A/N: This is part of the 1000 themes challenge, created by me. The challenge is divided up into twelve parts--and this is part one consisting of 100 of the thousand themes, and is focused around the House, M.D. fandom. Enjoy and feel free to participate.
Theme: #4 - "A Place to Feel Safe"
Warnings: None really.
Fingers flew across keys, sparking gentle notes and rough notes alike. Smooth melodious sounds filled the apartment.
It was late, and it was pouring outside. House was tucked nice and snug in his little home playing his piano with a glass of scotch beside him as his partner. There was nothing on television, and going to bed was a battle not yet to be started.
There was a flash, then a few moments later a gentle rumble echoed in the night.
House slowed his fingers until the music stopped on a chord, and he reached for his scotch.
It always ruined his music mood. It was always too sunny, or it was always too cloudy, or always too hot, or always too cold, and never just right.
He pulled the cover over the keys and grabbed his cane as he propped himself to his feet. If playing was going to be like this for the rest of the night, he might as well do something that he could enjoy.
Like watching a DVD.
He started hobbling to his couch when there was a loud knock on his door. He paused, cocking an ear as if he misheard it the first time.
The knock resounded, and a voice broke out.
"House, I know you're awake, your lights are on."
Swiftly as he could, he turned back for the door and flicked the lock before he twisted the handle and revealed a soaked to the bone Wilson.
The oncologist stared at him through bangs that clung to his forehead and threatened to blind him.
House cocked his head at him. "Well Jimmy, pleasant surprise. Are you trying out for the role in Singing in the Rain? I think recruiting ended maybe--fifty years ago."
"Can I stay with you?"
The man blinked. "Another fight with the misses?"
There was a shake of a head that caused the water caught in brown strands to drop to the floor. "No, it's just--" he pulled at the collar of his shirt and looked to the floor. "--I can't be there tonight. I don't want to go back there."
House doesn't say anything, but he raises a brow that suggests a quick explanation fast or else the rain is going to be his best friend for the rest of the night.
Wilson visibly swallows and let's out a tired sigh. "Last night--when I went home, I could smell another man's cologne. I--I didn't say anything, but--but she knows that I know and--I just don't want to face her yet. I don't want to hear what she has to say, even if it may be my fault." He pulls his fingers in a nervous fashion. "The air in the house is so stifling--just knowing that she--she--"
"Come on," House throws open the door and steps aside, allowing Wilson passage.
The oncologist rapidly blinks before he allows a small smile to tug at his lips and he allows himself to enter into the safety of House's apartment.
House gently closes the door and let's Wilson have free roam--watching him as he disappears into the bathroom to retrieve a towel.
He knows Wilson's not innocent either, he had failed to be faithful in the past, but it didn't matter. As long as was needed, House was willing to put up with Wilson's marriage failures and open his home.
After all, it was the only place where Wilson was safe from the world.