Scenes From A Relationship
This is my last for awhile.
Title: Scenes from a Relationship
Author: longstrt
Pairing: H/W
Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these guys, but David Shore does.
Rating: slash
Scene1: The Laundry
Scene 2: The Panty Raid
Scene 3: Truth or Bare
Scene 4: Finding House a Home
Scene 5: Nightmares are only dreams
THE LAUNDRY
“What’s this?” questioned Greg House.
James Wilson turned around to look at his friend. His face scrunched up in puzzlement then cleared as his eyes twinkled, “Oh that’s Cuddy’s underwear.”
Gregory House, for once, was speechless. Then he swallowed the lump that was blocking his airway and spit out, “You’re kidding?”
Wilson looked innocent and hurt that his friend didn’t believe him. “No, I’m not; they must have gotten mixed up with my stuff.”
House’s blue eyes could not have opened any wider than they already were so his eyebrows had to do the job of sending out the message of disbelief. “How did that happen?”
Looking deadly serious and totally honest, Wilson retorted, “House, why do you have to know everything?
“My best friend sleeps with our boss, and you expect me not to ask about it?”
Looking confused, Wilson whispered, “I didn’t say we slept together; just that her . . . underwear got mixed up with my clothing.”
House studied his friend. He couldn’t believe it. As many times as he had told Wilson to sleep with Cuddy and as many times as he had told Cuddy to sleep with Wilson - - they had done it!
“Wilson, are you an idiot? First, you marry three women; then you sleep with countless more, including one of your patients, and now . . . this. You SLEPT WITH YOUR BOSS.”
“House, read my lips: I-DID-NOT-SLEEP-WITH-CUDDY!”
“Well, then HOW did her underwear get mixed up with your clothes?”
Wilson smirked, “Well, you should know better than me. After all they were in with your stuff. Next time, I’m washing my clothes separately.”
THE PANTY RAID
Greg House lay flat in the bed. Suddenly, he pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked at the warm body next to him. Hearing the irregular breathing, he knew that Wilson wasn’t asleep.
“You know that I didn’t sleep with Cuddy, don’t you?”
Wilson rubbed his forehead and forced his eyes open. “Now how would I know that?”
“Because I’m sleeping with you, you moron.”
“Well, how do I know when you got that underwear? It could have been months ago.”
“I haven’t been washing my clothes with yours for that long so those panties couldn’t have made their way into your drawers.” Realizing how that sounded, House shut up for the moment.
Wilson seemed to think about that then replied, “Fine, now go back to sleep.”
In the darkness, Wilson couldn’t see the puzzled look on House’s face, but House was disturbed, “Aren’t you the least bit jealous; don’t you want to know how I got those panties?”
Wilson sighed, “The mind boggles at the possibilities, but yes, I guess, I want to know.”
House lay back on the bed, but moved his body closer to the younger man. “You remember when Cuddy’s handy man got hurt?”
House could feel Wilson’s nod. “Well, I made arrangements for one of her panties to be taken into captivity. I figured it might be good for blackmail some day.”
Wilson frowned, “But that was several years ago, why were they in your laundry now?”
“Thought I’d try them on, but they were too tight.”
James Wilson sat straight up in bed. “Whhhaaat? I knew you were strange, House, but now I find out you’re a cross-dresser?”
Indignant, House sat up immediately. “I am not a cross-dresser. Okay, so I wear some of your underwear, but not a woman’s. I was just trying to get at you.”
“House, I’m not wearing any underwear right now, what are you going to do about that?”
TRUTH OR BARE
“House, could you tell me why I have almost no clothes on and you’re practically dressed?”
“’Cause you’re a lousy player?”
Wilson grimaced, “OR maybe it’s because you cheat.”
“Could be that, I guess, but I have better cards.”
“House, we’re not playing strip poker; we’re playing Truth or Dare and so far, I haven’t gotten many chances to ask you questions.”
“Okay, go ahead. Ask me anything.”
Expecting a question about the famous Cuddy panty raid, House was surprised when he heard, “If I got a new apartment, would you move in with me?”
House stared at his friend for a minute then asked, “Would I have to pay rent?”
“You’re avoiding the question. That will cost you a sock.”
“How much would I have to pay?”
“That will cost you the other sock.”
House looked grudgingly at Wilson then removed both socks, leaving him with bare feet but still a lot more clothed than Wilson, who only had one piece of cloth shielding him from his birthday suit.
