Found
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 088. Bathroom
Word Count: 2113
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Well here is the sequel to Prompt 086. Disappear - Finding Things In The Strangest Places. It's a bit softer and lazier than I'd anticipated but I think it works anyway. At least I hope it does!

Wilson was halfway to his parents’ place when the first inkling of what might have set House off started to trickle through his brain. It was what his mother had reported of House’s rambling that triggered it. House had spoken of being stupid, of making mistakes and of hurting Wilson. Wilson winced; he’d been avoiding House for the last couple of days as assiduously as House had been avoiding him, though not with quite the same underlying reasons. This couldn’t have been a sudden thing that had occurred; if House had been rambling then it must have been growing over the last few days until House finally broke and since he couldn’t find his usual shelter with Wilson, he’d obviously gone to what he thought might be the next best thing.

And precisely four days ago, in the bathroom in House’s apartment, he had kissed House. And House had pushed him away, thrown him out with harsh words and brutal hands. The only thing that had stopped Wilson from protesting and had made him give House the space he seemed to need was the memory of the moment when House had just melted under his touch, returning the kiss with all the feeling that Wilson could have hoped for, before he’d suddenly stiffened and pulled away and reacted. The other thing that had made Wilson bide his time was the look he’d seen in House’s eyes as he’d been thrown out. Underneath the anger and the harshness had been fear, almost terror, and Wilson could certainly understand that reaction from House.

He pulled up in front of his parents’ home and by the time he had gotten halfway up the path, his mother was standing in the open front door with a welcoming smile on her face. She hugged him when he reached her then stepped back so that he could enter.

“Greg’s still asleep,” she said in a quiet voice then she hesitated for a moment. “James...what he said...I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

Wilson sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with a wry smile on his face.

“Maybe if you tell me what he said, I can make some sense of it for you.”

His mother gave him a piercing look then led the way into the living room. Once they were both seated she leaned forward and fixed her son in that piercing gaze again.

“He talked about hurting you,” she said bluntly. “About making a mistake and rejecting you. He said something about being stupid, about not knowing what he wanted, what you wanted and not wanting to be hurt again. James, I know what it sounded like.”

“And that is?” Wilson said warily, unsure of how his mother was going to react.

“James, did you...” She broke off and looked down for a moment before looking back at her son. “Did you kiss him?”

“Yes, I did,” Wilson said as calmly as he could manage.

His mother sat back and stared at him. “Why?”

Wilson sighed and ran a hand down his face, wondering how he could explain this in a way she would understand.

“Because I wanted to. Because I’ve wanted to for a long time. It was...difficult to admit that to myself but it’s true. I...think I might be in love with him. It’s...strange. I was so sure I was in love with each of my wives and look what happened there. I’m...not sure with House. It’s...different.”

His mother was silent for a long moment after he stuttered to a halt.

“And what does Greg think about this? It sounded like there was...a problem.”

“He didn’t react well when I kissed him,” Wilson admitted. “But I think it had more to do with his own internal demons than because he doesn’t...feel something for me.”

“What makes you say that?” His mother looked concerned and Wilson got the distinct feeling she was feeling more protective of House than of him.

“He kissed back,” Wilson replied. “And he was scared. He’s got reason to not want to be hurt again. It’s happened before and he was the one who paid the biggest price. He was...almost terrified underneath the anger.”

His mother nodded slowly. “That would explain a great deal of what he said. What are you going to do?”

“Talk to him,” Wilson replied. “I probably should have done it before but I wanted to give him time to think.”

His mother was quiet again then she said, “I put him in your room. It was the only ground floor one and he...seemed to appreciate it.”

Wilson smiled tightly and stood, heading for the door. He paused halfway there and looked back at his mother.

“You…don’t mind? About me...wanting House?”

“I’ll admit it’s not what I expected,” she replied. “But we raised the three of you to be your own men and to make your own decisions. I’d like to think we were successful at that, for good or ill.”

Wilson was still for a moment, his own choices and those of his brothers swirling through his mind then he nodded and left the room. He walked along the corridor to the room that had been his when he was growing up. Not much was left in there now, what hadn’t been discarded was either with him or in storage somewhere, but a few things remained. He quietly opened the door and crept into the room.

