Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part One

The harsh bark of cherrywood striking oak echoed, especially when chorused with a pitiful howl.

“Wilson!! Wilson, open the door!! You can’t leave cripples out in the cold! Wilson, this is borderline abuse!!”

The door suddenly opened leaving House and his cane mid-swing, “you’re not Wilson.”

She certainly wasn’t, not unless Wilson has changed genders and had the most intricate of plastic surgery to look like a drop dead gorgeous woman.

Her brunette hair cascaded over her shoulders, the warm light from the apartment highlighted the blonde undertones that lay within. Her eyes a hue of hazel green, full of warmth and completely enticing. He could feel his jaw slackening, in danger of drooling like an oversexed hound, her fault entirely of course.

“No, no I’m not Wilson but I’m guessing you’re House?” She stood to the side welcoming him into the apartment. Not that he needed telling twice, the rubber end of his cane squeak-thumping against the hardwood floors as he hobbled over to the couch, dumping his jacket, helmet and rucksack in an unkempt pile and made himself comfortable.

“So who are you? Not seen you around the hospital so I doubt very much you’re a nurse.”

“I’m Jo and no I’m not a nurse, I’m a teacher.” She bit her tongue at chastising him for cluttering up the floor, he might be a pain in the ass but as Wilson’s friend, she wanted to win him over.

“Let me guess… home ec?” He commented whilst she hung up his leather jacket.

“No, music. Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.”

He smirked indulgently when she emerged from the kitchen with two beers, sinking down on the opposite end of the couch she passed one over clinking it with hers, “James has told me a lot about you.”

“All bad things I’m guessing?”

A coy smile tugged at the corner of her lips, “some good some bad, you’re an interesting guy Greg House.”

“You don’t know half of it. Where is Wilson anyway?”

“He got a page but he promised to bring back wine and dinner.” She leaned over to the coffee table to retrieve her phone unconsciously giving House a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. “Let me text him and tell him to bring back extra, Chinese okay?”

“Yeah, tell him to get my usual.”

“Which is?” She asked without her eyes deviating from the phone.

“Duck Lo Mein.”

“No way! That’s my go-to order too. Wow, we both have great taste.”

There was a slight hint of a tease in her tone and House couldn’t help smiling back.

He swallowed the last of his beer, pointing the empty bottle in Jo’s direction. “Yeah but you’re dating Wilson, I’d say you’ve got very questionable tastes.”

Jo giggled knowing that teasing was what House did. She caught hold of the bottle and headed off to the fridge for a couple more fresh beers while House sat on the couch mentally chastising himself for commenting like that.

She was beautiful. He wouldn't deny that, easy to talk to, quick-witted and very smart. She seemed to understand him immediately, didn’t fall for his petulant bullshit tactics which is usually how it went and seemed to really enjoy his company.

So much so, that neither of them heard the key in the door and Wilson’s entrance, both too busy laughing about a funny anecdote shared.

“I see you two are getting along.”

Jo’s eyes lit up hearing Wilson’s voice, quickly bounding off the couch to help Wilson with his cargo and to eagerly embrace him, House felt an ice-cold shard jab of jealousy looking over his shoulder at the couple.

His mind began formulating a puzzle though many of the pieces were missing. He’d seen Wilson with many a girl, from nurse hook-ups to wives and not once had he felt a shred of jealousy. For years he’d embraced the bachelor lifestyle, having his heartbroken and life turned upside down by Stacy had tarnished his views on relationships and women too somewhat. Hookers and Vicodin were his dalliances, the most romantic gesture House would indulge in was tipping an extra $20 if the girl really knocked his socks off but that was a rarity.

Sex was cold, mechanical, functional. No intimacy, no kissing, no cuddling. Just basic fucking, the women he paid their time for were there to provide a service, to get him off, no questions asked and that was it.

He had no reason to be jealous of Wilson and his newfound romance with Jo, but he couldn’t help feeling envious of their closeness.

The rest of the evening was pleasant, dinner was eaten, beers were drunk and conversation flowed. Jo loved seeing a new side of Wilson, he had talked countless times about House and his antics so finally getting to meet him and see his interactions with Wilson was something to behold.

Wilson drained the last of his beer, glancing at the clock on the wall, “oh, jeez! Look at the time, we’ve got work tomorrow.”

House couldn’t help but feel disappointed, the night had been brilliant. For the first time in months he had been truly relaxed and at ease, no worries about his mental or physical health, just good company, laughter and good food. He didn’t want it to end.

But the clock didn’t lie, nor did time standstill, it was rapidly approaching the small hours of the morning, Wilson was right, they had to call it a night.

Jo collected up the plates and empty bottles, clearing them away making one less job for the morning. Wilson wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“Goodnight House, it was lovely finally meeting you.”

House nodded, “yeah, you too.”

Wilson smiled, pleased that the night had gone well, “night House.”

House watched them disappear into Wilson’s room, his heart longing for that sort of closeness. One lone fortune cookie remained on the coffee table, the metallic blue wrapper caught his eye and drew him in. He took it between his thumbs, snapping the cookie open to reveal the fortune inside.

‘You will know it when you see it. It will know you when it sees you.’

He barked out a harsh sarcastic laugh, they were always full of shit. He drained the last of his beer before following suit and headed into the guest room. With the grace of a drunken ballerina, he fell back onto the bed in an ungainly fashion. He closed his eyes, willing blessed sleep to claim him when the sounds of Jo giggling permeated through the wall.

“James! House is in the other room!”

“Stop worrying, did you see how many beers he had? C’mon, an orgasm will help you sleep…”

House rolled his eyes, he would never be able to sleep with them two going at it in the next room.

“Yeah, but I left my vibrator at my place.” Came Jo’s sassy reply, House struggled to contain his laughter which ended up making him snort instead.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that!”

“I already did, 75 bucks if memory serves me right.”

Her giggles turned into passionate moans and the subtle jostling of bedsprings became louder and more frequent. House grabbed the spare pillow and cupped it around his head, muffling the sounds but they were still there, haunting him.

He’d only known her for a matter of hours but he was already craving her like how he used to crave his next Vicodin fix.

-x-x-x-

House lay staring up at the ceiling watching the colour change as the murky blue of the night gave way to the vibrant hues of violet and yellow of a new dawn breaking. He hadn’t slept a wink, his mind completely fixated on Jo, the seeds of a newly forming addiction were firmly planted and already spreading their roots. He hated it, hated that he felt like a lovestruck teenager, but most of all he hated wanting what he couldn’t have.

His ears pricked to the sound of a door opening and footsteps heading towards the kitchen, his carefully attuned ears and attention to detail told him the pattern and delicacy couldn’t belong to Wilson, he may have an air of poise and professionalism at work but at home, Wilson pathered around the place with the grace of a disoriented bear.

Driven by an overwhelming need of a fix and his natural curiosity, House headed out of bed. He peered around the open doorway of Wilson’s room who was still fast asleep, sprawled out the span of the bed with his mouth slightly agape.

That was the confirmation he needed and with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips he headed towards the kitchen. She had her back to him, completely unaware she had a one-man audience as she hummed a vaguely familiar tuneful tune and prepped ingredients for breakfast. House was completely fixated on her, like a siren her voice had him entranced as did her beauty.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there! Good morning Greg.”

House startled too but quickly found his voice, “sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you. What were you humming?”

“That’s alright. Oh it’s I Gorni by Einaudi, are you familiar with his work?”

“The name rings a bell.”

“Well if you enjoy piano music you really must listen to his work, he plays so beautifully. If I was in my apartment now I’d have the stereo on and annoy my neighbours, even if it is six am.”

House nodded, clutching at the golden nugget of information and carefully stored it away. Piano music, she loved piano music.

“Bet they love you.”

“Eh, couldn’t care less really. They only emerge when they get a whiff of gossip, worse than sharks once they’ve had a taste of blood.”

“Hmm, I know the sort.” He craned his head, sniffing loudly, “what’s for breakfast?”

Jo turned around showing him the mixing bowl filled with a delicious smelling concoction, “French toast, is that okay or would you prefer something else?”

His eyebrow quirked, “I’ll let you know once I’ve tried it.”

The smile she gave in response was enchanting, coy and endearing, he longed to suckle and nibble at her lips…

“Little early for you to be up and about, isn’t it House?” Chimed in Wilson as he entered the kitchen and immediately sidled up behind Jo, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

Seeing their open display of affection made the hackle on the back of House’s neck rise, he swallowed down his searing jealousy with a swig of hot coffee letting the physical burn take the sting away.

Jo placed her palm against Wilson’s chest to get him to back up a little so she could place a generously portioned plate in front of House. His blue eyes lit up and a deep, burbling purr emitted from his chest on the first tantalising mouthful.

“If breakfast is always this good, I may never go back home.” House purred, wrapping his lips around another bite.

“I think he likes it, Jo. Oh, speaking of home, any idea when you’ll be able to move back?” House’s eyes flashed full of concern and disappointment which made Wilson backtrack sharply, fearing he’d offended and potentially sent House into a spiral. “Not that I’m kicking you out or anything! I just wondered, it was a fire after all, did they say how much damage was caused?”

“It’s mainly smoke damage in my place but the apartment where it started has been completely destroyed. So until the building is structurally safe I’m kinda homeless.”

Jo’s hand covered House’s that lay on the breakfast counter, “you’re not homeless Greg, I’m sure James will have you stay as long as you need.”

Her hand seemed to linger a few moments too long to be just that of a friendly gesture, but when she finally pulled away it left behind a burning mark where it once was.

“Right, I’ve gotta go. Have a great day in work, save lives.” Jo kissed Wilson firmly which made House grimace, “I will see you later. Bye Greg.”

“Yeah, bye.”

He sounded distant but inside he was pining. Pining for a woman he barely knew. He watched with thinly veiled jealousy as Wilson passionately kissed her at the door, barely able to keep his hands off her as he waved her off to work.

