3 rules

Gregory House was stubborn, sarcastic and brilliant. Nobody would say otherwise. He lived his life as felt it was right, but he had his own principles, his rules of life.

Greg House never bows before anyone’s will.

Greg House never lies. Particularly not to himself.

And last but not least, Greg House never cries.

But life has it own rules and they tend to interfere with House’s rules. It all started on a rainy night when his best friend, his only friend knocked on his door. As he opened the door, he was ready to send away whoever was there, but what he saw stopped his rant before even a word could leave his mouth. Wilson’s brown-blond hair and clothes were soaked through from the pouring rain, his eyes were puffy and red. His whole posture screamed that something was wrong. Not the my patient died and I need company wrong, neither the Julie kicked me out for a night wrong. Something terrible wrong.

He stepped aside to allowed his friend to came inside his flat. As Wilson walked along beside him he could smell the whiskey. House knew his friend’s hurt was deeper than it looked. Wilson got drunk now and then, but never so much that you were able to smell it.

“What happened?”

“Julie left me. My marriage is over.” The slightly lisp in his speech just put a point on the letter ‘i’. Wilson was more them drunk. But who wouldn’t be, after three failed marriages. He closed the front door and limped after James. He watched as Wilson took out his whisky from the cupboard. He saw a deep soul searching sight. He knew he needed to help his friend someway, but really didn’t know how. It was always the other way around, him drunk and James there for moral support. Over the years Greg House had come to realize that he loved James Wilson, Wonder boy oncologist. But he learned a long time ago how to hide behind sarcasm and scorn. How to hide his pain and longing. He knew James’ preference was toward woman. So many woman turned around in his bed that to try to count them would be difficult if not impossible. He limped beside his friend and pulled him in a hug. It always felt so good when he get one from his friend because he knew he never got more than that. He was thrown out his musing when lips sealed his own. He looked in the barely focused brown eyes and his heart skipped a beat. James’ eyes were filled with lust, sorrow and desperation. His eyes begged for comfort, begged for love, begged for more, begged for something more, to continue, to never stop. House almost pulled away but desperate hands held him back.

“Please.” This word tear down his last resistance, and he allowed himself to become lost in the other man’s embrace, the one man who he loved more than life. He opened his mouth when the first searching kiss begged for entrance and he let himself be pulled down to the couch, let himself be kissed within an inch of his life, let roving fingers explore his nude body. And that very night he broke his first rule. He bowed before others’ will, Wilson’s will. He let himself be taken. It was painful, but he was used to pain and Wilson was there. It didn’t count at the time because in some strange twist of fate he got what he wanted, although maybe not how he wanted it.

That night changed so many things. Wilson moved in with him, and they spend many nights in each other’s arms. No it wasn’t true, that morning brought the breaking of his second rule. It was a lie that he wanted to believe but he knew deep down, it wouldn’t last too long. He knew it then that morning when they went about as though it had never happened. It couldn’t work but he let it go. He wanted to give Wilson what he wanted, what he needed to be able to heal. And he thought, or more accurately, hoped, that it would be enough for himself as well, this one chance. Because Wilson was different.

But that very night, Wilson came to his room with a strange glint in his eyes, and they spend that night together and lot of other nights after that. But something wasn’t right, small things like the way that Wilson never kissed him again, just that one first time. Things like the way he was always bottomed, which wasn’t too big a deal, he liked it, liked to give up his control to James, but there were other things. When he was taken, James pressed him face down, never looking in his eyes, never bothering to see if he came as well. It hurt, because he felt… he felt used… he felt so alone. Their friendly chats and spars were in the past, they never really talked any more. And the way that he lost more them he won by their night together. He told himself it was enough for him, it was worth it. But it was all just a lie. He, Greg House, never lied, particularly not to himself. And this was the biggest lie.

Others noticed that something changed, Cuddy and Cameron were all mother hen toward him. They said he looked pale, that he limped a bit more, they asked if his leg pained him more, if he was eating right. They told him several times that he looked like he had lost a lot of weight. Even Chase and Foreman were worried, a horrible thought. But Wilson never said a thing about it and that just hurt more.

One night Wilson was late, and when he finally arrived House smelled perfume and there lingered the faint smell of sex, and he knew that he had lost Wilson more. That night when he was face down in his own bed he pretended to sleep in after their… after Wilson fucked him again. He waited while Wilson got up from the bed and left him alone. It always hurt to wake up alone because it made him feel even more used. Like a cheap whore he was left alone. He bit his lips not to make a sound as he tried to get in a better position, which didn’t hurt so much. That night was the worst, his leg, back and ass hurt, but they couldn’t be compared to his feelings. That night Wilson had not called out his name when he came, nor whispered his name while he was deep inside him, as he fucked him. He called out someone else. But it didn’t matter, he told himself several times while he waited for Wilson to leave him alone. It didn’t mattered because he knew it couldn’t last forever. But it was just another lie because it mattered, because he hoped it would keep forever. That night he broke his last rule as well. That night he cried.