AUTHOR: Macx

RATING: R

PAIRING: House/Wilson, Chris/Ezra (for Denuo M7)

ARCHIVE: yes

DISCLAIMER: not mine. Wish I could have them, but whoever all owns them, I'm not trying to infringe on anything. All rights are with the creators of the show, the studios, whatever.

The Denuo universe was created by Lara Bee and myself. More stories from different shows can be found
here

Macx’s Voice of Warning (aka Authors’ Note): English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are.....

WARNINGS: paranormal element, slash (duh!), crossover with the M7 part of the Denuo AU
 
 
 
 

Spring had come and settled in for a long stay. The snow was melting quickly and House had joyfully taken the bike out of storage, much to Wilson's dismay -- and constant mutterings about safety and homicidal maniacs with a drug addiction. He didn't do much more than mutter, knowing that he couldn't stop his lover, even if he wanted to. He was a grown man and he knew how Wilson felt about the bike, had always felt about it before they had become so much closer.

It was with the first rays of sunshine that Cuddy's mood started to darken as she listened to the increasing pleas of House's team.

"Don't you remember what happened the last time?" Chase almost whined.

The 'last time' referred to Wilson taking a three days leave of absence, driving to visit his parents. Something family related. Those three days had seen the team suffer from House's bad mood and Cuddy running interference with clinic patients. As much as she appreciated Wilson's positive influence, his absence was even worse.

"I remember, but this is an oncology conference. You want me to send House there?"

"Just get him to leave with Wilson," Cameron told her with faint pleading. "He can stay in Las Vegas. He has enough vacation days as it is, right?"

"I'll see what I can do," she tried to assure them.

Chase was almost desperate. Cameron just nodded. Cuddy leaned back into her chair, hands folded over her stomach, thinking. She didn't know if there was a subtle way to get House to agree with this. Subtlety was something not exactly lost on the man. He also easily saw through lies and obfuscations.

So that meant the direct route.

Oh joy.

She steeled herself for the inevitable argument.

* * *

"Are you telling me to spend some quality time with my lover? My boyfriend? My better half?" House looked at her with such fake incredulity, it was almost too much for Cuddy. She could barely hide her chuckle.

"I don't care what you call him, just go!" she snapped instead.

"Not interested."

"House!"

"Yes?"

"Go! Go with Wilson!"

House smirked. "You don't want me here alone, is that it? You want to get rid of me because there's no Wilson to keep me nice?"

"You are never nice, House, Wilson or no Wilson."

"Ah, but I'm nicer."

Cuddy looked about ready to blow a blood vessel. Suddenly she calmed down and shot him a sly look.

"And what's so wrong about that?"

"I see self-preservation kicking in big time. Who set you up? Cameron? Chase? I don't think it was Foreman. He's too neurotic for that. Hm…" He looked thoughtful, "a neurotic neurologist…"

"House, just go. Take some time off your mountain of vacation days, and enjoy them in Las Vegas with Wilson. We deserve as much."

House looked smug. "Okay, I'll go, but don't blame me if Wilson gets me drunk enough to drag me to one of those horrid drive-through wedding chapels."

Cuddy didn't even look remotely outraged or shocked. "The moment they legalize same-sex marriage in Las Vegas, I'll start to worry about you."

"Can I count on you to give me away?"

"I'll even stand in the front line, throwing rice, just to see you in white."

House's brows rose. "Me? In white? What do you take me for? The virginal bride?"

"More like the lecherous groom, but who knows? Now go and pack."

"Yes, Mom. Want me to bring you back a souvenir?"

The way he said it, Cuddy just shuddered inwardly. "Don't bother. Having a week without you is gift enough."

House's expression promised retaliation, but for now he just saluted and limped out of the office, heading for his own. Cuddy saw him leave the hospital with a wide, almost maniacal smile no ten minutes later.

She chuckled to herself.

Watch out, Vegas. House is on his way.

* * *

House had decided to go sight-seeing and gambling while his lover was at some kind of boring conference.

"It's not boring," Wilson argued as he got ready in the morning, tie perfect, slacks ironed, the dark blue complimenting the light blue shirt and the equally dark blue and red tie.

He looked like the poster boy for 'We want you' for oncology. He also looked good enough to eat. Well, at least to mess him up a bit, but House held back on that notion. For all his bitching about big time specialists meeting for brainless discussions better made through an article or two in a paper you could throw away, he recognized the importance of a conference, too. James Wilson was renowned oncologist. He was the youngest department head for decades, maybe even in the last century in such an important facility like Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and House knew his lover was more than capable. He was that good. Period.

So he kept his eager hands to himself as Wilson slipped into the suit coat, but he couldn't keep from kissing his lover, ever so gently, and smiling as Wilson withdrew.

"I better get going."

"Yep, you do that."

"Be nice to people, Greg."

"Yes, Mom. Can I go out and play now?" he whined with the perfect imitation of a little kid.

Wilson chuckled and took his case. "I'll see you tonight."

"No dinner with colleagues? A show? Topless dancers at a gentlemen's club?"

"Would I go without you?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Wilson only smiled more and left. House looked around their empty room, then grabbed his backpack and checked his wallet. Okay, enough cash for a start.

He was out of the room a few minutes later and took up first residence at a gaming table. He didn't intend to stay here all day, but with luck on his side, he might just get a little more gambling money to spend on outrageous other stuff.

*

He didn't win much. As it was, he lost more than the craps tables, roulette or poker room gave him back, but it was fun and he spent the better half of the day watching people and gambling. He finally left the hotel and squinted into the bright light. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses he waved off several offers for rides, tours and shows, till he finally stopped in front of Las Vegas Helicopters. He watched a helicopter take off, the wind whipping at his clothes, and a grin slowly started on his lips.

* * *

"You what?"

"Took a scenic flight," House remarked, lying on the bed and flipping through the channels. "You think the pay per view is any good? They got some porn, I think."

Wilson's eyebrows rose. "Yes, you flying is a bit of a long shot. I would have taken you for the topless dance shows in some obscure club, but I could be wrong. You really want to watch a movie?"
House zapped through the whole program on offer once more. "The really good nude shows don't start till eleven or maybe even later, and, yes, a movie might be entertaining."

"Porn?"

"Why not?"

Wilson shot him a disbelieving look. "Porn?" he repeated.

A shrug, but House never looked at him, apparently intent on the program. Wilson gave it a brief look. It was a commercial.

"You didn't think I would like to come along for the ride?" Wilson wanted to know as he hung up his suit jacket and toed off his shoes.

House barely looked at him. "Boring. Lots of rock and canyon stuff. Not the least bit interesting for oncology specialists. How about Betty does Vegas? Or Glorious Holes?"

He tried not to roll his eyes. "I see how the two things might not hold up for comparison. And I'm not in the mood."

"See? I did you a favor." House's eyes narrowed a little in mock affront. "And why aren't you in the mood? You're a man! "

Wilson undid the buttons of the shirt after he removed the tie. "I'm also in a relationship with a sarcastic, arrogant bastard."

"Bring him along. He might enjoy the porn," House quipped, long frame stretched out on the bed. "So, learn anything new today?"

"Aside from the fact that my lover likes to go off without me on helicopter rides?"

"Aww, Jimmy. If you really want to go so badly, we can do it after you finish up with your little conference thingy." House's eyes sparkled.

And those eyes took on more than a sparkle when they fell on Wilson's semi-exposed chest.

"Planning to go somewhere tonight with your pals or can you make some time in your schedule?" he purred, suddenly very interested in the younger man.

Wilson moved provocatively closer to the bed. "I don't know. I had some offers."

House growled, hunger taking over. "Offers?"

"Food. Shows. Some want to go for a drink at the Ra. Nice little club, I heard. Hot stuff."

House hooked his fingers into the waistband of the pants and pulled Wilson the rest of the way till his shins connected with the bed.

"Decline."

"Why?"

There was a low rumble. "I got a better offer."

Wilson smiled his most charming smile. "Oh? Better than the hot stuff at the Ra? Let's hear it."

House tugged a little. "Come on over and I'll show you," he purred. "But you might just get burned."

Wilson did just that, smoothly sliding to sit over the other man's thighs, careful not to put too much weight on the bad leg. He leaned forward instead, most of that weight now on his arms, as he faced his lover. House looked rather predatory, hands already sliding under the open shirt and stroking over the warm skin. Their lips met, first slowly and gently, then with increasing force.

"And they say the libido decreases with age," Wilson gasped.

"Hm, 'they' are wrong, my dear Dr. Wilson," House lectured as he started to devour the throat so readily at his disposal. "Because 'they' don't know what a hot, semi-naked oncologist can do to that libido."
Wilson yelped as teeth clamped down on a piece of sensitive skin.

"House!" he whined. "Don't leave a hickey!"

"Too late."

Wilson looked mortified at the thought of bearing the mark for the conference tomorrow, but House showed no remorse. If at all, he looked even more possessive and tugged him to straddle him completely. Long fingers slid over perked nipples, rubbing and teasing and twisting gently. Wilson arched with pleasure.

House took the opportunity of naked flesh arching closer to deliver a few more bites that wouldn't leave a trace. His blue eyes were on fire and if the growing bulge was any indication, Wilson knew that he would probably spend tomorrow looking for a comfortable way to sit down.

* * *

Wilson was back in the Wynn for the conference the next morning, still sore but very happy. He talked to a few colleagues and used the midday break to gamble a little. He sat down next to a young man, early twenties at best, blond, sun-tanned and obviously on a winning streak. Wilson put in five dollars and started his rounds. He didn't notice the young man glancing his way and if he did, he chalked it up to simple curiosity.
 
 

Charles Tucker had come to Las Vegas over spring break, at least for a few days, to enjoy gambling and the sights. He was in his third year at CALTech university already and it was nice to be back home for a break.

When the stranger sat down beside him he frowned as a tingle raced through him. He knew that tingle. It happened when the Trigger recognized a possible paranormal. But this was different. This didn't feel like either an active paranormal or an untriggered one. This was like one who had never been really activated but was still active nevertheless.

Charlie glanced at the man. He was playing for fun, not a gambler really, and was dressed in a dark suit, a light blue shirt and had a tie on. Businessman or something.

Charlie reached out and carefully let the Trigger analyze who he was facing. In surprise he found a lot out of place with this man. It explained why he felt both active and inactive. It was like a spine with the vertebrae out of synch. The Trigger in him started to slowly set things into the correct place, like a chiropractor would. Painless, unfelt by the man.

Triggers had two ways of going about their work. Normally they needed a medium to help them work their 'magic'. Another magic-user, for instance. For the stronger, untriggered ones the Trigger rarely needed help. Accidental triggering only happened with those, and the really strong ones were so rare, a Trigger would never run into one more than once in his life – if at all.

Done with his work, Charlie checked again, surprised that the feel of the man didn't change. If he didn't know any better, he would say he had no talent at all. He was registering way below the lowest level he had ever encountered.

Curious.

The man pulled his slot card and put it back into his pocket, then slid off the chair and left. Charlie watched him go, intrigued.

* * *

They did take another helicopter ride, but not just for a quick view of the Grand Canyon, but for a really nice day out in the canyon. House wasn't much of the nature freak he claimed, but Wilson knew otherwise. His lover had been quite into sports, mostly team sports but also some hiking, before the disability. He recognized the longing in the blue eyes as House limped along the footpath as much as he could and dared with the bad leg, gazing at the incredible landscape.

Wilson briefly rested a hand on the one clutching the cane and leaned closer. It was so brief, it was barely there, but House had felt it and he shot him a hard to interpret look. Wilson only smiled and resumed taking pictures.
 
 

They left the next morning, but not to fly back home. Their bags were now in a rental car and Wilson quickly got them north on the I-15, heading for Salt Lake City, where Wilson had wanted to visit a colleague he had been corresponding with for some time now, working on a project together that concerned paranormals.

House leaned back in his seat and stretched long legs into the passenger foot space, drifting off to sleep. He was awake a while later as they passed the state line into Utah and an hour after that they stopped for coffee. It was a nice day for driving and House had no problem with letting his lover handle the driving the whole way. He had argued and wheedled and mock-pled to rent a bike, but Wilson had only done his exasperated face combined with an eye roll, and they had finally decided on a compact.

It was very late in the afternoon, almost sunset as they arrived in Salt Lake and checked into their hotel. Wilson called his colleague and after dumping their bags they were off again. House was only moderately interested in the sights. His interest was on meeting the man who Wilson worked with on his paranormal projects. He had read enough stuff to know that both men were seriously into something that might just alleviate trouble for several paranormals, though he didn't think of himself as a target group. Vicodin was good, Vicodin helped, and changing drugs wasn't really on his mind. Never change a running system or something along those lines.

The Clarion Tower was an old brick stone building that didn't reach past the seventh floor of the much larger skyscrapers around it. It squatted like a piece of ancient rock just at the fringe of the steel and glass 'scrapers, insignificant in size but not in historical value. It had been a newspaper building, then a clothing factory, a storage facility, then a restaurant with a museum, and lately, a governmental service had taken residence. The outside was still a display of history gone by, but the inside looked just as modern and impressive as any new building. The CSI, Crime Scene Investigations, had completely taken over the Clarion Tower after extensive renovations, but it wasn't exactly the CSI that worked here. It was a task force simply called 'the Branch', which was officially part of the CSI but worked their own cases and didn’t really conform to standard CSI operation procedures.