Wilson wore a stupid dopey grin as he lolloped back over to the breakfast bar noting the very obvious shift in House’s mood.

“So, what do you think of her?”

“Who?” House mumbled, not taking his attention from his rapidly vanishing breakfast.

“The patient in room 202… I’m talking about Jo! C’mon, what do you think of her?”

“Oh. Nice.”

“Nice? That’s it? You’re giving me ‘nice’? That’s not like you House, you’ve spent several hours in her company, I’m surprised you’ve not got a notepad full of character traits and flaws and reasons to hate her.”

House dropped his cutlery with a harsh sigh and turned to Wilson, “Should I hate her? Is that what you want?”

“No! I just- you’re not being all ‘House’ about her, it’s kind of off-putting.”

“Being drugged up in a psychiatric hospital does that to a person. Look, she seems nice, she makes you happy. Nothing else to it.”

“Okay.” Wilson held up his hands placating House, “Okay, I’m gonna go and get ready for work.”

Wilson pathered off towards his bedroom to shower and get dressed when he emerged some twenty minutes later, House had already left.

-x-x-x-

Prior to his stint in Mayfield, his team were already pussyfooting, walking on eggshells in his presence. His delusional outbursts and erratic behaviour had made him truly unnerving to be around, even more so than usual. Since his return, the team had been even more cautious, scared of unintentionally triggering him and sending him into either a spiralling mess or potentially a relapse.

It was a meticulous balancing act for the team but touch wood, it had been working so far. That was until House limped into his office with a face like thunder and his whole aura and body language screaming ‘back the fuck off.’

Even after a few hours of him wearing his headphones, blasting music loudly and throwing his red ball at the wall, House’s mood hadn’t lightened at all. His low moods were nothing new, part and parcel of being a diagnostic genius with an addiction to narcotics and chronic pain. But that was what was worrying the team, could his low mood be due to the pain overwhelming him and could he be on the verge of a relapse? No one wanted to be the one to step into the lion’s cage, not willingly at least, but they were stuck fast on their current patient and as much as they hated to admit it, they needed House’s input.

All eyes immediately fell on Taub who was quick to throw in his excuses, “no way. He loves torturing me even when he's in a good mood, I’m not getting killed to help you out.”

Chase went to throw his two cents in but Cuddy unexpectedly came to their rescue walking past the office. Chase was quickly on his feet and accosting her in the corridor, almost spilling her coffee as he did.

“We need you.”

“If it’s a risky test, House can ask for permission himself, he’s a big boy.”

“No, not that. We think House has relapsed or is going to relapse.”

Cuddy’s eyes widened as the sinking feeling of dread consumed her. A cursory glance in the DDX room had the team glaring back with pleading eyes.

“Let me talk to him.”

Completely unaware of the ticking time bomb lying in wait, she walked straight into House’s office. It was as though she had walked into a freezer, the atmosphere icy and uninviting as was the cold blue glare coming from House.

Putting on her most placating smile that she hoped would feign her displeasure of the welcome and approached House’s desk.

“What?”

“This is just a social call I assure you. I-”

“Social!” House barked harshly, “pull the other one, Cuddy, it has bells on it.”

“I mean it, House. As Dean of Medicine, I have a duty of care to my staff, you’ve not long returned to work and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Now go away.”

“House-”

He was up and standing, staring her down with the coldest eyes she’d ever seen. “What did Chase say to you, huh? Did he go crying to mommy because I didn’t pat him on the head when I walked in this morning?”

“Don’t patronise me House. There’s clearly something wrong with you, you’ve been hold up in here for hours doing god knows what-”

He cut across her, “You think I’m using again!”

“Well, are you? You’ve given the team enough cause for concern.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Can’t a guy have a shitty day and everyone not automatically jump to conclusions?” He moved back around his desk and wrenched the drawers open, tipping the contents out all over the floor, “look for yourself. Piss test me, blood test me, do whatever you want! The hardest drug you’ll find is Ibuprofen and that piss-weak beer Wilson buys.”

Cuddy’s shoulders shrank with the burden of guilt now resting upon them. The team couldn’t bear to look up from the tabletop, too terrified to make eye contact with House fearing the retribution.

“I’m going home.”

-x-x-x-

He carelessly let himself into the apartment, rucksack, jacket and helmet left in a haphazard pile in his wake as he hobbled to the kitchen grabbing a beer and bag of chips before meandering to the guest room. His six-foot frame fell ungainly onto the unmade bed with a resounding whump. The memory foam mattress cradled and held his aching body in supreme comfort but did little to ease the woes raging within.

Fumbling awkwardly at the switches and buttons of the alarm-cum-radio on the bedside table, scrolling through the static and tinny music, he soon landed on a station playing classic rock songs that took him back to a happier time.

At some point he made himself more comfortable, opening the chips and beer, slumming it like a teenager. He barely registered the song playing, the opening chords not striking one with him but the lyrics soon did.

Jessie is a friend

Yeah, I know he's been a good friend of mine

But lately something's changed, it ain't hard to define

Jessie's got himself a girl and I want to make her mine

Shit, that struck a nerve. A gaping, raw, exposed nerve that had him staring up at the ceiling looking for respite.

And she’s watching him with those eyes

Those beautiful hazel-green eyes…

And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it

He’d heard them, the thought alone made his stomach churn violently with simmering jealousy...

Yeah, and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night

His arms itched to be around her, to be the one to hold her close...

You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl

I wish that I had Jessie's girl

Why can't I find a woman like that?

The truth was he’d found her, the problem was she was Wilson’s girl.

Chapter Text

Part Two

The lyrics kept ringing in his ears, flowing through his thoughts, distracting him beyond measure. He wanted, no, needed to keep his distance to wrap his head around things. He managed to avoid Jo and Wilson and leave the apartment before they rose. 

As the inky blue of night bled into the dawn, he hit the road on his motorcycle. The open face of his helmet allowed the bitter bite of the crisp morning air to sting his cheeks, keeping him alert and on edge. Taking advantage of the quietness, he scythed through the urban streets, out of Princeton to the more rural outskirts.

The miles and minutes passed by and the city once dormant around him began to awaken and come to life. At a stoplight House glances at his wristwatch, 8:34 am. Far too early to even think of going to the hospital, he didn’t need the questioning.

The light turned green and he pulled away, indecisive of his next move. He spotted a gas station and a Starbucks and pulled in, refuelling both himself and the bike. The caffeine injection gave him a boost of clarity, he hit the road again with a destination in mind, Mayfield.

-x-x-x-

It felt weird to go back, catching the eyes of faces familiar and unknown. But in truth, he didn’t know where else to turn. He couldn’t exactly turn to Wilson given the nature of the topic.

“I need to see Nolan.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not available. We can schedule you an appointment, Mr?”

“House. Look, I’ve already got appointments booked with him, but this is urgent. I need to talk to him now.”

He could feel himself getting riled up and frustrated. Deep down he knew to try and keep it contained, the last thing he needed was them to lock the doors on him for another spell inside.

“It’s okay, I can see him.” Came the voice of reason. House turned and Nolan held out his hand, “come this way, House.”

Nolan led House through to his office, he wasted no time in making himself comfortable on the leather easy chair and stared off into the distance. Nolan picked up his leather-backed notebook and pen and took the seat opposite and patiently waited.

And waited.

And waited.

25 minutes went by with House still staring out of the window in stoic silence, jaw tense and ticking much like the clock. Nolan didn’t want to press him, knowing the kind of guy House was, it was always best to let him open up of his own accord but he was very aware of the time and lack thereof.

House sensed Nolan tensing up and let the words tumble out.

“Wilson has got a new girlfriend. Guess he started seeing her shortly after I came here…”

Nolan gently nodded, subtly prompting for House to continue and began taking notes, observing House’s facial expressions and body language as he did.

“I met her two days ago. There was a fire in my apartment block, some moron was playing with matches so I went over to Wilson’s and she answered the door. She’s beautiful…” House closed his eyes, “really beautiful. It was weird, I don’t connect with people, least of all those I’ve just met. But something clicked. She’s easy to talk to, didn’t shrink back at my sarcasm, it was like she got me.”

“Sounds like you’ve made a friend House, that’s great. The more support you have-”

“I don’t want her to be my friend! I want her! I hate the fact that Wilson found her first! She’s got these beautiful hazel eyes but in certain light, they’re green, especially when she smiles. It should be me she’s smiling at, not him! Me!”

House stood up quickly, his chest heaving with deep, shaky breaths from his rant. He moved over to the window and rested his furrowed forehead against the cold glass pane.

“I hate that she’s with him and not me. That first night, I could hear them talking, laughing… being a couple… and it killed me.”

Nolan nodded and carefully closed his notebook. “You need a focus House, a hobby of some kind before this turns into an unhealthy fixation.”

But House knew it was too late, he was addicted to her. She was his new vice, his wholesome goodly Vicodin and it was only a matter of time before he would give into temptation seeking his fix.  

-x-x-x-

The ride back from Mayfield was one of elation, House felt cleansed, the cumbersome weight upon his shoulders lessened from unburdening his soul to a pair of receptive ears. But as the miles ticked by the lyrics of Jesse’s Girl began filtering through his head, over the roar of the engine and buffeting wind. 

As if to add insult to injury, as he pulled up to a stoplight, the car beside him had the window slightly ajar playing the very song that had been haunting him.

I’ll play along with this charade

Yeah, he could do that, couldn’t he?

That doesn’t seem to be a reason to change

You know I feel so dirty when they start talking cute

He didn’t feel dirty, he felt gut-wrenching jealousy that consumed his whole being.

I wanna tell her that I love her but the point is probably moot

Love? Was he at love yet? He wasn’t sure if he really knew what love was, or what it felt to be in love. Lust, yes. Teenage-esque crush and adoration, most definitely. But love? He didn’t know, how was he supposed to know?