House was asleep on the bed, curled up on his side under the duvet. His sneakers and socks were near the end of the bed and his jeans were lying crumpled on the floor near them. His cane was propped up against the bedside table and there was the familiar orange bottle sitting on top of the table. House’s face looked drawn and tired and a little lost even in sleep and Wilson swallowed hard against the sight. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, staring down at his friend then finally reaching out and brushing his hand across House’s cheek.

House murmured in his sleep and moved towards Wilson a little. Wilson let his hand drift until he was gently stroking House’s hair, letting himself have this liberty now since he had no idea what was going to happen when House woke. His thoughts drifted as he continued stroking House’s hair and he stared off into the distance, not noticing when House slowly woke and opened his eyes.

He had no idea how long it had been when he looked down and saw that House’s eyes were open, just barely, thin slits of blue visible staring up at him. He made to jerk his hand away but left it where it was when House whispered, “No.”

After a few moments he slowly started caressing House’s hair again and watched with a lump in his throat as House sighed and his eyes slid closed again. They didn’t stay closed for long and this time when they opened, it was fully and House simply stared up at him, a blank wall blocking any hint of emotion.

“Mom called me,” Wilson said quietly when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She was worried about you.”

House’s lips twitched into the tiniest of smiles but he still didn’t say anything.

“Come to think of it, I was worried about you,” Wilson said soberly.

An unreadable expression flitted across House’s face too quickly for Wilson to determine what it was but the man remained silent.

“A lot of people were worried about you,” Wilson continued quietly then he smiled wryly. “And...you owe your mother a call. When we realised you’d been missing for over twenty-four hours, we were going to call the police. I called your mother just to check whether maybe you’d gone there. She was...very worried. Thankfully Mom called me before we called the police.”

House stayed silent for a long moment. “Didn’t mean to worry you,” he murmured in a barely audible voice.

Wilson sighed and moved his hand down to caress House’s face. “I wish you’d come to me.”

“You were my problem,” House replied.

Wilson managed to avoid wincing at that. “Mom knows what happened,” he said. “She’d mostly figured things out from what you said to her and I told her what happened. I think she was concerned about you than me.”

That tiny smile returned to House’s face. “Good.”

Wilson chuckled then he sobered and let his hand come to rest on House’s shoulder. “Have you come to any conclusions?”

House looked away and he tensed under Wilson’s hand. Wilson gently rubbed his shoulder and hoped for the best.

“I didn’t mean it,” House finally said. “What I said to you. Didn’t mean to kick you out. You just...I was...surprised.”

“Well...I was a little surprised myself,” Wilson admitted with a wry smile. “I’ve...wanted to kiss you for a while but I...didn’t really plan on doing it right then and there.”

“Why did you?” House asked.

Wilson gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t really know. Confluence of events, all that teasing we were doing, the beer we drank, the way you grinned at me. I just...really wanted to kiss you. So I did. I liked it. Up until the point when you threw me out anyway.”

“It’s a bad idea,” House said wearily.

“What is?” Wilson asked.

“Us,” House said. “You suck at relationships. I’m no better. You’re...our friendship...matters. I don’t want to lose that.”

Wilson used his other hand to gently turned House’s face so they were looking at each other.

“This is different,” he said firmly. “I know it sounds trite to say that but it’s...just different. And I think it’s worth the risk.”

“And if I don’t?” House asked, his expression neutral.

Wilson didn’t bother to hide how much that idea hurt. “Then we...go on as best as we can but I can’t promise it won’t change things.”

House seemed to shut down at that but Wilson knew him well enough to know that he was thinking and thinking hard. Finally his eyes flickered momentarily and he looked up at Wilson intently. He slid one hand up Wilson’s arm until he could grab his collar then he yanked him down into a hard, demanding kiss. Wilson made a small, desperate noise as his hand clutched at the shoulder of House’s t-shirt and he leaned into the kiss.

House shifted onto his back without breaking the kiss, tugging Wilson towards him and down onto the bed until he was lying half on top of him on top of the duvet. House’s arms then slid around him and held him tight as the kiss morphed into something hotter and wetter, their tongues tangling in their mouths. It was only when House’s hips bucked up into his, grinding their erections together that Wilson pulled himself away, gasping for breath when he did so.

