"Ugh!" Clatter, shuffle, "Ouch, stupid table. Hello?"
"Wilson, it's Cuddy."
"Lisa, it's three in the morning. Is everything alright?"
"It's. . . ."
"Wait don't tell me, it's House."
"He blacked out on his bike and crashed. A few small cuts and bruises but nothing serious as far as road rash. He hasn't woken up yet."
Wilson stood there speechless. So many times something like this happened, yet he never got used to it. That bike was going to be the death of him. Why wouldn't he get rid of it. Thank god he was alright, but why was he not awake yet.
After recovering from his short reverie, "I'll be there shortly."
Things had gotten better since they moved into the new apartment. For the first couple of days it was nice to be able to get away from each other. Slowly they had begun seeking each other out again though. Just like before with Wilson's wives it only took a few short days before each man became bored and returned to what was comfortable, what was normal. The two of them sitting on a couch, eating take-out, and watching something on TV.
The night of the accident they were watching The View. After several colorful remarks about boobs, beavers, and bitches the show started a discussion about relationships. There were the typical ones about cheating spouses, but then came a story about love affairs at work and even one about death. Both men instantly stopped their corny banter and became sullen. A commercial break started. House stood and limped towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
And with that the door closed. Wilson turned off the TV after the commercial break and decided to look at picture albums.
No one at the hospital knew why he blacked out. No traces of alcohol or any drugs besides his newly prescribed ones. All anyone knew is he laid undiscovered for about forty five minutes on the roadside amongst scattered flowers and chocolates. Even when This man was trying to change his life, he was dealt a bad hand. After a few hours Foreman walked in with some disheartening news. The cause of the black out was the head injury House had received from trying to remember why Amber couldn't wake up from her coma.
Just the week before House had said if he, James, were to die he would be all alone. The look in his eyes were something Wilson hadn't seen before. For the first time in a long time he had been serious. No quips, sarcastic remarks, or hidden messages. Just the truth. Now the truth was, Wilson had been selfish, because of a rash decision to try and kill his best friend, House risked death a second time.
Wilson had finally begun to doze off when House started moving around. A twitch from his arm gave Wilson the energy to stay up for what was going on his fortieth hour. He stood and watched as House began to move his eyes, blink, then start motioning frantically for the tubes in his esophagus to be removed.
Directly after the last tube was pulled, House uttered two words Wilson thought he would never here.
Wilson wanted to hear that from his friend for so long. House treated Wilson like crap most of the time. However, instead of being grateful to hear those words he began to cry. "No! You shouldn't be sorry, this is all my fault. I should have never asked you to risk your life to save Amber. This whole thing is my fault."
Shocked by his friends outburst House responded with his natural sarcastic response, "Could you lower your voice, I just got out of a comma and my wife is already nagging me."
Looking like he had been slapped Wilson sat down and just cried. He couldn't believe it. It was all his fault, everything. His stomach felt like it was going to turn inside out and he just wanted to not exist. Nurses came in and turned off the various beeping machines. Foreman came in not moments later and saw the crying Wilson, he knew better at this point to risk asking if everything was OK. With House, nothing was "OK," ever. He told House part of his brain had swollen but went down. All the test didn't show up anything odd and he shouldn't have it happen again. After requesting to see his files House dismissed his minion and turned to Wilson.
"God Wilson, would you give the water works a rest, I'm OK."
Wilson jerked his head up and looked at House. It was as though he was oblivious to everything that was happening around him. Meekly he said, "I'll do anything to make this right."
"Make what right, I'm OK."
"I want to be truly forgiven for asking you to risk your life for Amber, and now again. I will do anything you ask of me."
"Wilson, you don't. . . "
"Stop it House. I'm not like you, I can't focus on one little thing at a time. I remember every day of what I did to you, and times like this. . . . times like this. . . . " He started to cry again.
"Wilson, I'm OK. I don't need you to worry about that. I forgive you."
"Just name it House. Please. You said it yourself that your sorry. Whatever it is your sorry for, make it up to me now by asking me to do something for your forgiveness."
House gave up, "I want you to stop talking about this then. That is what I want from you."
"House! I'm serious"
"A cheese burger, and small fries."
Wilson gave House the most evil glare you could give someone while crying. Moments passed and House conceded. "Alright, let me think about it and I'll get back to you."
This made Wilson cheer up a bit. Not thirty minutes later they were back to their usual banter.
"House, why were you bringing flowers and chocolates to Cuddy? I thought you were over her."
The quick sequence of emotions on House's face didn't go unnoticed by Wilson. Something he had learned from House. Confusion, remembrance, shock, and finally embarrassment.
