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David's Christmas
by naughtybookworm
Note: I've taken a break from all the angst of my current story to get this little one out there in time for the holidays. Happy Xmas, folks. Thanks for reading and enjoying my tales. I'm still working on Nightmares. It's giving ME nightmares, but I'm determined to finish.
Note: Okay, as many of you know, I tend to bounce around, timewise, in this universe. So just to give you a frame of reference, David hasn't been living with House for very long here. Remember that House took him in during early fall. It's nearly Christmas now. Steve McQueen's reign of terror has ended. Wilson and House are just bestest buddies.
*************
David's Christmas
Wilson sat across from House at his desk and sipped his instant mulled cider. It was December 15th. They weren't talking about anything; they were having a mid-morning coffee break together, just sitting and watching snow flurries through the glass wall. A tall, slim space heater glowed silently in the corner behind House's desk. The cold had gotten to his bad leg years ago, but now, House really paid attention to the temperature in his workspace because he had a kid who spent time there. It made the area feel cozy, for a change, almost like having a weird, vertical fireplace.
"What are you doing with the kid for Christmas? Wilson asked casually, as he nibbled one of the Christmas cookies that House had filched from the NIC-U.
House shrugged. "Hadn't planned anything in particular." He hadn't even thought about it. He'd spent so many years feeling lonely and excluded from the holiday, that he'd ignored it on general principal, despite the fact that everything was coated in a thick layer of red and green at PPTH by now.
Wilson shook his head. "Greg, you say you want to keep this kid. You better get on the ball! This is the biggest holiday a kid gets to experience, next to maybe a birthday. He's gonna be disappointed if you don't do something." Wilson set his cup down, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his legs. "Go shopping, for god's sake; get the kid a model train or something."
"You're Jewish; you managed not to make a big deal of it," House pointed out.
"Actually," Wilson told him, "Actually, we sort of celebrated the season when I was growing up - Hanukkah, Christmas, New Year's... whatever. It's the 'season of giving.' So go out and buy a couple toys and give 'em to your kid. And get a goddamn tree."
But House thought about that for a while, remembering Christmases when he was a boy. His mom had always made things special for him, even though his dad usually didn't participate much. She'd always made sure he had whatever gift he wanted, within reason. And whatever home they were living in was always decorated for Christmas week; they at least had a tree and stockings hung.
House hadn't done Thanksgiving at all. David hadn't really paid much attention to their lack of a celebration. He was just happy to have time at home alone with House. They had planned to eat what they always did, but then Wilson turned up on their doorstep with Chinese food. House was happy. The kid just ate what was there. It wasn't until later that House discovered that the boy didn't even really care for Chinese. David was always too agreeable; House knew that he thought that might make House love him better.
"Okay, okay, I'm on it," House agreed. "I'll pick up some...Tinker Toys or Lincoln Logs and a couple action figures of...Mozart or somebody."
"Do they even make Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs, still?" Wilson wondered aloud.
House smiled slightly, "Yeah, they do. I've seen them advertised...you know, on the web. I had them when I was a kid. Be interesting to see if they're still the same."
Wilson didn't say, but he thought that perhaps Greg was just itching for an excuse to play with the toys again.
That night, while they ate their dinner of microwave Mac & Cheese and fruit salad, House casually asked, "Hey, Christmas is coming. Are you making out a list?"
David looked as if House was speaking Choctaw. "For Christmas?"
House raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you know, Christmas? Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, yada yada? Don't you want Santa Claus to bring you some presents?"
David's face darkened. "Oh, that." He had had a long history of non-Christmases, had decided that he was immune to holidays, and had tried to mostly ignore them.
He began to pretend to eat now, moving the food around on his plate, but not taking any actual bites. 'Damn,' thought House, 'I gotta stop talking to him at mealtimes. Kid's already skinny enough as it is.'
David was silent for about five minutes, then said, "Anyway, I don't believe in any of that crap," he said finally. "That's all for little kids."
"Oh." House replied. Then a few minutes later, he said, "You know, people eventually stop believing in that part of Christmas, but they still like to give presents to each other." He paused for a moment to let that sink in. "So... is there anything you think you'd like as a present from me?"
"No," said David simply. "You already gave me a lot of other stuff. I'm good." He started eating again. He hoped House would drop the subject altogether, and they could move on to something else, or nothing at all, preferably. David didn't feel like talking anymore.
House decided to drop the subject at least until after the kid got some nutrition in him for the evening. Dining conversation obviously needed to be kept to the absolutely most neutral around David, he decided.
Later, House could tell that David was still bothered. He hadn't eaten as much as usual at dinner, and he was really off during his music lesson. The boy made mistakes that he almost never made, even though he'd only been playing piano for a couple months. It was clear that he wasn't paying attention through half of it.
Finally, House got up from the piano and went to sit on the sofa.
"What's wrong?" David asked, alarmed that he had displeased House.
House waved him over. "Over here, buddy." When David joined him, he stood the boy in front of him and sat him down on the coffee table. "You're upset about Christmas," he informed him. "You've been off since I brought it up."
David gave one of his characteristic little shrugs, a bit more right-shouldered than left. 'Yup,' House thought. But the little boy didn't say anything more. House would have to coax him, which could take all night. The doctor decided to take a slightly different approach.
"I was kind of looking forward to having Christmas with you, you know?" He tapped David's right knee for emphasis. "I've never had Christmas with a kid around before. I think it might be fun." He tapped the knobby little knee again. "Don't you think that would be fun?"