“Gotta stop,” he gasped, letting his head fall onto House’s shoulder.

House made a disgruntled sound and tugged gently on Wilson’s hair. “Why?” he asked, his voice a lust-filled whine.

“Because my Mom is somewhere around and I am not having sex with her in the house,” Wilson said with small laugh.

House succeeded in pulling Wilson into another of those hot, wet kisses and Wilson moaned before pulling away again with great reluctance.

“House, we can’t,” he protested without much heat. “If nothing else, my mother has alarmingly good instincts for when her sons are up to something in her house.”

House looked like he wanted to protest but just as he opened his mouth there was a knock at the door.

“James? Greg? Is everything okay?”

Wilson sighed and rolled his eyes as House slowly started to grin. Wilson felt his worry lift at the welcome sight of the humour glinting in House’s eyes.

“We’re...fine, Mom,” he called as he tried to sit up but giving up when House held him tight.

“Alright then,” she said, sounding just a little unconvinced but they heard her moving away nonetheless.

House started to laugh and Wilson scowled at him.

“I told you so,” Wilson grumbled though a smile kept threatening to break through.

“Your mother’s scarier than mine,” House said in a lazy tone, his hands drifting down Wilson’s back.

Wilson rolled his eyes then quickly moved out of House’s grasp, standing up beside the bed.

“Come on,” he said, holding one hand out. “Time to go home.”

House gave him a long look then sat up, grabbing Wilson’s hand and using to get to his feet then to pull Wilson up against him.

“Home sounds good,” he said before leaning down and kissing Wilson again.





Title: Fever Talk
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 089. Delirious
Word Count: 500 (Hey, look! Don't think I've ever done an exact number like that before! *grins*)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: This is a little bit of a sequel to Prompt 087. Disease - Pitched Battle. I may write another one since there's a bit in here that could lead to more.

House sat in a chair beside Wilson’s bed and buried his face in his hands. He was exhausted and his leg was aching as was his head. He was fairly sure he’d figured out what was wrong with his friend but only time would tell. He raised his head and looked over at Wilson. The man was still fevered and flushed, his breathing ragged and laboured. As House watched, Wilson’s eyes flickered open, revealing fever-glazed brown. His head lolled on the pillow until he saw House then he blinked slowly.

“Greg,” he said, his voice a quiet slur.

House relaxed a little. If Wilson was coherent enough to recognise him then the treatment must be working. He’d been completely incoherent and hadn’t recognised anyone or anything the last few times he’d woken. He’d been rather panicky about that and if he hadn’t been so weak, they would have had to put him in restraints.

“Hey,” he said with a small smile.

Wilson blinked then smiled a loopy, goofy smile. “Pretty,” he slurred.

House frowned then snorted. “You’re delirious,” he said with amusement.

“Mmm,” Wilson hummed. “You’re pretty. Pretty eyes.”

House’s eyebrows went up with that and he gleefully thought of the blackmail material this conversation had already provided. He leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbows on the bed, letting his aches and pains drift to the background.

“I’ve got pretty eyes, huh?” he said with a smirk.

“Very pretty,” Wilson said, his voice still slurred. “Blue.”

“Very good,” House said with a mix of condescension and sarcasm then flinched as Wilson’s eyes filled with tears.

When the sick man didn’t say anything, just stared at him with the most ridiculously woebegone expression on his face, House scowled.

“What?” he snapped.

Wilson shook his head a tiny bit and curled up on himself a little, looking pathetic and sad. House scowled at him until it finally occurred to him that he was talking to a man who was very sick and fevered and expecting a sensible conversation or even a sensible reaction was asking a bit much. Hence the ‘pretty’ comments.

“Oh, fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Yes, my eyes are very pretty. Yes, my eyes are blue.”

Wilson seemed to brighten at that and he looked back hopefully at House with a silly little smile. House looked at him then rolled his eyes again.

“You’re really pathetic when you’re sick,” he said with exasperation. “Yes, your eyes are very pretty too. And they’re brown by the way. Now go to sleep until you’re normal again, will you?”