“You snore!”
“I don’t snore!” Wilson blurted out then dropped his head to his chest.
“Do you still wet the bed?”
Wilson shook his head, realizing that House was not about to answer his question.
“Forget it, House. You’ll never change. Stay at 221; I’ll find another roommate.”
“You’ve already done that - - three times. Oh, I forgot; if you include Grace and CB, it’s up to five. Can’t you stand to live alone?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know; I’m a schlemiel for moving in with women, but this time will be different.”
“Oh, yeah, how’s that?”
“This time, it will be a man.”
FINDING HOUSE A HOME
“This is great. Must have cost you a bundle.”
“I can afford it, now that Bonnie, Julie and what’s her name aren’t getting alimony.”
“I’m impressed, Jimmy . . . with that balcony. Good thing that you’re up on the tenth floor; otherwise Spiderman might be a Peeping Tom.”
“I’m glad my taste suits you. Take a look around. I’m expecting my first applicant.”
“Applicant?”
“Yeah, remember I told you that I was looking for a roommate. He’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
House’s blue eyes gave his friend a strange look as if he didn’t believe the story about the roommate, but he headed off to the rest of the living area. Within minutes he returned, “That hot tub is bigger than some swimming pools. How come there’s only one wall TV?”
“I figure Julien can choose whatever *entertainment* he wants.”
“Julien?”
“Well, that’s the name of the first applicant. It makes the whole process more real if I think of him as a warm, living person.”
“How much are you going to charge him?”
“Well, I figured that I would leave it open to negotiations, but I thought about $1500.”
“That’s not too bad for a year.”
“A month, you moron.”
House’s eyebrows shot up at that figure. He rapidly began calculating on his fingers then muttered, “That’s $18,000 a year. That’s pretty good entertainment.”
Wilson made a face like, ‘why do I put up with him?’ Before he could say anything, however, the door bell rang. Going to the door, Wilson opened the door to Julien. Wilson and the younger man talked for a moment in the foyer and then both men entered the large sitting area. “Gregory House, this is Julien St. Jacques, he’s here to look the place over. Julien is an up and coming artist who has just moved to the city.”
If House had been a cat, his fur would have been standing on end. He hadn’t liked the way that Wilson had said, “up and coming”. Julien studied the older man but merely nodded. Wilson looked at both men then remembered his manners.
“House is just leaving; suppose I show you around the place. After all if this is going to be your new home; I want you to know what you’re getting into.” As Wilson left the room with the young artist, he turned quickly, making a motion shooing House out the door.
Several minutes later, Wilson and St. Jacques re-entered the sitting room, only to find House sitting on the long sofa with a huge smile on his face. Wilson was slightly suspicious, but cleared his throat and said, “Julien likes the place very much. He thinks that that extra bedroom will make a perfect studio. That way he can work from home.”
House stood up, staring at the long-haired blond. His grip on his cane was a message that James Wilson could read clearly. House’s vibes were clear: someone was going to get a cane up their butt, if something wasn’t done . . . and soon.
“Uh House, is something wrong?”
House stopped, holding out a small rectangular piece of paper. Taking it, Wilson could tell that it was a check. It was made out to James Wilson in the sum of $3,000. On the memo line were the words written in bold, black ink: Deposit for apartment.
The signature was a scrawl, but it was clearly Gregory House. Wilson stared at the check for a moment then looked up at House. About to say something to the older man, Wilson stopped when House said quietly but firmly, “Get him out of here.”
Wilson turned to the man, standing behind him. “I’m sorry, Julien. I had offered Mr. House this apartment first, but he didn’t seem to be interested. I guess he’s changed his mind.”
Julien looked rebellious for a moment then gave up with good grace. Mumbling something like, “C’est la vie,” he shook hands with Wilson then walked over to the door. Turning, he looked around the huge sitting room then gave a shrug and left.
House stared at Wilson. Wilson stared at House. “I thought I snored.”
“You do.”
“Then why did you change your mind?”
“I didn’t, but I’m not letting anybody else stay here.”
“You mean you’re paying $1500 a month just so I don’t have a roommate.”
“No, I’m paying $750 a month rent. You tried to overcharge him. I happen to know exactly how much you’re paying monthly for this condo; so don’t try to screw me, Mr. Stingy.”
Wilson stared at the scruffy man for a moment, trying not to read too much into House’s carefully chosen words.
“All right, $750.00 a month, but why’d you give me $3,000 then. That’s four months.”
