Every Day is Exactly the Same
Title: Every Day is Exactly the Same (Part Five in the Halo Series)
Author: cosmosmariner
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: T
Summary: Wilson's tired of being House's second choice.
Disclaimer: I'm not affliated with Fox, David Shore, or any other creative mind behind "House M.D."
He knew when Greg was lonely. He'd ask him to stay after work, to consult on a case, or come over to the apartment to eat bad Russian takeout and watch episodes of "General Hospital" he recorded on his DVR.
He knew when Greg was lonely. Suddenly, he would wear a shirt that had been recently laundered and splash on a little Eau Sauvage. He would get a hair cut, polish the chrome on his motorcycle, and make a half-hearted attempt at shaving.
Greg never actually said he needed companionship, and James never actually agreed to be a companion. However, there were some things that words failed to express, and the overwhelming need they felt was one of them.
Late in the night, after the need had burned out James would sit up in Greg's living room watching late night television. He knew that in the morning Greg would rummage through the clothes on the floor and grab a shirt that didn't smell. He'd lace up his ratty tennis shoes, throw on his helmet, and leave without a word. He would see him at work, hobbling down the hall. There would be no words, no meaningful glances. The desperation would be gone, assuaged for a brief moment, until the desire became too much for Greg to keep to himself.
James sat in his office, packing his briefcase and getting ready to go home. Greg may have quenched his loneliness, but James lived with his. His life was a never-ending search for someone to fill the gaping need in his soul, which only seemed to ease when he was with Greg. James knew, without hesitation, that in Greg's mind there was no room for tenderness, and he never asked for it. It might be enough for Greg, but it wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t want to go through life blindly; knowing that what he wanted lay two steps ahead of him at all times.
He turned to close the blinds and heard the soft click of the door. He stood quietly, knowing who it was, hoping for something more than a pithy remark.
"Wilson."
"House."
"Come to my apartment tonight," he began. "I have some leftover pelmeni that need to be eaten."
James continued to look out the window. "House...I need to go home. My home. I can't just keep going to your place whenever you decide you need sex."
"Dammit, Wilson, this isn't about that."
"Really?" Wilson laughed softly. "What's it about, then?"
He turned around. The setting sun shown through the blinds left open, throwing House into shadows. He stood, perfectly still, and looked him in the eyes.
"Jimmy. Don't go."
Author: cosmosmariner
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: T
Summary: Wilson's tired of being House's second choice.
Disclaimer: I'm not affliated with Fox, David Shore, or any other creative mind behind "House M.D."
He knew when Greg was lonely. He'd ask him to stay after work, to consult on a case, or come over to the apartment to eat bad Russian takeout and watch episodes of "General Hospital" he recorded on his DVR.
He knew when Greg was lonely. Suddenly, he would wear a shirt that had been recently laundered and splash on a little Eau Sauvage. He would get a hair cut, polish the chrome on his motorcycle, and make a half-hearted attempt at shaving.
Greg never actually said he needed companionship, and James never actually agreed to be a companion. However, there were some things that words failed to express, and the overwhelming need they felt was one of them.
Late in the night, after the need had burned out James would sit up in Greg's living room watching late night television. He knew that in the morning Greg would rummage through the clothes on the floor and grab a shirt that didn't smell. He'd lace up his ratty tennis shoes, throw on his helmet, and leave without a word. He would see him at work, hobbling down the hall. There would be no words, no meaningful glances. The desperation would be gone, assuaged for a brief moment, until the desire became too much for Greg to keep to himself.
James sat in his office, packing his briefcase and getting ready to go home. Greg may have quenched his loneliness, but James lived with his. His life was a never-ending search for someone to fill the gaping need in his soul, which only seemed to ease when he was with Greg. James knew, without hesitation, that in Greg's mind there was no room for tenderness, and he never asked for it. It might be enough for Greg, but it wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t want to go through life blindly; knowing that what he wanted lay two steps ahead of him at all times.
He turned to close the blinds and heard the soft click of the door. He stood quietly, knowing who it was, hoping for something more than a pithy remark.
"Wilson."
"House."
"Come to my apartment tonight," he began. "I have some leftover pelmeni that need to be eaten."
James continued to look out the window. "House...I need to go home. My home. I can't just keep going to your place whenever you decide you need sex."
"Dammit, Wilson, this isn't about that."
"Really?" Wilson laughed softly. "What's it about, then?"
He turned around. The setting sun shown through the blinds left open, throwing House into shadows. He stood, perfectly still, and looked him in the eyes.
"Jimmy. Don't go."