My Favorite Year

by Silver

Notes: I've tried real hard to make this story fit into storyline realistically. It's not that easy with the show's writing being oh so consistent >.>. I hope I've succeeded anyhow. I may have stretched it a little bit here and there, but the key dates should still be in place.

Thanks go to nara_cat at Livejournal who patiently answered all my questions about med school, Annie Booker for the beta and my good friends Kris and Leo for helping me through rough patches. This is the first fic in ages that I've actually written in acceptable time AND finished. Feels great! Hope you enjoy it!

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My Favorite Year

Panting heavily, the young man let his head fall back, sweat glistening on his face, making his brown hair stick to his skin. His eyes were closed as he struggled to catch his breath, the pink tip of his tongue flitting across his lips in an attempt to moisten them. He swallowed thickly.

Gregory House cut him a passive look while he tried to regain his composure as well. His heart was racing at 136 beats per minute and there was a pleasant pull in the muscles of his legs that this kind of activity usually brought with it. He welcomed it with a soft sigh. He rolled his head back and forth languidly, trying to loosen the muscles up a bit.

Later, he would recall this moment as a historic one. But right now, he wasn't thinking much about it at all. He was just blissfully enjoying the aftermath.

"Can I have some too?" the other man said breathlessly.

Greg raised his head and looked at the other man in confusion for a moment. "What?"

He pointed at the canteen that was fastened to House's belt. "Your bottle. I've forgotten my water bottle and I thought there was going to be a fountain around that corner, but I guess I was wrong." He licked his lips again. "I'm completely dehydrated, feeling near-syncopal. I bet my electrolytes are all screwed up, too."

Stretching one last time, House replied, "Then maybe you shouldn't have gone jogging." He detached the canteen from his belt anyhow. After taking a large gulp from it, he handed it over to the younger man.

"Thanks," he murmured and put it to his lips immediately, drinking greedily.

"No problem. You can have it all, if you want. I'm done for today."

The young man nodded gratefully, not putting the bottle down. House took the opportunity to size him up.

"Using big words... obviously not a professional athlete though, the undeniable shape of an ID badge peeking out from under your shirt, the faint yet unmistakable smell of formaldehyde, lines in four different colors on your fingers which I bet are from a clicky-pen... You're in med school, aren't you?"

"Yeah." He took the canteen down, shaking it briefly to check for its content. Then he poured the rest of the water over his head and neck. His breath had slowed down a bit by now. "My name is James Wilson. First year," he said, shaking the water out of his hair.

House stared for a moment, watching the water trickle down James' neck onto the already drenched t-shirt. He checked himself and cleared his throat. "I'm..."

"Gregory House, I know." At the surprised raise of eyebrows, James explained with a grin, "You're that guy who keeps arguing with the professor in the Grand Rounds."

House couldn't help but return the grin. "Right. That's where I know you from. I don't think I've ever seen a med student that young in a lecture like that."

James shrugged. "I've always been quick to pick up on things. Took AP classes in high school, finished that a year early, went to college, saved me another year there. I figured it wouldn't hurt to venture into the advanced classes as soon as possible."

A grin spread across House's face. "I bet you did, Boy Wonder."

This earned him a scandalized look from the younger man. "I beg your pardon?"

"How old are you, seventeen? Eighteen?"

"I'm nineteen."

"And your mommy let you out to play all alone at this hour?"

James blinked. "It's two p.m...."

House clicked his tongue. "That's gonna be tough."

A frown flickered across Wilson's face for just a brief moment. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"What I'm saying is that..." House glanced at his wristwatch. "I've got exactly fifteen minutes to get back to my room, shower and run to classes. Gonna be late for Hippy-Dippy. Bye." With that, House turned on his heels and disappeared across the pebbled path.

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It was the end of a long lecture on "Health Protection and Disease Prevention" that had left House with a slight feeling of ennui, when suddenly a bundle of books was dropped heavily on the table next to him. Soon later, the Boy Wonder slipped onto the seat. The ennui evaporated instantly.

House quirked an amused eyebrow. "You're eighty-five minutes too late. Then again, technically, you're too early. About two years."

Wilson gave him an apologetic smile. "I know. It took me a while to figure out what `Hippy-Dippy' was supposed to mean."

"Well, I had to make it difficult. Had to make sure you're worth it."

A girl in the row in front of them turned around and shushed at them with a scolding look. A crimson flush appeared on Wilson's cheeks, which House found most endearing. Yet he leaned forward and whispered, "Oh I'm sorry. Did I interfere with your taking notes of the professor's office hours which I'm sure is so important after you've futilely spent the past thirty minutes trying to make him pay attention to your admittedly rather impressive cleavage?"

The sound of two hundred students packing up and leaving drowned out the indignant cry of the girl as she stormed out of the lecture room.

"Guess I won't be invited to her birthday party next week," House said with a shrug.

Wilson laughed softly. "I can't think why. You were a model of tactfulness."

"What can I say. I'm a people person." With that, he turned around to face Wilson. "So, what brings me the pleasure of having my own private fan club follow me into a lecture?

Wilson raised an eyebrow at him. "That's your idea of a fan club? Your standards must be pretty low then." When House frowned at him, he added, "Oh, I'm sorry, my line probably should have been: `Club meeting's Tuesdays at seven'."

A grin spread across House's face. This boy promised to be a challenge and he appreciated a good one. "Fine, so you're not one of those kids who just started med school and heard about that famous Gregory House who's real smart in med stuff and want to be his best buddy so his smartness will rub off on you."

Wilson returned his look evenly. "What if I am?"

That took House by surprise for a second and he fumbled for a reply.

Grinning, Wilson reached for his satchel. "Oh don't worry, your smartness is safe. I don't need it to rub off on me."

"You don't?" House asked, feeling a little piqued.

"I think with a GPA of 4.0 and an MCAT of 42 I don't need to worry about that too much."

That made House blink a couple of times. "You got a 42? Impressive. I`ve heard rumors of mythical beasts prowling through the hallowed halls of medical schools with a score higher than 40, but I've never actually seen one up close." He made a squealing sound. "Oh, can I touch it?"

He was joking, but deep inside there was this tiny voice calling out to him that this boy here might become someone to even surpass the great Gregory House. The thought both excited and annoyed him. As much as he hated the fuss it created, he enjoyed being the resident legend.

"Okay, so you're not here for the lecture, you're not here for my brains, you're certainly not here for my captivating and compelling personality... that begs the question, what are you here for?"

Wilson opened the satchel that he had placed on his lap a while ago and pulled something out. "Here, you forgot your canteen this afternoon. I figured you might need it." He placed it on the table.

Feeling ridiculously disappointed, House grabbed it. "Oh, right. That's most thoughtful of you," he said, unable to keep a slight edge out of his voice.

"Don't mention it," Wilson replied, giving him a carefully measured look, but not saying anything else.

House waited a couple of more seconds, waiting for the younger man to start a conversation again, to say anything that would give him an opening. The feeling of disappointment rearing up again, House decided to end this quickly. "Well, thanks for coming all the way to return the canteen. Gotta run now." He got up from his seat, reaching for his notes and book bag.

"Hey, want to grab a bite at the cafeteria later?" the young man blurted out.

House stood there for a moment, considering. "I may be a rebel with a shocking yet strangely attractive disregard for authority and a complete contempt of danger, but I don't have a death wish." He watched the other man closely.

Wilson chewed on his lower lip, obviously considering his options. Then he looked up at House with a steady glance. "Well... we could meet at my place. I can make a rather tolerable peppered chicken. We could continue our conversation there."

"Cute. Not that I'd refuse the offer of a free meal, but that I can get at any club meeting. What could a nineteen year-old MSI possibly be offering me that would hold my interest for longer than ten minutes?"

Wilson's glance didn't waver. "I could make you an offer you can't refuse."

Feeling his curiosity tickled, House replied casually, "Godfather reference. Nice. I'm sold. Meet you at six at the main entrance?"

"I'll be there."

"Spiffy!"

*******************************

When House approached the main entrance at a quarter past six, he saw Wilson standing there, leaning against one of the columns. He had his leather satchel pressed against his chest and looked every bit a preppy frat boy, just the kind of person House usually avoided like the plague.

With a cynical smile to himself he actually found himself hoping that this Boy Wonder was indeed setting out to take over the crown of Legend of Med School and needed some closer monitoring, or else he was really wasting his time here. At least by the end of this evening he would know.