“Figured that’s about what I would last.”
House, smiling silently, limped towards into his “new bedroom” to figure out what size entertainment complex he wanted, leaving James Wilson to figure out that last remark.
NIGHTMARES ARE ONLY DREAMS
“So it’s finally, happened? You got tired of me?”
“I didn’t get tired of you, House. I just need my space.”
“This monstrosity is over 3000 square feet. How many more feet do you need than that.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just want you to go, is that too much to ask?”
“I’m paying my share of the condo fee; that entitles me to stay.”
Wilson laughed, “That is a laugh. You haven’t paid since that first check and that bounced.”
“It did NOT bounce; I just forgot to deposit enough funds into my account! I’m not leaving!”
“Well, I am then!”
“Wilson, you are a moron. This is your condo!”
Suddenly, a lawyer dressed in black robe and white wig appeared. Wilson turned to the man and said, “You heard that didn’t you?”
“Yes, Dr. Wilson, that is a clear confession by Dr. House that you own this condo.”
“Thank you very much.”
Wilson turned to House, “Now get out!”
Suddenly the exterior door opened. The gorgeous naked body of Julien St. Jacques entered. Promptly the man went to Wilson and put his arm around his waist.
House stared at the two men; then heard the fatal words, “Get out, House. I found a new roommate.”
Greg House sat straight up in bed, the nightmare still vivid in his mind. After four months of living in the condo with Wilson, he had been expecting the younger man to kick him out any day. He knew that he had done everything that he could to provoke his friend, but Wilson hadn’t made a move yet.
Suddenly, James Wilson sat up next to House. In a tired voice, he asked, “What’s the matter; another nightmare?”
House rubbed his forehead and then his right leg. “Yeah, but what’s new about that? Go back to sleep.”
House ran his hand over his aching leg, thinking carefully about whether to go to his own room or not. House lay back down, and for the next few minutes, neither man said a thing. Both knew that the other one was not asleep, but they seemed to be reluctant to break the silence.
Finally, Wilson whispered, “Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask, but if there’s no answer; you get the idea.”
Wilson moved closer to his friend, gently rubbing House’s left hand with his own, whispering very softly, he asked, “You’re paying $750 a month for your bedroom, how come you sleep with me?”
House started to answer, his voice tone clearly indicating his thought that such a stupid question was even being contemplated, “No, I’m paying $750 a month to live here; where I sleep is purely my choice.”
“Oh, well then how come you made such a big fuss about which bedroom you got and the size of your TV?”
“THAT room is my refuge for the times that you’re being a moron, like now.”
“Hmmm, so that means the more I act like a moron; the more time you’ll spend in there?”
“It’s amazing your brilliance. I can certainly understand why you graduated, magna cum laude.”
“Well, then, how come for the past 120 days or so, you’ve slept with me? According to you, I’ve been an idiot, quite frequently.”
“Well, I told you that I’d give you four months; it’s just about up.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out for yourself.”
For a moment or two Wilson laid next to his friend; then he sat up, moving his body to the edge of the bed; his back to House. He sat there not saying anything for a moment.
“You going somewhere, House?”
“Yeah, I gotta go pee.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Well, excuse me for breathing.”
When Greg House got back from his own ensuite bathroom (for some reason, he always used his own), Wilson was still sitting there in the dimness. His shoulders were slumped, speaking volumes about his feelings at the time.
House stood for a moment, looking at his friend of twenty years. Clearing his throat, he asked as he got back into bed. “Don’t you want to know what I had the nightmare about?”
For a moment, House thought Wilson wasn’t going to answer, but he finally whispered, “About Cuddy’s panties?”
Jerking his eyebrows up and down, House stated categorically, “That wouldn’t be a nightmare, would it?”
Wilson forced himself to laugh, but continued to sit with his back to House.
House waited for a moment then spoke up, “I dreamt that you threw me out of this apartment. Blondie came to live with you instead.”
“Blondie?”
“Yeah, Mr.-He-Wants-Your-Body Julien!”
Now Wilson turned around to look in the dimness, but quickly turned around again and stared at the wall. “That’s not true; he just wanted a room.”
“Don’t lie to me, Wilson. He wanted to play doctor with you.”
House waited . . . for the truth. It took a few minutes, but Wilson finally straightened his shoulders and turned to face his friend.
