| |
Bubbe's Interference
by Belladonna
Hanukkah in the Wilson household was filled with the smell of evergreens, oil and latkes and his Aunt's and great aunts perfumes, all vying for attention. It was a familiar smell, one that evoked fond memories of Hanukkahs past and it warmed him. Not as much as the heated glances from Greg, but the sentiment was similar.
James still had to stifle a grin whenever he thought about introducing his lover to his older relatives. Every time one of them had asked what House did for a living, he'd soberly told them he was an undertaker. He sipped his wine and gazed across the room at Greg who was listening to one of his uncles complain about his lumbago. He was so damn lucky.
House caught Wilson staring soulfully at him and he decided he could never get enough of the love he saw in those deep brown eyes. He winked and received a delightful blush in return. As much as he disliked the human race, he was glad he'd come with James to the family Hanukkah celebration. Wilson's relatives were such a mixed bag of weird and dare he say, almost interesting people that he wasn't in danger of getting bored at all.
Take James' great-uncle, Isaac. He had served in World War I, was wounded and sent home. He got out of the Army and bought himself a diamond mine, building a mini empire in New York City before the age of 45. He sold it all for a killing and traveled the world before coming home and settling in New Jersey. He was 104 and still going strong, even if he resembled a turtle with his skin too big for his bones. And he was even more cantankerous than himself. House wanted to be Isaac when he grew up.
Or Aunt Sarah. She was 300 pounds if an ounce, and had one of the sweetest dispositions of any woman he'd ever met, even his own mother. She was in the kitchen helping James's mother cook the traditional meal the extended Wilson-Levy clan expected. If he thought he could get away with it, he'd smuggle her home with him and James.
Then there's James's brother, Joe. He's sitting beside his brother, teasing him about being the family pariah. Joseph was a character, he owned his own garage and was making more than James did, off of fixing cars. He's good at what he does, making his own hours and playing the ponies. He and House met in Atlantic City a couple of times and made a day of it.
And please, take Cousin Freddy, the obnoxious banker and his wife Glenna, who were the unwitting targets of his sarcastic wit. Unwitting because not just the veiled, but even the overt insults went straight over their heads, which wasn't as satisfactory though it made Uncle Isaac laugh until he's was apoplectic.
Right now everyone was waiting for the family matriarch, Joe, Freddy and James's Bubbe, Elizabeth Cohen Wilson. She reigned over the family, and her opinion of Greg was going to be the one that mattered to the rest of the oldsters, and Greg was frankly a little nervous.
The doorbell rang and James's mother scuttled from the kitchen to answer it. "Momma, Happy Chanukah," she said with a smile.
"Barbara, help me up these steps before I break a leg," the older woman ordered.
Greg watched with interest as Bubbe, as James called her, stepped into the house. Her imperious stance, even with her cane and her snapping brown eyes catalogued everything in the blink of an eye. "Boys, come and give me a hug," she ordered and James grinned, stepping up and kissing his diminutive grandmother on the cheek, Joe was next and then Freddy.
"Hello, Bubbe. How are you doing?"
Getting a fierce hug, and an appraising eye, she said, "I'm not dying yet, if that's what you're asking. Where is that artificially colored harpy you married?"
Greg smothered a laugh with a cough, his eyes meeting Joe's amused eyes and they shared a smirk. Apparently Bubbe hadn't liked Julie.
James rolled his eyes. "We're divorced, Bubbe. I know Mom told you."
"She might have said something about you not giving her grandchildren, but it slipped my mind," Elizabeth retorted. She handed off her coat to her daughter and greeted her other relatives, before turning her attention to Greg who was seated at the piano. She leaned heavily on her cane and limped towards him. He stood, feeling awkward as he loomed over the small woman.
"And who are you?"
"That's James' boyfriend," Freddy's wife announced nastily.
"Boyfriend? What, are we still in high school?" Elizabeth commented. Glenna flushed and subsided guiltily.
"Momma, I told you about Jimmy's friend, Dr. Greg House?" James's mother said quickly, her anxious eyes going to her son. She wanted to avoid a confrontation and becoming fodder for years of family gatherings.
"Yes, yes," Elizabeth replied testily to her daughter. "So, you've broken your mother's heart and become a homosexual?"
James was pale but composed. "I've only loved Greg, so I guess you could call me House-sexual, rather than homosexual."
Elizabeth's eyebrows went up and she stared hard at her grandson who looked back unflinchingly, then up at Greg who had to smile. House-sexual. He liked that, and he guessed that made him Wilson-sexual. He stared back at James's grandmother, totally unashamed of his choice to love James, and refused to let anyone, up to and including Bubbe, shame him.
"Not much of a boy, are you?" she asked.
"No ma'am. Just a bitter old doctor who's lucky enough to have your grandson in his life," Greg said.
"Are you any good as a doctor?" she asked, or rather interrogated.
Greg shrugged. "I like to think that I'm brilliant, but you'd have to ask James."
James chuckled. "He ~is~ brilliant, Bubbe." He had to admire his grandmother; she was playing to the audience like a well-seasoned actor. But he knew her and could tell that she liked Greg.
Elizabeth gazed at House for a moment, then nodded. "You'll do. Walk me into the dining room," she commanded.
Greg pursed his lips and held up his own cane. "Between the two of us we have one able person. If you're willing to risk it, then I am," he said doubtfully. If he fell she'd be squished like one of the latkes.
Elizabeth stepped up and grabbed his arm firmly. "C'mon then. I'm starved, and I want to see if those girls got the recipe right this year."
Uncle Isaac pulled himself up with a grunt. "About damn time, Lizzie. I could've told you he was a good boy. Now I'm going to have to take my pills late."
Greg smirked at James who only sighed and shook his head back. He was so going to owe his lover for this.
**
The meal was perfect and the first candles of Hanukkah lit. Ben and his wife watched as James sat next to Greg, both men radiating love and a contentment that they hadn't seen for a long time. Nine years ago they'd lost their other son, lost to a monster called mental illness, but they still had Joe and James, and they both had resolved to cherish the preciousness of the time they could spend with their sons.
It was late when James and Greg stepped onto the front porch stoop. Greg watched his lover patiently as he walked down the steps and checked up and down the street both ways, looking in vain hope for the missing brother.
"He could've been here," James said softly. "There are footprints in the snow."
House carefully made his way down the three small steps and wrapped an arm around James' shoulders. He wouldn't lie to his lover, couldn't spout false platitudes, but he could hold out hope. "If he was here then he could see that his family is happy."
Leaning his head against Greg's shoulder, watching their breath as it clouded in front of them, he blinked back tears. "Yeah," he looked up at House and gazed at the craggy face, with the blue eyes that held nothing back. "You make me happy."
Smiling, House leaned forward and kissed James gently. "Same goes. Now, to make me really happy I need a warm car, home, scotch and you."
James snorted. "I can see where I am on your list."
"Hey, two outta four ain't bad," Greg protested as they walked carefully to James' car.
"What do you mean, two out of four?" Wilson asked absently as he unlocked the door and began to help Greg in.
Greg looked up into his lover's face. "You ~are~ home to me."
Shocked by how much his eyes stung at this simple declaration, all James could do was lean in and kiss House fiercely, then pull back and nod. "Same goes."
Please post a comment on this story.
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 Fox Television, 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.
|
|
|