Wilson hummed happily, and a little deliriously, to himself as he curled up again and promptly fell asleep. House shook his head at the ridiculous conversation he’d just had and mentally filed it away in the ‘things to tease Wilson about’ file in his mind, firmly ignoring the feeling of relief that flowed through him that it looked like he’d actually be able to use it as teasing material.





Title: Autumn Days
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 090. Autumn
Word Count: 185
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: None

House hated the fall. It wasn’t so much the season itself since the cooler weather was always welcome after the summer and watching the changing colours of the trees was a secret delight of his that he’d never admit. It was the name. Fall. For a man with a bum leg who needed a cane, fall wasn’t something he liked to think about too much.

He liked Chase’s word for the season. Autumn. Nice and bland, nothing there to make him flinch and clutch his cane tighter. He was actually nice to Chase for a few days just to thank him for using that word. It made Chase suspicious which amused him. And it made Wilson glower which confused him at first. Then he saw that Wilson’s glower wasn’t directed at him but at Chase and then it made a whole lot of sense.

House blinked lazily as he wrapped his arm a bit tighter around the man sleeping in his arms and he stared out the window, watching the chill autumn...autumn, not fall...wind blow the multi-coloured leaves on the trees outside. He liked autumn.





Title: Steely Grey
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 091. River
Word Count: 468
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: WARNING: Death fic.

Wilson stood on the banks of the river and hunched his shoulders against the bitter winter breeze. He stared down into the steel grey water bordered by dirty ice and didn’t feel the tear that slid down his cheek. It had been a year. One long year since two policemen had arrived at the door to the apartment he shared with House to tell him that there had been an accident on this very bridge. That House had been thrown from his bike, striking his head on the concrete railing and falling into the frigid water of the river. The police said House had been unconscious when he hit the water and had never stood a chance. If he hadn’t drowned, the head injury would probably have been sufficient to kill him.

The funeral had been small; just Wilson, his parents, House’s parents, Cuddy, Cameron, Chase, Foreman, Stacy and Dylan Crandall. It had been brief and concise and Wilson had always felt that his lover would have liked it. He hadn’t but that was understandable.

Life had gone on after that and Wilson had found himself somewhat resentful…and more than a little depressed. As the months had passed, the resentfulness had faded into a dull, heavy, helpless anger thick in his chest, made worse when the driver who had struck House had gotten nothing more than a slap on the wrist from the courts. But the depression had remained, hanging low and heavy around his neck, weighing him down, strangling him. He didn’t sleep very well anymore and he knew he was quieter than he had been. Cuddy watched him carefully, kept dropping in to see him, kept making him eat lunch with her. But he was certain that she didn’t see too deeply. She couldn’t or she would never have let him be alone today of all days.

Wilson leaned against the cold concrete, letting it seep into his hands and spread the chill through his body. He looked around and saw that he was alone, very few people had ventured out into the biting cold of the day and those who had were in place other than here. He slowly pulled his long overcoat off and draped in carefully, almost primly, over the railing. He patted the pocket, nodding to himself as he heard the crinkle of the envelope that was in there.

He then climbed up onto the railing, sitting on it and staring unseeingly into the distance for a moment before he gave himself a push and fell. He hit the water with a splash, the sheer iciness of it yanking the breath from his lungs. He didn’t struggle and he didn’t try and regain the surface. He let the current pull him down and, as his vision slowly faded to black, he smiled.





Title: A Normal Day
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 092. Relief
Word Count: 444
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: None

Wilson looked up from the patient file he was writing in and sighed with relief. The lift doors had just opened and House was limping out into the corridor. He was carrying his helmet and looking almost...jaunty, his leather jacket open to reveal the black t-shirt he was wearing underneath.

Wilson had never let his friend know how relieved he was to see him arrive safely at the hospital or back at his apartment after he’d been riding that motorbike. And he never would. House was alarmingly like a child sometimes and if he knew exactly how much Wilson hated the motorbike, he’d ride it more and more recklessly just to get a reaction. And House rode the damn thing recklessly enough as it was.

He knew it wouldn’t do any good to tell House why he hated the damn bike. That he’d seen a good friend turn himself into a vegetable showponying on a motorcycle when they were both sixteen. That he still visited that friend a couple of time a year in the home he’d ended up in. That his friend never woke up, never did anything except breathe. That he lived in fear of House ending up the same way.