As soon as House exited the door, Wilson looked up and flashed him a genuine smile that wasn't devoid of a certain degree of relief. His heartbeat speeding up at the boyish smile, House suddenly knew exactly why he was here.

"It's just a short drive to my place," Wilson explained as they walked towards the parking lot. "I just need to run by the store on our way home so I can pick up a couple more things I need for the chicken."

"What more do you need?" House asked casually, bouncing his book bag on his knees as he walked. "You grab the TV dinner, punch a hole into the top and stick it in the microwave for five minutes."

Wilson shook his head at him with a smile. "I plan on being a bit more sophisticated than that."

They got into Wilson's car and drove off. After the promised short drive, he stopped in front of a small grocery store that lay nestled between two large buildings. The elegant exterior already suggested a different kind of patronage than the average college student.

House whistled. "Wow, no wonder I had no idea there was a grocery store down the street. That's definitely not meant for student budgeting."

"It's not that bad when you're looking for specialties. You wouldn't find those in most supermarkets anyway," Wilson said, grabbing a basket at the entrance. He headed straight for the produce stand and grabbed a container of prepackaged tomatoes.

"Tomatoes? You can't get tomatoes at a supermarket?"

"These aren't just any tomatoes. They're organic Roma tomatoes from California."

House blinked a couple of times. "Right. How could I confuse those?" He deemed it wise to not comment any further as Wilson put different kinds of spices and a pot of fresh rosemary into his basket. At the frozen food section, he took a bottle of chilled white wine from the fridge. Increasingly curious now, House trotted after Wilson who lined up at the check-out.

The clerk who rang up the sales gave Wilson a sizing glance, then asked for the I.D. as he punched in the price of the white wine. Wilson sliced House a quick glance and House flashed his driver's license with a broad grin.

Outside, House just couldn't stop himself anymore and he said, "Guess you should have checked with your mommy first."

Wilson glowered at him. "Shut up. Usually they're not like that. It must have been the glaring age difference between us that made me look that young."

"Yeah, right, that has nothing to do with you being nineteen..." House stopped. "Hey! I'm only twenty-six! I'm not that old!"

"Oh really, must be the beard then," Wilson commented dryly and continued walking.

House caught up with Wilson again. "That's not a beard, that's a five o'clock shadow. It's all the rage, I'm telling you. Haven't you ever watched Miami Vice?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Oh please. I'm not relying on Sonny Crockett to give me fashion tips."

"No, obviously you're getting yours from Murray Bozinsky."

House noted with satisfaction that Wilson took the jab in his stride as he changed the subject to more trivial matters.

Some ten minutes later, they were standing in front of a handsome apartment building that looked nothing like the rathole House had put up his tents in. Another thing in Wilson's life that definitely wasn't student budgeting.

"You live here?" House asked, still staring up at the white-washed walls.

"No, I just sneak into random apartments every evening and nobody's ever noticed so far," Wilson said, grinning when House looked at him in confusion, then laughing when House caught the joke and grinned back at him.

"You know, Wilson. I like you. Most people are so boring and actually answer questions."

"Glad to hear that," Wilson replied with a smile.

Later, House was sitting on a stool in Wilson's kitchenette and watching him chop up the tomatoes into small cubes while chicken breast fillets were simmering in the skillet on the stove.

"So, how come you know how to cook?" House picked up the conversation again after having fallen silent for a couple of minutes to watch Wilson. He took a sip from his white wine that Wilson had poured them both after using a little of it to simmer the chicken in.

The other man shrugged. "I've always enjoyed it. It's not that difficult. Comes natural for me." He added the tomato cubes together with the sweet peppers and mushrooms to the skillet and replaced the cover on top of it. Wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, he turned to face House.

House had to suppress a grin at the sight of Wilson wearing an apron. "Are you a natural at everything you do?" he asked teasingly.

The smile Wilson gave him made House catch his breath for a second. "Sometimes..."

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at the set table, eating the chicken and chatting.

"I've seen you at the `Pathophysiology of Pain' lecture," Wilson mentioned passively, cutting up his chicken. When House didn't reply, he continued. "So, you're interested in pain management?"

Chewing slowly, House thought about it for a second. Then he replied, "No, not really. I find it rather boring."

Wilson blinked. "Sick people bore you?"

"Of course! I'm just here for the babes. I hear chicks dig handsome doctors." He let his glance wander off for a second in a fake thoughtful expression. "Unless General Hospital has been lying to us the entire time..." At Wilson's reproachful look, House sobered. "Okay, seriously. I simply find pain management so hopeless. It's frustrating."

"It's frustrating to help people deal with chronic pain?"

House shrugged. "Chronic pain is just... the end of the road. It means that doctors can't help you anymore. No matter how hard you try, all you're going to achieve is to make their life a little more tolerable."

"And that's not enough for you?"

House gave him a long, thoughtful glance. "No, never enough."

Looking at him pensively, Wilson nodded and started scraping the sauce together on his plate with a piece of bread. They ate in silence for a while

House looked at the piece of chicken on his fork appreciatively. Closing his eyes, he put it into his mouth and chewed it slowly, savoring the taste of it. It was excellent. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed Wilson looking at him, a curious expression on his face.

"What?" he asked a little grumpily, swallowing down.

Wilson tore his eyes away from him and continued eating. "Nothing."

House loaded his fork again and shoved it into his mouth. "Come on."

With a sigh, Wilson said, "Well, I was just thinking that your expression was somewhat... er..." He looked away again, blushing. "Orgasmic."

House stopped chewing. He swallowed down dryly and coughed. After a swig of wine, he looked at Wilson with an incredulous expression on his face. "Orgasmic?"

The blush deepened.

"You think I'm looking orgasmic for food?" House chuckled. "My dear Wilson, I think you need to see me in the actual throes of orgasm then, if you call that orgasmic already."

"I wouldn't mind," Wilson mumbled under his breath.

House had heard that, but pretended not to at first. He wiped his mouth carefully with the napkin. Then he tossed it onto the plate and exclaimed, "Aha, I get it! Is this the offer? Food for sex? I'm touched, but not that desperate, I assure you."

Wilson looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "What? No!"

"It's not?"

"God, no!"

"But you were thinking about it."

"No!" Wilson hesitated. "Okay, maybe briefly, but that's not it!"

House chuckled at the sight of an embarrassed Wilson. "Oh, come on, no need to be so flustered. I understand. I'm quite smitten by myself. I'd do me any time."

"Yeah, I bet you and Mr. Hand are great friends," Wilson commented dryly.

"Ouch! Low blow." House stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth and swallowed it down with a gulp of wine. "Seriously, what is this all about?"

Sighing softly, Wilson leaned back in his chair. "Can't it just be that I thought it'd be nice to spend some time with you?"

"For what purpose?"

"No purpose at all. It just seemed like a good idea to spend time with you. You're nice..."

"And you're a poor liar."

Wilson cut him a reproachful glance. "It may seem like a strange concept to you, but there are things such as spontaneous attraction. You just see someone and like them. No trick behind it. The end result of this rather queer procedure might be equally confusing to you: it's a friend. A friend, per definition, is someone who enjoys spending time with you, despite actually knowing you."

House looked pensive. "So we're talking about friendship now?"

Wilson just tilted his head to the side in an inviting gesture. "Or do I need to kneel down and propose?"

"That would certainly be an amusing part I could get a kick out of, but for the sake of your kneecaps and my sanity I think we should skip this part and move right on to where I'm telling you that you're a creepy freak who seems to have a strange attraction to maverick prodigy doctors that can only end in either the exposure of naked body parts for purely scientific reasons, or maybe a little unadulterated sex on the side, or complete mayhem, the kind where you climb up Burton Tower on Sunday morning shouldering daddy's hunting gun."

"Sunday morning? The campus would be deserted then."

"That's exactly what I mean! Even for running amok you'd be too organized and careful! What makes you think we're compatible?

Wilson shrugged. "Call it a hunch."

"Well, I like to base my hunches on at least a smidgeon of reality." Feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the way this conversation was heading, House pushed his chair back and got up. "Thanks for the dinner and the pleasant evening, but I believe this is my cue to bow out for tonight."

Wilson got up as well. "All right. Do you need a ride?" he said casually, making no attempt to hold him back.

Slightly peeved at that, House replied, "No thanks, I can use a bit of fresh air and I'll take the bus the rest of the way." He started for the door.