“House . . . Julien didn’t really want to be my roommate. I . . . I set that up. I thought . . . well, I thought if you thought that there was someone else . . . you’d decide to take the other bedroom.”
Wilson dropped his eyes as if he couldn’t stand to see the contempt in his friend’s face.
After a minute, however, he couldn’t stand not to know, so he raised his eyes and saw the twinkle in the dull light.
House reached up to carefully caress the apprehensive face. “I know about Julien.”
“What?”
“I tracked him down; it wasn’t hard to find the gallery where some of his stuff is being shown. I got his address. He and I had . . . an interesting talk.”
**Oh, oh. Can’t ever fool him, can I?**
“Why’d you do that?”
Deadly serious blue eyes stared back at Wilson, “I went there to tell him to keep his hands off you. He enlightened me about a few things.”
Wilson felt as though he was sliding into an abyss. **What could he say . . . better not to say anything.**
“He told me that you and he had been friends since you had helped his mother. You asked him to ‘pose’ as a prospective roommate in order to fool some nitwit who you wanted to pay an exorbitant rent . . .”
“I did NOT say that you were a nitwit; I just wanted you . . . to live with me.”
“Why?”
“I . . . don’t know.”
“That’s a lie, Wilson.”
“Well, it’s all you’re going to get. Go ahead; you’ve had your four months. Do whatever you planned to.”
House nodded; his eyes lighting up at the misery in his friend’s face. “All right; I will.”
Expecting House to get up, dress and begin to move out, Wilson heard the drawer of the night stand being pulled out. The night stand lamp was turned on and a small box magically appeared in House’s hand. Making a motion for Wilson to pick it up, House stared into the confused brown eyes.
“What’s this?”
“Well, either use your x-ray vision or open it.”
Carefully, Wilson opened the box which wasn’t more than three inches by three inches. Inside were two gold rings - - wedding rings.
Wilson stared at the two rings which were gleaming in the small amount of light available. **House is getting married?**
A sadness beyond agony filled the depths of the brown eyes as the thought registered with the younger man. **That’s why he’s only staying four months.**
Greg House could read the unhappiness in the brown eyes. **Now what’s going on?**
“Don’t you like them?”
Wilson couldn’t force himself to pick either of them up, but House did. Reaching for Wilson’s left hand, the older man began to babble, “I wasn’t sure about the size. You’ve lost some weight since that one you used to wear, but you can always have it . . . re-sized.”
House stopped finally realizing why Wilson was so sad. “It’s for you, you idiot. Don’t you know that?”
Wilson held House’s look, merely shaking his head, no.
House snorted, “You are really an idiot, Wilson. I’ve moved my things into the place; I sleep in your bed, and I’m paying rent, what does that add up to?”
“Well, since you still haven’t paid anymore rent since the first, it could be that you’re freeloading.”
An affectionate smile crossed the bearded face. “I’m saving my money, but don’t you worry, I’ll pay. I’m planning to be equal owner of this condo so you can’t throw me out.”
“I’d never do that; I’ve had to work too hard to get you here.”
“Good; now, let’s get some sleep. We need to get down to the Hall of Records and get our license.”
“License?”
“Yeah, ever since February 19, 2007, people of our persuasion have needed a license to enter into connubial bliss.”
“Are you going to make me sign a pre-nuptial agreement?”
“I hadn’t thought about that, but since this condo is half mine; that’s a good idea.”
Leaning over House gently kissed his bed partner, dragging his body over to snuggle beside him. Wilson caressed his lover, gently tweaking his left nipple.
“Did you really go over there to threaten Julien?”
“Of course, I did, but well . . . when he told me the truth, I changed my mind. After all, it wouldn’t look good to flatten the guy who’s going to paint your wedding portrait.”
Wilson tried to sit up in bed, but was stopped by House’s arm. The younger man did manage to blurt out, “What?”
“Didn’t I tell you; I commissioned Julien to paint our wedding portrait, and since he’s such a busy man, we really need to get the deed done quickly so he can start on it.”
For the next few minutes, the two men were distracted with moans and groans from their exploration of each other’s bodies. Finally, after exhausting each other, Wilson laid his head on his lover’s chest and sighed contentedly.
“I think that we’re going to have some trouble getting the time off to go get the license, have the ceremony, and get our portrait done. You know how Cuddy is.”
“Yeah, but remember - - I’ve got her panties!”
Laughing softly, Wilson kissed his partner’s lips, pulling the blankets over their heads so they could further contemplate their efforts to persuade Cuddy.
