House M.D. Fanfiction: Held Hostage (20/21) Pt. 2
Title: Held Hostage
Author: pgrabia
Disclaimer: House M.D., its character’s, locations, and storyline are the property of David Shore, Bad Hat Harry Productions and Fox Television. All Rights Reserved.
Characters/Pairing: G. House, J. Wilson, L. Cuddy, random characters from canon and OCs/House/Cuddy established; House/Wilson Pre-slash/slash.
A/N: This story runs AU, what I would like to see happen if House and Cuddy should ever plan to get married. I’m sick of Huddy already-it’s completely ruined the show-so if you like Huddy, then you’ll hate this and you might as well move along to another fic.
Also, I want to give a big thank you to George Stark II for being my ever patient beta!
Genre: Drama/Romance.
Spoiler Alert: This story involves spoilers for all seasons of House M.D. up to and including Season Seven, Ep. Ten.
Word Count: including introduction.
Rating: M (NC-17) for Adult subject matter, coarse language, violence, drug and alcohol use, and explicit sexuality.
Held Hostage
Chapter Twenty Pt.2
Wilson opened the door of the hotel bar and held it for House. The diagnostician walked past him into the place where he had first seen Wilson that fateful night twenty years ago. It looked identical to the way House remembered it, right down to the antique mirror hanging over the bar (well, the frame was antique but the glass had been replaced with a close replica of the mirror; Wilson had broken the mirror when he had thrown his glass into it in a fit of rage and frustration, starting a huge brawl that had wound the young oncologist up in jail, awaiting bond). The old jukebox was there in the corner and House wondered if it still played the same song that had started the problem in the first place.
The thing that was strange was that it was just after happy hour but the establishment was completely empty other than for a bartender drying glasses and ignoring them. The place should have been fairly busy but instead it was dead. One of the tables in the center of the room was set elegantly for two with a low block candle lit and set in the center. Suddenly it occurred to House what was happening and why the bar was empty.
“You rented the bar for the night for just the two of us, didn’t you?” House asked his friend, wide-eyed. He could only guess at how much that would have cost Wilson to do.
“Well, how can you have an intimate candlelit dinner for two with a roomful of people all around you?” Wilson responded with eyes that gleamed indulgently at him.
“What if I hadn’t come willingly this entire way and didn’t want to have a candlelit dinner with you?” House asked him, resisting the urge to smile. “That would have been a lot of money thrown away for nothing.”
Wilson shrugged nonchalantly and responded earnestly, “It was worth the risk because you’re worth it.”
Their eyes met and it caused House’s heart to beat fast and hard and his stomach to flutter pleasantly; he couldn’t remember the last time somebody had said anything like that to him. In that instant House wanted to grab Wilson’s hand and pull him up flush to his body and command his perfect mouth but thought better of it. He was hungry and wanted to eat and if he went ahead and pulled Wilson into a passionate kiss he wouldn’t stop until he had dragged Wilson back to their room, stripped him of every thread of clothing and ravished him. Better to eat first, have sex later.
“Well, since we’re here we might as well eat,” House told him, breaking up the moment of meaningful silence between them. “Where’s the grub?” He headed to the table and sat down.
Wilson sat opposite him, a hint of a smile on his lips. House couldn’t help but stare at him; he was so incredibly hot with his dark eyes and chestnut hair, and single dimple that was expressed when he smiled. He couldn’t believe they were sitting there in the place where it all began on the precipice of a new phase of their relationship and their lives and he wasn’t afraid. House was always afraid of change because he always expected that change would come with negative consequences-that was the story of his life. If he and Wilson became lovers as well as best friends and things didn’t work out between them, would it be possible to go back to the way things were when they were just friends? He doubted it. They might possibly be able to remain friends but things would never be as good between them again. Ordinarily that knowledge would set him into a panic and he’d end up pushing Wilson away and running away himself.