"Wait," Wilson said. House turned around with a feeling of satisfaction which was immediately squashed when he continued, "I saw you had the latest issue of the Annals. Think I could borrow it?"

"Oh." A feeling of bitterness swept through House. So he did have a reason for all this after all. He reached for his book bag and pulled out the journal. "Didn't know you were into emergency medicine."

Wilson took the journal and shrugged. "I'm not." When House frowned, he said, "I figured you'd prefer to believe this was the reason why I invited you." He put the journal down on the nearest table without even looking at it. "And now you'll have to come back for it."

Feeling stumped for a moment, House took a moment to reply. "You can keep it, I've finished it already." That was a lie, but he'd be damned if he admitted that to Wilson.

Apparently he didn't need to because he saw a smug grin spread over the other man's face. "You can't avoid me indefinitely, you know that."

Turning to the door, House murmured, "We'll see about that..."

*******************************

One lesson that House was loathe to learn soon was that apparently it was impossible to escape a First Year as they seemed to have way too much free time on their hands. Or maybe this was just Wilson. At any rate, no matter where he turned, Wilson seemed to be there.

When he was skipping the line at the sandwich guy to grab a quick lunch, Wilson usually would be in that line as well. When he went to the library to check out the latest publications, he'd be told that somebody else was currently reading them and he'd find a brunette head bowed over a journal behind a stack of books. When he walked out to the park during a free period to relax under his favorite tree, he'd find a certain someone already sitting there, engrossed in a book.

And those were just the situations that could be attributed to coincidence and didn't even account for all the times when Wilson deliberately showed up in one of the lectures House attended, furiously taking notes, thus making House feel like he was missing out on something important.

House could stand this for exactly one week before he decided to corner the younger man in the Great Hall. Or rather, what he did was holler "Wilson!" across the Hall, causing all heads to snap in his direction. Wilson turned crimson and rushed towards him.

"What do you want, House?" he asked in a hushed voice.

House ignored him. "Do you still have classes today?"

"Well, I was going to go to..."

"Skip it. You're coming with me." House grabbed Wilson by the sleeve and dragged him through the Hall with students staring after them curiously.

"What? But why? What's going on?" Wilson asked, exasperated, while he tried to keep up.

"Less talking, more walking."

Obviously realizing that pressing for answers before House was willing to give them was useless, Wilson fell silent and finally managed to catch up. House let go of the other man's sleeves and strode on. As they were walking down the hallway, House noticed with surprise how their steps fell into synch without him even trying on purpose. It just seemed like their natural stride.

At the parking lot, House immediately spotted Wilson's car and demanded the keys with an impatient wave of his hand.

"Do you know how to drive a stick?" Wilson asked as he handed the keys over to House reluctantly.

"No, but how hard can that be?"

Twenty minutes later, House knew. After almost not making it off the parking lot, he had killed the engine more often than he cared to count, causing the drivers behind them to honk at them furiously every time. Every time he had forgotten to shift gears, the engine had howled in agony, along with Wilson who had sat in the passenger seat, alternating between yelling instructions and sending prayers.

They got out of the car and House tossed Wilson the keys. "Well, I guess I can't be a genius at everything."

Wilson looked disheveled as if he had just spent seven hours assisting in a complicated heart surgery. House acknowledged that the look was rather becoming on him.

"Where are we, House?" Wilson asked in despair, looking around the neighborhood. House walked up next to him and waited for him to take in the look of the run-down houses with the paintjobs long overdue, the busted-up, old cars, the bleak and messy backyards.

"This is where I live," House replied, enjoying the look of shock on the younger man's face. "I thought you'd like to see it since you've been following me into every other aspect of my life over the past week."

"This is... er, this is nice," Wilson said, rather unconvincingly.

House laughed. "No need to lie. I know what kind of dump I live in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt that you know it, too. Come on." They walked towards one of the houses. "They've converted a lot of the houses in this area to accommodate more tenants," House explained as he started climbing up a rather rickety staircase that had quite clearly been put there to allow access to the attic. "I like it, because the rent is affordable and I don't need to deal with annoying next-door neighbors. The only other party sharing this house is Neil downstairs. He's a law student who spends most of his days studying while smoking pot and listening to The Doors. So that's pretty good company."

He unlocked the door with his key and pushed it open. "Welcome to my crash pad," he said with an inviting gesture inside.

He waited until Wilson stepped inside, then followed him and kicked the door shut behind them. He watched the younger man look around and tried to imagine the impression it must be making on him.

His place was chaotic, but clean. He didn't have a lot of furniture, but there wasn't really room for it anyway. Under the window at the other side of the room lay his mattress, sheets unmade as usual. Next to the mattress were stacks of journals and magazines with a couple of dime-store novels thrown in between. On top of one of the stacks was his alarm clock balancing haphazardly, threatening to slip down at any moment. In front of the mattress on an upturned crate sat his TV.

His kitchen consisted of a rather vintage looking fridge, a cupboard housing a portable hotplate, a microwave and a couple of pots and dishes and a sink. In one corner of the room, a small cabin had been separated from the rest of the room to function as his bathroom. At the other side of room was his desk, overflowing with notes, books and other junk, the office chair covered with clothes and shelves full of medical books and random objects he treasured for no apparent reason.

"This is cozy," Wilson said, turning to him. He didn't look like he was hiding his true opinion.

"You think?" House replied casually, pushing an empty pizza box in the general direction of the trashcan with his foot.

Wilson grimaced. "Except for the mess, maybe, but that can be fixed." When House didn't reply, he added, "Why, do you expect me to run away in terror? You think this is the first time I've seen how other students shack up? You think I don't know that I'm just lucky to have wealthy parents who can afford to put me through med school? You think you're the first one who's tried to make me feel bad about that?"

The heated speech surprised House and he hesitated with his answer. "Honestly... I don't know what to think."

"If you had just brought me here because you wanted me to see where you live, I'd be happy! But you're obviously trying to prove something with it and I just don't get you." Wilson stepped closer. "Are you trying to prove that we're just too different to be friends?"

Feeling Wilson so close seriously messed with his ability to think clearly, so House took a step to the side and walked around the other man into the room. "Look around you," he said challengingly. "Do I look like someone with a lot of friends?" He pointed at the office chair. "I've got exactly one chair and not even that is fit to be offered to a guest." He pointed at the fridge. "I eat microwaved food while sitting on my bed, watching soaps. When I'm not doing that, I'm at the hospital doing rotations, night shifts and scrubbing in. Or I read medical journals and study. This is all my life consists of."

Wilson moved in closer again. "All the more reason to seek the company of a friend."

Turning his head upwards in exasperation, House exclaimed, "You just don't get it. I don't do friends."

"You could give it a try..." Wilson said enticingly, his face very close to House's.

That was when something just snapped inside of House. Maybe it was the last string of restraint he had forced upon himself, or maybe it was just his resolve to not get further involved with this unnerving First Year. But the next thing he knew he was grabbing Wilson by the shoulders and pushing him backwards towards the mattress.

When Wilson's heels touched the mattress and he swayed, trying to keep his balance, House murmured, "This is the only kind of company I entertain." With that, he gave Wilson a hard push, forcing him down on the mattress. The young man yelped in surprise and tried to scramble back to his feet, but House was on top of him in an instant, pinning him down.

House's lips descended on Wilson's, unstoppable, like a wave crashing down on the shore. The younger man sighed and opened his mouth to the assault, welcoming the invading tongue eagerly. That made House moan in return, deepening the kiss. He felt Wilson's hands digging into his hair, pulling him in even more and for a moment he felt like he was drowning. The feeling was intoxicating.

With the greatest effort, he managed to tear himself away from those lips and he whispered against the other man's mouth, "Last chance to leave. After that, I'm not gonna stop."

"Don't stop," Wilson murmured and pulled him back into the embrace.

They kissed like this for a long time, so long that House had lost all concept of time and his lips were tingling from the continuous contact. Sometimes Wilson was on top, sometimes he, buttons were opened and clothes shrugged off. Every time House bared a patch of soft skin on Wilson's body, he moved down to explore it with lips, tongue and hands, causing the younger man to writhe under his touch.

It didn't last long and soon they were both naked, every last bit of skin exposed and explored. House slid over Wilson's body, pulling the younger man's legs apart and opening him to his touch. With his other hand he reached down between their bodies and took hold of their cocks, squeezing them together tightly.