He was still staring at House when the older man turned around, seemingly aware of the eyes on him. He almost dropped his eyes to the file in his hands but House chose that moment to give him a cheerful, crooked smile.

“Hey, Wilson!” he bellowed, startling the others in the corridor and making Wilson roll his eyes almost automatically. “The ducklings have been stupid. Wanna come in and watch me yell at them? You can steal some of our coffee.”

Wilson couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face and he shrugged as he started walking towards his friend.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Excellent,” House crowed, looking pleased.

He tossed his helmet at Wilson, who fumbled with his file as he caught the projectile. He scowled at House but it didn’t seem to affect the other man. House just blithely turned and kept limping towards his office. Apparently the opportunity to yell at his team for their incompetence was what made the man cheery in the morning. He shook his head and tucked the file under his arm, following House into his office, where he dumped House’s helmet on the armchair, and from there into the conference room where three very resigned-looking ducklings were sitting.

He got himself some coffee and leaned against the bench, watching House slathering his team with his normal brand of sarcasm, smiling into his coffee cup and letting his relief settle into its normal place.





Title: Sounds of Silence
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 093. Silence
Word Count: 925
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: It's entirely possible there will be a sequel or two to this one. I just have to figure out whether I want Wilson to get better or not.

The first thing Wilson noticed when he slowly opened his eyes was that he was in a hospital bed. The second thing he noticed was the utter silence in the room. He frowned at that, feeling the fuzz in his brain that was obviously caused by the IV snaking into his arm. He looked around and saw that he was connected to a heart monitor and a number of other machines and he knew that those machines made noise. Quiet beeps but noise nonetheless. They should be making noise right now. He frowned and levered himself into a more upright position and looked around the room. His eyes widened a bit when he saw House sitting in a chair beside the bed, asleep with his head pillowed on his arms on the side of the bed.

“House?” he said softly then he stopped and drew in a sharp breath.

He knew he’d said that word out loud but he had heard nothing. He swallowed hard and one hand crept up to touch his ear.

“Hello?” he said a bit louder this time but again he heard nothing.

House shifted and slowly raised his head, blinking blearily until he saw that Wilson was awake then he snapped into a sitting position so fast Wilson winced in sympathy for what that must have done to the muscles in House’s back. House didn’t seem to care, instead he grabbed for Wilson’s hand and looked at him intently.

“James?” he said carefully.

Wilson frowned. He’d seen House’s mouth form the word but once again he had heard nothing but silence. That fact overrode any thought he might have had as to why House had used his first name.

“House? What? I can’t...hear,” he stammered, his hand closing around House’s in a fierce grip as panic started to rise within him.

House grabbed at both of his hands and held onto them tightly. It was just enough, just enough of a break in House’s normal demeanour, to hold that panic at bay for a moment.

“It’s the head injury,” House said clearly, looking directly at Wilson so that he could hopefully work out what was being said. “They think it’s due to the swelling. There’s still some left but they think your hearing might return once the swelling goes.”

Wilson blinked then a series of memories slowly came back to him. Visions of the accident; looking out the driver’s side window to see the car coming right at him, the sound of the impact, pain, horrible, incessant pain then nothing. Waking up in the hospital, more pain, House and other doctors, being unable to hear anything they asked, panicking and the pain that resulted from that panic. Seeing House look helpless and slightly lost as he was taken away to the operating theatre.

Some of that helplessness was still present in House’s eyes but when Wilson nodded slowly it began to fade. Then House untangled one hand and reached out to run a soft caress over Wilson’s cheek.

Wilson’s eyes widened. “House? What?” he said, hoping that he sounded confused and hopeful.

House’s eyes flickered away. “Don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone,” he muttered.

Wilson frowned as he tried to work out what House had just said. When he did, his eyes widened and he hoped he was right. He sat up a bit more then winced and grunted as his body reminded him of the limitations he had right now. He collapsed back onto the bed and concentrated on his breathing as the pain slowly ebbed. When he opened his eyes again he found House watching him with a guarded expression.

He smiled slowly and beckoned House closer. “Come here,” he murmured, hoping he was speaking clearly. He was fairly sure he was.