The sound of horns blaring jolted him from his revelry, the light had been green for a while. He flicked the bike into gear and tore away, trying and failing to outrun his thoughts with raw speed.

-x-x-x-

He couldn’t bring himself around to the idea of socialising, he felt mentally and emotionally drained after his talk with Nolan. Once he got back to Wilson’s apartment, he made himself a quick peanut butter sandwich wolfing it down in four bites before retreating to the guest room. 

Stripping down to his boxers leaving his clothes in a messy heap, he pulled back the covers and nestled down. Within minutes sleep claimed him.

Sleep was sheer bliss, floating amongst nothingness, free from troubles and torments, House could lose himself. But a sharp searing pain went lancing through his thigh, waking him in an instant sending him clutching at the bed covers with a burbling growl.

He had no idea of the time, late or early he didn’t know, only that it was dark outside. Unaided without his cane and in dire need of pain relief, House hobbled ungainly out of his room towards the kitchen.

He wrenched open the fridge door using the light to help find the little pot of ibuprofen he knew lived in one of the drawers. Two pills tumbled into his palm, followed by a third. Two for the pain, one more to make sure. He washed them down with three heady gulps of tangy orange juice.

“James?” A weak voice broke through the darkness, startling House a little. 

He moved out towards the living room squinting to be accustomed to the darkness, just able to make out the small form of Jo curled up on the couch from the light of the streetlamp seeping in through the window.

“Sorry, just me. Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?”

“I could ask the same for you.”

“My leg hurts, I need some pain relief.” Jo flicked on the tableside lamp, somewhat taken aback by the sight of House in just his boxers. He felt a little uncomfortable, thinking she was looking at the mangled remnant of his thigh so he held up the bottle of pills rattling it slightly, “what about you?”

“I had a nightmare that really freaked me out, can’t get back to sleep.”

“That sucks, wanna talk about it?”

Jo shook her head and House nodded, “Want me to leave you alone?”

“No, no please, sit down, it’s nice to have someone to talk to.” 

House sat across from her on the couch, propping his leg up on the coffee table trying to alleviate the pain. His hand instinctively went to his thigh trying to massage the knots and soothe the pain while the pills took their sweet-ass time kicking in.

Even though he was clearly in discomfort, Jo was having a hard time keeping her eyes averted from the display of male form in front of her. Every few seconds she would catch herself just as her eyes started wandering, trying not to dwell on the strong musculature of his shoulders down to the broad plains of his chest and torso. But of their own accord her eyes would deviate somewhat southward trying not to notice how form-fitting his boxers were and the form that lay within them. 

She had to remind herself this was her boyfriend's best friend, but there was no harm in looking… right?

“Sorry, I’m not much company. Fucking leg, my therapist suggested that I need a distraction for the pain, but its hard to think of one when all you can think about is the mind-numbing pain, y’know?”

Jo winced in sympathy, “I can see how that would be an issue. I know I’m biased being a music teacher but have you thought of learning a new instrument? I know James told me you already play piano and guitar. Maybe something new would be a good distraction, I’m sure.”

“Hm it would be, but I already play all the instruments I want or need to. Keep thinking.”

“Ooh, well that's quite a statement to throw out. What’s in your repertoire good sir?”

“Piano, guitar, harmonica, saxophone and I can out drum Phil Collins, satisfied?”

“Somewhat, but I thought you might have had bass or violin in that list. Oh well, what else could be a good distraction…?”

House held up his hand, “Hey, woah! No, no moving on Miss Music Teacher until you tell me your list.”

“Wilson really wasn’t lying when he said you could act like a kid. Okay fine. I started with guitar because I had the biggest crush on Joe Perry from Aerosmith. Once that fizzled out I then moved onto violin, cello and then bass and double bass. Oh and I could out drum you, Phil Collins and Keith Moon before you knew what had hit you. Fact.”

House’s lips formed into a wry smile, “we’ll have to have a jam session,” his eyes homed in on hers and she felt herself pinned to the spot, “see what you’re made of...”

“I’d like that.” She managed to reply thickly, letting her eyes drop to the bow of his beard framed lips for a second. “So, uh… ooh! What about cooking? Cooking could be good for you.”

“Cooking, I hadn’t thought of that… What sort of cooking?”

“I don’t know, anything you fancy. What about baking?”

House pulled a face. “Ehh, I don’t think I’d be any good at baking, I’m good at eating baked goods though.”

“Hmm, same here. I can eat a dozen cookies in one sitting, and that’s on a good day. Don’t get me started on fat days or low days.”

“Oh please, don’t tell me you get hung up on ‘fat days’ with a figure like yours. Cooking though, cooking could be good for me.”

Jo smiled, pleased she’s been able to help even just a little. “Yeah and hey, I’m more than willing to be your taster.”

“Brave.”

“Confident. Confident in your ability.” 

She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn which House spotted immediately. “Get yourself off to bed.” Just as she stood up, House caught her hand. “And thanks, y’know for talking to me and giving me advice. I appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome.” She leaned down and brushed her lips across his stubbled cheek. “G’night Greg.”

“Yeah. Night Jo.” 

He watched her slowly walk away down the darkened corridor towards Wilson’s bedroom. Just as her hand reached for the handle he called out to her. “Jo, anything you don’t like?”

“Pickles.”

That made him grin, god she was perfect.

-x-x-x-

House didn’t get back to sleep that night, instead choosing to paw over his laptop researching recipes online. He made note of a few that seemed like good, wholesome recipes ideal for someone who was expanding on their knowledge before his research had him branching out and seeking culinary inspiration from all corners of the world. 

He soon had pages upon pages of recipes he was keen to try as well as a shopping list as long as his arm. As soon as the clock hit 5 am, House was dressed, armed with his shopping list hitting the shops, eager to make a start. By 6 am he was back at Wilson’s elbow-deep in food prep and very much on his way to turning the kitchen into some semblance of organised chaos.

Armed with a wooden spoon, House was manning the stove with utmost precision hovering over the numerous pots and pans bubbling and cooking away under his watchful eye. Amongst the familiar noises of the culinary concoctions came the shuffling sleep-laden steps of a barely awake Wilson.

“Great, you’re up. Where’s Jo? I need a taster.”

“She’s just jumped in the shower. House, what is all this?” Asked Wilson with a heavy yawn.

“Pottery, what does it look like?” House snarked in response, earning an eye roll from Wilson. “Someone obviously left his brain cell in his other pants.”

“It’s early! And for some reason you’ve woken up thinking you’re Bobby Flay!”

“Bobby Flay doesn’t have a beard, or a bitchin’ cane like I do but I appreciate the comparison.”

“Don’t be a jerk. Come on, what’s all this in aid of?”

“Nolan suggested distraction techniques so it takes my mind off the leg pain. It was Jo that suggested I try cooking, so…” He turned to Wilson with a steaming spoonful of ragu, “taste this…”

“House, it’s a little early.”

“Do I have to put you in a high chair and strap you down?”

“Fine.” Wilson huffed, taking the spoon from House and gingerly trying the concoction. “Hmm, not bad. More of a dinner than a breakfast, but not bad.”

Before House had time to critique Wilson’s less than useful critique, Jo emerged wearing skin/tight leggings and one of Wilson’s oversized t-shirts that hung like a dress on her. She looked stunning, all fresh-faced from her shower wearing an angelic grin.

“Good morning Greg, wow, you’ve been busy!”

“Thanks and thanks for the suggestion, I appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome. Now when do we get to taste?” Jo asked while making herself comfortable at the breakfast bar eagerly watching House manning the stove.

“Right now,” he turned to her with a spoonful in hand holding it up to her lips trying not to stare as she licked them in anticipation. “Here, ragu with pork sausage, beef thigh, no cream.”

Jo cupped House’s hand to hold it steady and lightly blew on the steaming food before taking the spoon between her lips. As soon as it touched her tongue, her taste buds came alive and her eyes closed in contentment. 

“Oh my god… hmm! That is amazing, I could eat a whole pot of this and still come back for seconds. Please tell me there’s more.” 

House merely grinned, turning back to one of the other pans bubbling away on the stove to retrieve another spoonful of hopefully another delicious concoction. 

“Star anise with the caramelized onions, sulphur compounds bring out the meat flavour. Wrap your lips around that.”

Jo raised her eyebrows but dutifully tasted, rolling the ragu around her tongue to truly appreciate the subtle adjustment to the recipe.”

“Hmm, I can taste the slight aniseed from the star anise, it’s really good, I actually think I prefer it to the first one.”

“Onwards and upwards from here.” House replied with a wink, going back to the stove and the myriad of pots still bubbling away.

Wilson looked from Jo to the almost delirious House and while he knew he needed the distractions, he couldn’t help but worry for his friend. “House, doesn’t this seem a little obsessive?” 

“What do you expect? I’m an addict. I turn everything up to 11.” House sighed and dropped his head a little, feeling very ashamed all of a sudden, especially in front of Jo. “I couldn’t sleep because of my leg. Nolan said I needed new distractions and Jo suggested cooking. So it was either make ragu or go out on the streets looking to score.”

Wilson had the good grace to look equally sheepish and ashamed for putting House on the spot like that. Instead of drawing more attention to it he merely took the vacant seat at the breakfast bar next to Jo, both eagerly anticipating what House would serve up next.

That was how the rest of the morning went, some dishes House served up were neither here nor there, others were very hit and miss, as they journeyed on a tour of his newly-found culinary brain.

“This is a little different. Mushroom duxelles ravioli in a white wine cream sauce finished with a couple of drops of truffle oil.” 

House placed a small bowl between the couple and dished up a generous serving, he drizzled over the truffle oil and sat back to watch them taste it. His attention was all on Jo, having spent the morning watching and learning her facial expressions and how expressive she was, he knew she was enjoying it. 