He gave a tentative thrust with his hips, watching for the smallest change of expression on Wilson's face. But all he saw was his handsome features twisted into an articulation of pure pleasure. Wilson was clearly way beyond the realms of normal perception.

House let go of their erections, eliciting a groan of complaint from the other man. But it was soon stifled when House began rubbing the head of his cock along Wilson's slick crevice which he had prepared during his thorough explorations with a glob of lube from his examination kit.

Aligning himself carefully, he reached up to cup Wilson's face. Struggling to maintain control, he brushed wet strands of hair out of the other man's brows with shaking fingers, raining soft kisses onto his face.

Wilson's eyes fluttered open, slowly focusing on him. "What's... wrong..." he gasped.

Smiling at the question, House pressed another kiss in the other man's forehead. "You seemed so out of it, I just wanted to make sure you realize it's me you're in bed with." Then he locked their lips in a lingering kiss while he slowly slid into Wilson's warm, receptive body.

As if to reassure him, Wilson pulled his mouth away from the kiss and breathed a long drawn "Housssse..." against his ear while he wrapped his legs more tightly around his hips.

Groaning deep in his chest, House pushed his arms under Wilson's back and pulled him closer to his body, battling to keep his control and not lose himself in the endless depths of the other man's body.

But that was easier thought than done, for as soon as he began to move, ripples of pleasure began coursing through his body, destroying the last bit of reign he had over himself. Every movement brought him a little bit closer to the edge and he could only hope that Wilson was experiencing something similar, as he felt unable to slow down now.

He pressed his mouth against Wilson's shoulder as he thrust, enjoying the cries of pleasure each motion of his hips coaxed out of the man below him. He heard a strangled cry and felt Wilson tense, for a moment, seemingly suspended in time. Then the warm wetness of Wilson's climax spilled out between them. That was enough to push him over the edge as well and he clung onto the younger man's body tightly, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh between shoulder and neck as he gave into the peak of his pleasure.

When the fog of passion slowly lifted from his mind, House realized that he was lying on top of Wilson with all his weight and he tried to retreat apologetically. But he was halted by the arms and legs still wrapped around his body, not letting him go.

"Don't go," Wilson whispered, still breathless.

House smiled. "I'm not going anywhere. I just want to make us both more comfortable."

"I'm comfortable," Wilson murmured, relaxing his grip anyhow.

House slid off the younger man's body and pulled him against his shoulder. Then he just waited for his heart rate and breathing to return to normal, turning over the question in his mind all the while whether this was an awkward situation now or not.

He never knew how to act around a person right after sex and admittedly this situation was even weirder than usual. He felt the need to say something witty now, but nothing came to mind. He just felt tired, sated... content.

That thought surprised him since usually he would be straining now to find the right words in order to get the other one out of his bed and out of his life. Right now, that wasn't even an issue since he could tell by the way Wilson's body had gone slack against his shoulder that he had fallen asleep.

So he settled in for spending the night with Wilson, who somehow had insisted on forcing himself into his life, and for some reason House had forgotten all the reasoning against it.

*******************************

House woke to the sounds of someone moving around in his room. Opening his eyes reluctantly, he could tell that it was way too early to be doing anything other than sleeping. A squint at the alarm clock on the floor confirmed his suspicion.

"God, it's six a.m. Go back to bed," he groaned, pulling a pillow over his head.

"I can't," Wilson replied, talking softly as if he was afraid to wake him up. "I need to get back to my apartment first before going to classes."

"Why."

"I need to get a couple of things."

"Like what."

"Fresh clothes, for one. My notes... a comb. Did it ever occur to you that there's no mirror in your room?"

Pulling the pillow off his face, House looked around the room. "Now that you mention it..." He dropped his head back on the mattress. "Grooming is so overrated." He felt the mattress shift as James sat down on it next to him. He opened one eye again to look up at the other man. "Can I help you?"

Wilson leaned in and kissed House lightly on the mouth. When he pulled back, House licked his lips thoughtfully and said, "Is this the part where you tell me that you're going to call me tomorrow but we both know that you never will?"

Smiling, Wilson said, "Do you think I would have spent all this time chasing you only to run off now?"

"Well, you are leaving at a rather ungodly hour. Maybe you were hoping I wouldn't wake up so you wouldn't need to do all the kissing off business."

Wilson looked at him thoughtfully. "I never know when you're joking and when you're serious."

"I'm always dead serious. Isn't that obvious?"

"Of course. Stupid me." Wilson fished for his shoe with his toes and pulled it over to him. "Just to be sure: I have every intention of calling you very soon. As a matter of fact, want to meet up again tonight?"

House sighed and rolled onto his stomach, watching Wilson tie his shoes. "No, I can't. I'll be scrubbing in at a surgery at five and it might take a while."

"How about... oh damn, I almost forgot dinner with the folks on Friday. How about Saturday then?"

House hesitated. "Saturday's no good... I gotta be somewhere then."

Looking a bit like a kicked puppy, Wilson said, "Oh, okay... Guess I'll see you when I see you then..." He wavered, then said with an insecure smile. "You're not kissing me off, are you?"

"No, of course not. Usually I try to get more than one shag out of it before I forget to return the phone calls." House immediately regretted the quip when he saw the look on Wilson's face. "Okay, that was a bad joke. I'm not like that, really."

"Sure," Wilson replied, not sounding entirely convinced. He finished straightening out his clothes and then just sat there on the mattress with his back turned to House. "So... what does this make us now?" he said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"This thing... I mean, us doing this... what does that make us?"

"You want me to send out application forms for the Gay Alliance?"

House thought he could see the flush reaching all the way to the nape of Wilson's neck. "No! That's not what I meant at all! I was thinking about us, that's all. What should we call this thing?"

House groaned. "God, Jimmy, can we postpone the self-analyzing until after breakfast? Preferably somewhere around noon?"

Wilson nodded curtly. "Sure... no problem." He got up and turned around slowly to face House. It was obvious he still wanted to say something about this issue. After another moment's hesitation, he said, "It's just that I don't want this."

House frowned. "What?"

"I don't want us to be just fuck buddies. I want more than that." Before House had a chance to reply, he said quickly, "Guess I should go now then."

"Fine, go then," House exclaimed in an overly dramatic voice in an attempt to lighten up this conversation. "I will hug my pillow in my cold, deserted bed, thinking about how nice it was when I still had company. At least I got to enjoy you cuddling up against me all night." It worked.

"I did not do that!" Wilson exclaimed, embarrassed once more.

"Right," House replied dryly. "You passed out right after sex and slept like a log until now." Then he added with a grin, "Doesn't mean I haven't diddled you a bit while you were out."

Wilson laughed. "House, you're impossible!"

"Yes, but I'm quite possibly also the best sex you've ever had."

Wilson didn't reply to that, just smiled. "Well... see you around," he said softly and then walked towards the door.

*******************************

A quiet Saturday night went by at The Vault where House sat at the piano in the back of the bar, playing one slow, jazzy piece after the other, occasionally crooning along when he felt like it. He didn't so much care about the people listening to him over their drinks, sporadically asking requests from him. To him it was a way to wind down a bit, relax after a long week at the university.

It was well after ten o'clock when House felt the sudden need to jerk out of his usual trance-like playing and look over to the entrance where a couple were just descending down the narrow staircase that led into the bar. His fingers faltered barely noticeably when he realized that it was Wilson with a cute blonde in tow.

Playing calmly, he watched them walk across the bar to an empty table, Wilson helping her out of her coat and looking around to find the coat rack. Their glances met and he registered the lack of surprise on Wilson's face as he started walking towards him.

House started playing `As Time Goes By'. "Now isn't that a coincidence... Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, you had to walk into mine," he said casually, giving his best Humphrey Bogart impression without ceasing to play. "Trying to make me jealous?"

Not even pretending to look guilty, Wilson leaned against the piano lightly and looked at him. "Actually, I saw the matchbook in your room the other day, and since you don't smoke..."

"Aw shoot, you're not supposed to cave in that fast. You were supposed to deny it at first, insist that this was all a huge coincidence, that the girl is just a good friend of yours and it's not as it looks. You're just helping her through a rough patch since she's just been dumped by her boyfriend." He added a jazzy flourish to the refrain.

"Well, she is just a good friend..." Wilson stopped mid-sentence. "How do you know all of that?"