David shrugged. He only felt sad about all the Christmases he'd missed, of all the times when other kids in school came back all excited, wearing new clothes, and bragging about all the cool stuff they got from 'Santa Claus.' Back when David was a little kid, he had hated Santa Claus, because he always forgot David. Then David thought maybe he never got anything because they moved so much that Santa Claus didn't know the right address. By the time he was five, though, David had hardened his heart altogether, and decided that Santa Claus was just a cruel joke that got played every year on poor kids. He wouldn't play along anymore.
"You know, Wilson needs us to show him about Christmas, too." House lied.
David frowned. This was interesting, even if it was still uncomfortable. "Everybody knows about Christmas."
House nodded, "Yeah, but Wilson's Jewish, so he's never really celebrated it before. We should show him the ropes."
David thought about that for a moment. "What's Jewish?" he had heard the word, and had loosely associated it with religion, but he didn't really know what it meant.
"Just another religion. They don't do Christmas."
"Oh." David knew about that. He had discovered that Scotti Frennan. in one of his first grade classes couldn't take part in the celebrations, because she was a Jehovah's Witness. David hadn't gotten up the nerve to do it yet, but he had thought that the excuse would be valuable to memorize. He would be glad to forego the party and the sweets to get out of the shame of having no pocket money to help pay for the parties, and of being a poor kid that Santa Claus had forsaken.
"So, we should probably get Wilson a present." He poked David's knee again. "We're gonna need to write some stuff down. Go get some paper."
When David returned with a little notepad from House's desk and a pencil, the doctor dictated, "Present for Wilson."
David wrote it down in neat block letters. "Okay."
"Christmas tree."
"Got it." David waited.
House smiled a little. "Wood for the fireplace."
David seemed interested in that one. They had never used the fireplace. "Cool," he interjected.
"Egg nog. Both kinds."
"What kinds are there?" David asked.
"Oh... uh, the adult and the non-adult kinds."
"Oh."
"Present for David," House ventured.
David looked a bit uncomfortable, but didn't protest. He wrote, "Present for David." Then he wrote underneath, "Present for House." Their eyes met. Silently, House decided not to protest if David didn't.
"What kind of present do you want, House?"
House shrugged. He was going to say that it didn't matter; that it was the thought that counted, but then he'd never learn what his kid wanted, because David would turn the tables on him, and they'd be back at square one. That's what he got for letting a smart little kid into his life. "Oh, just get me a tie."
David's eyes narrowed. "House, you never wear ties."
Quickly House replied, "That's because no one's ever given me one."
David chuckled to himself. He knew that was a bold-faced lie. "What else?"
House thought for a moment. "A wreath for the door." He'd always liked Christmas wreaths. Stacy had always chosen fresh greens and made up one from scratch when they'd lived together. He had always loved to smell it as he entered and left their house, way back when.
David wrote 'Reeth.' Then he crossed it out. 'Reath.' "No," he corrected himself again. 'Wreath.'
"Good job," House praised. The tops of David's ears turned bright red. House secretly adored David's ears, particularly for the way they kind of stuck out a little. There was something enduringly sweet about a little boy with slightly Dumbo-ish ears. House sometimes had the urge to tweak or even kiss them, but he held back to spare the boy any embarrassment. David was shy about affection; House understood that totally. He had to satisfy himself with doing that just after David fell asleep when House always told him he loved him, and that he was a wonderful boy.
"So, I'm getting a tie..." he propped his legs on the table, putting them on a slight diagonal, because David was directly in front of him. "What would David like?"
Automatically, David replied, "I don't care. You pick for me, okay, House?"
House shrugged. "I haven't got any idea, David." This little boy needed to learn this one lesson, and soon. "You have to tell people what you want."
David sighed. "I don't know what I want." He told House. "I have all the stuff I need now."
"Need is different from want." House explained. "Want is something you can live without, but you just... you know... you want it."
The boy grimaced. This was a hard one. He'd spent YEARS of his short life managing to live without hardly anything. How was he supposed to know the difference? What DID he want, just because he wanted it, but could live without? And who was HE to actually require someone else to give it to him? He thought for a few minutes, then shrugged, He let his chin fall to his chest then, upset because he was disappointing House.
House wasn't disappointed, though, not yet. "Hey, why don't you think about it, and tell me later? You can sleep on it, and we'll talk again tomorrow? Will that work?"
Relieved, the boy agreed. House always saved him at times like this. Just when he knew he was messing up, the doctor always gave him a safe way out. He loved House for that. "Okay." He rose from the coffee table and sat close to the man on the sofa. Usually, this was all he needed to do when he wanted House to hug him. He felt shy about saying when he wanted a hug, but House knew. House always knew. He sat David on his lap and grabbed the remote. They channel-surfed together until they found something they both wanted to watch while they cuddled.
******
Lisa Cuddy had become a secret admirer of House's little David. After the whole Chanel No. 5 incident at the hospital, during which he'd done a little semi-projectile vomiting after smelling her perfume, she took an interest in him from well behind the scenes. He had been extra shy after what had happened, and he still seemed afraid of her, so she decided not to push being around him so much. Instead, she asked about him often when she spoke to House, and sent 'hello' messages through him to David. She was thrilled that House had the boy; it was a delight to see House's misery begin to wane for a change. Plus, he was nicer to his patients in the clinic, and there were a lot fewer complaints about him on her desk these days.