Wilson shuffled around in his pocket and pulled out his cellphone and took a picture. It wasn't every day you got to see the famous Gregory House red faced.
"When can we go home."
"You didn't answer my question. I know what was on TV reminded you of her, it reminded me of Amber, but I thought you were over Cuddy. You should call Nolan."
"I am over Cuddy. Can we go home now?"
"House, we need to talk about this, this is serious."
"No, it is serious to you. Right now I'm tired, I hurt more than usual if that is even possible, and I'm being nagged to death by a martyr. Can we just go home please?"
"Fine, but we are talking about this when we get home."
With that Wilson went to find Cuddy and Foreman to get House discharged.
The ride home was uneventful. Both men were exhausted. Since House's clothes where shredded in the accident he was sporting Wilson's overcoat and hospital scrubs. It was freezing outside, Wilson and House were both shivering on the way up to the apartment. When they got in House went straight to his room. Wilson followed and found House sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Hey, give me my coat back. I don't want you to make your evil part of it so I can't wear it."
"It can stay off the coat rack for a few minutes, I'm still cold."
Wilson stood in the doorway and the two men locked eyes. After what seemed like eternity House broke the silence.
"Come sit here." House patted beside him.
"We don't have to do this now, we are both tired and need sleep."
"I'm ready now James. You might not get what you want if you make me wait."
Still Wilson didn't move. He was scared. What would House make him do to get revenge for almost killing him twice.
House stood and lumbered toward Wilson stopping only inches away from him. "I thought you said you wanted me to request something from you. That you would do anything."
"I. . . . "
"I know what I want Wilson, I just don't know if you will give it to me."
Confusion and fear was sprawled across Wilson's face. They were at a stand still.
"I meant it, I will do anything House."
"Then kiss me."
"What, that is absurd. How is humiliating me going to make you forgive me for what I did."
"I thought you said you would do anything for me James. I want you to kiss me."
"No, I don't see how that accomplishes anything."
Wilson was already humiliated. He started to step backward but House put his hand on his shoulder.
"You said, and I quote, `I will do anything you ask of me.` Well I want you to kiss me. Don't try and back out of it."
"I uh. . . "
Quickly Wilson leaned forward and pecked House on the lips like you would your mom.
"That isn't a kiss Wilson. I'm not your mom. I want you to kiss me."
This approach wasn't working. House took Wilson's hands in his own. "Wilson, I'm asking you to kiss me. It is what I want from you. Will you give it to me?"
"I don't understand . . . . "
"Just kiss me dammit. My leg hurts, my body hurts, and I want you to kiss me."
Guilt always seemed to work to Wilson's Jewish side. Suddenly Wilson and House were sharing the most awkward kiss in the history of mankind. Wilson pulled his hands away from House.
House taking the more aggressive approach as usual put his arms around James's waist and pulled him closer. Wilson parted his lips to try and protest but couldn't because an extra tongue stopped the syllables from forming.
Greg gently moved his hands up James's back changed his kiss from being forced to a passionate kiss. He felt James loosen in his embrace and both their eyes opened. For a brief moment both men remembered everything. Their first meeting, weddings, break ups, nights on the couch, funerals, cases, laughter, tears, smiles, fifteen years of memories. Suddenly arms started searching for more. More of anything. Breathing stopped being labored and started being in unison. Fifteen years of denied feelings were shared in minutes.
House broke the kiss first. Both men where flustered. "I'm sorry."
"I don't understand House."
"I love you, and I'm sorry it took me this long to tell you."
Wilson stood with his back on the door frame. Mouth just centimeters away from House's.
"But you were bringing flowers for Cuddy."
"No, I was bringing flowers for you."
It didn't take Wilson long to process this. "I love you too, and I'm sorry."
"I know. Now let's get sleep and we will talk more about this when we wake up."
House started taking off Wilson's jacket and handed it to him. Wilson went into the living room and put it on the rack. He walked back into the hallway and past House's room.
House took off his scrubs and put on some boxers. After he laid in bed he waited for Wilson to get back. He then noticed Wilson walk by and heard a door open and close. Maybe he was just slipping on some nightwear. Five minutes passed and House got up and went into Wilson's room. He was staring up at the ceiling.
"Your an idiot."
The only response was a quizzical look.
"I don't have time to point out all your stupidity right now. Scoot over and make room."
"House, what are you doing?"
"Wilson, shut up and scoot over."
And he did. House rolled over and put his head on Wilson's chest.
"I love you."
A hand made it's way over House's body.
"I love you too."