“Eh, it’s not bad House. Not really my kind of thing but still pretty good.” Remarked Wilson, stopping at just the one pasta parcel.

House nodded his thanks but didn’t tear his eyes away from Jo, who finally opened hers and met his hungry gaze. “Any good?”

“I think that is the tastiest thing I’ve ever wrapped my tongue around…” both Wilson and House raised their eyebrows at that comment, “...and yes, that does include what you boys are thinking about. It’s truly delicious House, the best thing you’ve cooked. Better than sex, amazing.”

Wilson gawped at her, “is that really appropriate?”

“Appropriate or not, it’s praise indeed. Or is it a low level compliment? For all I know Wilson could be a terrible lay.”

“Not funny House. Jo, why did you have to bring that up?”

Wilson was seriously pissed, and whether it was through a lack of sleep or having to be up early to be a taster for House, either way it killed the jovial mood and the smile upon Jo’s face.

“What? It’s a compliment, people say it all the time. You’ve said it! Why are you being such a prude all of a sudden?”

“I’m not a prude, I just don’t think it’s appropriate to compare food to sex.”

House leaned back and watched the exchange secretly thrilled at how easy it was to rile up Wilson. But the smile soon began to fade when Jo stood up from the breakfast bar.

“I don’t want to be around you when you’re being a jerk.” Jo’s eyes met House’s, “sorry Greg.”

Wilson kept his eyes down, toying with the food with the food in his bowl while House watched Jo collect up her bag and head towards the door. 

“Jo, you don’t have to leave.”

“It’s best if I do, Greg. Thanks for the food, you’re seriously good.”

As soon as the door closed House felt his mood darken, like the sun had gone down and he was left out in the cold. 

Wilson sighed deeply, “well, I guess that’s that. Food’s good House, great to see you’ve got a new hobby.”

House merely nodded in acknowledgement and turned his attention back to the stove, stirring the pot as though it would boil away his issues. 

-x-x-x-

The next day House decided to venture back to work, thankful that it was quiet in Diagnostics meaning that his team were busy finding work in other Departments. Not wanting to be spotted by Cuddy and lumbered into doing Clinic hours, House wandered the halls until he found himself in a coma patient’s private suite. 

He wandered over to the easy chair next to the bed and slumped down with a deep groan as the memory foam contorted around his aching body. 

“So… Coma Guy, what are you in here for?” House reached over for the patient file and began perusing the notes. “Car crash, TBI, that sucks.” He closed the file and rested it on his now stretched out legs, “so since I’ve got you here, I kinda wanna get some things off my chest. There’s a girl, her name’s Jo and she’s got me hooked…”

He poured his heart out, spilled the beans about his true feelings for Jo. It felt like detoxing, cleansing his soul of the troubled thoughts that had plagued him. Granted, it was like talking into the void, Coma Guy wasn’t exactly responsive but that didn’t matter, House just needed to get it out.

“...I’ve never felt this way about anyone or anything, well except maybe vicodin. I just-” He cut himself off as the door opened and Wilson poked his head in.

“Found you, what are you doing here?”

“Hiding from Cuddy.”

“Good spot. Look, I need to talk to you about how I can make things right with Jo.”

House felt his blood run cold, that wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He knew they hadn’t spoken since their fight the day before, he selfishly thought that their relationship was dead in the water. Wishful thinking.

Out of instinct, House reverted to type. “Think it’s worth saving?”

Wilson was taken aback a little and stared at House waiting to see if he was kidding. He perched himself on the edge of Coma Guy’s bed facing House so he could read his face and gauge his reaction.

“House, I really like her. Of course I want to save it. You’ve talked with her, how can I fix this?”

House felt like his body and soul was being torn in two from the inner conflict, he hated it. But Wilson was his friend, his best friend at that. So swallowing his pride and the unaccustomed feeling of guilt, House did the right thing. 

“Apologise for a start, you overreacted and there was no need.” He paused for a moment, recalling something Jo had told him. “There’s a music in film event happening tonight that she really wanted to go to, maybe take her there as an apology gift?”

“Yeah, that's perfect. She’ll love that. Thanks House.”

Wilson clapped House on the shoulder and left with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. 

House sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his face, “fuck, I can’t keep doing this.”

-x-x-x-

For the rest of the day, House lolloped around the hospital in a sort of trance, it garnered looks of concern but no one dared approach him, even Cuddy kept her distance. His mood was so dark and tense, it had him feeling like he was drowning in a vat of treacle.  

He ended up back at Wilson’s apartment physically drained and emotionally exhausted, neglecting to take off his jacket or trainers House collapsed in an ungainly heap on the couch, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the cushions. 

The apartment was in total darkness, it was slightly disorientating but House became aware of footsteps emanating from the kitchen. The fridge door opened and the svelte silhouette of Jo appeared in the light.

“Hey.”

His voice was no more than a whisper but in the quiet dark it still made her jump a little.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry Greg. Did I wake you?”

“No, don’t worry.” He held his hands up as a means of pacifying as he turned on the table side lamp. “So I see you two have made up.”

Jo looked down at her attire as she made her way over to him, dressed in the shirt Wilson had worn to work the day prior. House tried his hardest not to trace the outline of her calves and thighs with his eyes but every so often his gaze would wander at the expanse of golden skin so readily on show.

“Yeah we did. Thank you, by the way.”

“For…?”

“The music in film event? As soon as James suggested it, I knew it was because of you.”

“How? I didn’t…”

“You’re the only person I told about it, that’s how I know. Don’t worry I’m not mad, it was an amazing gesture. Although I think you would’ve appreciated it more than James.” 

House quirked his eyebrows, his heart skipped a beat at her statement. 

“Well maybe next time?”

“I’d really like that.” She offered him a soft smile and held his gaze for a long while. “Right, well I’m going back to bed. Thank you again Greg,” she leaned in and brushed her lips over his cheek, “goodnight.”

His skin was alive to her touch, tingling in the bow shape of her soft lips. His fingertips lightly brushed over the spot as it dawned on him, he was in love with Jo.

-x-x-x-

“I’m in love with her. I thought it might just be lust or a crush but it’s not. She gets me, there's this connection between us and I know you’re gonna get all judgemental and think I’m crazy, but I think she feels the same way.” 

He paused and stared at Nolan waiting for a judgemental snippet but when none came he continued. “She got into this argument with Wilson, some silly petty shit and he asked me how to fix things. I told him about a music in film event Jo was really excited about seeing and well, it must have worked cos she was at the apartment when I woke up at stupid o’clock. She thanked me but then told me she thought I would’ve enjoyed it more than Wilson. Now what does that tell you?”

Nolan looked up from his notes and carefully thought about his words. “It tells me that she knows you love music and that you share a common interest. But House, I’m concerned that you’re reading too much into this. You’re becoming obsessed, misreading Jo’s signs and signals as more than what they actually are which is that of friendship and support.”

House shook his head indignantly, “no, I know she likes me. You don’t see the way she looks at me.”

“That maybe so but our perceptions can be misleading and subtle looks and signs can be misinterpreted. I want to up your dosage of antidepressants.”

“Fine. Drug me up, but it won’t change how I think or feel about her.”

The session had left House angry, emotionally drained but most of all hurt. Hurt that he wasn’t being believed about Jo. He wanted to scream, to tear Nolan’s office apart and go on a violent rampage. 

He knew what he felt for Jo was real, it was terrifying, something he had never felt to such a degree, not even with Stacey. But he didn’t want to fight it, he didn’t want to repress them, especially as he knew in his heart that Jo felt the same way. Call it a sixth sense, call intuition, he just knew it.

-x-x-x-

Back at the hospital House found himself wandering aimlessly down the hallways, half tempted to hide out in Coma Guy’s room but quickly stamped out the idea after his disastrous session with Nolan, he was done talking about his issues. 

His wandering around had him inadvertently crossing paths with an empathetic Cuddy who gently nudged him in the direction of the woefully understaffed Clinic and much to her surprise as much his own, House didn’t object. 

“It’s in my head Doc, right here.” The patient whined, pointing to their forehead, “it’s a tumour Doc, I know I’m dying.”

“You have a cold.”

The patient glared at House indignantly, “no. It’s a tumour. I’m dying.”

“Fine. It’s a URI.”

The patient’s face lit up as though they had finally gotten the right diagnosis, but just as quickly as their smile emerged it began to fade, “oh my god, I’m dying! Wait, what’s a URI?”

“An upper respiratory infection. A cold.” House explained whilst scribbling out a prescription, “take this decongestant and stop wishing you were dying, it’s an annoying waste of my time.”

“Oh… so I’m really not dying?” 

“No, you’re not dying. But if you keep asking, I’ll make it happen. Go away.”

Once the patient left, House let out a deep decompressing sigh letting his head fall back against the chair, savouring the peace and quiet before the next patient came in. 

Hearing the door creak open, House merely tilted his head to the side and barely opened his eyes expecting to see a nurse but instead Wilson poked his head in.

“Got a minute?”

“As long as it's not for a consult.” 

“Uhh no? Look I hate asking and making it seem like I’m pushing you out but is there any chance you can stay out of the apartment as late as possible tonight? I’ve got a romantic evening planned for Jo and y’know…”

“Me being there would ruin the romantic ambience, I get it.” House cut in before standing up sharply, “I need some lunch, it’s gonna be a long night after all.”

He pushed past Wilson who caught hold of his arm before he could escape, “House, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he nodded, “I’m hungry.”

Wilson frowned but chose not to say anything, instead nodded and watched House limp out of the Clinic towards the canteen. He hoped House was fine, he couldn’t help but feel concerned for his friend. 

-x-x-x-

Armed with a reuben minus the godawful pickles and a coffee strong enough to kickstart a dying planet, House retreated to his office with his tasty haul locking the door behind him and drawing the blinds for good measure. 