Wilson had given him a quick run-down, which House had mostly ignored, though he had listened, and as they now walked into the impressive little building, he took note of the sparse comings and goings, the reception area, the uniformed police officers, the civilians, the visitors.

"Dr. James Wilson, Dr. Gregory House, for Dr. Nathan Jackson," Wilson introduced them to the receptionist, who checked his list and made a call.

"James!" a jovial voice greeted them not much later.

House ran a quick eye over the man shaking Wilson's hand. He was about his own size, which meant taller than Wilson, dark-skinned, dressed in a light colored shirt and jeans. Age-wise House put him somewhere around their own age, and he was wearing a tag that identified him as Dr. Nathan Jackson.

"Nathan, that's my friend House. I told you about him."

Nathan shook House's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. House."

House only made a non-committal noise.

"Glad you could make it, James," Nathan went on as they walked to the elevators. "It's a quiet night and I don't have any customers as of yet. The guys are working on a case, so it's very, very quiet."

"Coroner?" House guessed.

Jackson smiled. "Yep."

"Thrilling."

He was given a faintly amused look. "It can be, yes."

House limped with them along a corridor that opened into a large office space with various desks and computers atop of each. There were two separate office cubicles, one filled with electronics and computers to the ceiling. A young man was sitting in the semi-darkness, lit up in the LED blues of the various flatscreens, apparently mesmerized by whatever was happening on the twenty inch screen in front of him.

"That's JD, resident computer nerd," Nathan only said. "Whiz kid, really."

They were led to the break room and Nathan got them each a coffee, then he and Wilson launched into an exchange along the lines of 'What I did last summer, parts 24 to 56' and House quickly lost interest. It only peaked again when Jackson got out his research and the two men started on their latest discoveries and theories.

House listened. He agreed in silence, he disagreed in silence, and he studied Jackson. The man was a researcher with a passion and he knew his stuff. The moment he launched into the immunology of vampires, T-cells, pathogens, antigens and antibody production, House heard that passion. What he had read already was confirmed by the wealth of knowledge the man had, and Wilson was just as happy to discuss vampirism and the 'infection' that caused it.

It was an hour into their arrival that House took a break, smiling at Wilson as his lover shot him a brief, quizzical look.

"I'm all for a differential diagnosis on the effects of vampirism on the human body," House only said, "but for now I need a potty break."

Without waiting for a reply, he was out the door, faster than a man with a cane should be.
 
 

Nathan chuckled as he watched the other man limp out of the break room. "So that's him?"

Wilson blinked. "Him what?"

"The infamous Greg House. I heard and read a lot about him. The articles he publishes are amazing. His cases are riveting."

Wilson smiled. For all his bluster about publications and being a slave to his tenure, he knew that House wrote several of them each year, almost one per month. He used his cases as studies to relate what he had discovered, how he had treated each patient, and where the errors had been discovered, but he never made a big show out of it. Wilson had read a few of Greg's publications and they were filled with the not so quiet genius hat man possessed.

"Yeah. Don't ask him about them, though. He'll deny any knowledge of ever writing them."

Nathan smirked. "I got as much from him already. You're together?"

"Ah… err… yes…" Wilson stuttered, a little surprised by the change of topic.

"Took you long enough."

"It wasn't my call."

Nathan snorted. "That's what I said about Renee and me, but she only claims I was too frightened to propose and too scared to accept it."

Wilson sighed a little, shrugging. "This isn't like any normal relationship, Nate."

"Because he's got a bad leg? Because he's as sarcastic as they come? Or because you can't take him anywhere because he offends people?"

He chuckled. "All and nothing. I love Greg. I've loved him from the day we met and it hasn't changed. I went through all the good times and bad times with him, my own and his, and I think it changed us all. Still… it came as a surprise to both of us."

"As long as it finally got you together. Does he know who you are?"

Wilson hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to tell Nathan. Jackson was a core member of the Nexus and as such it wouldn't come as a big surprise that there was a paranormal lurking underneath the scruffy exterior, but allies didn't blab about their paranormals to others unless there was a reason.

"James?" Nathan prodded.

"Yes," the oncologist finally answered slowly. "Yes, he does."

"Okay. What else is there you're not telling me?"

A sigh. "You know as well as I do that I can't go around what was said in confidence, as a doctor and as an ally."

That was more than a small clue as to what was truly there and Nathan nodded slowly.

"All right. I think I understand."

They went back to work on their little project and Nathan called for take-out not much later. Wilson only briefly wondered where Greg had ended up, but Jackson reassured him that even if he did get lost in the Tower, someone would bring him back.

* * *

House had ended up in the basement of all places, where he suspected the really interesting spots of the Clarion Tower would be, and he was right. Pathology was usually situated in the lower levels of every government building that dealt with dead bodies, and this was no different. No one was around and it was, like Jackson had proclaimed, a quiet night.

Limping into the autopsy room he let his eyes sweep over the scrubbed steel tables, the typical smell of disinfectant and other chemicals in the air. The light was low, only the lamps over each table shedding some illumination, and House walked along the row of coolers, reading labels.

He was curious by nature and currently bored out of his mind. Discussing facts and fiction with the two men upstairs wasn't his forte. He hated conferences on the basis that too much talk ruined a really good diagnosis, and too many old geezers with little hands-on experience couldn't teach what life delivered daily into a hospital. Sure, this was different. This was the paranormal. It touched his world, his existence, but House didn't care about who and what he was. He would never be what he had been before the infarction.

Water under the bridge. The paranormal inside of him had withered and probably died. Even if he went off the pain medication, even if Wilson's research proved that there was something that didn't inhibit the gene, his abilities might never restart.

As he opened one of the coolers, his eyebrows rose. Instead of a body there was a six-pack of beer.
He chuckled. Interesting body.

"Found what you're looking for?" a quiet, deep voice broke the silence.

House glanced over his shoulder and discovered a tall, broad-shouldered man not far from him. "Yep. Thanks." He took one of the bottles and twisted the cap off. "Want one, too?"

There was a low chuckle. "Seeing that it is mine to begin with, thank you."

"I'm in a gracious mood."

House took out another bottle and limped to one of the tables. He put down the beer with soft clunk and gave the other man a closer look. Probably as tall as him but with wider shoulders and a lot more muscle mass, the man had a salt-and-pepper mustache, a three days' beard growth, and graying hair. He was dressed in leisurely clothes, wearing a lab coat, and the blue eyes were smiling as he eyed House in turn.

"Josiah Sanchez," he introduced himself.

"House," House only answered.

"Nice to meet you. May I ask what brings you down here?"

"Seeking a quiet place and shelter."

Sanchez chuckled again. "House? I think Nathan mentioned something about a Dr. Wilson and Dr. House coming for a visit. Did you lose your way?" Sanchez glanced past House's shoulder. "And your colleague?"

House smirked. "Nope. Safely deposited the science boy with your science boy, and they're doing science talk."

He limped over to a chair and dropped in it, lifting his leg to rest on a stool to take some strain off it. Sanchez chose his own seat and studied him.

"House, House… hm, I think I know you."

House gave a non-committal grunt.

"Gregory House, certified genius of infectious diseases."

"My fame precedes me," he only muttered sarcastically.

"Actually it does. I've read all your publications. Still do."

"I'll sign one for you later," House snarked.

"I hope you do. I've been wanting to meet you ever since I got my hands on the article in the Journal of Infectious Diseases about the Epidemiology and Prevention of Vaccine-Preventable Diseases."

House racked his brain and his brows rose as he remembered that old article. That had been ages ago.

"Collector?"

"In a way. You give people a unique insight."

"I tell it as it is."

"That's what I mean."

House emptied the bottle and reached for a second, raising a brow at Sanchez in a silent question. The man nodded and they had their second beer.

"Are you and Dr. Wilson working together on Nathan's project?"

House quirked a little smile. "If that's your ingeniously subtle way of asking whether I know what they're on about or not, yes, I know all the details. I read Wilson's stuff and it's… interesting. Passes the time on a boring rainy weekend."

Sanchez smirked. "It probably does. I have my own medical degree, but I'd rather work with Nathan on an autopsy than spend hours discussing immunology and infections on blood cells, not to mention whatever else he is working on."

House shrugged. "To each his own fun."

His leg ached a little and he almost instinctively fumbled for the pills, then grimaced as his brain informed him that with the amount of alcohol now in his system, taking Vicodin wasn't a good idea. It was either that or sex to free some pain-relievers in form of endorphins, and Wilson wouldn't be happy about getting bent over the next desk and fucked blind.

Then again… hm, it sounded like fun just to think about it.

"Pain?" Sanchez asked.

"Happy pills. Make me loveable and warm and all fuzzy around the edges."

Sanchez's eyes narrowed a little. "Don't mix with alcohol."

"You sound like Wilson."

"It's good advice."

"Know that. Beer bad, Vicodin good, good and bad together… neutral." He smirked.

Sanchez chuckled. "You're a grown man and a doctor. You should know."

House put the bottle away and tried to ignore the pain. "Yeah, I should."

"Accident?" the other man wanted to know.

House rarely had people openly asking about his leg and it was even more rare that there was no pity in either the eyes watching him or the tone of voice Sanchez used.

"Infarction."

"Tough."

"Living with it."

"Could have been worse."

He laughed wryly. "Worse than what? Crippled?"

"Depends on your definition of 'cripple'," Sanchez replied almost amiably and swallowed some beer. He leaned more into his chair. "Cripple's everything from someone who is unable to walk normally because of an injury or disability to the legs or back, to being worthless. Do you feel worthless, Dr. House?"

He hid his disgust and annoyance behind the bottle. "That depends on what we're talking about."

"You."

"Not in the mood for self-analysis."

"No one ever is. I find it hard to listen to myself talking to me, listing all the really bad habits, my moods and my failures in life. I tire of myself."

House regarded the other man critically. "So what do you tell yourself after you got yourself down?"

"That life's more precious than dwelling on what could have been, the 'might have beens' and the 'what ifs'. Take every day as it comes and don't compare it to what this particular day would have been without that."

House tilted his head. "Good advice. How often do you listen to yourself?"

Sanchez laughed. "Not as often as I told myself I should. Living with anger isn't the solution either."

"I'm not angry," he snapped immediately.

"You call yourself a cripple."

"Because it's what I am."

"How long ago was the infarction?"

House shot him a dark look. "Nosey."

"Just asking."

"Six years."

Sanchez was silent for a second or two. "It's quite some time to be angry at yourself. And you are angry. Maybe not just at yourself. Maybe it's not pure anger any more. It's also disappointment and rage and disillusionment."

"Been there, done that, didn't get the golden crutch?" House asked sarcastically. "Because I'm not going there, Dr. Sanchez. Don't go on about how you know what it feels like."

"I won't because I can't know. Only you know yourself. You numb the physical pain with Vicodin and you numb your soul, still it fuels your anger at everything and everyone."

House's eyes flashed more. "What are you? The head shrink? Want me to talk about how angry I am at my father? Or that I despise people who can still walk like a normal human being? Or you want me to tell you about my fucked-up sex-life and the chances I missed at happiness because I was stubborn?"

Sanchez only looked thoughtful, those clear blue eyes seemingly able to read what was on House's mind.

"Why are you angry at your father?"

He laughed. "Out of everything you go for the parents. Typical."

"It is the most likely truth in all you're telling me."

House snorted and emptied his bottle. "I would have picked you for the sex shrink."

"I think your sex life is just fine, Dr. House."

"How do you figure?"

Sanchez only smiled. House sighed and played with the cane.

"You are the head shrink, right?"

"I have a degree in psychology, if that's what you mean."

"And you work with Jackson in autopsy. Talk to dead people a lot?" House teased.

"Aside from vampires, no. And Ezra would rather hear me call him undead."

Those intense eyes watched him closely and House knew they had taken a step closer into the paranormal, Sanchez testing how far he was truly involved. So far they hadn't really talked about anything concrete in that department.

"Subtle, Sanchez. Subtle."

It got him a smile.

"I'm not an ally," House finally answered the unspoken question.

"You're a paranormal then. Interesting."

"Why in the world does everyone assume that immediately?"

"Because there is only one of the other. A non-paranormal knowing about us is an ally. You say you're not, so you're a paranormal."

"Sherlock would have been proud. What if I'm a non-paranormal but not interested in being an ally?"

"Interesting question, but it's already been answered by your presence here." Sanchez made a little gesture to encompass the room and the whole building above them. "Dr. Wilson brought you along. He trusts you enough to introduce you to Nathan and maybe the others."

House shrugged. "He's gullible."

"I doubt it."

"You don't know him," was the reply.

"I know Nathan. He's talked about him." Give up, was the unspoken addition.

"All right, point for you. I'm a paranormal." House's eyes narrowed. "And by what you said, I take it you're one, too."