House gave him a slightly suspicious look then stood and moved forward, bracing himself against the bed. Wilson reached up and grabbed the back of House’s head, determinedly ignoring both how weak his grip was and the pain that lanced briefly through his side as he pulled House down into a kiss. It wasn’t a very good kiss; their mouths were slightly off-kilter and Wilson knew his mouth tasted like slightly medicinal crap but then House shifted their mouths into a better position and the kiss improved. House pulled away far too quickly for Wilson’s liking but when the pain in his chest returned with a thud, he realised how utterly horrendous their timing was.

He couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly, wondering how much he felt came from the drugs and how much came from what had just happened. He noticed House scowling at him and got his laughter under control.

“Timing sucks,” he said.

House’s scowl faded into a look of wry amusement then the he caught Wilson’s chin and made sure the injured man was looking directly at him.

“Get better,” he said clearly so that Wilson would understand him. “I have plans.”

The look in House’s eyes was enough to have Wilson catching his breath then he flinched.

“What about?” Wilson couldn’t finish the question and he shuddered.

House’s hand tightened just a fraction, just enough to get Wilson’s attention again.

“The plans don’t need you to be able to hear,” he said.

Wilson looked into House’s face, at the message written in his eyes, then nodded slowly.

“Good plans,” he said with a tiny smile.

House nodded and let Wilson’s face go, returning to his chair with a wince. He gave Wilson a half-smile full of promise.

“Very good plans.”





Title: By My Side
Characters/Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: 094. Night
Word Count: 592
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to Prompt 093. Silence - Sounds of Silence

Wilson lay in his hospital bed and stared up at the ceiling. Although it was the middle of the night, the lights were on in his room. He’d asked the nurses to leave them on, not feeling comfortable in the dark while he was unable to hear. It made it difficult to sleep but between sleeping and being comfortable, right now he was going to choose comfort. Besides, House didn’t mind sitting beside his bed while he slept; it got him out of work, after all.

It had been five days. Five very long days while he waited to see if his hearing was going to come back. The last of the swelling in his brain had gone down two days ago but his hearing still hadn’t returned and today the specialist had told him that if it hadn’t come back by now, it probably wasn’t going to. House had gotten angry at that news. Wilson had seen him snarling at the specialist as he lay numbly on the bed. He hadn’t had the strength to get angry. All he could see was a future that seemed bleak and empty.

He’d withdrawn into himself after the specialist left, closing his eyes on House. He’d opened them with surprise when he’d felt the thump on his bed and had seen House limping out of the room. That sight had filled him with despair; at the time he’d seen it as House’s abandonment of him. He’d felt like a bit of a fool when House had come back dragging... literally dragging by the arm... a rather exasperated Cuddy.

“Tell him he can keep his job,” House had demanded, making sure to face Wilson so that he could follow the conversation.

Cuddy had looked blank for a moment then she frowned. “Of course he can,” she said to House.

“Don’t tell me,” House had growled then pointed at Wilson. “Tell him.”

Comprehension had dawned on Cuddy’s face and she’d looked over at Wilson.

“You can keep your job,” she’d said clearly. “You’ll need to be trained in ASL and make sure you have continuing speech therapy, maybe also have a translator for dealing with patients, but no one is going to take your job.”

Wilson hadn’t been able to understand everything that Cuddy said but he’d caught enough. He’d sagged back in the bed with relief and watched as House let go of Cuddy’s arm. She had seemed to make a few tart remarks to him but had smiled softly at Wilson before she left. House had watched her go then returned to his seat beside the bed.

“Stop worrying. Get better,” House had said to him and Wilson had smiled wryly.

“Sorry. Just...” His voice had trailed off, unable to articulate what he meant.

House had seemed to understand though and his hand had closed around Wilson’s wrist in a comforting grip. They’d sat there in silence for a long moment then House had grinned wickedly.

“I’ll learn ASL with you,” he’d said abruptly.

Wilson had frowned, unsure if he’d gotten that right. “You’re going to learn ASL?”

“Of course,” House had said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re going to need someone to wave your hands at.”

Wilson stared up at the ceiling and smiled to himself at the memory. House was making sure, in his own uniquely blunt way, that Wilson wasn’t going to be alone in this. It was reassuring, if somewhat alarming, since he was sure that House was going to find even more way to get him into trouble now.