Cuddy noticed that David liked to explore on his own around the hospital. Since he didn't ever create a problem, she never minded it. What she did mind was that when he saw her coming, David would back away. He had this funny little 'sniffing' thing he did, something to do with the Chanel No.5 thing he had. Wilson had told Cuddy that David had suffered some kind of trauma and the perfume had reminded him of it. Lisa had wanted David to feel comfortable at his dad's workplace, so she got rid of all her Chanel. It wasn't her absolute favorite, anyway. She boxed it all up: perfume, lotion, purse atomizer - everything that she'd bought or been given over the years - and placed it on House's desk one Monday morning with a note. 'For David: I decided it's a crappy perfume, anyway. Maybe you'd like to throw this stuff down a ravine somewhere. Your friend (I hope), Lisa Cuddy'
House had been touched by the gesture. It was almost Christmas anyway, so he talked David into thanking Cuddy personally.
Four days before Christmas, David appeared at the door of her office, watching her intently. She saw House lurking around outside the door of her reception room, silently encouraging the boy.
"David!" She waved him in and put aside the mail she had been answering. "How are you?"
David stood just inside her door, looking intensely uncomfortable. "Fine."
"Would you like to come in for a little while?"
He shrugged and glanced back at House. The man urged him on with a gesture. "Okay." He walked exactly five kid-steps into the room and stood in the middle of the floor.
Cuddy smiled at him, and waited. Behind him, she saw that House had opened the outer door, and was now rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself at the boy's reticence. "Did you want to see me about something in particular?" she prodded.
David stared down at his red sneakers. "Yeah. Uh..." He sighed and then brought a small green envelope out of his pocket. "Here." He tossed it the remaining five or so steps so that it landed with a 'plop' on her desk. Then he dashed for the door.
"David, wait!" Cuddy shouted.
He stopped, mostly because House was standing closer, and pointing him back into the room. Sighing, he returned. "Yeah?"
Lisa smiled at him. "Do you think you could come a little closer? I'm not really scary, no matter what House says."
David moved forward a couple more steps. "House doesn't say that," He told her. "He says you're a friend and I should trust you."
Cuddy nodded. "You can, you know." She took up the envelope. "May I open it now?"
David shrugged. "I guess so."
Reaching for her letter opener, Cuddy asked slyly, "What else does House say about me?"
David thought about it. "No matter how tempted I am, I shouldn't look at your boobs," he reported with a totally innocent expression on his face. It was if he was saying, "I had mac & cheese for lunch."
Lisa suppressed an urge to burst out laughing. She would get House for that one.
"It's kind of hard," David observed casually, "Since they're right in the middle of everything." But he really was trying to look elsewhere.
Lisa did laugh, then. She laughed for a full minute. David couldn't resist smiling along with her. He had crept forward until he was standing in front of her desk, leaning on it with his elbows a bit. Dr. Cuddy had laughed until she snorted, then she had to blow her nose. That made him laugh, too, a little.
"You're okay, David," Dr. Cuddy told him. She opened the envelope. It was a gift card to Neiman Marcus for $500. David's neat little block-letters inscribed a short note. 'Thank you for the perfume thing. Maybe you can pick a new kind with this. Your friend, too, David Walsh.'
House really could be sweet when he wanted to, she thought. She looked out into the anteroom of her office. The tall doctor was back out in the main hallway, leaning on his cane, standing with his back to them. Of course, one had to wade through all that other crap to get to the sweet part.
"Oh, this is so nice! Thank you, David. And thank House for me too, ok?" Lisa smiled at him.
"Okay." Then, relieved, David ran to the door. But he paused before he exited. "Bye, Dr. Cuddy."
"Goodbye, sweetheart," she told him warmly. "Come and visit me again sometime, okay?"
"Okay." Then David flew to House, who walked them down the corridor a ways, but, before they were out of Cuddy's sight, surprise of all surprises, caught the boy up in his arms in a bear hug.
"Yeah," she said to herself, "I knew there was a big ol' marshmallow in there somewhere."
************
At breakfast the next day, David nibbled at his toast and eggs, and watched House out of the corner of his eye from time to time. It was a habit he'd developed over years of having to carefully gauge his mother's mood before he spoke to her. He needn't have done so with House; his doctor friend loved him and had always seemed genuinely interested in hearing anything David had to say to him. Still, old habits die hard, especially habits that were learned to avoid pain,.
House had let David off the hook about the present, but he hadn't told the boy. David had continued to agonize about actually asking for a present. House had rush-ordered a few books that he had liked as a boy - classic works - some winter clothes that David needed, a metronome, some sheet music, and a set of Lincoln Logs. He had the whole lot delivered to the hospital, and hid them in a closet in Wilson's office.
House finished his eggs and sat back to sip coffee as he waited for David. "Wilson's picking you up after school today, okay? Remember to look for Wilson's car, not Mom's Taxi. You're going with him to get us a Christmas tree, and a wreath.
"Okay Daddy." It was a perfect opening. "I know what I want now, too."
House suppressed his surprise, and hoped it wasn't something trendy that was sold out by now. "What's that?"
David visibly steeled himself and replied, "A dinner."
Dinner. The kid wanted to eat? He turned on his diagnostic mode, and listened.
