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  The L Word 
 by gena  

 The L Word

"Grab us some beers."

Wilson nodded, walking slowly for the kitchen while watching House out of
the corner of his eye. House had popped two Vicodin since saying goodnight
to Cuddy in the elevator and even with that seemed to be in some pain.
House dropped his keys and made his way to the couch, where he braced his
left hand on the cushions before gingerly lowering himself. Wilson filed
that little scene away for the moment and dug out a couple of brews.
"Anything else?" he called.

"Nah, I'm good." Wilson came back with the beers, settling down beside
House as he fired up the TiVo and selected The L Word. As promised, House
muted it and Wilson had to admit it made the show fascinating. By the time
several beautiful women began making out he was feeling pleasantly relaxed
from the beer and a little charged from the sexual stimulation. House
shifted next to him but not because the onscreen action had done anything
for him, a small wince flashing across his face. 

"Okay?" He kept his eyes on the screen watching the chick from Flashdance
kiss her girlfriend. 

"Did some running today," House said with a smirk.

"Yeah? How'd that go?"

House tilted his head, "Good - for about two steps then I remembered," he
spread his hands, "I'm crippled!"

"Hmmmm," Wilson said, matching House's light tone, "the cane should have
been a tip off." He got to his feet and disappeared into House's bedroom,
returning a couple of minutes later with the heating pad House kept under
his bed. He plugged it in and, reaching down to lift House's right leg up
onto the coffee table, carefully positioned it over his ruined thigh. "You
know, if you had Foreman's new chipper outlook on life you'd be thrilled
to think you can still compete at Hopscotch."

House tried to stifle a smile, "yeah, but there's the whole hurt's- like-
hell thing." They watched TV in silence, broken only by Wilson's getting
up for more beers and House's downing another pill. "You think lesbians
get headaches?" House asked after watching a particularly vigorous bout of
lovemaking.

"After that, yeah," Wilson said. He took another swig of beer and frowned.
"Maybe Cuddy's a lesbian."

"Oh please god!" House moaned. "Her, Cameron and Stacy taking showers
together!" He shivered all over. 

"No, really," Wilson said. He turned to look at House, taking the
opportunity to gauge his friend's physical state. House had slouched down
on the cushions, some of the pinched lines in his face smoothing as the
heat, pain pills and beer took effect. He always worried about House
mixing his pills with alcohol but tonight he was more worried about
House's pain. He'd noticed him rubbing at his thigh more and more lately,
even Chase had commented on it when Wilson ran into him in the cafeteria.
Wilson couldn't help but be concerned, the thing with Stacy and then
Foreman's nearly dying, and Chase finding an excuse to get out of
Diagnostics for a while seemed to be taking a toll on House. "She doesn't
date. She pointed out neither of us have anyone to go home to -."

"What am I," House asked, "Chopped liver?" 

"- I don't think I've ever seen her interested in a guy."

"Ha," House scoffed, "then you've never watched her around Arnie the Drug
Rep. Disgusting."

"But last night," Wilson said, "the dinner between her and I wasn't a date
as you so happily pointed out."

House stared at him, "So any woman not bowled over by Jimmy Wilson is a
lesbian?"

"I'm not -"

"Yes, you are!"

"House," in spite of his best intentions Wilson leveled an angry glare at
his friend, "I'm just saying, she obviously wasn't interested in me for a
- potential relationship, despite what an excellent catch I am, and her
social life just seems a bit - sparse, so I was proposing a possible
explanation." House made a "hrumphing sound and they went back to watching
in silence for a while. "I'm not that conceited," Wilson said after while.

"No, of course not." After a lengthy pause, "Ryan Seacrest is way more
conceited." Wilson elbowed him. On the television two women were cooing
over a baby. "Think two women would make better parents than two guys?"
House asked. 

Wilson leered at him, "That a proposition?"

"Damn, and I thought I was being subtle!" 

"Your big stick gives you away every time," Wilson said laughing. He
reached down to adjust the heating pad, "I think it depends on the people
not their sex." He glanced up at House. "What about you?"

"Yeah, some people just make lousy parents," he murmured, closing his eyes
and laying his head back. "You ever want kids?"

Wilson settled back against the cushions, feeling the warmth of House
along his left side. "No, I don't think I do," he said slowly. There had
been a - a moment, before his first marriage, that he'd thought he might
like children but it had gone away much as his love for his wife had. Now,
he just wanted the quiet companionship he found with House, the feeling of
being accepted for what he really was and not what he pretended to be, but
most of all he wanted to be the one person in the world House counted on
to be there for him. He knew most men his age began to think about their
legacy, what would they leave behind when they were gone? Children were
the most natural and obvious answer, but he wanted to leave behind
something more important. Wilson knew it sounded arrogant and that was why
he never said it aloud, but he wanted to leave behind Dr. Gregory House's
genius and felt that some small part of its continuance was because of
him. 

"I never wanted kids," House said. "They'd whine, and smell and steal my
toys." 

"Heaven forbid." 

"You disappointed?"

"I realize it's impossible to improve on perfection," Wilson said ignoring
the odd flutter in his stomach.

"That Cuddy's date wasn't a date."

Wilson thought it over. "Yes, I mean, she does have that zesty bod and I'd
love to get at it." He felt House stiffen beside him and reached over to
slip a pillow beneath his leg. "But I don't think anything would come of
it," he shrugged, "we're too different." 

House nodded, "She's the Devil and you're a Saint. I believe if you get it
on, that's one of the Signs of the Apocalypse."

"You seem happy that nothing's going to come of our date," Wilson
observed. He still felt guilty over abandoning House for Grace but
sometimes there was such a thing at too much of a good thing and spending
nearly 24/7 with House was one of those. House had seemed a lot happier
when they were sharing the apartment, his childish pranks hadn't been that
hard to endure, and seeing him smile again had been worth wet shorts. 

"It wouldn't be good - for either of us," House declared. "I'm opposed to
self-destruction," he smirked, "at least on a philosophical level."

"It has nothing to do with the "L" word?"

House cocked an eyebrow, "Lesbians?"

Wilson just grinned, "Love? Remember that?" House rolled his eyes. "You
love me," Wilson teased.

"You've discovered my secret," House said and Wilson smiled. Neither said
anything after that, just sat watching the television but when the credits
finally rolled they were both fast asleep, side by side, identical
expressions of contentment on their faces. 

  
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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 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.