Chapter Text
Missing call, Gregory House. 1:22 AM.
Missing call, Gregory House. 1:23 AM. Again, at 1:25 AM, from Gregory House.
House was becoming restless.
Now a text message, “Answer my calls.” From Gregory house at 1:31 AM. He tried one last time at 1:32 AM. Finally, House’s phone rang. “Dancing Queen,” by ABBA. It’s Wilson. Finally, he thought to himself.
“It’s about time you answer.” House’s deep voice was slightly drowned out by the other bar goers tonight.
“Some of us have work in the morning.” Wilson yawns, long day at Oncology again. He’s not sure why he keeps answering House when calls at these ungodly hours. House was sniffling a little, which was unusual. House is either crying or sick, both uncommon for him. House’s voice broke his train of thought.
“Jimmy…” House sounds so small. Fragile, soft spoken, he might blow away. Wilson is afraid. He’s afraid that he might break, but Wilson is still half asleep. He's not sure how to reply. He's never heard House speak this way. He's probably drunk, he thought to himself. He wants a drinking buddy, as usual. Doesn't he know he also has work tomorrow?
"Jimmy, I'm so lonely.. I need you, James." House was still sitting at the bar, everyone else is in their own world. House is stuck watching them through the window. Not even the bartender can see him, he's so small. He can't get smaller tonight, and House almost never calls Wilson by his first name.
He continues, drunkenly. "James, I'm so lonely. Hic. Bartender cut me off again. Doesn't the idiot know it's my birthday today? ...He saw my ID. Everyone’s an idiot.-“
Wilson was sitting on the corner of his bed, finally registering his words. House had recently faked cancer to get an experimental drug. Not only that, House usually becomes more depressed than usual on his birthday.
He shouldn't be alone tonight. Wilson began to put his shoes on, and find his keys. He already knew House was at his usual bar, House was a man of habit.
"I'm on my way, House…Don't-Don't move from there, okay?" Wilson was stuttering, he didn't think House would do anything stupid. Still, House never fails to surprise him.
"Hurry up, I need you." House is desperate, he thinks.
Wilson is quick to get to the bar, his eyes immediately find House. He's hunched over the bar, with a half-empty whiskey cup. He's definitely had too many.
He's been acting strangely lately. He's been more depressed, he's been secretive. His fellows had already found out what he was really up to. Wilson sat down next to House. He hasn't paid his tab yet.
"Let's have a few drinks, Jimmy. To another miserable year."
He sounds bitter, but when doesn't he? Wilson looks back at the half-empty cup, and Wilson drinks it in one go. Better for Wilson to have some, House has had too many tonight. He’s justifying this again. Wilson knew that he’s just feeding into House’s problems.
The drinking, the Vicodin. Even the gambling. He figured that if he didn’t enable, House would find someone else to fill his role.
This is the role that he’s meant to play, right? They have each other, and that’s enough. Wilson ordered himself a drink, why not he thought? He began to drink it.
”Wilson, aren’t you gonna wish the birthday boy a happy birthday?” His speech is slurred. He was holding his head, it must be worse with all the noise in the bar.
”…Happy Birthday, House.” He finished his drink, and wondered if it would hurt if he had a few more. No, he shouldn’t.
Wilson gave the bartender his card so that he could close out the tab, leaving a cash tip. Why was it always him footing the bill anyway?
“Come on, House. Let’s get you home.”
He carefully helps House get into his car. The drive back home was tense. It’s never this way. Wilson turned the radio on, it’s too quiet, he thought. After a while he got to House’s apartment.
“Alright, easy, House.” He helped his friend drunkenly enter his apartment. There was a bottle of bourbon on House’s coffee table and a glass.
House began to drunkenly ramble.
“Why’d…they have to pry? Just-just…wanted to feel good.”
He sounds annoyed. His fellows did prevent House from getting high, they were only worried. Wilson said so, he wanted House to know this, That people care about him.
”They were only worried about you, House. Normal people wouldn’t fake cancer to get high.”
Then again, he thought, House isn’t normal.
He sat House down on his couch, and Wilson sat next to him. He was looking at House, examining him. Maybe this moment will last longer, right?
His stubbled jaw, eerily striking blue eyes. Those eyes could look right through you. Wilson swore that he could see right through him. The various wrinkles that decorated his face. Especially his forehead wrinkles. He always raised his eyebrows, and his face became expressive when he was in Diagnostic mode.
It was stupid, but even his thinning hair in the back of his head was endearing to him.
He loved every piece of him. He could never tell House. He can’t lose his only friend. He wouldn’t be able to stand the loneliness.
Maybe that’s what having a friend is like right? Unconditional love.
House’s flaws were many, but Wilson couldn’t help but be unable to turn away from him. He felt like he was his other half. It didn’t have to be romantic, right? It’s just friendship. It’s normal. It’s just-
“Wilson.”
Suddenly House is very close to Wilson’s personal space, he was daydreaming about him, again. He looked at House, realizing he should go now.
“I should go, House. We have work tomorrow.” House began to pour them a drink.
“Let’s drink, Jimmy.” He didn’t even protest. He wanted to stay. He wanted him, he wanted House.
“House.” Wilson was finishing up his glass. He didn’t know what he was doing, he knew he shouldn’t talk. He was gonna do something stupid, say something he’ll regret in the morning.
“I love you, Greg.”
He looked over at House, who was looking back at him, his eyes were analyzing him up and down. His head turned slightly downward. House licked the bottom of his lips, dry as usual.
House suddenly went in for a kiss, he was hungry.
His breath, his tongue, tasted of need, drunk on desire. House needed Wilson the same way Wilson needed House.
Wilson’s wives say that he’s a good kisser. Good in bed.
Even in bed James wanted to please. So desperately he wanted to please. It was House’s turn this time. Wilson was eager, he’d never been this eager with his other wives.
House’s name was being repeated in his mind. Looping. He felt House up in his couch, he was on him, he didn’t know if he was hurting him. He needed to feel House. He needed to know this was really happening. He wanted to remember the taste of his mouth, his body. The noises they’re making.
He didn’t know if he could ever go back to their regular routine after this.