"A special one, like on TV." He waited for House to get it. "With the big chicken and mashed potatoes. Here in the apartment, on the table with plates, not on trays in a cafeteria."
"David, you mean a Christmas dinner?"
"Ah... I see." The kid had probably spent a few holidays getting free dinners in a soup kitchen or something like that. House hadn't really thought much about Christmas dinner. He was hoping that Wilson would bring Chinese or something, as he had on Thanksgiving. But David didn't really like Chinese food, so that meant he would end up eating something microwaved instead. "Okay. Consider it done."
"Really?" David seemed surprised. "We're going to have a Christmas dinner?"
House nodded. "Sure." He began to wonder if Wilson was as skilled at cooking as he seemed to be. House had never cooked anything any more elaborate than a steak, except during the time he and Stacy had been together, and she had masterminded everything - House had just been the 'helper.' House didn't even think he owned a cookbook.
"Anything else?" House asked.
"No. Just the dinner. For you, me, and Wilson. And maybe ... Dr. Cuddy?"
House doubted that Cuddy would be free for Christmas, but he didn't say that. "I'll ask her."
**********
In his office that day, Wilson had shown House big, sad, puppydog eyes when he heard what David had requested. "Oh, that's pathetic. Poor kid." He shook his head. "Big chicken, eh?"
"Yeah. Positively Dickensian." House knew that Wilson was adding that phrase to his growing list of "David-isms." Wilson had been totally charmed by the little boy, and House encouraged the developing relationship between the two, partially because a kid certainly was a healthier outlet for Wilson's neediness fetish. House also knew it was healthier for David to have more relationships in his life, but the boy had shied away from other kids for so long that it had become a habit. Wilson was a start, though. The younger man was quickly becoming sort of an uncle to David.
"So how are you at baking a turkey?" House asked.
"Oh man, you mean you can't?"
House shrugged. I'm sure if there is a recipe somewhere, I can follow it. I was just hoping to take a shortcut."
"You know, most grocery stores will sell you the whole dinner in a box. You order it a few days before, and pick it up on Christmas Eve. All you need to do is pop it all in the oven about an hour before dinner, and boom! Instant 'big chicken' dinner with all the trimmings."
House was instantly relieved. "Good. I'll order one."
Wilson grinned. "Don't forget cranberry sauce. My whole family eats turkey and stuffing only because they're a vehicle for cranberry sauce. Otherwise, nobody likes it." He crossed his legs and sat back in his office chair. "I'm gonna need liberal quantities of cranberry sauce and gravy."
"Don't they sell you that with the dinner?"
Wilson grinned again. "Oh, sure, but they sell you that...whole berry crap. You need the kind in the can, the jellied kind..." He gestured with his hand. "...that's shaped like the can... you know. And not a store brand. Get Ocean Spray. Make sure it's chilled, too."
"Maybe you should be in charge of the feast," House ventured.
"No way," Wilson volleyed back instantly. "I'm already doing the tree. It's YOUR kid, after all."
Sighing, House agreed. "Okay, okay."
House tried again, "Maybe... you could ask Cuddy if she wants to eat with us."
"Cuddy?" Wilson was surprised. "YOU want Cuddy to have dinner with us at your place? Who ARE you, and what have you done with Greg House?"
House shook his head. "No, the kid wants her. It's part of the present." He twirled his cane absent-mindedly. "She's probably already got plans, but I told him I'd ask her, anyway."
Wilson thought about that for a minute. "Let me ask her. She'll come."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I can be pretty persuasive sometimes. Don't know if you've ever noticed before."
House chuckled to himself. Judging by Wilson's success in the philandering department, he thought he wouldn't be surprised if Cuddy did show up. He was relieved that he didn't have to go through the awkwardness of asking Cuddy, but nearly afraid that she would be in his private space for an evening. He hoped she wouldn't for his sake, but that she would, for David's. House had wanted David's first fledgling attempts at reaching out to have positive results.
Cuddy did agree. She had had very casual plans with a group of friends. They would understand. Without compromising House's and David's privacy too terribly much, Wilson's gentle brown eyes had evoked the right amount of compassion, and by the end of it all, Lisa Cuddy was racking her brain, trying to think of a good present for a shy little musician.
When he told House, Wilson was sure that he saw terror in the man's eyes, just for a split second.
***********
Two days before Christmas, House, Wilson, and David decorated the seven-foot Christmas tree that the two men had set in a stand with a water supply. It was just inside the front windows of the apartment, behind the piano, which they had had to move a few feet in to make room. House had sent Wilson down to the basement of the building to retrieve his single dusty crate of holiday decorations. It contained an old set of clear white lights and about forty gold and red glass balls. The tree would be simple this year, Wilson thought, but now that David was around, and House was intending to keep the boy, perhaps next year's tree would look a little more interesting.
As they reached the bottom of the box, Wilson found another small cardboard box with three crystal ornaments. They were engraved: "Greg and Stacey:1997," "G + S: 1998," and a gold painted heart on the third, which enclosed simply, "G+S: Love endures." Wilson closed that box and put it under all of the empties when they repacked them in the crate. They then stored the crate in the bottom of David's bedroom closet.
House had insisted that they drop everything to watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" on the tube. "I used to watch it whenever I could when I was growing up," He told David.
Wilson teased, "Hero-worhip, Greg?"
House ignored him. "I can't believe you've never seen this!" He sent David to get into his pajamas and slippers. "Ya gotta watch in your jammies, if you're a kid."