"Touché."

"Cool, eh?"

Sanchez chuckled. "If you say so."

"Active or passive?"

"Passive. You?"

House brandished the Vicodin bottle. "Tamed. Neutered. Whatever. No more working powers."

"I see why Dr. Wilson takes such a keen interest in the pain medication project then."

"I'm not a guinea pig," House snapped angrily.

"I didn't say so. But personal involvement is a motivator. He might not only do it for you, Dr. House, but you are his main interest. You motivate him. Which brings us back to the question about your sex-life and my conclusion that there is a quite active one."

"Is this your way of getting some cheap entertainment?"

Sanchez smiled amiably. "Everyone needs to get his rocks off somehow."

"You couldn't pay my price," House taunted.

"You're not my type, Dr. House."

"I hope not," a new voice entered the conversation and House craned his neck.

He smiled at the sight of his lover and friend. Wilson looked back with one of those tolerant and amused smiles.

"You never paid me a dime," House only greeted him.

"And I'm not going to."

"I'm in this for free?" He sounded scandalized.

Wilson's long-suffering eye roll was answer enough.

"Hello, Dr. Wilson. I'm Josiah Sanchez," Sanchez introduced himself as he rose to shake the other man's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. You've been keeping him entertained, I see."

"Not an easy feat, considering I had to do it with beer."

House held up the empty bottle. "With some better beer you might have gotten me to spill my guts a bit more professionally."

"It is good beer," Sanchez argued.

"If you call horse piss good, yeah, it was."

"You drank it."

"I was desperate. And bored."

Wilson shook his head. His eyes narrowed a little as House got up, favoring his bad leg and wincing.

"I hope you didn't take a pill with that stuff."

"No, Mom, I was a good little boy. Do I get a cookie?"

"You wish."

"Awww."

Sanchez chuckled and House discovered that Jackson had joined them as well, grinning toothily.

"See you tomorrow, Nate. I'll try to bring a leash then."

House leered. "Kinky. And in public. Me like."

"Oh, grow up!"

"Hey, you can't stay young forever, but you can be immature for the rest of your life," House quipped.

He limped along to the elevators and leaned heavily on the cane, cursing his stupidity to drink two beers before Vicodin Time. He was craving something to numb the now-awakening nerves and he knew by the time they were in the hotel, it would be even worse.

Wilson slipped an arm around his waist, taking some weight. "Take one in the car," he said softly. "We'll see how bad it is then and maybe up the dosage by another half."

He only nodded and briefly leaned against his lover, then straightened to show no weakness. Neither Jackson nor Sanchez were actually looking their way, but he knew they were both keeping an eye on them.

* * *

Wilson gazed at his dozing lover on the queen-sized bed. House had taken another half Vicodin after arriving in their hotel, his face drawn with pain and paler than normal. Now he was dressed only in sweats, socked feet almost hanging over the mattress, and trying to relax. Wilson moved about the room, the TV running in the background with barely any volume. He had thought about going out for dinner with his lover, but House would be in no shape to leave again. So that left him with two choices: get some take out or order room service. Room service was horrendously expensive, which left him only option number one.

Walking over to the prone man, he ran a gentle caress over the scruffy, unshaven face. House's eyes cracked open a little, glassy from the Vicodin and the pain. He wasn't high, but the missed pill had seriously upset his balance.

"Why didn't you take it sooner?"

A shrug. "Forgot. I remembered after the beer."

"Hungry?"

"No."

"I'm going downstairs to see if I can find some take-out place. I'll bring something back for you, too."

"'Kay."

House's eyes slid shut and he dozed off on the combined effects of beer and Vicodin. Wilson smiled sadly and slipped on his jacket once more. He left five minutes later.
 
 

When he returned with food, it was to find House still dozing, but he had apparently changed channels and there was a rerun of an old General Hospital episode. Wilson smiled to himself and deposited the Thai on the nightstand. Blue eyes opened and House smiled lazily, all signs of pain gone.

"From that expression I take it you're fine," James remarked.

House stretched like a big cat and Wilson felt something inside him stir. The t-shirt was rising up the smooth abdomen, revealing a patch of pale skin. House wasn't an athlete any more, but he wasn't unattractive either. Wilson liked the whole package, scars and all, and the hunger for this man had only been stoked ever since they had become physical.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Starving."

"Good thing I brought some for you then, too."

House pushed himself up on his elbows and eyed him quite openly, probably undressing him in his mind.

"I like what you brought," he purred.

"I'm talking food, House. Food, not sex."

"Same difference. Go eat if you want to. Gotta keep up your strength, huh?" He leered.

Wilson grimaced at the bad joke and toed off his shoes, then got the cartons and deposited them between himself and House as he got onto the bed. House sat up completely, Indian style, and they shared a take-out meal.

"I'll be back at the Tower tomorrow," Wilson said. "Wanna come, or go sight seeing?"

"What's there to see?"

"Oh, a lot. I think they have a guide downstairs at reception."

"Not interested."

"Coming with me is equally boring."

One brow quirked. "You think you're boring. We really have to work on your self-esteem, Jimmy."

"You know what I mean. I'll be with Nathan most of the day and we'll talk research."

House eyed him over his noodles. "If you want to get rid of me, say so. Don't bring up the boring research excuse."

"I'm not!" Wilson protested, voice rising.

"Okay, I take back the boring, but only because you make such cute puppy dog eyes."

"I'm not talking about the research! I don't want to get rid of you. It's just that what I do isn't interesting for you."

"Not yet," House said with a smile.

"W-what?"

"I'm interested, Jimmy. I always was, you know that. But I'm not the paperwork guy. You want me to help, give me hands-on stuff."

"Uh," Wilson stuttered, "it's not like I can give you a vampire or magic-user."

"See? So it's boring now, but the moment you get to the clinical trials, I'm interested."

"You're not a researcher, Greg," Wilson pointed out. "You're a diagnostician. Why the interest?"

"Life is boring, this isn't."

"That's not a reason."

"It's as good a one as any."

Wilson stuck his plastic fork into an empty container and shook his head. "I'll never understand you," he muttered.

It got him a cheeky grin. "Good."

He frowned a little. "So you want to come along?"

"Yep."

Wilson shrugged. "Okay."

"And if I truly get bored, I think Sanchez still has some beer in one of those coolers," House added, grin widening.

Brown eyes darkened with a warning and House smiled charmingly.

"I'll even take my meds before the alcohol, doc. How about it?"

Wilson removed the food cartons from the bed and dumped them in the trash.

"I ate all my greens, do I get dessert now?" House wheedled, that predatory gleam back in his eyes.

Wilson sighed deeply. House would never change and he didn't really want him, too. He walked over to the bed and before he could say something, he was grabbed and landed almost without stopping on his lover.

"Greg!"

"Oh, how I love to hear you cry my name," came the throaty reply and his mouth was captured in a hungry kiss.

Wilson surrendered to the force of nature that was a horny Greg House.

* * *

Day two at the Clarion Tower started after lunch. Both men had slept in since the night had been rather long and both had been exhausted by their love-making -- and sore in Wilson's case. The shower had led to some more fun and games, and in the end they had traded breakfast for lunch, with a lot of coffee on the side.

House limped into the office, now much busier. Jackson was already there, smiling when Wilson walked up to him.

"I've got ourselves some lab time. Buck's joining us for a while. He's got some interesting new input on the painkillers."

"Sure. House?" Wilson asked.

House eyed the mountain of files on Jackson's desk. "That the whole thing?" he wanted to know.

"The latest."

He grabbed it. "That'll keep me happy. Coffee would be nice, too. Anywhere I can get a sandwich?"
Nathan chuckled. "Coffee's in the breakroom and in case of hunger, ask JD. He's got every fast food place on speed dial."

House grinned. "Sounds good. You boys have fun."

With that he limped into the office and chose the empty cubicle that had 'Chris Larabee' on the door. Wilson shook his head.

"Hope no one's going to use the office for now," he remarked.

Nathan shrugged. "Chris won't be in before sunset. At least I think so. If he is, Ezra will skin him alive."

They walked toward the elevators and went to down to the labs.
 
 

House looked around the neat office, dropped the files on the desk and limped over to the whiteboard.

"How cool is that?" he murmured as he checked for pens. Four different colors. Good.

He finally did a 360 degree check of the office space, decided the couch looked comfy, and carried the files over to it. He lay down and picked up the first, starting to read.

* * *

A few hours later Wilson appeared in the office, leaning against the door jamb, smiling at the sight of Greg House sprawled on the leather couch, reading. The stack of papers was already divided into three neat piles.

Someone's interested, he thought, smiling more.

"We're going for food. You want to come along?" he asked as blue eyes looked up from the current file.

"Nah, bring me back a turkey sandwich. Double cheese, hold the onions, some pepperoni. Oh, and no white bread. Hate that stuff. Tastes like old cardboard."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Anything else, sir?" he teased.

"While you're at it, get me some chocolate bars, maybe a strawberry cheesecake, Diet Coke if they have it, and coffee. Really good coffee. Do they have a Starbuck's?"

"I don't know," Wilson said slowly.

"Second Cup's okay, too."

"You're not picky, right?"

House grinned "Nope. Easy. Want me to run it by you again?"

Brown eyes narrowed a little. "No-oh. I got it all."

"Good." House went back to reading.

Wilson shook his head in faint amusement and wandered back to where Nathan was waiting.

"It's just the two of us."

"He busy?"

"Reading. He's interested." Wilson smiled more. "Very interested."

Nathan chuckled. "Well, let's get some food then."

* * *

They came back an hour later and Wilson delivered the sandwich as promised, though not according to the specific orders of his lover.

"They didn't have turkey," he told House as the man sat up from his couch. "But they had really good tuna, so I got you that. It all tastes like chicken anyway."

House grimaced.

"Here's the Coke, which is actually a Pepsi, but who can taste the difference? White was the only thing they had left aside from oat, and I know you despise the really healthy stuff," Wilson piled some more things onto the break room table. "Snickers and Mars were out, too. Here's some fudge."

"Ew."

"No like? I think Nathan loves it. I'll give it to him," Wilson took it all in a stride. "As for the coffee…" He handed a very large cup to House. "No Starbuck's."

"Where the heck did we end up?" House complained. "Five miles past the end of the world?"

Wilson scowled. "Stop complaining. Caffeine is caffeine."

House sniffed at the cup and tried it, grimacing. "And this has a hazelnut flavor."

"Take it or leave it," Wilson sang.

His lover grabbed the coffee and glared at him. Wilson just smiled his most charming smile, which always managed to diffuse whatever mood House was in -- to a certain degree.

"Caffeine good," the older man just mumbled around the cup.

"Yeah. So, you having fun?"

"Tons."

Wilson quirked an eyebrow.

"Poked around in their desks, played with their computers, ate the last cookies, and I like the view. And someone should give Mr. Larabee a full check-up. You wouldn't believe the amount of junk food that man stores in his office! I'm guessing raised cholesterol, high blood pressure, maybe signs of obesity…"

"I hope you didn't eat it all," Wilson sighed.

"Nope. You know my position on peanuts in chocolate. Or almonds. Or any kinds of nuts."

"Yes, I faintly remember. And I also remember seeing you eat chocolate coated nuts of all kinds."

"When you're paying for them."

"I knew there was a reason."

House smirked. "Having fun?" he wanted to know in turn.

"Yes, we made some progress. It's much easier to work together in person than over the internet or phone."

"Phone sex excluded."

Another eye-roll.

"Or internet porn."

"Greg…"

He sipped at the coffee, smirking more.

"Oh hey," a young voice called and a dark head appeared in the doorway. "You're the guys from Jersey, right?"

"He is. I'm only here for the chocolate nuts," House replied, leaning on his cane and studying the young man.

Wilson's look was one of those trademarked 'House, please' ones.

"I'm JD. Nice to meet you." He eyed House curiously. "You're a paranormal, right?"

House frowned. "What are you? Some kind of human detector?"

"No, magic-user," was the vague reply. "And we can sense other paranormals. Well, not everyone. The stronger ones. I can't tell what you are, but I know that you are."

"Good for you," was the dismissal.

"House, heel."

"Woof. C'mon, Jimmy. Let me have some fun."

"We're guests here!"

"So what? You want me nice, you gotta dose me up some more." He turned to JD, grinning. "Oh, I love it when he gets all dominant on me. Must tickle something inside him. I'm tingling with fear and excitement."

"Damn, you are so married," JD stated with a grin.

"W-what?" Wilson stuttered.

House just gave him a mildly interested look.

"How long have you been together?"

"Together? What gives you that idea?" came the almost defensive reply from the oncologist.

"Oh, everything. You are so together, it's like gum on a shoe."

"Thank you for that interesting analogy," House muttered. "You see, Jimmy, no sense in denying our life-long bond. Even the kids nowadays notice. Busted, huh?"

The brown eyes flashed a warning.

"So, how long?" JD repeated the question.

"Five months," House answered easily to the splutter of protest from Wilson. "What?" he asked his lover. "You want me to deny our fairy-tale romance? Angels singing, harps in the sky and all? Love of my life and he wants me to lie!" House sighed theatrically.