The hours ticked by slowly, each one feeling like a day to pass. House tried not staring at the clock and counting the minutes but once he had listened to his ipod for a while and searched on the internet and failed to find something to occupy his overactive mind.

When all else failed, House eventually resorted to angrily throwing his red and grey ball at the wall. It was cathartic, therapeutic, venting the searing hot jealousy he was feeling towards Wilson being with Jo. Just the idea of him looking at her, touching her, kissing her… it was overwhelming, like having a nasty hangover or being on a vicious comedown from a drugs high it made him feel nauseous and left a bad taste in his mouth.

By 11:30, House had had enough, he couldn’t stand stewing in his anger and searing jealousy any longer. He threw his jacket over his tense shoulders followed by his rucksack and emerged from his office to a darkened corridor and lonely walk to the parking lot and his lone motorcycle.

On his way back to Wilson’s, he made a detour to his cordoned off apartment to sneak in and collect a couple of items, most importantly, his favoured acoustic guitar.

House surveyed the scene as he found it, the apartment is in total darkness save for the warm glow of candlelight flickering off the walls and reflecting off surfaces and the sound of not too distant giggles and the slight squeak of worn bedsprings. 

His jealousy reared its ugly head with a vengeance and before he could think rationally his hand gripped the door, slamming it with almost unknown brutality that reverberated throughout the apartment, rattling the fixtures and fittings, following it up with the heavy whump of his rucksack and motorcycle helmet hitting the floor. 

Seconds later a dishevelled and naked Wilson appeared from his room with messy bed hair and only a pillow covering his modesty. 

“House, what are you doing? I know we’re not sleeping but please can you keep it down.”

House said nothing, he just hobbled his way to the guest room. He haphazardly undressed down to his boxers and slumped onto the creased sheets. As he settled down and got comfortable, through the walls he could hear Jo as clear as a bell asking about him. 

“Is Greg okay?”

“Jo, can you stop talking about House while I’m trying to make love to you?”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

“Ugh, do you know what? The moment’s gone.” That made House smirk, he could practically hear the frown on Wilson’s face. “I’m going to sleep.”

House went to sleep with the smirk still on his face, he was under Jo’s skin as much as she was under his. 

-x-x-x-

The dawn chorus the next morning for Wilson was the sound of vivacious acoustic guitar strumming. Laying on his front with his face burrowed into the pillows, the music woke him with the same effect and intensity of a glass of ice cold water being poured down his spine. He growled and grumbled, rolling over to find Jo slowly stirring with a small smile of recognition.

“Oh I love this song, George Michael, Faith.”

As if on cue, House began singing heartily.

Well I guess it would be nice

If I could touch your body

I know not everybody has got a body like you…

Both Wilson and Jo emerged from the bedroom looking like polar opposites and as soon as House laid eyes on her it was as though the sun had come out and then she started singing.

But I gotta think twice 

Before I give my heart away

And I know all the games you play because I play them too.

Wilson glared at the two of them like a pissed off parent catching their child in the throws of mischief. 

“House, do you have any idea how early it is?”

House tilted his wrist to consult his watch, “It’s 6:33, you’re usually flossing by now. Is someone a little cranky because he didn’t get laid last night.”

“I’m not going into work today, I finally have a weekend off and I was hoping to sleep in a little. Why the hell would you start with the music so early?”

“I got the urge to play last night so I picked up my guitar on my way over.” 

“Good for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I-” Wilson was cut off by the sound of his mobile ringing out. “Shit… Hello? Yeah, yeah okay. I’ll be there within the hour.” He glared at House who merely shrugged his shoulders, “my patient has taken a turn for the worst, they need me in. Some much for a weekend off.”

Wilson was dressed and out of the door within ten minutes, leaving a pleased House alone with Jo. 

“So, guess it’s just us.”

“So it would seem. Hey, I think I’ve got my guitar and cello in the car, fancy a jam?”

Jo returned with both in tow, sitting opposite House on the couch, he watched with unguarded fascination as she began playing warm up scales on the cello checking the instrument was in tune before falling into playing a soulful tune that had him so entranced, so lost in the music and watching her play, it brought tears to his eyes.

She brought the piece to its natural end, holding the final note until it faded into the air and opened her eyes.

“Greg?”

“I’m not uhh, I’m not an emotional man, blame it on the antidepressants. But that was beautiful.”

“Thank you. It’s a piece by Einaudi, I love his work. I have to admit it sounds better when there’s a piano accompanying.”

“If I could’ve carried mine over on the bike, I would have.”

His eyes caught hers and for a long second, they shared a heated look. Jo could feel herself getting suckered into the intensity of House’s blue eyes. It was like staring into the deepest, bluest depths of the ocean, so clear and enchanting, she had to close her eyes for fear of falling. 

Not daring to open them again so soon, she used the power and sense of touch and began playing another piece. Out of instinct, letting the music flow through his body and soul, House fell into musical rhythm with her and began playing along. 

Everything fell into place, every note, every chord complimented and harmonized into a beautiful symphony of two people connecting. The piece deepened, the intensity and pace increasing as did their heart rates and breathing, building up to a crescendo.

House dared to open his eyes and once again they met Jo’s, only this time they were darkened, the usual hazel green now likened to a forest green, filled with a hunger that matched the burning feeling he’d been nursing for so long.

“Fuck this…”

House dropped his guitar carelessly to the floor and launched himself towards her just as Jo pushed her cello aside. His large hands cupped her cheeks and his lips descended, taking her lower lip between his in an earth shattering kiss. 

The second they touched, all the pieces fell into place. She felt so right in his arms, he never wanted to let her go. This was where she belonged.

She tasted sweeter than sun-ripened fruits drizzled in honey, like nothing he had ever had, but all ready he was drunk and in need of more. 

“I want you…”

Hearing him growl those words against her lips had Jo melting in his arms, grateful House had her in a strong hold. She knew it was wrong, he was her boyfriend’s best friend, but now that she had tasted him, any and all rationality went sailing out of the window and there was no going back.

He tasted of sin, of raw masculinity and something so uniquely him that it had her addicted and craving more.

Her hands knotted around his neck, running her fingers through his short hair and thickened stubble, sighing as his lips moved expertly over hers. 

Nipping and biting then soothing with his tongue, House had to rein himself in. Finally holding her, tasting her, it would’ve been so easy for him to lose control.

His hands moved over her body, pulling her in tight against his as he lifted her over to the couch and moved himself to lie on top of her. 

Jo parted her thighs slightly, putting against his soft lips at the feel of all of him. Her hands moved under his t-shirt, caressing over the strong musculature of his back and shoulders, unable to resist taking her nails over them.

“Please Greg…”

He pulled away a little to look in her eyes, needing the clarity not daring to believe just his ears.

Seeing nothing but want and desire shining up at him, he leaned in, slowly nuzzling and kissing along her jaw before taking her lips again with a renewed intensity and hunger.

This was it, it was finally happening… and then her phone began to ring.

“Ignore it.” He growled against her neck, moving his attention towards her chest.

Jo craned her head towards the coffee table where the offending phone lay. “It’s James.” She breathed.

“I said ignore it.”

And just like that, the moment was shattered. Desire and want replaced with awkwardness and disgust. 

Jo pushed at his chest needing so distance and rolled out from under him, horrified at herself for letting her guard down.

“Hey you, how’s work?” She sounded breathless, House couldn’t stop staring at her kiss-bruised lips.

“Oh no, don’t worry. Honestly it’s fine, James. I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay, bye.”

She hung up the phone and tried her best not to meet House’s unwavering gaze.

“I need to go.”

“Jo, wait…” For a man missing a chunk of thigh muscle, House could move quickly when he needed to. He stood in front of her in a heartbeat, gently taking hold of her hips keeping her in place. “We need to talk about what happened, what it means for us.”

“No, this was a mistake. A moment of weakness…”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“It should never have happened Greg! It can’t and it won’t happen again.”

He wasn’t going to give up. 

“No, you don’t mean that. You want this as much as I do, you can’t deny it Jo.”

“Okay fine! Yes I do like you! I’m attracted to you! But I’m with James, not you. I’m not throwing away what I have with him for a fling with you. I’m sorry.”

In that moment his world collapsed, the fire in his heart doused in cold water and out of bitterness and pure anger, he reverted to type.

“Don’t flatter yourself sweetheart. You know where the door is.”

Minutes later she was gone and House was back at square one, heartbroken, alone and completely crushed. He’d tasted the forbidden fruit and was craving another fix.

Chapter Text

Part three

House knew he was spiralling into a deep depression, he recognised the signs but instead of fighting, he submitted and allowed the darkness to envelop him. 

Every second he replayed that kiss, the thoughts began to ruminate and fester in his head, dominating his mind and spilling over into his everyday life. Food and drinks didn’t taste like they should, with every mouthful he tasted her, sun-ripened fruits instead of bitter acrid coffee. 

He would run his tongue and fingertips over his cheeks and lips but still the imprint of her remained. The scratches down his back where she had branded him, still open and raw, he welcomed the sting when he stood under the scalding hot shower, wanting them to scar and remain a part of him forever.

He knew he had replaced one addiction with another and he didn’t care. All he cared about was her.

“She kissed me… well I initiated it but we kissed each other.”

Nolan merely nodded and made a subtle note, “and how do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel about that? Kisses are good things.” 

House closed his eyes and ran the tip of tongue over his lips, instantly his brain was flooded with a kaleidoscope of images of the two of them embracing. Of Jo finally in his arms, the heat and feel of her body clutching at his and her breathy plea hot against his ear, “please Greg…”

Nolan remained silent, studying and taking note of the silent House, of the unconscious body language and reading between the lines of his admission.

“House, how do you really feel about what transpired between you and Jo?”

Nolan’s words shattered his rumination and House reluctantly opened his eyes.  

“That’s a loaded question. How do I feel? It was perfect, I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried. The moment, the music, her lips…”

“Okay…”

House glared at Nolan, “that was a loaded okay.”