The End
Title: Scenes from a Relationship
Author: longstrt
Pairing: H/W
Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these guys, but David Shore does.
Rating: slash
Scene1: The Laundry
Scene 2: The Panty Raid
Scene 3: Truth or Bare
Scene 4: Finding House a Home
Scene 5: Nightmares are only dreams
THE LAUNDRY
“What’s this?” questioned Greg House.
James Wilson turned around to look at his friend. His face scrunched up in puzzlement then cleared as his eyes twinkled, “Oh that’s Cuddy’s underwear.”
Gregory House, for once, was speechless. Then he swallowed the lump that was blocking his airway and spit out, “You’re kidding?”
Wilson looked innocent and hurt that his friend didn’t believe him. “No, I’m not; they must have gotten mixed up with my stuff.”
House’s blue eyes could not have opened any wider than they already were so his eyebrows had to do the job of sending out the message of disbelief. “How did that happen?”
Looking deadly serious and totally honest, Wilson retorted, “House, why do you have to know everything?
“My best friend sleeps with our boss, and you expect me not to ask about it?”
Looking confused, Wilson whispered, “I didn’t say we slept together; just that her . . . underwear got mixed up with my clothing.”
House studied his friend. He couldn’t believe it. As many times as he had told Wilson to sleep with Cuddy and as many times as he had told Cuddy to sleep with Wilson - - they had done it!
“Wilson, are you an idiot? First, you marry three women; then you sleep with countless more, including one of your patients, and now . . . this. You SLEPT WITH YOUR BOSS.”
“House, read my lips: I-DID-NOT-SLEEP-WITH-CUDDY!”
“Well, then HOW did her underwear get mixed up with your clothes?”
Wilson smirked, “Well, you should know better than me. After all they were in with your stuff. Next time, I’m washing my clothes separately.”
THE PANTY RAID
Greg House lay flat in the bed. Suddenly, he pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked at the warm body next to him. Hearing the irregular breathing, he knew that Wilson wasn’t asleep.
“You know that I didn’t sleep with Cuddy, don’t you?”
Wilson rubbed his forehead and forced his eyes open. “Now how would I know that?”
“Because I’m sleeping with you, you moron.”
“Well, how do I know when you got that underwear? It could have been months ago.”
“I haven’t been washing my clothes with yours for that long so those panties couldn’t have made their way into your drawers.” Realizing how that sounded, House shut up for the moment.
Wilson seemed to think about that then replied, “Fine, now go back to sleep.”
In the darkness, Wilson couldn’t see the puzzled look on House’s face, but House was disturbed, “Aren’t you the least bit jealous; don’t you want to know how I got those panties?”
Wilson sighed, “The mind boggles at the possibilities, but yes, I guess, I want to know.”
House lay back on the bed, but moved his body closer to the younger man. “You remember when Cuddy’s handy man got hurt?”
House could feel Wilson’s nod. “Well, I made arrangements for one of her panties to be taken into captivity. I figured it might be good for blackmail some day.”
Wilson frowned, “But that was several years ago, why were they in your laundry now?”
“Thought I’d try them on, but they were too tight.”
James Wilson sat straight up in bed. “Whhhaaat? I knew you were strange, House, but now I find out you’re a cross-dresser?”
Indignant, House sat up immediately. “I am not a cross-dresser. Okay, so I wear some of your underwear, but not a woman’s. I was just trying to get at you.”
“House, I’m not wearing any underwear right now, what are you going to do about that?”
TRUTH OR BARE
“House, could you tell me why I have almost no clothes on and you’re practically dressed?”
“’Cause you’re a lousy player?”
Wilson grimaced, “OR maybe it’s because you cheat.”
“Could be that, I guess, but I have better cards.”
“House, we’re not playing strip poker; we’re playing Truth or Dare and so far, I haven’t gotten many chances to ask you questions.”
“Okay, go ahead. Ask me anything.”
Expecting a question about the famous Cuddy panty raid, House was surprised when he heard, “If I got a new apartment, would you move in with me?”
House stared at his friend for a minute then asked, “Would I have to pay rent?”
“You’re avoiding the question. That will cost you a sock.”
“How much would I have to pay?”
“That will cost you the other sock.”
House looked grudgingly at Wilson then removed both socks, leaving him with bare feet but still a lot more clothed than Wilson, who only had one piece of cloth shielding him from his birthday suit.
“You snore!”