"Figured it was longer," was the young criminalist's only comment.

"Been around a lot of gay couples?" House asked, pointedly looking at the golden wedding band on JD's hand.

"Oh, yeah. My boss is gay, as are my best friends."

"Ah."

"I'm not an expert, but I can see it with you."

"Gaydar?"

"Knowledge of human nature."

"Teach a lot of seminars?"

JD chuckled. "No, I leave that to Josiah. I'm the computer geek."

House's brows rose. "I can see where the human nature knowledge comes from."

Wilson just buried his face in one hand. "I think I'll go and see what else Nathan has found," he murmured.

"Coward," House sang.

"Jerk."

"But you love me," House stated, still very much aware of their 'guest'. His voice had dropped 90% of the sarcasm, though.

Wilson sighed deeply. "Yeah, and I wonder why."

JD only smiled a little and waved. "Nice meeting you, but I gotta go back to my stuff. Case and all."

House simply watched him go, then turned to Wilson, who still had finally relented the hands-on-the-hips position.

"You are a jerk, you know that, don't you?" the younger man asked, almost rhetorically.

"Sometimes." House looked at the sandwich. "Thanks."

"For stating you're a jerk?"

"No. Food. Thanks."

Wilson just smiled. "You intend to have more fun with the files?"

"Since you’re not volunteering to keep me occupied, Dr. Wilson?" House leered a little. "Now you'd better go before Dr. Jackson puts an APB out on you."

Wilson leaned closer, kissing him briefly. It was almost chaste. "You're invited to a sit-in if you want to."

"Only if I feel the need for a quick nap. Now go! I have work to do!"

That got him another smile, the brown eyes so warm and happy, and finally Wilson left the room. House just breathed in deeply, releasing the air with a sigh.

* * *

It was after sunset that Ezra Standish walked into the office and looked for his life-partner. Chris had been called early because of a case the day-shift had needed a few extra hands for, and while Ezra had grumbled about Chris risking himself in sunlight, he hadn't had any real argument to stop the nightshift supervisor. It was Chris's job and he really did have a bit of immunity already for his young age. Young as a vampire, not as a human. He was carrying some shakes -- as Buck had titled them -- with him, plastic bottles filled with blood. And his team would keep an eye out for possible problems.

The sun had set an hour after Chris had left and Ezra had briefly called Luther at the Grotto to tell him he would drop by the Clarion Tower first.

No one was in the office, but Chris's door was closed, so Ezra walked over and opened it. In the semi-light of the room he found that someone was here, but it wasn't Chris and it wasn't someone else from his team. The man was tall, not as lanky as Chris, and he was leaning on a cane as he wrote on the whiteboard.

Ezra leaned against the door jamb and watched with interest. There was a lot of paper strewn all over the office floor and every desk space available, and from the look of concentration on the stranger's face, he was very much at work.

"You going to stand there all day or you going to say something?" the man suddenly said and straightened, turning slightly to look at Ezra.

He had very intense blue eyes, clear blue actually, and a scruffy look about him. Dressed in jeans, a black button down shirt that was untucked, and an equally black shirt underneath, he could have slept in those clothes for all Ezra knew. At least they hadn't seen an iron before he had put them on. Gym shoes completed the outfit.

Right now he was examining Ezra like he was some very interesting specimen under a microscope.

"Good evening," Ezra replied. "You're not Chris Larabee."

"What gave it away?"

Ezra shrugged. "Several things. So, who are you?"

"Not Chris Larabee."

The vampire smiled. "That we already established."

"Good."

He turned back to write something onto the whiteboard and Ezra looked past him, discovering a row of medical terms and something about blood. He recognized porphyria. Lupus was probably not related to anything with wolves. Photosensitivity and sun poisoning sounded familiar.

"You're a scientist?" he wanted to know.

"You're still here," came the gruff reply.

"Actually yes, I am."

"Know anything about blood-related diseases?"

Ezra bit back a laugh. "A little."

Now those eyes were on him again, brows rising minutely.

He was silent, not falling for the open invitation to show his cards. He hadn't been a gambler for most of his life before becoming a vampire for nothing.

"What are you working on?" he asked instead.

There was an almost wolfish grin now on those scruffy features. "All right, fair is fair. You show me yours, I'll show you mine. The name's House. I'm spending my time doing crosswords with those files here till my partner decides he's done playing researcher with Jackson downstairs."

"Nathan mentioned a friend visiting him. That would be Dr. Wilson?" Ezra wanted to know, still trying to get a grip on who he was talking to.

"That would be a yes."

Ezra was silent a moment longer, then nodded at the whiteboard. "You like working alone?"

"No, I like my peace and quiet, thank you." House gave him a pointed look. "If you don't have anything to contribute, I'd appreciate being left alone."

"Depends on what kind of contribution you're looking for. From what I read here, I gather you're not actually going into the infectious disease direction Nathan was researching. This looks like virology."

"Good," House lauded with false cheer. "You know some medicine."

"What kind of path are you following?"

"The one with the least steps," was the sarcastic reply and House hung his cane onto the whiteboard. "Easier."

Ezra was starting to like the man. "Why virology?" he wanted to know.

In all his time as a vampire he hadn't met many people who actually did research on the topic of why this little difference in their blood, this 'infection' made them who they were.

"Because everything else is boring."

"Humor me. Why?"

"What do you think I've been doing ever since you so rudely interrupted?" House muttered. "You're just too thick-headed or to slow to take a hint."

Ezra chuckled. "No one's ever called me that."

"What do they call you? Obnoxious? Annoying?"

"You would know."

House drew back as if hit, his face contorting into an expression of pain. "Ow, that really hurts. You always insult strangers?"

"Do you?"

"As a matter of fact, he does."

Ezra had been aware of someone coming closer, but he hadn't classified him as danger and now he faced a handsome young man with rather interesting brown eyes. There was a smile on the deceptively youthful features and it took more years off the man.

"Aw, you really do spoil my fun," House whined. "We were just getting to know each other. What was your name again?"

"Ezra Standish," Ezra said pleasantly.

"Hey, Ez," someone called, and Standish waved at JD, who was on his way from wherever to his computer room.

"What are you doing here?" the newcomer asked.

Ezra supposed the man was Dr. Wilson.

"Working. What else do you think I could do in such a place?"

Wilson's eyes swept over the chaos. "I can see that," he said slowly. "Last time I checked you could still see the floor."

"Any why would you want to see it. Distasteful carpet color."

The carpet was a simple gray. Nothing fancy. Easy to clean.

House frowned all of a sudden and gave Ezra a closer look. "Did you say your name was Ezra?"

"Yes, I did."

"Are you in any way related to the poor sucker they," he gestured at Wilson and Nathan, "use as a guinea pig?"

Nathan bit back a grin and Ezra shot him a quizzical look. How much did House know about it all? Did he realize that, even though Ezra was the guinea pig, he was truly a vampire? Nathan gave him a minute nod to go ahead.

"I guess that would be me," Ezra answered slowly, carefully, keeping a close eye on House's reaction.

"You've got my sympathies. Didn't think being undead would land you on the table of some mad-crazed scientist, huh?"

Ezra chuckled. "Not really, no."

So House knew he was a vampire, but his reaction was the most mundane and sarcastic Ezra had ever been entitled to see. There was curiosity, sure, but there wasn't revulsion or sudden caution. Those slightly unsettling eyes – unsettling for a human anyway – were busy checking him out, but otherwise, Ezra could have been someone with a strange and puzzling disease for all House cared. Maybe that was it, the vampire thought. Maybe that's all it is to House. Nathan had been fascinated by his infection as well, more interested in the science than the myth of dangerous blood-suckers.

"Want to donate a pint or two in the name of science?" House asked jovially. "I think I've got a syringe around here somewhere."

"House!" Wilson groaned.

"I already gave my monthly quota to Nathan."

"Aw, crud." Again he was given a closer look. "Has someone ever done an MRI? CAT scan? Lumbar puncture? Biopsy?"

The vampire smiled. "No. And I hope no one will."

"Completely painless," House reassured him in a way that told Ezra that painless for House wasn't exactly painless for the rest of the world.

Wilson only rolled his eyes. "I knew it was a bad idea."

"And I told you that I'm a hands on guy," House replied with a predatory smile. "Give me the live subject over dead data any time."

"You don't want to interact with patients on a good day," the younger man simply stated.

"Today is a very good day."

Ezra watched the sarcasm and arguments fly back and forth, exchanging another look with Nathan who seemed to be highly amused by it all.

Jackson walked past them and studied the whiteboard, nodding to himself.

"Interesting approach," he finally commented. "Though we can exclude actinic reticuloid, the chronic photosensitivity dermatitis. Vampires don't get rashes."

"But humans with photosensitivity do," House argued, rounding on the coroner. "And vampires were humans once. Someone somewhere had the first vampire gene and it all came from there." He tapped his lips with one long finger. "Inbreeding, now there's an idea."

Ezra was the recipient of a rather predatory look.

"Any family history of that?" House wanted to know.

"My parents weren't vampires," Ezra pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, not the biological ones. But your father or sire was a vampire."

"That is how it works," Standish replied mildly.

"Bite, suck, infect."

"The very condensed version."

"Removal of all blood, then the infection. Whatever the sire gives you, it's highly laden with a virus that infects the blood the undead body produces." House turned to Nathan again. "Have you ever really seen how it works?"

"Uh, no."

"It's very personal," Ezra interjected.

"What isn't? But doctors are privileged to the private and personal and intimate things of human life. Even soon-no-longer human life." His brows rose a little. "And no one ever thought that might be a good start? Take samples from whatever the sire infects the new one with?"

"Vampires aren't created left and right every day, House," Wilson argued.

"And they don't put out ads either."

"You should. Make it a big event. Ceremony and all. Very ritualistic. The movies always get those things right."

Ezra chuckled. "The movie industry portrays us wrongly."

"And whose fault is that?"

Another chuckle. "Ours."

House smiled triumphantly. "Then learn from them and do the grand reception. Ask for gifts. Always nice."

Ezra shook his head, amused by the other man. It was hard to get a good grasp on House, but one thing was for sure, you had to be quick on your feet and you had to read between the lines.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?"

Standish gave his lover a welcoming smile as Chris walked into what was his actually his office and looked wide-eyed at the controlled chaos everywhere.

"What the hell…?"

House's eyes narrowed as he took in the newcomer. Chris was still wearing his CSI vest with his last name stenciled on the breast pocket. He was carrying a silver crime kit case in one hand and a clipboard under his arm.

"Hey, Chris."

Larabee nodded at Ezra, then his eyes were on the rather prominent presence of Greg House.

"Chris, these are Dr. Wilson and Dr. House," Nathan introduced them. "Wilson's an ally working with me on my research."

"In my office?" Chris asked, dropping the kit in the middle of a stack of papers that nearly slid onto the floor.

"Er, no," Wilson said slowly. "That would be Dr. House."

"Tattle-tale," House grumbled.

"Why my office?" Chris only wanted to know, resigned to the fact that whatever he did, he couldn't undo what looked like a copier accident involving several tons of paper.

"You have a whiteboard," Wilson answered before House could reply.

Ezra watched with interest as the blue eyes warmed briefly as they met Wilson's rather fascinating brown ones.

"And he doesn't share his sandbox well with other children," the oncologist added with a fine jab.

"Do too."

"Do not. You're possessive of the whiteboard."

"The others always break it," House replied with a fake whine.

"Whatever," Chris interrupted, voice that of a nightshift supervisor who wanted his office back. "I have to be down in the labs, so you can clear this up until I come back. My office, my space, not yours," he added, giving House a hard look.

House didn't back down, for which Ezra gave him points. Larabee's stare was famous.

"If you expect me to salute, you gotta work on that," was the lazy remark. "Better people have tried and they had much nicer cleavage."

Chris blinked, then shook his head and pushed past the assembled men. Ezra grinned and followed, reading his lover's subtle body language correctly. Chris was laughing, but he tried not to show it. Wilson was openly smiling, shaking his head in faint exasperation.

As they left the visitors to deal with the office chaos, Ezra caught up with the other vampire.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Mom, I had my shake. It wasn't bad. Sunset was soon after I arrived. Multiple homicide. We'll be in all night trying to just sort through the collected evidence. Buck's still at the scene with Vin and I'm going to get on to ballistics now. Why are you here?"

Ezra shrugged as he leaned against the elevator's back. Chris punched a button and they were on their way down. He leaned forward and kissed his lover briefly, a loving brush of lips against lips.

"You worry too much. I'm fine and I've friends to keep an eye on me, help me out," Larabee murmured.

Ezra shrugged again, drawing a hand over the black shirt. "Sometimes I just feel the need to check on you," he conceded.

Chris's smile told him how touched the blond was by his concern. "Thanks."

As the doors opened, both men walked out and Ezra decided that he might just drop by the Grotto now anyway. He said good-bye to his partner and walked over to where Martin was waiting with the car. His mind flashed back to House, those intense eyes, that quick mind and sarcastic tongue, and the fact that the man was taking all of this in such a calm stride. It would be interesting to meet him again. Maybe they would appreciate a dinner invitation before they left for home.