“Not at all, why would you assume that?”

“You’re being judgemental. If I had said that I’d had some delicious Chilean sea bass for dinner last night, would you say ‘and how do you feel about that?’”

“If the sea bass was dating your best friend, yes I would.”

That comment stung, forcing House to swallow down the hot lump of guilt lodged in his throat.

“See I know you House, how your mind works and I know you’ve spent the last 18 hours stewing, ruminating about that kiss, about holding Jo, about touching Jo. But she still walked away, she’s still dating Wilson…”

“You don’t think I know that?!” House roared, slamming his balled fist down on the coffee table between himself and Nolan. “You don’t think that guilt is eating me up inside?! I’ve been biting my tongue, suppressing how I feel and I’m done fighting it. I’m in love with her, I would sooner go through the pain of Vicodin withdrawal than be without her. And I had her damnit!” 

He slammed his fist down again needing to vent what the words couldn’t. “I held her in my arms, I kissed her with all the love I felt for her and she kissed me back! She told me she wants me just as much as I want her!”

He slumped back into the chair, drained from his emotional outburst.

“I saw the look in her eyes, felt the way she kissed me and yet she still walked away. It’s not fair, none of this is fucking fair.”

Nolan leaned forward towards the now defeated House. “House, at some point you have to realise you’re fighting a losing battle. If that moment you had shared with Jo meant as much to her as it does to you, she would’ve ended things with Wilson. She didn’t. She’s still with him, she’s moving forward. The sooner you accept that she’s with Wilson, the sooner you can begin to move on from her.”

House let the words sink in, processed each one until he looked Nolan in the eye and slowly shook his head. 

“A couple of years ago, my ex Stacy turned up at the hospital wanting me to treat her husband. Before I knew it, Cuddy had her employed and I found myself pining for what I used to have. I had five years with Stacy, I fell in love with her, I lived with her and had it not been for my leg I guess we would still be together. But what I felt for her compared to Jo is night and day. So no, I’m not giving up on Jo, on us and what we could be. I don’t care if my chances are slimmer than that of a catwalk model, I want her and I’m gonna fight for her.”

In the back of his mind Nolan hoped he was wrong, House deserves some happiness, whether that be by some miracle making things work with Jo or with someone else if he allowed himself to move on. Either way it was the emotional and loving aspect that wasn’t there through friendship alone that House so desperately needed in his life. 

-x-x-x-

The session with Nolan left House completely withdrawn, although he should’ve probably taken some time to decompress, he rode over to the hospital only a mere hour later than he was due to start. Lost in his thoughts, his legs carried him the habitual journey to the elevators and up to his office where he promptly collapsed into the welcoming embrace of his lounge chair without so much as a glance towards his team busy bouncing diagnosis ideas for their latest patient.

He closed his eyes and allowed his subconscious to take him away to his happy place. Of course she was there, whenever he closed his eyes she was there, because in the sanctity of his overactive imagination they could be together with no issues. There was no Wilson holding them back.

Running his fingers through her hair making her purr indulgently and lean into his touch. Eyes locked, her delicate fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open revealing his body to her hungry gaze. Without taking her eyes off his, with her index finger, she deliberately scratched the letter J across his left pectoral over the prominent beat of his heart. 

“Mine.”

“Yours. I’m yours.”

He kissed her again with renewed fervor, his hands went to her thighs lifting and crushing her against his body, letting her feel his true appreciation. 

“Fuck, House…” She growled against his lips, rutting in his arms grinding their hips together.

“Say it again.”

“House…”

House…

House…

“House!” Chase all but yelled in his face, startling him awake from his dreams with a jolt and growl of annoyance. “Are you taking part in this DDx or should we carry on alone?”

He glared at the Australian with pure venom and distaste in his eyes, unsure whether or not to slap the young doctor into the next week for disturbing such an amazing dream. He relented from violence and eased himself up from the comfort of his lounge chair and followed the disgruntled duckling back through to the main room. 

Without asking, Thirteen poured him a fresh mug of strong, lightly sweetened coffee and placed it alongside a copy of their new patient’s annotated charts.

He flipped the page open and began scanning the notes, bringing himself up to speed with the case. The hot steam and aroma of the coffee wafted up with every turn of the page, clouding his senses and before he knew it, he was ruminating again. 

His team and the office around him became shapeless, blurred and grey. The voices and office hubbub became nothing but white noise. 

There was only one point of clarity, her. 

The team felt a sense of deja vu seeing House staring off into space, he was physically present but mentally and emotionally he was completely vacant. They tried to ignore the elephant in the room so to speak, and continue the DDx as they normally would. But all four of the team felt a collective sense of impending fear, House was clearly on a downward spiral. 

“Look, we’re getting nowhere with him.” Chase abruptly stood up from the table and grabbed the patient’s file “Let’s just go get Cuddy to authorise the test.” 

House remained oblivious as the team dispersed, leaving him sitting alone at the table, still staring off into the void savouring his thoughts.

-x-x-x-

The sound of her office door bursting open with some much as a knock, made Cuddy sigh in annoyance. It was one of her biggest pet peeves, but as she geared herself up to tear the unwanted visitor a new one, the sight of Chase and Thirteen made her pause for breath.

“What’s he done now?”

“Nothing and that’s the problem.” Chase handed over the patient’s file to Cuddy, “We need you to authorise this treatment.”

Cuddy scan read the notes before looking up at the ducklings with disdain, “you barged in here to get me to sign this, why, when House was right there?”

“He’s gotten worse, it’s like seeing him in those bad weeks prior to him going to Mayfield.”

“Shit…” Cuddy whispered, her stomach lurched at the notion, “is it possible he’s using again?”

“Hard to say, but he’s definitely not himself. He just seems so vacant, absent minded. Something’s clearly bothering him.”

“Okay.” Cuddy signed off the papers with a flourish and held them up for Chase. “There’s a chance that House is just having trouble adjusting and is a little overwhelmed being back into the routine of work. But in case I’m wrong or until we know otherwise, I would appreciate it if you would keep an eye on House. Try talking to him but don’t force it or make it obvious you’re worried or keeping tabs. The last thing we need is him relapsing. In the meantime, I’ll have a word with Wilson. Fingers crossed it’s nothing more than him being in a bad mood.”

The ducklings nodded and left the room. Once the door closed, Cuddy sighed deeply and let her head rest against the stack of papers on her desk, terrified to acknowledge the fact House could be on a vicious downward spiral. 

-x-x-x-

The rest of the day is a blur for House and before he realised it or fully grasped the sense of the time, it was gone 6pm. The team was nowhere to be seen and there was nothing keeping him there, so he packed up his rucksack and headed back to Wilson’s.

As the Repsol Honda rolled up behind the sedate Volvo of Wilson’s, House scanned the area and spotted Jo’s car parked across the street.

“Fuck…” He whispered to himself as he dismounted and snatched his cane from its clasps. 

He hobbled his way inside trying to mentally prepare and steel himself for how to play things with Jo. Be nice and be civil would be the obvious, but as he walked into the living room his blood ran cold seeing her and Wilson cuddled up together on the couch.

Like rubbing salt in the wound, he felt sick seeing them together. Part of him wanted to tear the apartment up, to physically vent his frustrations and rip Wilson limb from limb for having his arm around her.

Jo spotted him first, hearing the thump thump of his cane on the hardwood floor. She was barely able to meet his steely gaze for fear of combusting. Her cheeks blushed as she nestled in closer to  Wilson, who remained oblivious to the simmering tension between them and addressed House as he normally would with a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, we’re just about to watch a movie if you want to join?”

House dropped his rucksack down heavily, “which one?” He replied, trying to convey an air of nonchalance.

“Bridget Jones’ Diary, it’s Jo’s favourite.”

Jo pulled away from her resting spot against Wilson’s chest to look him in the eye, “James, you didn’t have to do that. I meant what I said, I really don’t mind what we watch.”

“I know, but I know how much you love it…” 

Wilson’s hand cupped her blushing cheeks as he leaned in kissing her softly and nuzzled at her cheek. Such a sweet action and it tore House apart. His eyes met Jo’s, staring at her with such intensity, such unwarranted lust and barely hidden disappointment, she was powerless to look away.

She nestled back down against Wilson’s chest but her eyes, full of longing and sorrow, never left House’s. The guilt for wanting him while being in the arms of her boyfriend, his best friend no less, was tearing her apart. 

“House, what do you think? Chick flick film, it could be fun.”

He kept his eyes on Jo as he answered, “no thanks. I don’t like being a third wheel.” 

He spat it with such venom, such bitterness, the temperature of the room plummeted. He knew it was wrong, an asshole move but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted to inflict and project just a fraction of the pain that he was feeling deep inside. 

Wilson and Jo were left reeling, Jo in particular. She blinked back the rush of tears that threatened to fall as House slammed his bedroom door closed. Even though she was still snuggled up to Wilson with her favourite movie playing in the background, her heart and her mind remained with House in the other room.

-x-x-x-

The next morning his mood hadn’t lightened up at all. He had laid in his bed staring at the ceiling for hours, he didn’t even remember falling asleep. He knew he was being an asshole, a jealous and extremely petty asshole. But he couldn’t help it. He had never felt this way before, it was all new, completely foreign to him and that combined with recovering from a mental episode hadn’t helped. 

Even though the rational side of his brain told him to snap out of it, his stubbornness refused to let go and it remained as he prepared himself some breakfast. Using the last of the milk, the last of the eggs and leaving the kitchen in an utter state in one more act of sheer spite before he left for the hospital without so much as a backwards glance. 

The sound of his office door swinging open and heavy footsteps approaching his desk made House sigh and mentally steel himself. Even with his eyes closed and facing the other direction, he knew it was Wilson and knew damn well why he was there without him having to say the words. 

“Are you out of your mind?”