"The powers of deduction," House answered with a grin, letting the song bleed out softly into the next one. "After your little books of matches stunt I just had to ensure my superior position. It's all about body language, my dear Wilson. The way you entered the bar, not touching her unnecessarily, being the perfect image of a gentleman. Added to that the rather unbecoming red, tear-stained eyes of your friend, that her make-up isn't quite concealing."

"What makes you think that I wasn't the one who made her cry?" Wilson interrupted him slyly.

House clicked his tongue. "Ah, but she wouldn't go to a jazz bar with you afterwards, would she. And then of course there's the strongest, most revealing clue..." He paused, mostly for added effect, but also because he had reached a rather difficult part in the song. Once he was past that, he continued. "You have the distinct air of someone who's just had incredible sex not so long ago and therefore has no need to look elsewhere since the person you had it with is still readily available."

Wilson laughed. "You cheat, you had insider information on that one."

"I'll use any advantage I can. You should know that by now." He gave Wilson a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Letting his glance wander across the bar, he said, "Go back to your friend. I'll be busy for a while here."

Wilson nodded hesitantly. "Fine, I won't bother you then."

"You're not bothering me. I can do many things at once. I'm cool like that. But it would be so rude to let Nurse Betty sit over there all alone and I don't want to be deprived of the pleasure of watching you try to get into her panties for the rest of the evening."

"Actually, her name is Ingrid."

"Swedish?"

"No..."

"Too bad."

House watched Wilson walk back to his table. For the rest of the night, he watched them, careful not to make it too obvious. Every time Nurse Betty laughed at something Wilson said or Wilson seemed to be a little too relaxed, House felt this strange jab in his stomach. Being a brilliant physician, he diagnosed this as indigestion. Couldn't have been jealousy. Now that would have been too absurd.

The night went by and the bar slowly emptied. Nurse Betty faked a yawn and said something to Wilson, who nodded and went to get her coat. They left together and House's indigestion reared up again. He stopped playing, his fingers refusing to move. With a sigh, he took a sip from his drink, allowing his mind to wander off for a while.

He hadn't seen Wilson for days now which was somewhat strange after having been pursued by him in such a persistent fashion before. More than once, he had caught himself looking over his shoulder, half expecting, half hoping to see Wilson there. After a day of that, he had realized with the strangest feeling of defeat that he was actually missing him. Even more defeating was the realization how much it bothered him to see Wilson actually spending time with someone else.

"So... you're playing piano in a bar. The mystery of Gregory House never ends."

Wilson's voice yanked him out of his reverie and he had to force himself not to look too surprised, and overjoyed, at seeing Wilson back in the bar, which was now completely empty except for the staff cleaning up.

"I like playing the piano, it relaxes me," he replied, refusing to analyze his reaction any further. "I can't have one where I'm living now, but I can't live without my piano. This seems to be the easiest way to get to a piano, earn a little bit of money and get free drinks." He looked around pointedly. "Where's Nurse Betty?"

Rolling his eyes at the persistent misnaming, Wilson replied, "Ingrid was tired and wanted me to drive her home. She asked me to stay with her..."

Not pointing out the obvious, House was just grateful that Wilson had decided to come back instead.

The bartender switched off the lights behind the bar and took off his apron. He walked towards the two men at the piano. "I'm done here for tonight, Greg. Just switch off the rest of the lights when you leave, okay?"

House lifted his hand in a casual wave. "No problem, Chris. Take care."

The bartender left the bar through the narrow staircase and the sound of a door being locked could be heard throughout the otherwise quiet room.

Wilson frowned. "Did he just lock us in?"

Grinning, Greg moved the piano bench back. "Don't worry, I've got keys. Chris lets me stay here when I want to play without people listening. That way I can play a different kind of music, experiment a bit..." He grabbed Wilson around the waist and pulled him in front of him. When Wilson's leg's touched the keyboard, a melodic dissonance filled the room.

Wilson's eyes darted to the entrance nervously. "Are you sure nobody can come in?"

"Positive," House murmured and pulled Wilson down into a smoldering kiss.

The younger man moaned and shifted to put his hands on House's shoulder, causing several disjointed notes to fly through the vault of the bar.

Breaking the kiss, House looked down to where his hands busied themselves with opening the buttons of Wilson's shirt.

"Should we be doing this?" Wilson asked, breathless from the kissing.

House hesitated. "Hm... we probably shouldn't. But I just enjoy seeing your chest too much, so humor me." He finished unbuttoning and pulled the shirt apart. "There..." He leaned in and ran his tongue across Wilson's collarbone, tasting the mix of cologne and perspiration on the skin while rubbing his hands down the sides of the other man's lean body.

"House..." James moaned, putting his hand on Greg's head as he licked and kissed his way across his chest.

"Relax, Jimmy," House murmured between rough kisses against the other man's soft skin. "I just want to do this for a while..." He looked up with a grin. "Besides... I owe you after you giving up your chance to get laid on a Saturday night."

Wilson froze. "Is that what this is about?" He groaned when House cupped his erection roughly through his pants.

"Well, you were the one showing up here with a sexy blonde as your date," House said, rubbing the head of Wilson's hardness through his pants.

"Y-yes, but... ah... I was just trying to be nice... she needed someone to keep her company..."

House gave the bulge a rough squeeze, forcing another moan from the other man. "Doesn't explain why you needed to bring her here, of all places."

"I... ah, I..."

"It's okay, Jimmy. Just say it. It's not that hard." Casually, House began unbuttoning Wilson's pants, pulling the zipper down slowly.

"I..." Wilson let out a deep moan and leaned his head against House's shoulder, panting heavily. "God, please... Greg, touch me."

"I don't know, Jimmy. I'm feeling a little vulnerable right now. I don't know how to take this, you showing up with a date... just days after we've had sex for the first time," he said teasingly, his fingers just ghosting across James' erection now.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Wilson said, "Fine! I'll admit it. I just wanted to see how you'd react! I didn't think you'd care!"

House smiled coldly. "Who says I care?" He smothered Wilson's reply with a crushing kiss, finally slipping his hand past the waistband of the younger man's underwear, taking his cock into a tight grip. He drank in Wilson's cries of passion as he expertly stroked him towards completion.

When Wilson came into his hand with a strangled moan, House pressed his shuddering form against his chest, closing his eyes as he waited for the other man's jerks to subside. He listened to the cacophonous chords of the piano as James slid off the keyboard and onto his lap.

After holding and rocking Wilson gently for a couple of minutes, the younger man finally came back to life and looked at House with a sated expression. Carefully, House withdrew his hand and wiped it on a napkin.

A sparkle of understanding crept into Wilson's otherwise sex-numbed eyes. "Uh... what about you, House?"

"I'm fine," House replied curtly, willing his throbbing erection to quiet down.

Without replying, Wilson laid his head back against House's shoulder. After a while, he said quietly. "So, what are we now?"

House had been contemplating the question himself for the past couple of days. "I don't know," he said. "Friends, I suppose."

Wilson didn't say anything for a while. Then he lifted his head and looked at him with a cheeky grin. "Guess that means you're doing friends after all."

Clicking his tongue, House replied, "Ah, I just enjoy doing you in particular, my dear Wilson." And forcing his carefree smile back into place, he said, "So, I guess that settles it. We're friends... with benefits!"

*******************************

The news on campus spread like a wildfire. The legendary Gregory House had a friend. A real friend, not just the imaginary one that House claimed to compel him to relay his startlingly accurate insults to the people he was talking to. No, this was a perfectly real person of flesh and blood. And not just any person, it was young James Wilson, that teen prodigy who'd managed to enter med school as the youngest in generations.

Why these two would have decided to hook up with each other was incomprehensible to everyone. But the facts spoke clearly. At lunch hours they would sit together, talking with their heads close together, oblivious to anyone who might have approached their table and tried to join in on their conversation. They sat together in the library for hours, reading the latest medical publications side by side, turning the pages in unison. Several times per week they could be seen jogging through the park together. They picked each other up after lectures if the other one didn't have classes and walked back home together.

Rumor had it that Wilson had somehow managed to persuade the elusive genius House to tutor him, a notion which struck the hearts of every other MSI with envy. How he had managed to do that remained a mystery. At any rate, there was no doubt about it to anyone: Gregory House and James Wilson were friends.

Sometimes, Greg would joke about the curious glances they still attracted occasionally, even though the sense of sensation had faded once people got used to seeing them together. Most of the time, he just ignored them, like he did with everything else that he didn't want to concern himself with.