* * *

"Homey," House remarked as he got out of the limo that had picked them up.

Wilson didn't think 'Homey' actually described what they were looking at. It was an understatement. The house was two stories tall, clearly Victorian style with a turret reaching into the evening sky. The grounds around the house stretched as far as the eye could see. Ancient trees dotted the sloping landscape, protecting the mansion from prying eyes. The street itself was a dead end, with this house at the far end. It was imposing, but still charming. Not threatening in any way. It wasn’t like some kind of Poltergeist haunted house kids would avoid and people talked about.

"I guess being undead and rich has its advantages," House continued, limping toward the steps that were his first obstacle. He frowned at them, then glared, as if he could make them submit and turn into escalators.

Wilson didn't even attempt to assist as he climbed the five steps with the aid of his cane.

"Not that one necessarily means the other, though the world could do with a few more dead rich people," House went on grumbling.

"Undead, Dr. House," Standish said amiably as he opened the door.

"Dead, undead, same difference. You died, you got infected with something no one can explain, and you had a few centuries to amass insane amounts of money."

Wilson gave him a suffering look and Ezra smiled.

"One hundred and eighty years, give or take a few," he said mildly. "And it's not an insane amount of money. I like to gamble, I like to invest. It paid."

House snorted. "You can say that again."

The inside of the house was even more impressive than the outside. The entrance hall stretched up, with a gallery running around the second floor. The large staircase split into two after a few steps, sweeping up left and right to the upper floor.

They walked in to the sudden screech of what sounded like a feline, then a happy barking noise. There was a blur of motion in the wide hallway and something shot past the two startled visitors. Ezra didn't even so much as flinch. He just sighed.

"Cats," he explained.

"And a dog," Wilson added with a smile.

A yowl was the answer and when they stepped into the apartment on the ground floor, a large affair in warm colors and with lots of wood. Wilson liked it immediately. It was rather open and the living room that not only contained a huge fireplace also opened up to a terrace into the garden. In the middle of the living room was a huge dog, with long, gray hair, pointed ears, pink tongue lolling, and it was under attack from several cats. One was clinging to its shaggy neck, the other was playing with the tail, trying to catch the thumping appendage with abandon.

The dog jumped up, dislodging the cats as the others entered, and trotted over. House made a disgusted noise, but Wilson let it sniff his hands and was soon after that patting the solid body with its long fur. The dog woofed and sniffed at his pants, then shoved its nose under the hand that had stopped patting, clearly indicating Wilson should continue.

"Yours?" House only asked, eying the dog.

"No, Buck's," was the amused reply.

House watched his lover take off his jacket and follow the rather eager canine to the open terrace door.

"You're so easy," he muttered good-naturedly.

He limped out onto the terrace, watching Wilson throw a stick and the dog fetching it, tearing through the garden with abandon. It was bouncing with energy, happy, woofing, barking now and then, though the bark sounded less like a dog's.

"Dog person," Ezra remarked as he joined him, leaning against the wooden support of the balcony overshadowing the terrace.

"People person," House muttered, putting enough disgust in his voice to make it an insult without actually meaning it in a bad way.

"I take it you are not."

"Oh, I'm perfectly cuddly and loveable."

The vampire smiled. "When no one's around?"

"You got it."

"You decided on a strange profession for not wanting to interact with people."

"Medicine is the perfect way of not interacting with people," House muttered.

"Patients?" Ezra prodded.

"Bane of my existence. They usually get in the way of a diagnosis."

It got him a faint smile of amusement. "You need sick people to be a doctor," he only said.

"Sick people, yes. Patients, no. You have to wade through cesspools of lies to get to the truth, and sometimes it's too late then."

"A rather dark outlook on life."

House glanced at him, met those cat-like green eyes, and shrugged. "It's my outlook."

"A lot of misery for one person."

"Oh, don't you start, too!" House groaned. "It's enough that I have people at home trying to make my life happier."

Ezra looked at where Wilson was playing with the dog. "Does he make you happier?"

"What are you? Resident vampire shrink? Do all of you come with a degree in psychology?"

"No, not all. And yes, I have a degree."

House rolled his eyes.

"But even without one I could see that Dr. Wilson makes you happy. As for the misery… Misery begins in pain and pain only feeds misery. It's a vicious circle, Dr. House, and I know it intimately. I lived in it for one hundred and fifty years."

"Please, no cry stories about vampires and their long lives of loneliness," House moaned theatrically. "I've read Anne Rice. Didn't so much as get a sniffle out of me."

Ezra gave him a tolerant smile, not unlike Wilson. "I won't bore you with my life's story, don't worry. Just this one advice: don't let him slip away."

House met those ancient green eyes, set in a face no older than Wilson's.

There was a happy barking sound, though not really like any dog he had ever heard, but close. Wilson and his canine friend had ended up in a tangle together, dog and man. House smiled to himself, that soft and tender smile that rarely made it to his lips on a good day. Wilson looked like a young boy, laughing, happy. His shirt was dirty, his hair mussed, he looked so unlike his normally smooth and clean-cut self, it was refreshing.

From inside the house there was the sound of a door slamming shut and not soon after that, House and Ezra were joined by Larabee and someone else House hadn't met yet. He was a tall, dark-haired man, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt that would have looked silly on anyone else. His broad-shouldered frame fit perfectly and if not for the missing boots and hat, House would have called him a cowboy.

"Hey, guys," the man called jovially and stuck out his hand. "Buck Wilmington. You're…?"

"House," House answered without taking his hands off the cane he was leaning them both on.

Not the least bit offended by the lack of a handshake, Buck nodded. "Nice to meet you." Then his eyes fell on the scene in the garden. "Vincent Michael Tanner!" he groaned. "You are impossible!"

"Your dog has a family name?"

Buck stared at House and his blue eyes widened a little. Then he started to laugh.

"Oh boy," he only managed. "Ez, doesn't he…?"

"Nope. We didn't get that far. Vin happened first," the vampire explained, voice filled with amusement.

Buck laughed more.

"You people are easily amused," House muttered.

"Vin's not a dog," Ezra explained with a fine smile.

"Could have fooled me. What is he? Cat in disguise?" House tilted his head and a frown appeared on his face. "I could go for wolf, though. Got some wolf in him?"

"Some," Buck giggled. "Just a tad." And he almost collapsed with laughter.

House frowned more.

"A lot," Ezra came to his aid. "A lot of wolf. At least at the moment."

"What those two are so kindly trying to tell you is that this is a werewolf," Larabee drawled. "Vin Tanner, werewolf. Works for me."

You had to give it to House, he wasn't easily shocked. "Sniffing out the bad guys?" he quipped, but his eyes were now on Vin, full of interest.

"Something like this."

Buck suddenly whistled sharply and the wolf's ears perked. His tongue lolled and his attention was on Wilmington.

"Yo! Vin! Food!"

And the wolf was off and running, leaving a very disheveled Wilson behind. The man looked like he had just taken a roll in an autumn forest with, well, a wolf. He was about to pick up his discarded jacket when something flashed out from underneath and tried to make a grab for his tie. He gave a yell of surprise and ended up sitting on his butt, brown eyes wide and slightly shocked.

A pink nose poked out from under the jacket and the cat meowed happily. Wilson sighed and grabbed his jacket, shaking it out. The tri-colored cat looked disappointed that her toy was gone. She stroked around his legs, plaintively demanding a toy, and Wilson finally sighed deeply.

"You want my tie?"

"Mrow."

Another deep sigh. "That's pure silk, you know."

"Mrow!"

"Okay, okay. But you better appreciate this a whole lot." And he took off the blue tie, giving it to the small cat that happily pounced onto her new toy.

House had watched the scene from the terrace and shook his head. "Sucker," he remarked gruffly but with a smile.

Ezra smiled. "It's hard to resist a good meow."

"What do you think I've been doing since coming here?" House asked pointedly, ignoring the two cats still hanging around him, looking at the tall human with big eyes.

The vampire chuckled. "Good luck on winning, Dr. House. They are cats."

"And I'm me. Not an animal person." He glared at the cats. "You can wait on your rubs and pats and free snacks all day if you want to. You're not getting any of that from me. Shoo!"

"I can see the challenge, but better men have lost."

He snorted and turned as his wind-blown partner now joined them, limping back inside. The cats followed him like he was the best thing after catnip. Tails high, they trotted in his wake.

"Had fun?" House asked.

"Can you tell?" Wilson laughed, still breathless.
 
 

They didn't touch, nor did they really come close as they sat down on the living room couch together, but there was something in each man's voice that relayed their connection in those few words. Ezra watched them with the trained eye of someone in a same-sex relationship with someone so totally different from himself, people would wonder what had brought them together. Wilson and House were on a different level, though. One man was abrasive and rude and obnoxious and annoying and so very much damaged even on the outside that he pushed everything and everyone away. He shied away from sympathy and help, wanted to be independent, and still he needed so much assistance. Not because of his injury, more because of his personality.

The other was a people person, open and warm and gentle and caring. Ezra saw why Wilson had become a doctor. It was in his nature to help and to calm relatives and patients, and in his special field as an oncologist he was surrounded by death every day. Still, the warmth persisted. Especially with House. There was a tender expression in those brown eyes now and then, an amused tolerance that spoke of years of knowing – and handling -- this man.

Yes, they weren't the usual couple. No touching, not even a caress or a brush of hands. House wasn't prone to wrapping an arm around his lover and Wilson wasn't seeking that reassurance. Ezra didn't know how exactly those two had been an item, but it spoke of a newness and something very old and familiar in one.

He smiled a little.

It would be interesting to get to know them. Wilson was an ally and part of the Nexus. Nathan had spoken highly of the oncologist, and Wilson had been involved in the paranormal since he could walk and talk. Like many allies who were that involved he was a pro. House on the other hand was a mystery in that department. Josiah had told them that the man was a paranormal, his abilities affected by the pain drugs he took on a regular basis, but no one knew what kind of paranormal he truly was.

Vin walked into the room, looking slightly scruffy around the edges. His hair was spiky on normal days, but now it looked even more so. He had thrown on a sweater and a pair of old pants, his feet in comfy tennis shoes.

"Sorry I'm late."

"If you wouldn't always run over our guests and molest them, you'd make it on time," Buck remarked good-naturedly and kissed him briefly.

"Aw, come on! It was fun. And we all enjoyed it."

House smirked at Wilson who had yet to understand what was going on. Ezra leaned back to watch the show.

"The cats started it!" Tanner argued.

"Right," Buck replied. "As if."

"And I needed some exercise. I was getting bored with all the office stuff."

Larabee sighed. He knew his resident geologist was more of a nature person than an office boy, but it was part and parcel of being a CSI.

Wilson frowned, confusion rising. House was desperately trying not to laugh.

"What's going on here?"

"How should I know?" House grinned. "You've been the one rubbing his belly."

Wilson stared at him as if he had lost the last of his marbles. "I what?!"

"Scratched his ears. Got his slobber all over yourself. You even played fetch the stick. By all laws of wolf nature, you two might be married now."

Wilson's eyes held an almost comical expression of shock.

House leaned forward conspiratorially. "Jimmy, he's a werewolf," he stage-whispered.

Wilson's head whipped around and he stared at Vin. His face turned a sudden red. Vin grinned almost sheepishly.

"Uhm, hey," he said. "Er… Vin Tanner. Sorry for that… didn't want to lead you on, but you were so much fun."

Wilson's color deepened. House leered.

"I didn't know you were into bestiality, Jimmy."

"House!"

"Hey, what did I say? You were the one having a wild roll in the leaves with a wolf."

"B-b-but… I didn't know…"

"Don't try denying it. I was there. Looked like you were enjoying yourself."

Wilson groaned at the mischief and outright dare-devil expression in his lover's eyes. He turned to look at Tanner, whose bright blue eyes still held an apologetic expression.

"Was it good for you, too?" he only asked with a resigned air around him that was nullified by the spark of humor in those dark eyes.

Vin started laughing. "Oh yeah. Want to do it again? We might even get Buck to join in."

"I don't think so," Wilmington muttered good-naturedly.

House's attention was piqued. "Wolf?" he only wanted to know.

Buck shrugged.

Wilson leaned back with a groan.

"We should start a group. Hello, my name's Greg. I'm a paranormal drug addict with a bum leg." He poked Wilson. "Your turn. No? Well, guys, James Wilson here, sucker for playing with everything furry and sticking his hands where they don't belong."

Wilson shot him a glare.

"You're Greg House?" Vin asked, eyeing him curiously.

"Yeah. My fame precedes me, I see."

"Uh, kinda. Stacy told me about you."

House's expression darkened and Wilson tensed. "Stacy?" the oncologist asked. "Why?"

"She and I are old friends. We keep in touch and she's a big help setting up the Nexus."

House didn't say anything, just studied Vin intently, like a new bug that was giving a patient problems.

"What did she tell you?" Wilson asked instead.

"She was surprised about you, Dr. Wilson. She didn't know you were an ally. And she mentioned the effects of the drug on your abilities, Dr. House."