House swivelled round on his office chair to face his disgruntled friend, “as a former psychiatric patient, I take offence to that terminology.”

That should’ve made Wilson tone it down a bit, but he was frustrated and wanted to get to the bottom of House’s odd behaviour. 

“Last night you were downright rude to me and Jo, then this morning you left the kitchen looking like a tornado had come through. Have I done something to piss you off?”

“No more than usual.” House shrugged, hoping that was the end of it.

“Then why the hell are you acting this way?! I’m used to you being hot and cold, but there was no need to be a jerk and cold towards Jo, she was so upset last night.” That stirred something in House but he remained impassive. “You need to make more of an effort with her!” Oh no… “She’s important to me and I want you two to get along.”

The triggered House, opening a Pandora's box deep inside him that once opened, he couldn’t hold back.

“Maybe I should buy her some flowers, huh? Or, or maybe I should make her dinner? Would that make her feel better, a nice dinner and flowers? How about I tell her she’s the woman of my dreams, that I can’t stop thinking about her...That every second of every day, she’s all that’s on my mind and that I love her? Would that make it all better?”

Wilson glared at him and shook his head like a disappointed parent would, “quit being a jerk, House.”

-x-x-x-

A couple of weeks go by and although House is nowhere near being himself, he’s recognisable, though it’s a shadow of his former self. He’s quiet, more reserved, his sarcasm had been toned down drastically, so much so Chase and Foreman began referring to him as Diet House. 

It was when he heard that nickname that the sarcastic House everyone knew and feared reemerged, and boy did he come back with a vengeance. 

But those hot flashes of his former self remained just that, flashes. Fleeting glimpses. Never did the staff of PPTH, especially Cuddy, think they would miss that cantankerous son of a bitch. But they did.

Thirteen especially noted the change in House but unlike her colleagues who all jumped to the conclusion that he was struggling due to addiction and possible relapse. She studied House and recognised something else, he was hurting but also pining, but for who or what she couldn’t figure out.

So when the opportunity arose to talk to him, she took it with both hands. 

“Who is she?”

His jaw threatened to drop open hearing the words, but he managed to cover it with a nonchalant shrug and brief shake of his head. Wishful thinking on his part hoping that his lack of bite at her question would appease his duckling enough to leave it well alone.

“Okay, he then.”

“You’re the token bisexual on the team, not me.”

He tried to refocus his attention on the patient’s file in front of him but he could feel himself faltering under his junior doctors' unwavering stare. She knew he was hiding something, battling an inner conflict and she would wait until he spilled his troubles before they ate him up.

“You’re really not gonna let this drop are you?”

“‘Fraid not, you taught us that everyone lies. Stop lying to yourself and tell me what’s bugging you.”

He shook his head, “I can’t…”

“House, the team thinks you’re using again. Cuddy has Chase keeping tabs on you, convinced that he’ll be able catch you necking Vicodin when our backs are turned. I know it’s not that what’s upsetting you, but whatever it is, you need to deal with it. I’ve confided in you, albeit reluctantly about my stuff, I’m returning the favour. Talk.”

The pained sigh House let out tugged at Thirteen’s heartstrings, he looked broken with the weight of the world resting upon his shoulders.

“Jo…” He whispered, his voice no more than a low growl, “Her name’s Jo...she’s Wilson’s girlfriend.”

She stayed silent for a few moments, merely offering a sympathetic nod and small smile, reassuring House there would be no judgement on her part.

“I wish I was back on drugs instead of being stuck in this rut.” He slumped back into his chair, “I’m a bad man.”

Thirteen didn’t recognise the words nor the man in front of her, the word fragile sprung to mind, something she never associated with House. 

“I know you always want the hard facts and details, but there’s one thing you can never predict or reason and that’s being in love. You’re not a bad guy, House. ”

“I know I’m not a good friend, a good friend doesn’t fall in love with his best friend’s girl.” 

“House… wanna come with me to a lesbian bar? The drink’s on me.”

He carefully mulled over the offer before making a counter one, “will you make out with a girl for my entertainment? It would be the perfect distraction for my troubled mind.”

“I’ll think about it.”

The Foxhole was something of lesbian heaven and the stuff of fantasy. If it wasn’t for the fact he was madly in love with Jo, House would’ve been openly drooling over the stunning women that fluttered around him and Thirteen. Like bees around honey, she was irresistible, and despite her offer to buy him a drink, she had yet to open her purse all night. 

They fell into an easy conversation about their colleagues, most notably Taub and his inability to remain faithful to his wife. 

“He says he loves her but he needs to have sex with other women.” Just saying those words made House shake his head in disbelief. Taub was an enigma and despite appearances, he certainly had a way when it came to women. 

“Yes, and it sucks what he’s doing to her but it's not as though he’s trying to deny who he really is, he just has to-.”

“Deny his biological imperative.” House cut in before taking a slug of beer.

“It is easier to say no to dessert than to pretend you don’t eat.”

“Says someone who’s obviously never been on a diet.”

“My life’s a breeze…” She said it with such sass, yet it was so thinly veiled it barely hid her inner fear. 

“You’re successful, smart and you attract everything that moves. If you wanna focus on the fact that you’re not gonna see 50, that’s your choice.”

“You know what? I agree with you. My self pity's optional. What about yours?”

He couldn’t look her in the eye, choosing to instead focus on peeling the label off his beer bottle. “My issues don’t revolve around dying at 50 or infidelity.”

“That’s because you’re 51 and not technically with anyone.”

House recoiled as though shot, dramatically clutching at his chest for effect. “Ooh hit me where it hurts why don’t you?”

“Okay, how about this? If it came down to it and you had to choose, Wilson or Jo, one or the other. Could you?”

“Irrelevant. Not answering it.”

She caught the split-second flash of guilt in his steely blue eyes, “that’s because you’ve already thought about it. You’d pick Jo wouldn’t you?”

He met her questioning look, “I told you I’m a bad friend, let’s just leave it at that.”

“I can’t believe it. You would really choose her over Wilson?”

“I would pick her over Vicodin. If having her meant just that and I wasn’t a doctor and didn’t have a friend, I’d do it. That’s how much she means to me.”

“As romantic declarations go it’s a little unconventional…”

House held his now empty beer bottle up and pointed it over her shoulder. “Enough of this, you’re boring me now. Go and make out with that hot chick over there.”

-x-x-x-

Despite the muted change in House’s self, he was at least on tentative talking terms with Jo again. Though neither had talked about it, they had somehow come to a mutual conclusion to remain civil for the sake of Wilson. There were moments of awkwardness, moments that made them want the floor to swallow them whole but they somehow pushed past it. 

But it didn’t stop House from pining, if anything, it was like he was pining from beyond a glass window looking in. He’d tasted the forbidden fruit, now she would remain so close and yet so far. 

He could look, admire and pine for her but she would forever remain out of reach. 

After his little confessional talk with Thirteen and her disclosing the fear and worry amongst the team about his potential relapse, House had managed to tone things down in the office. Granted, he wasn’t himself still but at least he cooperated in cases and was bearable to be around. 

Every so often Thirteen would give him a nod, a subtle query instead of asking “are you okay?” House appreciated the gesture more than he could say, it felt like he had an ally. 

But while House’s mood had improved, Wilson’s seemed to be fluctuating in a way that House couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was quite possibly nothing of concern, but every so often House would get a snippet, a fleeting glimpse of the Wilson of old, the one who found solace in seducing nurses with his pantie-peeler ways. He hoped he was wrong, for Jo’s sake if nothing else.

Like a detail in a complex case that didn’t quite make sense, House couldn’t drop it, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was going on with Wilson. The gnawing feeling in his gut began to spread and plague his mind, he had to satisfy his curiosity and put his fears to bed. 

Taking a breath of fresh air on his balcony, House peered around the corner to the adjoining one of Wilson’s. A gust of wind flickered the closed blinds enough to reveal Wilson locked in a passionate embrace with a blonde-haired nurse. 

It was a punch to the gut for House, his whole body became enveloped in white-hot rage. How could he do that to Jo?!

But his rage soon turned to disappointment, then to guilt. What was he to do? Did he tell Jo what he had seen and ruin her relationship and consequently his friendship with Wilson? Or did he confront his best friend?

He felt torn between following his head and his heart. 

However, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed the subtle changes in Wilson’s demeanor, Jo had picked up on it too. And after getting the faintest whiff of an unfamiliar perfume on Wilson’s collar one too many times, Jo trusted her gut instincts and found the evidence of his infidelity on his phone in the form of a sordid text exchange. 

She felt sick to the stomach with anger but also a strange sense of guilt. What right did she really have to confront Wilson when she herself had kissed another man, not just any man but Wilson’s best friend no less. 

But the longer she left it, the longer she stewed and dwelled on knowing of Wilson’s infidelity, her body began to rebel and couldn’t fight it any more.

Jo did her best to keep herself composed and portray her usual happy self, especially while House was there. But it was only a matter of time before she snapped. 

She hadn’t intended on causing a scene, but Wilson acting as though he was the model boyfriend, kissing and cuddling her like nothing was wrong, pulled the trigger as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders on the couch.

“Who is she?”

From his spot on the couch opposite, House watched Wilson pale a little and mentally juggle how to answer and what route he was going to take. 

“Jo, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She recoiled from him at that point, anger and adrenaline coursing through her veins and fuelling her movements. 

“Don’t. Don’t you dare insult my intelligence, James. The way you’ve been acting has been all off, not to mention the perfume on your collar and the texts on your phone.”

Wilson sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing or fighting it, he was bang to rights. He knew it, Jo knew it, even House knew it. 

“I can’t bear to look at you right now.”

Both men watched her fighting tears as she hastily grabbed her jacket and anything else she recognised as her own, not wanting to spend another second around Wilson. He didn’t put up a fight, words failed him at that moment. He could feel the heat of House’s intense blue glare, judging him for not reacting, for not fighting for Jo.