To House, his final year in med school went by like a breeze. Between the exhausting rotations, the Grand Rounds, the exams and fussing about the future, his days were filled with Wilson. Even though he never admitted it to the younger man, he looked forward to spending the evenings with him, either discussing medically relevant subjects or just lying on the couch, huddled against each other and watching TV, with Wilson resting against his chest and a bowl of popcorn balancing on the other man's back.

And then, of course, there were the nights sometimes filled with softly breathed kisses and featherlike touches, sometimes with consuming embraces and passionate thrusts. But they all ended with Wilson shouting out his release while House buried himself in the other man with a breathless shudder.

This aspect of their friendship was hidden from public view, of course, even though House wouldn't have minded. He enjoyed yanking people's chains one way or the other. For Wilson's sake he pretended that he didn't want to jump his bones every time he licked his lips or reached up to loosen the tie that he still refused to lose, maintaining he'd better get used to proper doctor's attire now than later. For Wilson's sake, he was just the tutor.

Although that meant putting up with all those nights when Wilson returned home, smelling of perfume and cigarette smoke, with lipstick on his collar and a guilty smile on his face. The first time it had happened, House hadn't know how to deal with it. He hadn't been sure whether he was upset or angry or jealous, or all at the same time. The second time, he had felt surprised that Wilson apparently hadn't been impressed by his reaction and he had realized he was probably too good at veiling his true emotions in snarks and witticisms. After the third time, he had numbed down to it.

"We need to go on dates with girls, or else people will start talking," Wilson had offered as a reason, but House had known that it was a lie. Wilson didn't care about that, he just wanted to pluck the sweet fruits where they were offered and House let him because he had no way to stop him.

"I hope at least I'm the only guy you're dating," he had said jokingly, silently dreading the reply.

"What do you think," had been the casual reply. He didn't know what to think.

But this was just a tiny speck on an otherwise very pleasant affair.

The months went by and the times he could spent with Wilson became scarce as reality demanded its spot back in his schedule. Exams began to take over every aspect of his existence and sometimes he remotely wondered about this elusive concept of a private life that he used to have.

If it hadn't been for Wilson, he probably would have forgotten to eat, shower or sleep for days at a time, but in his usual manner, Wilson had decided to invade his schedule once more and kept him company during the most excessive hours of his studying sessions, working on his own exam preparations then and sifting through the load of his study material, or he'd just sit with him, rub his shoulders occasionally and insist he take breaks and relax.

At night, when he'd collapse on his bed in exhaustion, he'd often find a sleeping Wilson curled up on one side, face resting on some opened book. Then he'd gently pull the book out from under his face and spread the cover across them both, spooning up against the other man while he drifted off into sleep. He allowed himself that weakness when no one was looking. In the morning, Wilson usually never remembered how he'd fallen asleep anyway, so House didn't need to worry about that.

*******************************

Whistling to the music on his walkman, House locked the door to his small room in the attic. As he descended the creaky stairs that connected his small attic room to the outside world, Neil left his room as well. When Neil saw him, he raised his hand and yelled "Hey, House!" loudly enough for House's ears to ache through the beat of The Rolling Stones.

This was a bit of a vicious cycle they were stuck in. House put on his walkman, hoping that would stop people from trying to talk to him. Neil was talkative and knew that House was always wearing a walkman, so he tried to talk loud enough for House to hear him anyway. This always prompted House to take off the headphones, because he didn't want everyone in the neighborhood to listen to their conversation.

"Hey, Neil," he said with a pained smile, pulling down the headphones.

"Where's that eager student of yours?" Neil yelled, apparently unaware that House had taken off the headphones.

"Wilson? He's meeting up with his folks tonight. Some family thing," House replied, markedly pressing the stop button on the walkman and hoping for Neil to get it.

"Ah..." Neil said, talking normally now. "And you're not invited?"

House frowned. "No... why should I be? I'm his tutor, not his boyfriend."

"Yeah, right. Because I make all my students cry out my name between `Oh God!' and `More' too."

"I think you're smoking too much weed," House said, secretly congratulating himself for preferring Wilson's place for getting together, since apparently the walls of his were paper thin.

"Hey, it's cool, man. I'm not one to judge people. Whatever makes you happy, man."

"Yeah, whatever... dude." I really need to move, House thought to himself. "I really am his tutor. I'm doing all the tutory things there are. We discuss the latest journals." Between sex. "I quiz him on anatomy." All over his body. "I explain examination procedures to him." All. Night. Long. "Seriously, his grades have been great since I've been tutoring him."

Neil laughed. "I'd say his grades have been fine despite you tutoring him. Speaking of which, how did the boards go?"

Surprised at the quick change of subject, House replied, "They were fine, no problem. Drove up to Chicago for Step II, made a short weekend getaway out of it with Wilson..." He interrupted himself when he realized just how much he'd made them sound like a couple again.

Thankfully, Neil seemed to have missed that part and carried on the conversation. "So... have you decided on your residency yet? When are you submitting the papers for the Match?"

House hesitated. "I still need to finalize it. It's kinda difficult deciding on which one to rank as your first... so many pros and cons. I've been thinking about a residency right here in Ann Arbor."

"Huh, Ann Arbor? What about Hopkins? I thought you said you were going to go there. You've been working on that since you started med school, basically."

House looked to the side. "Yeah, but I don't know. Hopkins is pretty tough to get into. I don't want to end up at some crap place. And Wilson's still in med school and Maryland is so far away..."

Neil laughed again and whacked his shoulder. "And you're saying you're not his boyfriend. You're such a liar, House."

Rubbing his shoulder, House shrugged. "Well, I gotta move either way since my lease is coming up and med school is over now. I figured it'd be smart to find a roomie and share a place."

"Oh, and you conveniently decided that your cute little student would just so happen to be the perfect room mate for you. Got it."

"Yeah, I'm a romantic at heart. I'm meeting him tonight for dinner and then I'm gonna spring the big question, the three magic words... Wanna share rent?"

"I see you've got it all figured out. What if he says no, though?"

Not letting it show how just the thought of this made his heart hurt in a strange way, House hid himself behind a grin and said, "Then my heart will break into a thousand pieces and I'll be on the first Greyhound out of town!"

Neil laughed and moved to whack his shoulder again, but House evaded him neatly. Rather suddenly, Neil sobered up. "Wish you'd reconsider that residency, man. It's a great chance for you and if Wilson really cares, he'll understand."

House sighed. "I know. But some things are just worth letting slip by in order for something even better."

*******************************

House let himself into Wilson's apartment with his key and kicked the door shut behind him. He was barely in when the phone started ringing. Still loaded with his book bag, groceries and a stack of journals tucked under his arm, Greg walked over to the low table and picked up the receiver.

"Wilson residence. Personal sex slave Gregory House speaking!" he said.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you just said that! What if somebody I know had called?" Wilson yelled at the other end.

House grinned. "Everyone you know is either with you at the moment and doesn't need to call or care whether I'm pounding you into the mattress or not."

Wilson didn't reply immediately and House just knew he was pinching the root of his nose again in a struggle for patience. "Regardless, I'd prefer you didn't answer my phone like that."

"Fine, but I'm still going to read out passages from your diary to everyone who knows the secret password."

"What's the secret password?"

"I can't tell you, or else it wouldn't be secret, duh." House held the receiver in place against his ear with his shoulder while attempting to get rid of all the bags he was carrying.

"Everything okay over there?" Wilson asked when the stack of journals slid on the floor with a loud rustle.

"Yeah, I was just trying to put down some things..." Greg mumbled absent-mindedly, looking at the mess of his journals with a slight feeling of irritation. He had just sorted them all by date!

"Wow, a straight answer. I'm going to have to mark that one down in my calendar," was the dry reply from Wilson.

"Foiled again!"

Wilson laughed. "Listen, I'm calling to tell you that I might get delayed a bit over here."

"What, is your mommy making you pick up your room first before you can go see your friends?"

"Haha, very funny," Wilson replied stiffly. "You know where I'd rather be right now."

A smile wisped across House's face. "How long you think it's going to take you?"

Wilson sighed. "I don't know... Not too long, I hope."

"Well, you better hurry home soon, or I'm gonna take desperate measures... I'm gonna cook!"

A dramatic gasped could be heard on the other side. "Oh no! Someone get that spatula away from him before people get hurt!"

House changed the receiver to the other ear, chuckling softly. "Don't take too long, Jimmy."