The dark cloud settled for a longer stay on House's features. "She had no right to do so," he growled.
"She is an ally. What she knows about special paranormals can be important to the Nexus. We're trying to set up a database on all kinds of paranormals and we never knew what you were in particular, Dr. House."

"Am I that rare?" was the acidic remark.

"Depending on your abilities, yes. There are different kinds of Healers and another level of the Healer is the Diagnostic. We don't know of true Diagnostics as of yet, but there might be several out there, unknown to us, and knowing about you helps us."

"I'm not a Healer," House grumbled.

"You're a doctor in real life. That qualifies as a healer," Vin pointed out. "But I guess you're not able to see auras and energy lines and such things?"

House's expression clearly said 'You gotta be kidding me'. "I'm neutralized. Leave it at that. And you better not mention my name in some obscure database or I'll sic my lawyer on you."

"House," Wilson muttered a warning.

"What? You want to answer my fan mail? Be my guest! And why am I that interesting? Maybe I'm a Diagnostic and others are able to hide better, but I'm not going to be in that hall of fame of yours."

Vin's gave him a hard to interpret look. "Yes, you are rare. And I'm sorry you can't use your abilities."
"I'm not. I like who I am."
Wilson sighed. Ezra watched the whole exchange silently.
House glared at the cats still sitting at his feet, gazing up at the man with wide eyes. "What's with the cats?"

"Pets," Vin told him.

"They molest visitors a lot?"

"Nope, not on a regular basis, but they like guests. We got four. The black one's Shawn, Ezra's cat. The silver tabby is Chris's. Her name's Cassie. Those other two are Sequoia and Peekaboo. They are Buck's and mine."

"Charming," House only muttered.

Wilson reached down and Cassie butted her head against his fingers.

"Oh please! Stop encouraging the little flea bags!"

"Mrow?"

"What's she staring at?" House demanded, voice gruff.

"You," Ezra answered, now looking at the cat with a sharp eye.

"Why? I'm not a cat person. Actually, I hate cats."

Shawn begged to differ with a mrow.

"No, I don't like you. Leave."

Shawn jumped onto his lap and started to butt her head against his hand.

"What part of 'leave' didn't you get, furrball? I don't like you!"

That only seemed to trigger the second cat into coming, this time the silver tabby, who purred relentlessly as she snuggled up against him.

"Gah!" House snarled and pushed them off, but cat claws and cat stubbornness took care of that.

Wilson grinned. Ezra exchanged looks with Chris and both vampires frowned.

"I hope you don't think about getting pregnant again, missy," Ezra addressed his black cat.

Shawn gave him an aloof look of a cat knowing exactly what she could and couldn't do, human orders aside.

House's eyes narrowed immediately. "Pregnant?"

"She has this uncanny ability to time that juuuust right," Vin replied. "Familiars usually do."

"Familiars," Wilson echoed, voice even. "They are familiars…"

"Not all. Just Cassie and Shawn. Shawn's Cassiopeia's mom, actually." Vin shrugged.

"Oh."

"What am I missing?" House wanted to know, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle away from the cats.

"Uhm, familiars are paranormal companions," Wilson explained, still giving Cassie a vigorous ear rub.

At the looks he got from the vampires and werewolves, he shrugged self-consciously. "Lots of unused knowledge. I… ah… read a lot as a kid."

Larabee gave him a quick smile. "Useful for an ally."

"Never had much to do."

"You do a lot for the Nexus," Vin said quietly.

Wilson fidgeted a little.

"Familiars?" House sing-songed, bringing them back onto the topic, giving Wilson a pointed look of 'don't digress, I wanna know'.

"Well, yes, they are, as I said, a paranormal companion, always female, and they choose their paranormal by their own free will."

House glared at the black cat. "Aside from the paranormal part, it sounds like 'cat' to a T to me."

"They are normally feline, but there are snakes and ravens, too," Wilson added.

House grimaced. "Snakes?"

"They're also more intelligent than a common animal and … uh, don't undergo the same fertility cycle as the animal counterpart. A familiar only produces offspring when she feels the strong need of a new paranormal in need for companionship."

Shawn purred relentlessly.

House glared relentlessly, refusing to even touch the cat.

"I've got all the company I need, thank you. Now go and hunt mice or whatever you do."

Ezra had listened to the accurate description of what familiars were and could do, looking at Shawn.

"No way," he murmured. "He already is a paranormal."

House's sharp eyes were on him, flashing dangerously. "What?" he demanded.

The vampire sighed, running a hand through his hair. "When Cassie was born it was because of Chris," he said softly. "And Cassie's first litter came to be because of another friend who was about to become a paranormal."

Wilson frowned, but House's expression was only dark and slightly pissed. "Well, cat, you got your antennas crossed. I don't need a… companion. I'm fine. And I'm not about to become a paranormal. I am one."

Shawn didn't so much as flinch, just tilt her head, still purring.

"Shove off," came the growl.

Wilson looked worriedly at the cat, then met Ezra's eyes. "It can't be," he only said.

The vampire shrugged. "Who knows? I've accepted a long time ago that she just knows what has to be done."

"Whatever." House pushed to his feet and walked past the assembled men, heading for the terrace.

Wilson jumped to his feet, hesitating, then shot an apologetic look at their hosts. Ezra just nodded at him to go, very much familiar with the reaction. The younger man followed his partner.

"You think Shawn's serious?" Chris asked softly.

"I don't know." Green eyes were on the cat in question who hadn't followed her object of attention outside. "Familiars attach themselves to already active paranormals, too, but House is a different case. As Josiah said, he's inactive because of the pain medication, and apparently happy about it. We don't know what he is and if anything will ever change."

"But Shawn does?" Buck asked from where he was stretched out on the couch.

A shrug. "Familiars have a form of clairvoyance."

Shawn stretched and clawed at the rug, then headed over to her favorite dozing spot, apparently losing interest in House or anything else. Ezra followed her with his eyes, wondering.

* * *

Wilson walked out onto the terrace to find his lover leaning against the solid wooden support beam. His eyes were on the darkness of the garden. Without a word he joined him, hands in his pockets, feeling a slight chill from the cool spring night.

"You okay?" he finally asked quietly.

House gave a grunt of annoyance. "If you gotta ask…"

"I truly want to know, Greg. I'm not sure what got you so riled up, but it can't be a little cat seeking attention."

"According to the blood-sucker inside, she's not seeking attention but looking for someone to adopt a runt."

"She's not pregnant."

"She might soon be. They should castrate her."

Wilson sighed tiredly. His lover was in a mood.

"I'm paranormal. Doesn't mean I need a crutch," House murmured after a while. "Doesn't mean I need some kind of flea-ridden companion." He glanced at Wilson. "Got you already."

"Thanks... I think."

They lapsed into silence, then Wilson leaned forward, resting his lower arms on the railing, inhaling the clear air. It was cool, but it was also a very nice night. Cloudless, some stars already out. Quiet and without the lights of the city. Nice.

"I will never be who I was before," House said into the quietness.

"I know."

"Nothing can change that. Not even a cat."

"I know."

"But that… rug on legs wants to change it."

"You don't know that."

House shot him a glare. "You're the encyclopedic knowledge on legs about all things paranormal. You know about those pests."

"Yes, I do know about familiars," Wilson conceded. "But just because she seeks your attention doesn't mean you'll end up with one yourself."

"Hate cats."

"We established that already." Wilson straightened and turned to his lover. "Is that it? That's what's bugging you? The cat? Or because she sees what you are?"

"What am I?" House asked acidly.

"A paranormal."

"So? I'm not going to be of any use!"

"But you're not useless." Wilson kept his tone gentle, calm, soothing.

"Stop treating me like one of your bald little freaks!"

He stepped forward, still not touching. Aside from what they did in bed, they rarely touched, rarely sought contact, rarely ever talked about their emotions.

"You're not. You're the man I love, Greg."

House stared at him, face expressionless, then suddenly reached out and pulled him close into a kiss. Wilson went willingly, feeling one strong hand cupping his neck, the other still holding the cane but bumping against his hip.

It was one of those long, slow kisses. Special and deep and filled with emotions House rarely spoke of. Wilson went with the flow, let himself drift in that wonderful contact, the depth and warmth and sensuality. He didn't care that there were four men just inside the house, likely to walk in on them. He didn't care that two were vampires with very fine senses. All he cared about was his lover, a man in so much pain that Vicodin couldn't relieve it.

Somehow the cane ended up no longer in House's grasp, but not clattering to the floor either, and the free hand ran over Wilson's ribs to his back. House pulled him even closer, still leaning against the support beam, and Wilson moved easily into the gentle embrace. They never stopped kissing, just nipped and licked in-between to get some air, then letting their tongues meet again. Stubble burned against his smoother cheek, a welcome roughness.

"We should get back inside," Wilson murmured when they finally parted.

He felt slightly more cold, his front kept warm by the close contact.

"No."

"No?" He raised his eyebrows.

"We should leave."

"That's highly rude."

House just smirked.

"For me, it's rude," Wilson argued. "For you it's okay. Why should I stoop to your level?"

"Because you love me?"

He frowned. "Give me a better reason."

"That's not enough? Jimmy, you wound me."

Wilson brushed their lips together again. "I'll come home with you if you want to leave," he only replied.

"I want to," House simply repeated.

"Okay."

They stayed like they were, neither man inclined to move, and Wilson soaked up the closeness. House rubbed his cheek against his temple, the stubble scratching a little more. Wilson understood the fear in his lover, the need to be what he wasn't. There was too much already happening, and being a paranormal was not something Greg House had ever wanted to be. He had enjoyed it while it lasted, but he didn't miss his abilities. They were gone, not forgotten really, but he couldn't bring them back.
At least he believed it.

Wilson knew that there was a chance the Diagnostic's abilities would restart the moment the Vicodin left his body, but nothing was for certain. Nothing was one hundred percent. Not even a familiar could know, he mused to himself, shivering a little with the cold.

"You're cold," House mumbled, his lips brushing against Wilson's ear.

"Yeah."

"I'd love to warm you up," was the rough drawl against his skin. "But I think that would offend our hosts, don't you think?"

Wilson chuckled. "Since when do you think about what offends people?"

House drew back and looked into his eyes, smiling. "I've always been that considerate, Jimmy. I just hide it well."

"Riiight." Wilson grinned and tried to step out of the embrace, but House refused to let go. "Greg?"

"Home," House only said and opened his arms.
 
 

They left a few minutes later, Ezra and Chris seeing them off at the door where their driver was already waiting. House hadn't spoken a word, just looked around for any sign of cats. There had been none.

"Sorry," Wilson said softly.

"No problem." Ezra smiled. "He needs time to accept."

Wilson shot the vampire a quizzical look. All he got was that smile.

* * *

Vin thoughtfully watched their two guest leave, eyes narrowing a little.

"Vin? You okay?" Buck asked.

"Uh, sure."

"Right." He let some disbelief bleed into his voice.

Vin looked up and smiled briefly. "It's just… I saw something."

Buck came over to him. "Something something? Like… something only you and a few others can see?"

"Yeah."

"What was it?"

Vin thoughtfully bit his lower lip. "I'm not sure what they mean."

"Tell me."

"One was a cat. Long-legged, big ears, about twenty inches shoulder height. Spotted."

"Young leopard or cheetah?"

"No. Owen gave me a book. Lemme check."

He got up and hurried up to their shared apartments, then came back down. Ezra and Chris were back inside now, too, both watching him with interest. Vin flipped through the pages of a very old looking book, where all the pictures were hand drawn. He finally turned it around for the others to see.

"Serval," he explained. "That's the cat I saw."

Buck glanced at the spotted cat with its unusually long legs. It looked… cute.

"To whom does it belong?" Chris asked.

"No idea."

"You said two animals?" Buck prodded.

"Yeah. The second was a ferret or a mink. White, very fluffy. The fur wasn't really flat, more like sticking up all over the place. The serval was protecting it. He had it between his forelegs, licking it."
Ezra and Chris exchanged looks and Ezra frowned. "Taking into account that Dr. House is a paranormal, one of those animals belongs to him."

"The cat?" Buck hazarded a guess. "House is protective of Wilson."

"Just because he appears to be the dominant partner in this relationship doesn't mean their spirit animals display the same ranks," Ezra said quietly.

"And House isn't dominant," Chris added. "They're both very strong in this, though House's personality covers most of it."

"Uh-huh," Buck agreed. "So, the cat is Wilson's, but he's no paranormal? And a mink for House?" He chuckled.

"It's not the size that counts. Or the appearance," Vin said, smiling.

"Right. You got a gecko." Blue eyes twinkled and Vin chuckled.

"Yes, I do. And the mink is a powerful spirit animal. It's stealth, cunning, ingenuity, the ability to see hidden reasons behind things. The power of observation."

Ezra nodded his agreement. "Powerful indeed. So the mink is House and it reflects his numbed state. The serval is protecting it, but if it isn't Wilson, who is it?"