"I think I saw that rule in the back of the TV guide," Wilson colluded.
While the boy ran off to follow the rules, Wilson sat on one end of the sofa and shook his head at his friend. "You're unbelievable!"
"House had started laying a fire in the fireplace. "You were the one who insisted that I make a good Christmas for him. Now you're gonna nag me about doing just that?"
Wilson shook his head. "Nah. But I might tell your staff. They'd love it."
When David returned they settled in to watch the show. Wilson didn't miss that the little boy snuggled close to House on the sofa, and Greg put an arm around him. In his own heart, Wilson felt something dormant starting to wake up, whether he wanted it to or not.
******
House was late getting home on Christmas Eve. Wilson drove David to the apartment instead, under the pretext that House needed to stick around for lab results for a patient. There was no patient. House was picking up David's Christmas dinner. Then the grocery store had been a madhouse; the tall doctor hardly ever entered one after his leg had gotten damaged. He had relied on fast food deliveries for his meals, and quick runs to convenience stores for staples. Since David, though, House had started to receive weekly deliveries from the grocery on Saturdays. It took over an hour to get served at the ready-to-go counter, and another half hour to pick up Wilson's cranberry sauce. House seriously considered telling Wilson he couldn't find the right brand. But he didn't.
When House finally made it home, he set the box just inside the apartment door and covered it with his jacket while he checked if the coast was clear. David ran out of the kitchen and nearly bowled him over. He was more excited than House had ever seen him.
"Daddy! Daddy, you have to come and see this!!" Wonderful baking smells were wafting throughout the apartment. The little boy grabbed House's left hand and tried to drag him into the kitchen. "Hurry! You gotta see what Wilson's making!"
"Okay, okay, keep your hair on, I'm coming," House limped along quickly.
There was a lot of flour around. Wilson was ...baking cookies. "Hey," he smiled up at House while he levered a chocolate chip disk off a baking sheet with a spatula and placed it on a plate.
"This is so cool!" David was chirping excitedly. "Real cookies." David indicated all of the ingredients that were still out on the countertop. "Wilson just stirred all this stuff together in a bowl and we put them on that pan with a spoon, and put that in the oven, and it all baked into cookies in like ten minutes!"
That David obviously had had no experience with something as mundane as baking cookies made Wilson was exhibit sad puppy-dog eyes. House made a point of rolling his eyes at Wilson to show him just how pathetic he thought his friend was.
Looking away to compose his face, Wilson said, "You don't have a very well-equipped kitchen, man."
House raised an eyebrow. "That last word you used might give you a clue as to why not." He sat down at the table and took one of the cookies. It was still gooey and soft, and good enough to make him want to curse. "Damn, I could eat a few of these."
"Well, save some for Santa Claus," Wilson told him. Then he winked conspiratorially, "I read in the ... newspaper that people make Christmas cookies, and leave a few out by the tree with a glass of milk for Santa Claus. Kind of tips the scales if they have too many naughty points."
House merely chuckled at that. Wilson was playing his part to the hilt.
David sidled up to him and whispered in House's ear, "He believes it. Should we tell him?"
House shook his head. "Nah, let's keep him ignorant for at least the first year."
"Okay."
House sent David to get ready for bed early with the promise that he would be allowed to stay up late. Then he made room in the fridge for the box of David's dinner and stuck it inside. House worked around Wilson and the cookies to piece together a pitiful dinner of the leftovers he'd removed from the fridge for the three of them. Naturally, they had a dessert of way too many of Wilson's cookies, even David, whose sweet tooth was on the fritz because House couldn't get him into a dentist's chair to fix the four cavities he had. But hell, it was Christmas Eve. He chewed the cookies with his incisors instead.
Afterwards, Wilson read "A Visit from St. Nick" to the boy, who was snuggling up in House's lap. Then they made House leave the room so they could put his already-wrapped presents under the tree.
Wilson stretched out on the sofa, eavesdropping while House put the little boy to bed.
"Daddy," David was asking, "Will you wake me up early tomorrow?"
House's deep, gravelly voice replied, "Of course. You always get up extra early on Christmas." Then Wilson imagined that House realized what he'd just let himself in for, because he said, "Like... eight o'clock."
"That's not early! That's later than I get up for school!" David told him.
"Yeah, but it' kind of early for say, a Saturday, right?"
David had to agree on that one. House liked to sleep late on the weekends. "Yeah."
"Hop in," House told the boy. Then he said, "Stick your arms out." Wilson wasn't sure what that was all about until he remembered House mentioning that David couldn't stand sleeping with his arms confined. "Got a kiss for Dad?" (Wilson jokingly thought maybe he could get a sugar rush from how sweet that was). He heard the quiet 'smack' of a little kiss between them, then another. Then silence for a while.
"Daddy, know something?"
"I know a LOT of somethings. Which something are you talking about?"
"I think..." then the boy's voice was a whisper that Wilson couldn't hear.
There was a short pause, then House said something back to the boy, but Wilson only heard one word, which was his own name. He would do a LOT to know what David had said, but he knew that House wasn't likely to spill the beans if he knew that Wilson really wanted to know. Wilson decided not to ask.