“I don’t snore!” Wilson blurted out then dropped his head to his chest.
“Do you still wet the bed?”
Wilson shook his head, realizing that House was not about to answer his question.
“Forget it, House. You’ll never change. Stay at 221; I’ll find another roommate.”
“You’ve already done that - - three times. Oh, I forgot; if you include Grace and CB, it’s up to five. Can’t you stand to live alone?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know; I’m a schlemiel for moving in with women, but this time will be different.”
“Oh, yeah, how’s that?”
“This time, it will be a man.”
FINDING HOUSE A HOME
“This is great. Must have cost you a bundle.”
“I can afford it, now that Bonnie, Julie and what’s her name aren’t getting alimony.”
“I’m impressed, Jimmy . . . with that balcony. Good thing that you’re up on the tenth floor; otherwise Spiderman might be a Peeping Tom.”
“I’m glad my taste suits you. Take a look around. I’m expecting my first applicant.”
“Applicant?”
“Yeah, remember I told you that I was looking for a roommate. He’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
House’s blue eyes gave his friend a strange look as if he didn’t believe the story about the roommate, but he headed off to the rest of the living area. Within minutes he returned, “That hot tub is bigger than some swimming pools. How come there’s only one wall TV?”
“I figure Julien can choose whatever *entertainment* he wants.”
“Julien?”
“Well, that’s the name of the first applicant. It makes the whole process more real if I think of him as a warm, living person.”
“How much are you going to charge him?”
“Well, I figured that I would leave it open to negotiations, but I thought about $1500.”
“That’s not too bad for a year.”
“A month, you moron.”
House’s eyebrows shot up at that figure. He rapidly began calculating on his fingers then muttered, “That’s $18,000 a year. That’s pretty good entertainment.”
Wilson made a face like, ‘why do I put up with him?’ Before he could say anything, however, the door bell rang. Going to the door, Wilson opened the door to Julien. Wilson and the younger man talked for a moment in the foyer and then both men entered the large sitting area. “Gregory House, this is Julien St. Jacques, he’s here to look the place over. Julien is an up and coming artist who has just moved to the city.”
If House had been a cat, his fur would have been standing on end. He hadn’t liked the way that Wilson had said, “up and coming”. Julien studied the older man but merely nodded. Wilson looked at both men then remembered his manners.
“House is just leaving; suppose I show you around the place. After all if this is going to be your new home; I want you to know what you’re getting into.” As Wilson left the room with the young artist, he turned quickly, making a motion shooing House out the door.
Several minutes later, Wilson and St. Jacques re-entered the sitting room, only to find House sitting on the long sofa with a huge smile on his face. Wilson was slightly suspicious, but cleared his throat and said, “Julien likes the place very much. He thinks that that extra bedroom will make a perfect studio. That way he can work from home.”
House stood up, staring at the long-haired blond. His grip on his cane was a message that James Wilson could read clearly. House’s vibes were clear: someone was going to get a cane up their butt, if something wasn’t done . . . and soon.
“Uh House, is something wrong?”
House stopped, holding out a small rectangular piece of paper. Taking it, Wilson could tell that it was a check. It was made out to James Wilson in the sum of $3,000. On the memo line were the words written in bold, black ink: Deposit for apartment.
The signature was a scrawl, but it was clearly Gregory House. Wilson stared at the check for a moment then looked up at House. About to say something to the older man, Wilson stopped when House said quietly but firmly, “Get him out of here.”
Wilson turned to the man, standing behind him. “I’m sorry, Julien. I had offered Mr. House this apartment first, but he didn’t seem to be interested. I guess he’s changed his mind.”
Julien looked rebellious for a moment then gave up with good grace. Mumbling something like, “C’est la vie,” he shook hands with Wilson then walked over to the door. Turning, he looked around the huge sitting room then gave a shrug and left.
House stared at Wilson. Wilson stared at House. “I thought I snored.”
“You do.”
“Then why did you change your mind?”
“I didn’t, but I’m not letting anybody else stay here.”
“You mean you’re paying $1500 a month just so I don’t have a roommate.”
“No, I’m paying $750 a month rent. You tried to overcharge him. I happen to know exactly how much you’re paying monthly for this condo; so don’t try to screw me, Mr. Stingy.”
Wilson stared at the scruffy man for a moment, trying not to read too much into House’s carefully chosen words.
“All right, $750.00 a month, but why’d you give me $3,000 then. That’s four months.”