"Neither Caine nor Owen ever mentioned something about non-paranormals having spirit animals. Either Wilson has the gene and doesn't know it, or it's someone else. Those two animals are close. They've been together for a long time, completely trusting, and the serval is fiercely protective."

"Sounds like Wilson," Chris threw in. "He's an ally, but it hasn't been unheard of for an ally to become a paranormal."

"Ecklie was a huge exception," Vin disagreed. "And being bitten by either a werewolf or a vampire… no, not in Wilson's case. He's fully human."

Ezra leaned quietly against the wall, thoughtful. "We should keep an eye on them," he finally said. "This might get interesting."

* * *

They hadn't stopped for food and Wilson felt a little pang of hunger when they had arrived at the hotel, so he had grabbed some chips and other snacks. House had claimed he wasn't hungry at all. He just lay back on his bed, arms under his head, looking at the ceiling. Wilson dropped the snacks on the table and started to undress. With only a simple t-shirt and a pair of sweats, he sat on his own bed, one he hadn't used ever since coming here, and opened a bag of chips.

"You really think this cat's magical?" House asked into the silence.

Wilson used the remote to switch on the TV. "Shawn? She's a familiar, House. She's magical by definition."

House frowned at the programs zapping through. "She's a cat. What are you doing?"

"She's a familiar that has taken the shape of a cat. I'm watching TV."

"You're zapping. And you're doing it from over there. That cat is a four-legged pest, nothing more. Hate cats."

Wilson looked at him, silently chewing on his chips. "Your problem's not with the cat. It's with what she implies. And I'm not zapping." He settled on the news.

"She stands for allergies and obnoxiousness. People think cats are so self-sufficient, but all they do is sleep all day. You still gotta feed them, clean up after them…"

Wilson rolled his eyes and held the bag so House could grab some. House did.

"You're still over there," he remarked.

"And you are still complaining about cats."

House looked at the ceiling again, silent.

"Greg?"

He gave a grunt.

Wilson turned his attention away from the TV and dropped the bag on the floor. He sat up and looked at his lover.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?" Blue eyes flickered over him.

"I'm sorry."

That made the other man frown.

"I knew this might happen," Wilson said softly.

"You did?" was the neutral question.

"I work for the Nexus, Greg. I know where they are located. And Nathan is part of the founding members, so to speak. Bringing you along was inviting the paranormal into your front yard."

"You didn't warn me," his lover stated.

"What should I have said?" was the exasperated cry. "Please don't come along? Stay and make Cuddy's life miserable after she begged me to help convince you? There's no stopping you when you want something, Greg."

"You didn't even try."

"Because it's useless!"

House shook his head. "You could have at least made a feeble attempt!"

"I learned not to exert myself a long time ago!"

"Mentioning that Salt Lake is the melting pot of the paranormal isn't feeble!" House shot back. "Throw in the words 'vampire' and 'werewolf' and I might just have stayed home."

Wilson shook his head, angry and frustrated. "Useless," he murmured. "You don't even mean that."

"You could at least pretend I do!" House whined.

Another exasperated look. "And I love you, too. Can we change the topic now?"

"Spoilsport. You knew I was winning."

"You always do."

"And you love me."

"I always did."

"See?"

Wilson frowned. "What are we arguing about now? You loving me? Or something else?"

"You think I can't handle this?" House asked.

"No. I think you don't want it," he said with brutal bluntness.

House stared at him, eyes sparking angrily, then he snatched the abandoned chips bag. "Gimme that."

"Greg? Do you want it?"

"Already got them." He waved the bag.

Wilson sighed. He knew he wouldn't get a satisfying answer out of the man.

"You're still over there," House remarked lazily.

"It's a crumbs-free bed."

The older man brushed away some left-overs. "Highly overrated."

"Crumbs itch."

"I know something that can scratch an itch."

Wilson gave him a tolerant smile. "I didn't know you were such a sex-driven maniac. Wait, I knew you were a maniac."

"Five years of getting none. Gotta catch up." House grinned lecherously.

"What about the hookers?"

"What about them?"

Wilson gave him a pointed look.

"You're better," House only quipped.

"I hope so." Wilson tried to make a grab for the chips bag again, but House held it out of reach.

"A lot better," House added smugly.

Wilson scowled.

"C'mere," the other man said softly, expression changing into something much softer.

Wilson met the blue eyes, silent. Then he moved over into the other bed and House moved to lay his head on his lover's lap. Wilson started to stroke over the messy curls. After a while the hand started to slide over the shoulders to the chest and under the shirt House was wearing. A hum came from the older man, his eyes closed, his whole face reflecting how relaxed he was. Wilson continued his caress over the smooth chest, now and then bumping into a nipple. He played with the sparse chest hair, drawing more sounds of pleasure.

"Definitely better than a hooker," House mumbled.

Wilson had to swallow a laugh. "Mood killer," he whispered.

"Hm. Only the truth."

"Shut up."

House was almost purring now and the blue eyes opened, filled with deep emotions. As House pushed himself up on his elbows, Wilson leaned down to meet him halfway. The kiss was as tender as the moment, despite the sarcastic remark, and they stayed like that, silent, enjoying each other's company.

* * *

House didn't go back to the Clarion Tower with Wilson the next morning. House lounged around the hotel for a while, enjoying a very nice breakfast, then took a rather boring sight-seeing tour. The walking tour was out of the question on the basis that it required lots of walking and House wasn't in the mood. What he did discover was a neat little book shop in a side street that had the most interesting and rare editions. There was a whole section of medical books, references, case studies, and more. He spent three hours perusing the store and ended up with a pile of used but very cheap books. He knew his shelves were already close to breaking down under the weight of his reading material, and he was piling things left and right and on top of his furniture.

He got back in the afternoon to drop off his bags and found Wilson in the room, stretched out on the bed, looking very comfortable.

"Back already?" House asked, dumping the three plastic bags.

"Yes. And you were shopping."

"It was a three for one at Victoria's Secret," House quipped. "If I had known you were early, we both could have gone."

Wilson gave him a lazy smile. "Not my style. Hungry?"

"Always."

"Not for that, you idiot!"

House smirked. "I thought of food. What did you think of?"

Wilson got off the bed and grabbed his jacket. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Steak."

"Okay. Let's find a restaurant."
 
 

They stopped at the concierge's desk and a young man barely out of school and with a very sunny disposition recommended something called The Cavern.

"It's great new restaurant and you'll get very good food at reasonable prices."

Wilson just shrugged his agreement while House had no opinion at all.

"It's located above The Grotto, that's the adjoining nightclub. All belongs to one guy. Check out the club, too. Great atmosphere for a drink or two," the concierge added.

* * *

They stopped across the street of a night club. "The Grotto", a tastefully arranged sign proclaimed. It wasn’t as flashy and colorful as the clubs Wilson knew, but judging from the people queuing up outside, it was just as ‘in’. It wasn't even seven yet and there were the first visitors trying to get past the tall, broad-shouldered bouncer. The Cavern was on the first floor, with a separate entrance, and Wilson and House were led to a booth. The restaurant was crowded, too.

The style was that of a rock and wood ambience, with a hardwood floor, walls made up to look like a cave, the ceiling featuring the occasional stalactite, and the lighting was indirect but still bright enough that you didn't have to guess what your food looked like.

"Nathan mentioned this place," Wilson said as he perused the menu.

House glanced over his own menu. "And you had to ask the concierge why…?"

"The T-bone looks good."

"And you're evading the question."

Wilson hesitated, then sighed. "It's… a paranormal place."

House's brows rose more. "Why lie?" he wanted to know.

Wilson shrugged. "I wasn't sure you wanted to be somewhere this… well…"

"Freaky? Don't worry. I'm well-adjusted."

"Yeah, right," was the slow answer filled with growing disbelief.
 
 

Both had steak and home-made fries with a salad on the side, and the plate size was enough to feed twice as many people.

"First time at the Cavern?" the waiter asked as he cleared their table.

"Yes," Wilson only answered.

"Then you should check out the Grotto, too. Every patron of the Cavern has automatic access to the Grotto. Grab a drink or two, enjoy the music."

"Oh. Okay."

They paid and Wilson shot his lover a quizzical look. "Want a drink in the Grotto?"

House got up, grinning. "And check out vampire central? Sure. Your treat."

Wilson gave him a quirky smile. "Only fair since dinner was on me, too."

House grinned. "Exactly."

And with that he set off toward the elevator to the Grotto.

*

"My goodness, it really does look like vampire central down here," House remarked as they made their way to a table.

Several eyes followed them and Wilson shifted unconsciously closer to him. There was a hungry expression in some eyes, other turned back to their drinks or friends, ignoring the newcomers. The Grotto was like a huge, well, grotto, with several separate areas. There was a main bar with a dance floor – a glass dance floor, with a real glittering grotto underneath, Wilson noticed - seating area, booths and tables. Slightly to the back was another bar, more private, with a glass-encased section that held comfortable looking chairs and couches.

"Vampires?" Wilson asked softly.

"See one, know all. And if they aren't real ones, they are still blood-suckers. Night clubs," House huffed. "Always the same."

"You want to leave?"

"Nah. A drink's a drink and maybe some hot chick will come over and show us her cleavage."

Wilson shot him an exasperated look. They settled down in an empty booth and House grabbed some chips that were on the table.

"We just had dinner," Wilson remarked.

"Hungry again."

"Right." There was just the right amount of disbelief in Wilson's voice.

"Hello, honey," a melodious voice interrupted the argument. "My name's Harriet. I'll be your waitress for tonight. You guys are new here, right?"

Wilson shrugged.

"Passing through?"

"Business trip," he answered.

"What can I get you guys?"

House eyed the blond waitress with a slight leer. "Well, hello. Nice cleavage."

Wilson groaned. "Can't take you anywhere."

"Well, thank you," the woman replied, smiling. "All my own."

"Rare nowadays," House agreed.

"Implants just mess you up," the petite blonde replied.

"Isn't that the truth. Coffee," House decided.

"Just coffee or is that a speciality coffee? Latte? Macchiato? Cappuccino? Espresso? Flavored?"

"Just coffee. Liquid caffeine."

"Okay. And what can I do for you, honey?" Flirtatious eyes were on Wilson.

"Uhm, gin and tonic," Wilson decided, getting himself a raised brow from House, though no comment.

"You go it." And she sashayed off.

"Nice girl."

"Uh-huh."

"Oh!" House laughed. "Aren't we pissed off! She only had eyes for me. Low blow for the most handsome oncologist of Princeton-Plainsboro, Boy Toy Wonder of Cuddy."

"I'm not pissed off. Why should I? I'm not interested in her."

"You're a man. You should be. I am, for that matter. A girl with breasts that aren't artificially enhanced. Fascinating. And cute, don't you think?"

Another eye-roll.

The waitress interrupted another comeback and placed a large mug with a steaming black liquid in front of House, and a glass in front of Wilson. It was filled with a clear liquid and there were red ice cubes floating inside it.

"Gin and tonic," she explained with a smile.

"The ice's red," House remarked.

Harriet smiled. "I like red." Her sparkling eyes were on Wilson. "You look like you need one. That lover of yours is quite strenuous."

Wilson spluttered. "Lover?"

"Busted," House chuckled and tried the coffee, which was good, but his eyes expressed his surprise at the statement.

"What is it? Do I have it tattooed on my forehead?" Wilson demanded defensively.

Harriet gave him a sweet smile. "I've been in this business long enough, honey. I know my guests. And you two are so much an item, it's radiating. Call if you need some more." And she was off to the next table.

Wilson buried his head in his hands. "We're that gay, huh?"

"Nope. Just busted."

House's eyes drifted through the club, interest in his whole demeanor. There weren't many customers yet, but those who were patronizing the bar and filling the dance floor seemed to come from all social classes. Business men still in their expensive Armani suits, girls that were barely the legal age, at least they looked like it, in daring outfits, some tourists like them, and some people who looked like a Goth club might be better suited for them.

Yes, interesting. His gaze swept over to the bar where a young blonde was working the glasses and bottles with quiet efficiency.

"Nice place," Wilson remarked.

"For a nightclub of the paranormal."

"Hello," a sultry voice sang and Wilson suddenly found himself with a lap-full of skimpily dressed brunette with large, green eyes and a cleavage that stopped at her navel.

Wilson blinked in confusion, spluttering a protest.

"Oh, hush, darling. You look lonely."

"I'm not," the oncologist argued, then almost squeaked when her hand slipped into his lap.

"Excuse me," House growled. "Seat's taken."

"Aw, there's enough room for two," the woman purred.

"I don't think so. Move it. Now." The growl got possessive.

"Don't want to share?" Her hands were still wandering, now playing with Wilson's shirt, stroking over his chest.

"No, I'm not sharing my toys with strangers."

"So very possessive," she breathed. "I can understand it. He's quite... nice…"

"Excuse me," Wilson tried.

"I wouldn't say nice. He's mine, not yours. Scamper off before I do it for you," House shot back.

She leaned forward, giving him the perfect view of her very deep cleavage. "From the frustration I can feel on the poor boy, you haven't been taking very good care of him."

"He has," Wilson argued, then blushed as she gave him an appraising eye.