It was still amazing and unbelievable to Wilson that Greg House was tucking a child into bed and doling out goodnight kisses. It was ... sweet. It was a side that Wilson longed to have House share with him. He wanted affection from Greg, maybe even goodnight kisses, too. But Wilson was afraid to say so. He was almost sure that telling Greg how he felt would damage their friendship irreparably. So he didn't say, and tried to make himself be satisfied with being as close as he could, and with savoring the longing. "You idiot," the little part of House that took up residence inside him had said, not for the first time.
The two men waited half an hour, then wrapped David's gifts, assembly-line style, with Wilson painstakingly taping the paper onto the packages, and House merely sticking on the self-adhering bows. Then they sat companionably together on the sofa, sipping beer and watching the fire. When it finally died out, Wilson woke a dozing House, sent him to bed, and took himself on home to sleep in his lonely apartment.
*******
David was thrilled to have presents like everyone else. It was a little over-the-top for him, though. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel after receiving all the books and the toy. He didn't dump the container of Lincoln Logs out on the floor and dive right into building a house. He didn't even open it and look inside. David placed the toy back under the tree, as if to display it, and got really quiet. He did the same with the books - didn't even crack one open. Dutifully, David cleaned up all the wrapping paper and asked, "What should I do with this stuff, Daddy?"
House shook his head and took the paper from David and tossed it all back on the floor in front of the tree. Then he grabbed the round canister of Lincoln Logs and sprawled in front of the fireplace. "Over here, David." He dumped out the contents of the canister into a pile on the rug.
David watched as Daddy started to play with the toy. He was building something with the little reddish-brown logs. David sat cross-legged on the floor, very close to House, and watched. Before long, he started to finger the different log and roof pieces. He identified one red piece as a possible chimney. He started building a small structure of his own.
House watched out of the corner of his eye as his shy little boy began to play - for the first time since House had known him - with something other than music. Eventually, David picked up the booklet that came with the logs that had instructions for different types of houses. He began to follow the instructions, but quickly ran out of a couple parts, because House had used them in his building. Grinning at David, House tipped over his building to free up the parts for the boy.
House caught David's hand and looked into his boy's eyes. "You're a child," he whispered. Then he leaned closer to say one more thing. "This is called 'play-ing.'"
David smiled slightly and started working again. "I know, Daddy."
"Well, sometimes I think you need reminding." House kissed David, and left him alone to go scrounge up something for breakfast.
Wilson turned up around noon and let himself into the apartment. They were still in their pajamas, lounging on opposite ends of the sofa. Greg was reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe aloud, while the fireplace blazed in the background. They looked up when he entered, and smiled at him, but both quickly went back to what they were doing. Wilson thought that this was the way family received one another. He felt honored. He sat between them on the sofa, and was further pleased when David scooted over to sit closer to him.
They had waited for him to open his presents. David had picked out a simple brass key ring for Wilson. He had noticed that Wilson kept his keys on a simple ring with no fob of any kind (except the remote for his car). "Kid's got good taste," Wilson said to Greg. David's ears went irresistibly red. Wilson didn't have Greg's willpower. He rolled on the floor, wrestling David down to plant wet, sloppy kisses on the boy's ears.
"Wilson, pull back, bud." Greg intoned playfully.
"Can't help it," Wilson laughed. "They're like kryptonite to me, these ears!"
David merely sighed and endured the onslaught.
*************
By the time Cuddy arrived around five for dinner, they were ready for her. Wilson had found House's 'good' dishes, and had David set the table. The 'big chicken' was in the oven reheating, and all the side dishes were getting their turns in the microwave. When they heard Cuddy knock, House sent him to answer.
"There's your guest," he told him. "Open the door, tell her she's welcome, take her coat."
"Okay." David performed each action mechanically. Both men struggled not to laugh audibly.
He let Cuddy into the kitchen, where they would be eating. "Wilson's here," he told her unnecessarily. Then, shyly, he said, "Wilson's my friend." He spoke the words as if he was reciting words from a sacred text.
Wilson thought that maybe this was what David and House had been talking about the night before. Part of his heart soared. Part of it ached.
Lisa leaned down to David, and asked him, "I think that's wonderful, sweetheart. I hope I can be your friend, too. Remember our notes?"
That was too much for David. He remembered the notes, but he didn't really think that Dr. Cuddy was serious about being really, really friends. He sidled away, hid behind House for a moment, then trotted away to his bedroom.
Sighing, House went after him. "Be right back,Cuddy."
Puzzled, Lisa Cuddy bit her lip. "Ooops... must've been something I said?"
Wilson didn't respond at first. He was wrestling the turkey onto a platter, and trying to figure out what to tell her. "He has a ... very fragile heart, Lisa." He told her. "He'll be okay."
**************
David decided that he loved turkey and stuffing that was made in a kitchen in a home, not one in a cafeteria. And Wilson had been right about the cranberry sauce. It was delicious. He got really quiet while he slowly tasted and chewed everything.
House bent down close to murmur to him, "Good?"
"Yeah." David smiled.
Something kept nagging at the back of his brain, though. Something just kept feeling extremely familiar. He didn't know why or what. It had something to do with Dr. Cuddy - no, Lisa. He would look up at her when she said something as part of the conversation that the adults were having, and something would click in his mind, or maybe in his heart. It was like that feeling he got when he thought he had experienced a scene in his life before. He had heard it called 'dj vu' on something he'd seen on TV before.
"Make sure you leave room for dessert, honey," Lisa said to him. She had brought an apple pie that she had made herself.