“Figured that’s about what I would last.”
House, smiling silently, limped towards into his “new bedroom” to figure out what size entertainment complex he wanted, leaving James Wilson to figure out that last remark.
NIGHTMARES ARE ONLY DREAMS
“So it’s finally, happened? You got tired of me?”
“I didn’t get tired of you, House. I just need my space.”
“This monstrosity is over 3000 square feet. How many more feet do you need than that.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just want you to go, is that too much to ask?”
“I’m paying my share of the condo fee; that entitles me to stay.”
Wilson laughed, “That is a laugh. You haven’t paid since that first check and that bounced.”
“It did NOT bounce; I just forgot to deposit enough funds into my account! I’m not leaving!”
“Well, I am then!”
“Wilson, you are a moron. This is your condo!”
Suddenly, a lawyer dressed in black robe and white wig appeared. Wilson turned to the man and said, “You heard that didn’t you?”
“Yes, Dr. Wilson, that is a clear confession by Dr. House that you own this condo.”
“Thank you very much.”
Wilson turned to House, “Now get out!”
Suddenly the exterior door opened. The gorgeous naked body of Julien St. Jacques entered. Promptly the man went to Wilson and put his arm around his waist.
House stared at the two men; then heard the fatal words, “Get out, House. I found a new roommate.”
Greg House sat straight up in bed, the nightmare still vivid in his mind. After four months of living in the condo with Wilson, he had been expecting the younger man to kick him out any day. He knew that he had done everything that he could to provoke his friend, but Wilson hadn’t made a move yet.
Suddenly, James Wilson sat up next to House. In a tired voice, he asked, “What’s the matter; another nightmare?”
House rubbed his forehead and then his right leg. “Yeah, but what’s new about that? Go back to sleep.”
House ran his hand over his aching leg, thinking carefully about whether to go to his own room or not. House lay back down, and for the next few minutes, neither man said a thing. Both knew that the other one was not asleep, but they seemed to be reluctant to break the silence.
Finally, Wilson whispered, “Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask, but if there’s no answer; you get the idea.”
Wilson moved closer to his friend, gently rubbing House’s left hand with his own, whispering very softly, he asked, “You’re paying $750 a month for your bedroom, how come you sleep with me?”
House started to answer, his voice tone clearly indicating his thought that such a stupid question was even being contemplated, “No, I’m paying $750 a month to live here; where I sleep is purely my choice.”
“Oh, well then how come you made such a big fuss about which bedroom you got and the size of your TV?”
“THAT room is my refuge for the times that you’re being a moron, like now.”
“Hmmm, so that means the more I act like a moron; the more time you’ll spend in there?”
“It’s amazing your brilliance. I can certainly understand why you graduated, magna cum laude.”
“Well, then, how come for the past 120 days or so, you’ve slept with me? According to you, I’ve been an idiot, quite frequently.”
“Well, I told you that I’d give you four months; it’s just about up.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out for yourself.”
For a moment or two Wilson laid next to his friend; then he sat up, moving his body to the edge of the bed; his back to House. He sat there not saying anything for a moment.
“You going somewhere, House?”
“Yeah, I gotta go pee.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Well, excuse me for breathing.”
When Greg House got back from his own ensuite bathroom (for some reason, he always used his own), Wilson was still sitting there in the dimness. His shoulders were slumped, speaking volumes about his feelings at the time.
House stood for a moment, looking at his friend of twenty years. Clearing his throat, he asked as he got back into bed. “Don’t you want to know what I had the nightmare about?”
For a moment, House thought Wilson wasn’t going to answer, but he finally whispered, “About Cuddy’s panties?”
Jerking his eyebrows up and down, House stated categorically, “That wouldn’t be a nightmare, would it?”
Wilson forced himself to laugh, but continued to sit with his back to House.
House waited for a moment then spoke up, “I dreamt that you threw me out of this apartment. Blondie came to live with you instead.”
“Blondie?”
“Yeah, Mr.-He-Wants-Your-Body Julien!”
Now Wilson turned around to look in the dimness, but quickly turned around again and stared at the wall. “That’s not true; he just wanted a room.”
“Don’t lie to me, Wilson. He wanted to play doctor with you.”
House waited . . . for the truth. It took a few minutes, but Wilson finally straightened his shoulders and turned to face his friend.
“House . . . Julien didn’t really want to be my roommate. I . . . I set that up. I thought . . . well, I thought if you thought that there was someone else . . . you’d decide to take the other bedroom.”