"I won't." There was a small pause. "House?"

The bantering tone had left Wilson's voice and House found himself clutching the receiver more tightly. "Yes?"

Another moment of hesitation. "Beer's in the fridge."

House relaxed. "So thoughtful. Now I only need my good wife to bring it to the couch for me."

Wilson's laugh in reply seemed a little strained. "Well, gotta run. Bye."

Greg said his bye to the click of the phone line and he hung up with the oddest feeling of premonition.

That night, Wilson didn't return home for a long time. House had waited at the young man's place all evening long, listlessly leafing through the journals and eating the left-over macaroni and cheese for a midnight snack. He'd fallen asleep on the couch, snoring softly with the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest spread out across his chest, when the lock finally clicked and the door swung open.

House woke up immediately, bolting upright. The magazine slid off his chest and onto the plate of half-finished macaroni on the floor. He squinted at Wilson who was standing in the doorway, his coat drawing a silhouette against the light of the corridor.

"Hey," House croaked, his voice still rough from the sleep.

"Hey," was the disembodied reply, hovering through the darkness.

Rubbing his eyes, House asked, "What time is it?"

"I don't know."

House hesitated for a moment, glancing at the alarm clock next to the TV. 2:11. "Okay." He swung his feet off the couch. "Are you going to stand in the hall for the rest of the night or are you going to come in?"

Without another word, Wilson stepped into his apartment and closed the door, wrapping them both up in darkness. House could hear the coat rustle as Wilson slipped out of it. The clatter of the clothes hangers told him that James was hanging up the coat, neat as always.

"Why aren't you switching on the light?"

Slipping off his shoes, Wilson walked across the carpet gingerly. "I don't want to wake you up."

"You realize how absurd this is, considering you're talking to me right now."

"Yes, but the light will only..." A clatter and a curse cut through the silence.

"Oh yeah, you might want to be careful. I just remembered I've put my bowl of cereal somewhere there."

The couch sagged as Wilson sat down on it, very close to House. "You know that's what tables are for, yes?"

House smiled a taunting smile that he knew Wilson would recognize even though he couldn't see it. "What, you mean real tables? I'm just a poor student. Tables are such a waste of valuable space when you've got a couch and a lap."

Wilson laughed softly, but there was this distinct feeling of melancholia in his voice still. Before House could address it, Wilson suddenly collided with his chest, sending House down on his back with the young man covering him. His gasp of surprise was muffled by James' mouth as he claimed his in a savage kiss.

Stunned by the onslaught, House couldn't do much else than kiss Wilson back with the same passion. His arms wrapped around the other man's slender frame, pulling him closer against his body. They kissed like that for several minutes, the undeniable proof of Wilson's growing arousal pressing against House's stomach.

When James' hand wandered down his shirt and began fumbling with the buttons of his jeans, Greg detached their mouths and said between two gasps for air, "Hold your horses there, cowboy. What's going on here?"

"Need to feel you..." Wilson mumbled huskily, rubbing his lips across the rough skin at House's neck.

Moaning deep in his chest, House closed his eyes, his need for answers struggling with the primordial desire to plunge himself into the body of his pliant lover. Bye the time his mind had finally gained enough control over his body, James' hand already had found its way into his pants, rubbing across his straining erection through his briefs, and the battle began all over again.

"James!" House exclaimed with a groan of frustration, causing the other man to halt at last. Relieved, House let his head fall back onto the cushion on the couch, finally able to catch some breath and clear his thoughts. With a slight pang of regret, he felt Wilson retreat to the other end of the couch.

House rolled to the side, propping his head up with one hand. "Jimmy, you know I love to fuck your brains out anytime you want me to, but I think we should clear this up first." When Wilson didn't reply, he added in a teasing voice, "You don't want me to think I'm being taken advantage of, do you."

Against the green light of the alarm clock, House could see Wilson lift his hand and rake it through his hair.

"What's wrong, Boy Wonder?"

Wilson gave a short, desperate laugh that held no humor. A shiver went down House's spine. Wilson drew a shuddering breath. Then he exclaimed, "I'm going to get married!"

The announcement crashed against House like an icy gush of water and he felt his breath hitch in his chest for a second. When he realized that he was taking too long to react, he forced his body into submission and said casually, "Mazel tov."

Normally, that would have enticed a laugh out of the other man, but now he just responded with miserable silence. House welcomed it, because it gave him time to fight down the painful racing of his heart. It was through a surreal haze that he noticed Wilson move to switch on the light. House silently cursed James' need for light just now when he so desperately needed to shroud himself in darkness and brought up his arm to cover his face just in time.

"Christ! Warn a man before you try to blind him!" he exclaimed, grateful to be able to divert his anger to such a trivial matter. It bought him a few more seconds before he needed to lift his arm and face the other man.

"I'm sorry," Wilson whispered meekly, and House wondered for a moment what exactly he was sorry for. He didn't know what to reply. "Listen, House... It's not what you think."

Irritation filled Greg's thoughts and it gave him enough impulse to steel himself against Wilson's puppy eyes. He removed his arm and looked the younger man with burning eyes. "Oh, and what is it then? Please explain it to me, for I'd love to know. A minute ago I had this weird buzz in my ear that sounded like `I'm getting married'".

A heavy sigh went through Wilson's body. "Greg... do you need to make it this difficult?"

A bitter smile appeared on House's face. "Do you want me to make it easy for you?"

House could see the panic flicker across Wilson's face. "No... just hear me out, please."

Crossing his arms in front of his chest in a gesture that was unusually defensive for him, Greg nodded curtly. "Fine, I'm listening."

Taking another shuddering breath, Wilson ran both hands through his hair, leaving them in a charming disarray that House usually would have appreciated. But not now. "There's this girl that I've been seeing." He cast a nervous look at House, undoubtedly registering the way his hands had balled into fists. Yet he went on. "I met her at a garden party my parents had arranged. Or re-met, rather. We've actually known each other since we were kids. She's the daughter of my father's friends. She's studying art history at Michigan State. She's a very sweet Jewish girl. There's something innocent about her... something that makes me want to shelter her..."

Growing impatient with James' praising all her virtues, House interrupted, "That would explain why you'd want to fuck her, but isn't marriage taking it a bit too far?"

Wilson's cheeks flushed furiously. "No, that's not it at all. We haven't even gotten there yet..." He stopped at House's unbelieving scoff and cast him a hurt look. "Seriously. I just enjoy spending time with her. I didn't even think we were dating or anything. She was just a friend of the family and we'd exchange stories about mutual acquaintances... Her family has a house in Cape Cod, too, and she used to spend her vacations there."

House felt his anger dissolve as he listened to Wilson's labored explanations. He felt it replaced by something odd that he couldn't really explain, but it felt like it was encasing his heart with a merciful shell that allowed him to look at it rationally. "So, she's the perfect match for a young, aspiring doctor."

This resulted in another humorless laugh. "Oh yes, you could say that. As a matter of fact, that's exactly how my mother put it. With... with everything going on in the family right now, she said it felt good to see that at least one of her sons was going to settle down like a good and honest man."

Obviously realizing that House was getting ready to ask what things he was talking about, he disparaged it with a quick wave of his hand. "Just stuff. The point is... Rebecca's father has accepted a position in Bahrain and will be moving there with his wife within the next two months. Rebecca wants to finish her studies, of course, so..."

"She can't afford a place of her own?" House asked, torn between feeling incredulous and cynical. He thought about how he managed to pay for his place and tuitions and everything, and he hadn't been born into a wealthy family like Wilson and his fiance apparently had. He felt a wave of sickness wash over him as the word "fiance" entered his mind.

"No, that's not it... She's just... she's just not used to being alone. She's been sheltered all her life and now she's looking up to me with those big brown eyes, waiting for me to save her." He cast House a look pleading for understanding.

House frowned. "Somehow I'm not buying this. There's more to this, things you're not telling me. I just can't believe that you'd marry some girl you've known for fifteen years simply so she doesn't have to be alone." He made a beckoning gesture with his hand. "Come on, Jimmy, hit me with it. I'm gonna find out sooner or later. Might as well tell me now."

Wilson dropped his gaze to the ground, his hands kneading his knees. Then he turned his head and looked at House with a fierce determination. "She's pregnant."

If House's poise hadn't already taken so many blows today, this would have thrown him off for good. But now the announcement just made him tilt his head as cynicism washed through him. "Ah. That would explain it indeed."