David was going to say, "Okay," but he felt his mind slide out of focus all on its own. He saw, in his mind's eye, a lady. She was beautiful, tall, and old - maybe even older than Daddy. She was sitting at the end of a table, just the way Lisa was, and people were eating a meal. She wore sparkly earrings. David remembered wanting to catch the earrings and hold them in his hand or put them into his mouth.
Then the quicksilver memory slipped away, just like that. Everyone was looking at him. He blushed deeply, embarrassed that he didn't know what was going on, or how much time had passed while he was remembering.
"Okay?" Daddy had leaned down and asked him.
"Yeah."
Thankfully, Wilson started talking about special family dinners when he was a child.
House leaned down again and asked David, "Want more of anything?"
David was getting pretty full, and he really DID want a piece of apple pie that was baked in a house, not bought at a store. He shook his head. He began to nibble at what remained on his plate while he listened to the adults talk. As soon as he let his guard down, his mind did its unfocusing trick again. This time, he got a very good feeling. He stared down at his plate, listening to the sound of Lisa's voice, but not really hearing the words. Somehow, he felt very soothed, very...content. He finally felt like maybe he belonged somewhere. He'd felt this before, too, but he didn't remember where or when.
He wanted to hug Lisa Cuddy, because she reminded him of something good that had obviously happened to him. Usually, when his mind got out of focus, he would remember some nasty thing that his mother had done to him, but today it was a good memory.
Later, David played around with "Christmas Time Is Here," from the "Charlie Brown Christmas" music that Lisa had given him while the adults sipped drinks and chatted in front of the fireplace.
"He's really good, House," Lisa said softly.
"Yeah..." David heard pride in his Daddy's voice.
"Told ya," Wilson said. Wilson had recommended sheet music as a present, and when Cuddy had shown concern that she might choose something that was too complex for a child, Wilson had assured her that she had nothing to worry about, that David would be able to figure it out.
David felt a blossoming, bursting feeling in his chest. Immediately, he heard the nasty whisper start up in his head. "They're just being nice. You're just a poor charity boy. They feel sorry for poor, poor, stupid little David."
'Shut up,' he told the voice. He wasn't going to listen for once. He got up and joined his grown-up friends near the fireplace. Maybe in their warmth, the Mommy voice would leave him alone for a little while. He sat between Wilson and Lisa. They took almost no notice of him, except that Wilson wrapped an arm around him and kissed him while Lisa was talking.
David began to feel kind of dopey and sleepy from the big meal, and the fireplace, and the warmth of people all around him. He hoped they continued not to notice him, because he didn't want to be sent to bed. But at the same time, he wanted to curl up right where he was and sleep for about an hour. It wasn't long before he did doze off.
He woke on his side with his head in Lisa's lap. She was sitting in a corner of the leather sofa, angled in towards the fireplace, with her legs drawn up to one side. Everyone was trying not to wake him, but still talking, drinking, and laughing quietly. Daddy was lying on his back on the floor with his lower legs up on the sofa - sometimes it made his leg feel better to do that. Plus, he was showing off the goofy black socks David had given him that had gold musical notes all around them. (There was a nearly matching tie that House was saving for work). Wilson slouched at David's feet with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Lisa was gently stroking David's back. He liked that, so he kept his body loose and slack so that she might think that he was still asleep.
Daddy was telling a story. David wasn't sure what it was all about because he had slept through part of it. "...so I gave the last forty francs I had away. Then I pulled out my guitar, THAT one," he pointed to one of the guitars on the wall, an acoustic one. "And I went down into the subway and played for about six hours until I had enough cash to get a train ticket back to the hotel we were staying in."
"God, your folks must have had dual heart attacks," Wilson replied.
"Never told 'em."
"That was probably a good thing," Lisa said. She was keeping her voice extra quiet because she still believed that David was sleeping. "Twelve years old and panhandling in a subway. Why am I not one bit surprised?"
Daddy chuckled, "No, it wasn't panhandling; I was entertaining."
Everyone else chuckled, too. Then the adults got really quiet for a long time. The mood was warm and friendly, and David wanted it to last forever, especially the way Lisa was rubbing his back. And the way Lisa smelled; like a mommy - a real one, not a nasty, evil, bitch-mommy who hated him. Lisa was ... was just right, like the third chair, bed, and porridge in Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
Without realizing what he was doing, David scooted up so that more of him was in Lisa's lap. Instinctively, Lisa put her arms around him and hugged him. "Such a sweet little boy," she murmured to the room in general.
"Definitely a keeper," Wilson commented.
"Get your own," House grumbled playfully from the floor.
Oh... it was like... like being in a family that wanted him, really, really WANTED him. David screwed his eyes shut as tightly as he could to keep from getting tears on Lisa.
Then it happened again. His mind slid out of focus, because something familiar happened again. Lisa had started stroking his hair. Suddenly, David felt much, much smaller than he was in reality. A woman was holding him just like Lisa was, and stroking his hair, rocking him to sleep, and saying nice things about him. Then his mother came into the scene, and a horrible sense of dread came over David. Then the memory fizzled out altogether.
David sat bolt upright. Of course he remembered the part of the scene that included his mother. Mommy came back and took him away. But he didn't remember where he was before that happened; only that Mommy came back and took him away, and he hadn't been happy for even one day ever since.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Lisa asked, alarmed at his rigid posture.
House glanced over to check on him. David had awakened abruptly, but he looked okay, so the tall doctor decided not to do anything.