"There is so much more I can give you, handsome. Things he can't."

"PMS every other month? Breasts? Lipstick on his collar?"

"Mind-blowing sex," she answered, smiling sultrily. She stroked over Wilson's chest.

House's eyes flashed at the gesture. If everyone saw that they were an item, what the fuck was the wanna-be hooker doing toying with his lover?

"Stop playing games," he snarled. "He's not your toy."

"No, he's yours. You might just want to take better care of him. Or are you two in an S&M relationship? How kinky…"

"No!" Wilson protested, hands trying not to grab her to shove her off. There was too much naked flesh not to end up in a compromising situation.

"You want kink? How about this?" House snapped back and lifted his cane.

She smiled in apparent delight. "Now we're getting somewhere. Nice cane … I like it long and … hard." Her arms were now snaking around Wilson's neck. "Is he into kink, honey? A little spank every now and then?"

Wilson squirmed.

House's lips were a fine line now. "Off. Now."

"You should attach a label to him," she suggested.

"I will. The moment you're off his lap."

"Why? Want to tag it to his beauty parts?"

Wilson groaned, but not in arousal.

House's eyes flashed with deviousness. "Now there's an idea."

She started to laugh, still plastered against the oncologist, but the sultriness was down several levels.

"Oh, I like you. A man after my own heart. Protecting what’s his. Should you ever like to share, I'm your girl."

"Nope. Mine. Not sharing. Kinda old school on that part."

Her eyes danced. "Old school and possessive." Finally she was off Wilson's lap.

"You forgot the 'bastard'. I could clearly hear it there."

"Heaven, you are good," she chuckled. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time. You'd be just my type."

"No, he's my type," Wilson said quietly.

"Don't worry, darling. You can keep him." She winked and slid off his lap. "See you around, boys. It was fun." And she was gone in the crowd.

Wilson inhaled deeply and emptied his Gin and tonic, in desperate need for a second.

"She got you that hot?"

He glared at House. "No!"

His lover glanced at his crotch and his brows rose. "I, and he, beg to differ."

It got one of those exasperated looks.

Harriet appeared and took the empty glass, smiling. "I'll get you a second one. You look like you need it."

"Bring some extra ice," House called.

Wilson glared at him. "It was a natural reaction!"

"Like all your natural reactions around, let's say… we call them Debbie? Or Stevie? Or Amanda?"

"It's not like that! And what the heck are you jealous for?" Wilson demanded angrily.

"Not jealous. Just resigned to the fact," was the even reply.

House was greatly aware of the fact that his lover was a so-called babe magnet. He was very attractive to the other sex, and to his own, too. Handsome, smart, and those eyes… House knew the effect Wilson had had on him and still had, so why did he feel as he did about Wilson's charm working so well on yet another woman?

Because he couldn't compare to what Wilson usually flirted with. He was the bitter old cripple and even though they were now together, Wilson might tire soon.

The moment you have what you always wanted, you lose interest in it.

Looking at the younger man, the flustered and slightly disheveled younger man, he knew he was failing on so many fronts that Wilson wasn't. In the end, it would be the same as before.

He pushed that thought aside.

"What are you talking about?" Wilson's angry question drew him back out of his thoughts.

"You. Her. It's a natural thing to happen."

"Greg?" Confusion rose, but it was thankfully a confusion muddled by too much alcohol already. "She made a pass at me! I wasn't even trying to… " He sighed. "I'm not interested in her."

House let the topic slide into the abyss of alcohol and a long day. Harriet brought the second Gin Tonic.

"Hope you don't mind Miranda. She likes to stir up some trouble, but she only flirts. As long as you don't honestly flirt back and give her all the right signs." She winked at them. "I doubt you did."

"She stirred up something all right," House remarked.

Wilson muttered something rude.

"And that's probably enough for you, Jimmy, my boy."

He let it slide, whether he meant the encounter and its results, or the second Gin and tonic. Wilson emptied it too fast anyway and the alcohol would soon affect him, as House knew it would.

*

They made it back to the hotel by taxi and Wilson was rather unsteady on his legs when they finally arrived in their room, but he was still balanced enough to walk on his own, which was something.

"You done for tonight?" House asked as Wilson's jacket landed on the chair and his lover sat down on the bed to remove his shoes. "Alcohol, vampire babes…?"

He hadn't expected the reaction that little poke got him. Dark eyes flashed and there was more sobriety in them than expected. Wilson was still rather there, though more loose-lipped than normal, an expected reaction from too much alcohol. They had had their drinking nights together and after the third beer, the oncologist usually got into a very relaxed mood.

"What is it with you?" Wilson now demanded.

"Pardon?" House almost drew back under the glare.

"You've done nothing but take stabs at me ever since… ever since coming here! I know you're cynical and sarcastic and you bite. You use a weakness against another person! You poke and prod and jab long enough for the other to either break or fight back! We argued before, we had our fights, but you never did that to me! You use me as target practice for all your little insults – in front of others! And you do it with increasing strength!"

He had kicked off the shoes shrugged off his t-shirt, throwing it into a corner.

"What is going on with you? I didn't force you to come here with me! I didn't ask you to hang around while I do boring research! And I sure as hell didn't ask you to tear me apart for being who I am! You don't like the paranormal, but you know it comes with me! All of it! Either ignore it or swallow it or… leave!"

House stared at the drunk but still so very sober man.

"You're not who I knew before, House," Wilson whispered.

House closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, trying to ignore the pain those words evoked. He knew he had lashed out at his lover like he was one of his juniors, or Cuddy, or some annoying patient who was too stubborn to see he was right. He had jumped at every little embarrassing moment, making it worse.
Opening his eyes, he closed the distance between himself and the semi-dressed man. As erotic as the sight of Wilson only in a pair of leisurely jeans would be on any other day, now it was far from his mind to take advantage of this.

"Jimmy…"

"Don't!" Wilson rasped. "Don't… just don't…"

Blue eyes roamed over the flushed face, the shine in those expressive and still so warm eyes. And they came to rest on the long scar on Wilson's neck, the scar that told him how close he had come to losing this man to some maniac.

He was coming close to losing him once more. To another maniac.

"I fuck up relationships a lot," House said softly.

"Yeah. Why?"

He gave a wry laugh. "Because I'm as stubborn as the people I love."

Wilson swayed a little and House nodded at the bed.

"Sit."

He did. Without argument.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." He shook his head. "I seem to say that a lot."

"Why, Greg?" Wilson simply repeated.

House played with the cane, then slowly sat down next to his lover, feeling a twinge of pain from his leg. "For the past seven years there was hardly anything paranormal in my life," he answered the question softly, voice without his usual sarcasm. "It didn't die, it just… went to sleep. A coma. It's numb and I like it numb. I never missed it."

"Now you do?" Wilson wanted to know.

"I don't know. I just realized that being a paranormal sets me apart and things are expected that are no longer within my reach."

Those brown eyes reflected surprise. "I don't…" he started, but House silenced him with a shake of the head.

"Not you. Others I meet. Those who find out who and what I am. I'm not part of this world, but you are. And then again so am I."

"Greg…" Wilson stopped. "That's not like you," he said slowly, brows drawing down. "You don't care what people think about you. You don't care what I do. It never bothered you to be different…"

House turned to face him and slowly cupped the scarred neck. "You're wrong about one thing: I care about what you do. I respect what you are. Here or as a doctor." His thumb brushed over the reddish-white scar tissue.

He just didn't like to be reminded of yet another disability, one that had come with the other. House had yet to fully accept his limitations after the infarction and he knew he would have to one day, that bad leg, that stupid life as a cripple, but right now he was still fighting it tooth and claw. He fought rehab, he fought the pain, he fought the pity he saw in so many people's eyes.

Apparently his fighting was leaving scars where he wouldn't have thought them to be.

"Why didn't you tell me that it's bothering you to be here?" Wilson wanted to know.

He still caressed the neck. There were more scars, on his lover's back, one in his palm, another along his arm. All were thinning, healing, and in a year or two most might be gone, but he still saw that terrible moment when Wilson had lain on the hospital floor, bleeding, fighting against the pain, against the shock; and fighting to live.

"It's your life."

"It's our life, Greg! I'm an ally and you are, by all means and names, a paranormal."

"Who's not working any more."

"That doesn't matter!" the younger man cried, tearing out of the caress. "You're not like a broken car or toy! You are 'functioning' as you put it!" He stood, swaying, but not collapsing back onto the bed.

Wilson walked two steps, then turned, swaying again.

"I don't care if you have some kind of magical power, some kind of ability, or if you can change into a wolf! I didn't fall in love with the paranormal and I sure as hell am not trying to make you into something you are not!"

"Others care."

"No! They might ask, but they don't run some kind of employment agency here! They don't want you to demonstrate powers! If you were a normal human being, one without the paranormal gene, you'd be just the same to them!"

Wilson fell against the wall, breathing hard, the alcohol hitting him once more. He scrubbed a hand angrily over his face. House rose and limped over to him, leaving the cane leaning against the bed.

"Like I said, I'm not good at this," he repeated, voice still soft, tender emotions flooding in. "I ruined more than one relationship by being who I am."

"This isn't who you are," Wilson argued weakly.

"I've been told before." At the puzzled look, he smiled a little. "By a nun. She accused me of hiding, too."

"Smart woman," Wilson only replied, letting his head fall against the wall with a thump.

House's eyes were on the scar again.

Near-loss number one.

Number two had happened not much later, less violent in physical terms, but just as bad.

Number three had probably just been averted, but he wasn't sure.

He steadied himself against the wall, exhaling softly.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," House finally said, voice very low. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just… reacted."

Those brown eyes opened and there was barely any distance between them now.

"I don't deal well with pain," he added.

"I know."

"And Vicodin neutralized me only so much."

"I don't want you neutral, Greg."

"It's better than the alternative."

"You mean high?"

He smirked a little. "Or that."

Wilson rested one hand on House's hip, the other sliding up his side to claw into the dark blue shirt.

"I think I need to sleep this off," he murmured. "I feel funny."

"You should try Vicodin. That's feeling funny."

It got him a little laugh and he brushed their lips together as Wilson looked at him.

"I love you," House repeated those important words he had only once uttered, while leaving Wilson's office, as if they were an unimportant piece of information.

They weren't. Not for him.

Wilson smiled a little more.
 
 

They made it to bed, one bed, not separate ones, and House drew his inebriated lover into his arms. Wilson didn't fight him. Running his hands over the familiar contours of the firm body, he let his fingers count the marks on Wilson's back. Glass had cut through the clothes and into the skin, most of the cuts healed without a trace. Some had remained.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Wilson murmured sleepily.

"Where to?"

There was a little pause. "Home?" Wilson then queried, mystified by House's question.

"What if I wanted to stay?"

The younger man pushed himself away and stared at him. "What? You hate it here!"

"Well, maybe not 'here' here, but somewhere else here."

"Run that by me again?"

"Cuddy wouldn't mind."

"She wouldn't mind you disappearing off the face of the Earth," Wilson shot back.

"Ow, Jimmy, that hurts."

"The truth always does."

"She loves me."

"I love you. She tolerates you. I know how she feels."

Wilson slid back into the embrace and House chuckled.

"So we stay another week? Somewhere else? Just the two of us? Pretty please?"

"A week? You said a few more days!"

"Seven, actually. Ergo, a week."

"Where do you want to go?"

A shrug. "Don't know. Vegas was interesting, but there's also those little hideaways…"

Wilson pushed himself up again. "You, Greg House, want to spend a week tucked away in a cabin?" His voice rose a little in disbelief.

"If I'm tucked away with you…"

"This won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because you need challenges, cases, strange infectious diseases or tumors that are not tumors. You need to be back in Plainsboro and annoy your juniors and Cuddy. That's your life."

House regarded him quietly for a moment. "It is my life," he finally acquiesced. "But you are part of that life, too. I want to spend some time with you."

"To do what? Annoy me? Fuck me blind? We can do that at home!"

House traced invisible lines over the smooth, warm skin. "Maybe I just need some time away for you to tell me who I am now."

That brought Wilson up short. "W-what?"

House silently begged for Wilson to accept it without another explanation. He wasn't the one to talk about emotions a lot, and there had been too much talk already. His fingers played their mapping game on Wilson's skin.

"I thought you didn't want to know about the paranormal. That you were through with things."

Damn. His lover sure wasn't picking up on the signals. "I lied."

"You didn't."

A huff. "Okay, so I didn't lie. Take a pick."

"You are impossible," Wilson murmured, voice laden with sleep about to claim him.

"Hm, and you love me."

"Wonder why."

"I don't."

"No?"

"Loveable and all. That's me."

Wilson chuckled. "Right."

House caressed his back, drawing a little sigh of appreciation as a tender spot was given some well-deserved attention. He watched Wilson fall asleep, relaxed in his arms, at his side, in their shared bed.

He couldn't wait to leave this place, to be away from vampires and werewolves and magic-users. He wanted to spend time with James, with the man he loved. House realized he had to deal with what his partner was aside from one of the top oncologists in the country.

"And I will, Jimmy," he murmured.