But this time…this time he wasn’t afraid to pursue this. He couldn’t explain it-there was no way he could put it into words that would make any sense to anyone but himself. His normally rational, methodical mind couldn’t reason it out like it usually did and produce concrete proof to substantiate what he believed but he knew without a doubt that this would work out and that he didn’t have to worry about losing Wilson someday.
As soon as they had sat down the bartender had brought over an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne and taken their order from the hotel restaurant menu. House allowed Wilson one glass of the bubbly and he didn’t receive an argument. They joked about the combover the bartender sported, made up an outrageous tale of how he was a bartender by day and a mass murderer by night, luring young men into his car, taking them back to his remote cabin deep down the Bayou where he lobotomized them and had sex with them before eating them a la Jeffrey Dahmer and dumping what was inedible into the waters for the alligators to pick clean. They were laughing until they had tears in their eyes and every time the bartender came to their table to deliver the food or bring Wilson a bottle of sparkling water they took one look at him and broke out laughing again. House couldn’t believe how natural it felt to be there with Wilson at that moment, like they should have confessed their feelings for each other years ago and bypassed the angst and anger of the past three years altogether.
After dinner and dessert (which House noted his best friend ate very little of) Wilson got up from the table and went over to the jukebox. He slipped a few coins into it and made a selection.
“If that’s ‘Leave a Tender Moment Alone,’” House said to him with a grin, “just remember that I don’t have any money on me to bail you out of jail.”
Wilson chuckled as the music began to play. “Not a chance.” He gestured to House to come join him.
“Isn’t this a little gay?” House asked his best friend, rising to his feet regardless and approaching him. Wilson took House’s cane from him and rested it against the bar.
“Uh, yeah, I think it is,” Wilson said softly, nodding. “Does that bother you, House? Be honest.”
House saw the hint of apprehension in his best friend’s eyes and thought about saying yes to see what his reaction would be but then changed his mind. He couldn’t do that to him.
“Who leads?” House demanded, smirking.
Wilson was visibly relieved. “We’ll flip for it.” Wilson pulled a quarter out of his pocket. “Call it.” He flicked the coin up into the air, tumbling up before reaching the point where gravity took over and pulled it downward again.
“Heads,” House said. The coin landed in the palm of Wilson’s hand and before looking at it he slapped it down onto the back of his right hand and exposed it. It was heads. House grinned in satisfaction but it didn’t really matter. All they could do was sway to the music anyway with House’s leg being the way it was, holding each other close so that their cheeks touched along with the rest of their bodies.
“What did you think/ I would do at this moment/ when you’re standing before me/ with tears in your eyes…”
House reveled in the feeling of Wilson’s breath on his neck, the smell of him, the warmth of his body pressed against his, the feeling of his arms around him, holding him. It was more intoxicating than champagne could ever be.
“Still okay with this?” Wilson asked him after a few moments, turning his head to look House in the eyes. “Or is it still too gay?”
“Too gay,” House answered even as he was pulling Wilson even closer if that was even possible and then pressing his lips gently against the oncologist’s. Wilson immediately kissed him back, deepening the kiss with the passion he’d been holding back for a very long time.
“…What do you think/ I would give at this moment/ If you'd stay/ I'd subtract twenty years from my life/ I'd fall down on my knees/ and kiss the ground that you walk on/ If I could just hold you again…”
“I talked to Cuddy, while you were sleeping,” House told Wilson softly, leaning his forehead against Wilson’s. “It’s over. I can’t continue a relationship with her when I want to be with you. She took it surprisingly well, but I didn’t tell her about…about us. She guessed it. She didn’t seem surprised at all. I didn’t intend on outing you-”
“I don’t care,” Wilson murmured. “I used to but…but I don’t anymore. I took the traditional road and look where it got me. I love you, House, and I don’t care who knows it.”
House smiled almost shyly at that, and kissed Wilson again before saying. “Let’s go back to our room and continue this...conversation…there.”
Wilson didn’t need to have his arm twisted; he retrieved House’s cane and handed it to him. He grasped House’s hand in his and wove their fingers together, leading the way back to the hotel room.