Cuddy didn't miss a thing. She was enjoying this House's reaction. Now that was priceless. He was acting all...paternal. Such a look of concern. House was letting Cuddy see him CARE about somebody.
David snapped out of it before they started looking at him like he was six shades of weird. He didn't want to ruin this wonderful day. He shook his head as if he were trying to clear it (for their benefit), and smiled a little. He didn't know that that little gesture had made him look even more adorable.
Daddy smiled back, and held out one arm, gesturing for David to join him on the floor. "Gimme," he said obnoxiously to Lisa. When David came to him, he lay on his back, perpendicular to House, and propped his head and shoulders on the man's chest.
"Well, * I * got lost on the London Underground once, myself," Lisa Cuddy said. She began to tell them the story about how she'd gotten separated from a group, trying to get to Westminster Abbey, and ending up in a protest march outside Number 10 Downing Street. "I had more fun being lost than I did during the whole trip!" As she spoke, she watched the interaction between David and House. House absent-mindedly caressed David's thick brown hair. David sort of curled up on his left side pillowing his face on the back of his right hand, so that he could look up at her properly as he listened. They made a sweet portrait.
Wilson barely heard the story at all. He was looking into the fireplace, but watching Greg and David from the corner of his eye as he sipped his eggnog (the adult variety). He secretly envisioned himself lying down next to Greg with David between them, propping his short, denim-covered legs on Wilson's chest. He wanted to be a part of them, get closer to them. Touch them. House certainly had the capacity for loving someone other than his rat. Hell, House had actually given away his rat a week ago, for the sake of this child who had obviously stolen his heart.
House patted David's shoulder. "Hey buddy, why don't you go put on your jammies?"
Naturally, as all children do, David resisted being put to bed when something interesting was going on. "I'm all rested up now, Daddy."
"I know," House told him. "I didn't say 'go to bed,' I said 'go put on your jammies.' I don't wanna have to pour you into them myself if you fall asleep again."
"Oh, ok." David agreed, and bounced off to his room."
Wilson went to add a log to the fireplace. There was another lull. Lisa thought perhaps it was time to go home, but she was so comfortable, and she was really enjoying herself with her friends. And she just couldn't get over being delighted to see Greg House as a daddy. She stretched, "Oh, I think it's pretty nearly time for me to get into my jammies as well," she said, and realized too late that she'd walked right into that one. Must've let her guard down because of the kid.
"Oooh, can we watch?" House asked. "Hurry up before the kid comes back. We don't want PG. We want triple-X."
Wilson chuckled. Cuddy rolled her eyes.
************************
David didn't actually get the present that he wanted for Christmas. The present he really wanted was something that he didn't even know how to articulate yet. He didn't know that it was within the realm of possibility. Part of what he wanted was to just be able to stay with House until he grew up. House had said he would be his daddy, but David had been so used to being unwanted that he was having a very hard time accepting that House really would keep him forever.
That was one part of his wish. The harder part was about Wilson. He wanted Wilson to be part of his life forever, too. And he wanted to see Wilson every day, at home, in their home. He knew that Wilson and House were the best of friends. And he knew that House had been unhappy for a long time before he had come into the man's life. David had given a lot of thought to the idea that maybe House would be happier with a girlfriend, or a wife. He'd even thought that Lisa might be a good girlfriend for Daddy.
Then, weeks after Christmas, David stumbled upon something that brought his thoughts and feelings into focus. He'd kind of seen it all along, but now it all made sense.
He'd been in bed sleeping for a while, but something woke him. David wasn't sure what the noise was. But he knew he was safe, because Daddy was still up. He was out in the living room, watching television. But he was talking to someone, too. It didn't take long to realize that the other voice was Wilson's. David smiled to himself. He hadn't seen Wilson in a couple days. He rose from his bed and walked to the door, intending to go in to say hello, maybe ask Wilson to tuck him in again.
Then David saw. Daddy and Wilson were sitting so close on the sofa. And they weren't exactly talking. Well, Daddy was talking. He was whispering into Wilson's ear. And they were kissing. Daddy and Wilson were kissing each other, like lovers on television. Wilson kept going "Oh...ohhhhh....oh, Greg... ohhh..." And Daddy kept saying things to Wilson, and touching and hugging him, and kissing all over Wilson's face and neck, including his mouth. Yuck. David didn't get the whole mouth-kissing thing yet, but he knew that grown-ups liked it.
David gasped. He was in shock. He knew that sometimes men loved other men, and women loved each other, but he'd never seen that up close. Well, he was seeing it up close now.
"Daddy....?" David choked out.
They took absolutely no notice of him whatsoever. Then David decided that maybe he shouldn't interrupt, anyway. He wanted to think about this. It was very weird, and very shocking. He closed his door quietly and went back to bed, to think. Then everything went right into focus, and David saw what he wanted with absolute clarity. He had actually sensed that Daddy and Wilson were in love, but it was foreign, the two guys part, so he hadn't even bothered to entertain the thought. They were in love. And David had, in some part of his mind, already put them together. He wished that Wilson could always be with them because he knew that Wilson made Daddy happier. And Daddy made Wilson happier, too. They belonged together.
So David's real Christmas wish was to have Wilson become HIS Wilson, his, and Daddy's Wilson. And to belong in this family forever.
He plugged the earbuds to his IPOD into his now very red ears so he could drown out his two best friends making out in the living room, and started imagining a life with two daddies.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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