Author's Note: Hey there Hilson fans that were all crushed when we saw the horrid couple of Huddy blossom in the season finale of season 6. If you didn't like seeing Cuddy appear there instead of Wilson, then I share that disappointment, and so I took the ending, and butchered it so that it WAS Wilson who appeared at the bathroom instead of Cuddy! :D

This is real movements, and real dialoge from the clip, so I hope you enjoy it all! ;)


The noise of keys clattering against the table, or floor, whatever it was bounced across the walls. Scared, hurt, blue orbs scanned the living room of the long forgotten loft for the umpteenth time. His nose was cut and bleeding, but that was forgotten, for he only had one thing on his mind.

Vicodin.

Limping down the hallway, all he hears in his distinct thump-thump step rhythm, and an eerie silence that didn't help clear his mind. Reaching the bathroom doesn't help. He looks in the mirror to see a pathetic old hag that can't fight his addiction. His eyes drift away from the gash on his face, down to the numerous cuts on his collarbone and shoulder. With a memory of seeing the woman he spent all night with to save her dying, he gripped the mirror's sides, and threw it down onto the floor.

Blue orbs bore into the two orange bottles that hold wonderful white ovals. He grabs them, then leans against the wall. With a sigh, making the back of his throat burn, he slides down the wall, having his butt hit the floor. Popping open the cap, and pouring the pills into his hand make his eyes water, and his throat choke in the back of his throat. Was he sure he wants this?

Sitting there simply breathing hard, fighting off the urge to cry, and staring at the ovals in his hand, was making the time tick by even slower than it should be. Bringing his hand up towards his mouth, he senses movement other than his own, and he looks over to the doorway, and sees green scrubs.

"Are you going to leap across the room and grab them out of my hand?"

"No." A breath in, then a breath out follows. "It's your choice if you want to go back on drugs."

"Okay." He answers slightly more chirpy and mocking than three minutes ago. It's a short-lived tone though, as he goes back into thinking and deep depression again. "Just so you know, I'm finding it hard to see the downside."

The man wearing green scrubs takes a couple of steps into the bathroom. His bare arms are crossed over his chest, as he walks over to the older man on the floor. He then breathes out – it might as well be called a sigh – before he nods his head over at House's injured shoulder. "You need to rebandage your shoulder."

"Is that why you're here? Foreman sent you?" he growled, getting annoyed with the younger man who was staring at him with dark chocolate brown eyes.

"No-"

"You here to yell at me again?"

"No."

House simply looked away after staring at the man. He was getting mad. All he wanted to do was take the pills so the pain would be better, but no. The man had to come, and stop him. "Well I'm running out of ideas."

"Sam-"

"Oh great. You find out she's a bitch again? Just means that she either thought you were good in bed, or she's there for your money-"

"I ended it."

House looked up from the floor back to the man's face that he knew so well. His brow furrowed, as his mouth popped open in astonishment. "What?"

"I'm stuck House." The man let out a sigh as he let his arms untangle and fall to his sides. "I keep wanted to move forward. I keep wanting to move on, and I can't." A scoff came from House as he sat there and stared. "We on that damn Amber thing again?"

"No."

House grunted, shifting his eyesight away from the man above him until he started talking again.

"I keep wanting to move on, and I can't. I mean, the loft to myself, my beautiful girlfriend… and all I can think about… it you." The man sighed after he finished, rubbing his face with his palm. He cleared his throat loudly too.

House simply sat there and stared at his best friend of over 20 years. He had been with Sam for the past couple of months, and it was running perfectly, no flaws no matter how much House was jealous of the two. The reason he was jealous, not even he would tell himself. No one knew why, and no one wanted to even guess.

"I just need to know… if something closer than friendship with you and me can work." The man said with pauses between the words. He locked eyes with House who was still sitting there and simply staring at him.

"You think I can fix myself?"

With a sigh, the man answered with: "I don't know."

"Cause I'm the most screwed-up person in the world."

"I know." A dry laugh followed as he scanned House's body with his brown eyes. "I love you." Then a sigh. "I wish I didn't. But I can't help it."

House then looked away again. He closed his hand lightly around the white ovals as he tried to push himself up from the tiled flooring. With a sigh since he couldn't, he shoved his hand into the air, motioning for the other man to take it.

He did as expected and put out his hand for House to take. He helped him up, and their faces drew closer together.

A small puff of air flew from the man's lips onto House's stubbled cheek. House pushed his face closer to his friend's, making the other man's lips plump up, and if they were human, reach out for the other lips. House pushed his lips against the other man's, making both their eyes close, and both of them push against each other in deep happiness. House's hand slid up onto the other man's arm. They pulled back, both of their eyes opening once more.

"How do I know I'm not hallucinating?"

"Did you take the Vicodin?" the man asked with a small soft smile playing on his lips.

House looked down at his hand that was still full of Vicodin pills. "No."

"Then I think we're OK."

"Yeah."

House let the vicodin fall to the floor, making them clatter against the tile. He then used his right hand to tug at the other man's arm so he would be close against him again. He took his now free left hand and intertwined his fingers with the other man's. The younger man let a soft smile tug and pull at his lips. House took that opportunity to push his lips back against the other man's.

Wilson happily kissed back.