Wilson dropped his eyes as if he couldn’t stand to see the contempt in his friend’s face.
After a minute, however, he couldn’t stand not to know, so he raised his eyes and saw the twinkle in the dull light.
House reached up to carefully caress the apprehensive face. “I know about Julien.”
“What?”
“I tracked him down; it wasn’t hard to find the gallery where some of his stuff is being shown. I got his address. He and I had . . . an interesting talk.”
**Oh, oh. Can’t ever fool him, can I?**
“Why’d you do that?”
Deadly serious blue eyes stared back at Wilson, “I went there to tell him to keep his hands off you. He enlightened me about a few things.”
Wilson felt as though he was sliding into an abyss. **What could he say . . . better not to say anything.**
“He told me that you and he had been friends since you had helped his mother. You asked him to ‘pose’ as a prospective roommate in order to fool some nitwit who you wanted to pay an exorbitant rent . . .”
“I did NOT say that you were a nitwit; I just wanted you . . . to live with me.”
“Why?”
“I . . . don’t know.”
“That’s a lie, Wilson.”
“Well, it’s all you’re going to get. Go ahead; you’ve had your four months. Do whatever you planned to.”
House nodded; his eyes lighting up at the misery in his friend’s face. “All right; I will.”
Expecting House to get up, dress and begin to move out, Wilson heard the drawer of the night stand being pulled out. The night stand lamp was turned on and a small box magically appeared in House’s hand. Making a motion for Wilson to pick it up, House stared into the confused brown eyes.
“What’s this?”
“Well, either use your x-ray vision or open it.”
Carefully, Wilson opened the box which wasn’t more than three inches by three inches. Inside were two gold rings - - wedding rings.
Wilson stared at the two rings which were gleaming in the small amount of light available. **House is getting married?**
A sadness beyond agony filled the depths of the brown eyes as the thought registered with the younger man. **That’s why he’s only staying four months.**
Greg House could read the unhappiness in the brown eyes. **Now what’s going on?**
“Don’t you like them?”
Wilson couldn’t force himself to pick either of them up, but House did. Reaching for Wilson’s left hand, the older man began to babble, “I wasn’t sure about the size. You’ve lost some weight since that one you used to wear, but you can always have it . . . re-sized.”
House stopped finally realizing why Wilson was so sad. “It’s for you, you idiot. Don’t you know that?”
Wilson held House’s look, merely shaking his head, no.
House snorted, “You are really an idiot, Wilson. I’ve moved my things into the place; I sleep in your bed, and I’m paying rent, what does that add up to?”
“Well, since you still haven’t paid anymore rent since the first, it could be that you’re freeloading.”
An affectionate smile crossed the bearded face. “I’m saving my money, but don’t you worry, I’ll pay. I’m planning to be equal owner of this condo so you can’t throw me out.”
“I’d never do that; I’ve had to work too hard to get you here.”
“Good; now, let’s get some sleep. We need to get down to the Hall of Records and get our license.”
“License?”
“Yeah, ever since February 19, 2007, people of our persuasion have needed a license to enter into connubial bliss.”
“Are you going to make me sign a pre-nuptial agreement?”
“I hadn’t thought about that, but since this condo is half mine; that’s a good idea.”
Leaning over House gently kissed his bed partner, dragging his body over to snuggle beside him. Wilson caressed his lover, gently tweaking his left nipple.
“Did you really go over there to threaten Julien?”
“Of course, I did, but well . . . when he told me the truth, I changed my mind. After all, it wouldn’t look good to flatten the guy who’s going to paint your wedding portrait.”
Wilson tried to sit up in bed, but was stopped by House’s arm. The younger man did manage to blurt out, “What?”
“Didn’t I tell you; I commissioned Julien to paint our wedding portrait, and since he’s such a busy man, we really need to get the deed done quickly so he can start on it.”
For the next few minutes, the two men were distracted with moans and groans from their exploration of each other’s bodies. Finally, after exhausting each other, Wilson laid his head on his lover’s chest and sighed contentedly.
“I think that we’re going to have some trouble getting the time off to go get the license, have the ceremony, and get our portrait done. You know how Cuddy is.”
“Yeah, but remember - - I’ve got her panties!”
Laughing softly, Wilson kissed his partner’s lips, pulling the blankets over their heads so they could further contemplate their efforts to persuade Cuddy.
The End