"It's not what you think!" Wilson hurried to explain.

"No, it usually isn't. I'm just a pessimist at heart."

James scooted over to his side of the sofa, grabbing his hands. "Listen, House. It's not mine, okay? I haven't touched her. Some guy she met at college told her he loved her and then after he'd gotten what he wanted he never called again. Her parents are overbearing; if they learnt she'd been screwing around with some guy, even if she thought it was true love, they'd throw a fit. Who knows what her father would do?" Squeezing House's hands tightly, Wilson gave him another pleading look. "I'm all she's got. She needs me, House."

With a sinking feeling of defeat, House realized that there was nothing he could hold up against this. James had made a decision and there was no going back. Gently, he freed his hands from Wilson's grasp. "So, this dinner tonight at your parents'... that was the engagement announcement?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Wilson nod. "And you felt like this was the perfect time to break the news to me."

"It just didn't seem real before. And it felt like if I was... if I was talking about it, I'd be making it real."

"Well, now you've talked about it, haven't you?" House flashed him a sad smile. Then he asked the inevitable question. "And how to you suppose it'll change things between us?"

"I was hoping it wouldn't."

House let it sink in for a moment. "Did you."

"I don't love her! You know it. It's... a marriage of convenience, at most. I'm just doing this to help her. I have to!" James was talking himself into a rage almost, his dark eyes glittering with unspoken words. "A night or two a week, that's not too much to ask! Surely she can't expect me to give up my life for this marriage."

"No, but I do..." House whispered.

"What?" Wilson asked, exasperated. He looked at him like a puppy afraid to get hit and House couldn't stand that expression on his face. "Come here..." he murmured roughly and pulled the younger man against his chest. For a moment, everything felt right again when he felt the soft hair tickling his chin, the grateful hands snaking around his waist, holding him tight... but it wasn't. With an intensifying clarity he realized that this was going to be their final night.

"I've really bungled this one, haven't I?" Wilson whispered against his chest.

"Only a little," House replied, lacing his hand through the other man's hair. "But don't worry. If I was your boyfriend, I'd actually care." He felt Wilson tense under his touch. "But I'm not. I'm just your friend with benefits. The tutor with the special curriculum. The dancing instructor with a license in horizontal mambo..."

"House!" Wilson pulled out of his embrace and looked at him with a scandalized expression. "Could you possibly be any more tasteless?"

House grinned. "Well, I can try!" Then he sobered a little. "Sorry, got carried away." With that, he leaned in to brush a kiss against the other man's mouth.

"House..."

He kissed him again, this time tracing his tongue across the lips of the half-opened mouth.

"Housssse..." Wilson trailed off when the tongue slipped into his mouth, rubbing across his teeth. With a moan, he wrapped his arms around House's neck and pulled him closer, greedily diving into the kiss.

House shifted a little, pulling the pillow away behind Wilson so he could place him down on the couch. Never breaking the kiss, he sank down on top of him, framing the young man's face with his hands as he held it in place for his lips to explore.

When he moved his lips away from Wilson's mouth to lick his way down the tender throat, he heard the other man's strained attempts to continue their conversation. He put a rough finger against James' lips and breathed a hot "Ssssh..." against his neck while his other hand busied itself with removing any article of clothing that came in its way. ""We've had enough talking for tonight."

A few minutes later, they were lying naked in each other's arms and Wilson was thrashing his head around in ecstasy as House drove into him over and over again. House tightened his jaw against the jolts of pleasure that racked through his body, intent only on giving James a quick and powerful release. It was one of the few moments when they were together that he felt in total control of the situation, and he could decide on every little aspect of Wilson's reactions.

When Wilson came with a ragged cry against his shoulder, House could feel the wet trail of tears on the other man's cheeks, but he pretended he didn't notice. He sank down on the other man's panting, sweating form, wondering with a feeling of despair how he was ever going to live without feeling this ever again. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, hardening himself to the feeling of tenderness that swept through him like a tidal wave.

He grabbed the armrest of the couch, digging his toes into the upholstery for better leverage. Then he began to pound away, releasing all his anger and frustration into the body below him, feelings that he didn't dare to admit. He registered the strangled gasp below him, but he kept going. Maybe he hurt Wilson, but he didn't think so and he didn't care. He threw his head back, desperate for the pleasure to drown out every last bit of emotion he had.

Suddenly, like a cooling breeze through his frenzy, Wilson laid his hand against House's skin, right above where his heart was pounding in his chest. The touch bore so much gentleness that House couldn't stand it. The hand moved up across his neck to his cheek where the usual stubble was growing, rubbing over it softly.

It was as if a gush of water had put out the fire that had been raging in his heart just a moment ago and all that was left now was the intoxicating, all-consuming feeling of being surrounded by Wilson. House threw his head back one last time, tearing the climax from his body in one final, liberating thrust. He felt like shouting Wilson's name, felt like saying a dozen things he couldn't say as his passion rushed out into the other man's body, leaving him bare and empty.

Unable to keep himself up any longer, House collapsed on top of Wilson, burying his face in the moist bend of the other man's throat. He knew he was sobbing, but he didn't have the strength anymore to hold it back. He closed his eyes, struggling to regain his composure while greedily drawing in the scent of James' aftershave, that musky, heady fragrance that somehow only smelled so good when it was sprinkled onto Wilson's skin. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had never appreciated it enough and now he was going to have to go on without it.

After a while - he didn't know whether it had been five minutes or half an hour - he felt Wilson's hands brush across his back, stroking his skin patiently like a mother comforting her child. It was this loving gesture that made it possible for him to draw back into his shell again, bracing himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut once more and took a deep breath, then he lifted his head to look at James. He already had a snarky comment ready, but when he laid his eyes on the other man, it just vanished without a trace. He could read a world of emotion in his face, sentiments that mirrored his own. So instead of giving a cutting remark, he lowered his mouth to Wilson's, kissing him slowly, softly, soulfully.

Then he slipped off the other man's body, disconnecting them with a sigh of regret. He stood in front of the couch, unabashed of his own nakedness and looked down on Wilson, the way he liked seeing him best, tired and sated from sex, defenseless to his tactics. "Let's take a shower, Jimmy."

The younger man looked confused by the suggestion, as if his mind couldn't process the notion of why someone would want to move at all now, but he didn't resist when House grabbed his hand and pulled him up and into his arms. He allowed Greg to lead him into the shower and leaned against his chest tiredly while the water drummed against his back. Occasionally, he lifted an arm to House's lathering hands, but other than that he stayed in his usual post-coital trance.

After House had finished toweling both their bodies, he led James into the tiny bedroom that adjoined to the main living area. Gently, he placed him on the bed which he usually loathed sleeping in because it was too narrow for two grown men to fit in comfortably and the mattress sent the other person bouncing every time someone turned, but he had no intention of sleeping tonight. Having James in the bedroom served his purpose much better than snuggling up on the couch like they usually did when he stayed over.

"House?" Wilson mumbled sleepily when House pulled the cover over his naked body and then laid down next to him on top of the blanket.

With a wistful smile, House leaned over to brush a wet strand of hair out off James' forehead and pressed a gentle kiss on it. "It's late, Jimmy. Let's try to catch some sleep."

The approving mumble went by barely detected as House leaned over to flick off the light, wrapping them both in darkness. It didn't take long for James' even breathing to fill the room. By then, Greg's eyes had gotten used to the darkness and he could make out the shape of the other man's face in the dim light that fell in through the crack of the door. With his head propped up against the headrest, he took in every aspect of the younger man's sleeping form, committing it to his memory.

He wasn't sure how long it took him, but eventually he found the strength to pry his eyes away from the sight, hoping that he had soaked up enough to last him. Very carefully, he slid off the bed, mindful to avoid even the slightest commotion that might wake Wilson up. He stood next to the bed a bit longer, casting the ritualistic final glance, then he snuck out of the bedroom.

In the living room, he quietly got dressed. By the time daylight broke, he already would have packed up all of his belongings and given the landlord notice. Two hours later, he'd be on the Greyhound with a one-way ticket to Baltimore.

He pulled his book bag out from under the couch and picked up his journals on the way over to the door where he slipped on his shoes. His fingers were shaking as he pulled Wilson's spare key out of his pocket and placed it on the shelf next to the mirror.

Without looking back, he left the apartment. Nothing else in this place belonged to him anymore. Nothing at all.

~ The End ~
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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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