In what felt like a heartbeat split second, the apartment door slammed shut and Jo was gone.

“Fuck…” Wilson whispered, letting his head slump forward and rest in his palms.

The silence in the room became deafening, the vein in House’s neck pulsating with sheer disbelief and anger at his friend’s actions. 

“What were you thinking?”

Wilson held up his hand to try and calm him down, “House, don’t. Please. Not right now.”

“No, answer me. What the fuck were you thinking?” 

House was really fired up now, the words were in motion and like a freight train with no brakes, there was no stopping him. He loomed menacingly over Wilson who remained slumped and downcast on the couch.

“Talk to me, Wilson. You’ve got the perfect woman and somehow she’s enough for you. Maybe you should be locked up in Mayfield, huh?”

“House, it’s not like that. Anyway, why do you care so much? Not two weeks ago, you couldn’t stand to talk to her, so why are you suddenly jumping to her defence?”

That response caught House off-guard and Wilson spotted the chink in his steely armour. 

“Wait a minute,” Wilson leaned forward, pressing home his advantage as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, “do you like Jo?”

For such a simple question it had the same effect as a right hook to the gut and sent House reeling back, it would’ve been less painful to just kick him in his damaged thigh. His greatest vulnerability was Jo and now the wound was exposed to the elements. 

His silence spoke volumes.

“House, do you like her?”

“No, I...No, I don’t.”

There was no conviction, no truth in his words. He may as well have had a neon sign above his head declaring his affections towards Jo. 

“House.” Wilson pressed again.

The tone of his voice was gentle and empathetic. It was the one he used when he knew that House was hiding something and he always bowed down to it. This time was no different. 

House gingerly met his best friend’s eyes, full of warmth and patience. He took a deep breath and confessed.

“I like her.” His voice was barely more than a gruff whisper. He wanted to leave it at just that, that he liked her and that was the end of it. But he couldn’t.

“Fuck, I’m such a bad friend. I, I more than like Jo, okay. I think, no, I know I’m in love with her.”

As soon as the words were out, it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from House’s shoulders now that he had confessed his deepest secret. 

Wilson is completely taken aback by the stark bluntness of House’s confession but also by the relief evident in his body and expressions. It was something he had never seen in House in all the years he’d known him.

“You’re in love with her?”

House nodded sagely and mentally prepared himself for a fist to be thrown his way. But frowned a little when no punch came, “that’s it? You're not going to hit me?”

“No, I’m not going to hit you. It’s just, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“What does it matter now, Wilson? Even if I had said something, it wouldn’t have changed anything and she still would’ve chosen you. I’m not ready to handle that, I don’t know how to handle any of this.”

Chapter Text

Part Four

The apartment felt empty without her, she made the place feel like a home instead of just being a place to lay his head at night. He hated the thought of her across town, alone in her apartment. Hell, he didn’t even know where her apartment was, only that she was too far away. He doubted he’d be able to sleep that night due to his pining-induced insomnia. 

What was baffling House the most, was the lack of empathy or care from Wilson. He just let Jo leave without even trying to stop or fighting for her. He couldn’t understand it at all, it was as though he was deliberately wrecking their relationship. If he wanted to be with other women, surely it made sense to end things with Jo instead of treating her like a fool and cheating behind her back.

But House couldn’t let himself think and ruminate too much on that, otherwise, he’d be throwing a right hook in Wilson’s direction to try and knock some sense into him. 

The next morning things were strained in the apartment, Wilson plastered on a faux happy facade that House saw through immediately. 

“You spoke to Jo this morning?”

“Uhh, no, I haven’t.” Wilson stammered and reached for the coffee pot as a means of changing the conversation, “coffee?”

“Why not? You just let her walk out of here without saying a word. If it was me-”

“But I’m not you, House.” Wilson cut him off, “I’m respecting her by giving her some much-needed space. You’re hardly a relationship guru yourself, so if you don’t mind, I’ll figure things out on my own.”

House shook his head and cracked his knuckles, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by Wilson. But just as he feared House may lunge and throw a fist his way, he breathed a sigh of relief when he instead reached for his coffee cup and drank the lukewarm contents down in a heady gulp. 

“You’re a moron, Wilson.”

And with that final scathing review, House disappeared into the guest room to retrieve his jacket, rucksack and helmet and headed out of the door for work, leaving Wilson propped against the breakfast bar wishing House had just punched him and gotten it out of the way. 

-x-x-x-

With every passing hour, House gained hope. Hope that the more time they spent apart, Jo would realise he was the man for her instead of Wilson. It was an intoxicating thought and he soon found himself obsessing and ruminating. 

Sitting alone in his office in a muted bubble, House allowed his mind to wander as the hospital and his team continued working around him. 

He imagined life with Jo, a life full of music and great conversation. She understood him on a level that no one had ever reached, he could let his guard down with her and got the impression she felt the same with him. He could see a future with her, something he’d never imagined with the likes of Stacy. With Stacy, he was happy for life to ebb and flow around them and take their relationship along until the bitterness of his leg injury poisoned what little happiness they shared. 

His train of thought is interrupted when he spots Thirteen walking into his office with a curious expression across her brow.

“Case solved yet?”

“Getting there,” she looked intently at his eyes, noting the lightness in them, “how are you?”

“I can’t keep anything from you, can I?”

“Not now,” Thirteen chuckled, taking the seat opposite, “c’mon, spill. Your face says it all, what’s got you fighting that smile?”

House allowed the smile he’d been holding back to break through transforming his rugged features, “Jo broke up with Wilson.”

“Wow, no wonder you’re smiling. What happened?”

“Wilson cheated…”

Thirteen watched House’s eyes darken as he spoke bitterly of Wilson’s infidelity. It was clear how deeply he felt for Jo and how little he thought of Wilson at that moment. 

“…she’s perfect, even you would want to date her if you met her. Actually, bad idea, it’s bad enough I’m in competition for her with my best friend, throw in a gorgeous bisexual and I won’t stand a chance.”

“It’s good to see you looking happier, House, you obviously care deeply for her.”

“She could be my fresh start, I need…” Thirteen watched the lightened smile fade, “no, no this can’t be happening…”

“House, what? What’s wrong?”

He pointed out of the window into the corridor where he could just make out the figure of Wilson accompanied by a woman.

“That’s her, that’s Jo. I can’t believe she took him back.”

It was a gut punch, extinguishing any flame of hope he held in a heartbeat. His shoulders slumped as he sunk back into his chair, all fight and strength dissipating from him. 

To make matters worse, the newly reformed couple spotted House and headed into his office.

Seeing him slumped back in such a way made their eyes search him for obvious signs of trauma, fortunately for House, Thirteen stepped in.

“Difficult case we’re working on, we’re all feeling like that.”

She slipped back into the adjoining conference room but maintained a watchful eye on House, fearing more heartache would tip him over the edge into relapsing. 

“So what brings you two into my humble abode, hand in hand no less?”

House focused his hard gaze on Jo, drilling his hurt and anger until her eyes flickered down with shame. 

“We’ve talked things through and we’re going to give things another go. We wanted you to know first.”

House swallowed the hot ball of anger surging up his throat as the bad news sinks in and spreads through his system. He manages to school his features into something vaguely resembling happiness while wanting nothing more than to pick Jo up and shake some sense into her for being so naive to let Wilson sweet-talk her around. 

“Congrats,” he muttered as he slowly eased himself up from his chair, “hopefully you’ll be able to keep to the one woman this time James. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a case to solve.”

He limped into the conference room to join his team leaving behind the confused couple unsure of what just happened.

-x-x-x-

They’d hit a roadblock in the case. After collating the symptoms the team began focusing all their attention on one diagnosis, running test after test but everything came back negative, leaving House confused and pissed off.

He’d retreated to his office, launching his red and grey tennis ball at the wall hoping a diagnostic gem would come to him but all he could think about was Jo and her stupidity for taking Wilson back. 

As if sensing his brooding thoughts, Thirteen suddenly appeared.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He threw the ball once again and as he caught it his brow furrowed, “it’s not a big deal. She was always going to take him back. What girl can resist a brown-eyed Prince Charming?”

“House, don’t do anything stupid, please.”

The tone of her voice made him look up and nod, “I won’t. Any update on the patient?”

“This really isn’t going to help your mood,” Thirteen replied, gingerly handing over the latest test results that made for grim reading.

It was going to be one of those days.

-x-x-x-

The Repsol liveried Honda came to a halt outside of Wilson’s apartment complex, House cut the engine and slumped forward over the tank. The day from start to finish had been taxing both physically and mentally, even emotionally. 

He raised his head and caught sight of Jo’s sedan parked across the street as he unbuckled the chin strap of his helmet. As much as he loved seeing her, with how he was feeling at the moment, seeing her in the arms of Wilson would’ve been too much to bear.

But that’s when he noticed that Wilson’s Volvo was nowhere to be seen.

This was his moment, a moment where he could confront Jo and truly voice what he felt and warn her about the mistake she was making.

With a newly lit fire in his belly, House gripped his leg and threw it over the bike, released his cane from its holdings and lugged his rucksack and helmet inside, dumping them without care or consideration just in the doorway.

The heavy thud of his rucksack and helmet hitting the wooden floor made Jo look up from her spot at the breakfast bar. As soon as she caught sight of House she looked back down at the book she was attempting to read, almost afraid that if she met his stunning blue gaze, she would be forever trapped.

“Oh hey Greg, James has just gone out to fetch dinner,” she tried and failed to sound nonchalant but the slight quiver in her voice was like a neon sign signalling the guilt she so clearly felt. 

He didn’t say a word, merely kept his eyes fixed on her nervous form as he crossed over to her, deliberately encroaching on her personal space letting the scent of her sweet citrus perfume permeate his senses. 

“Why did you take him back?”

Jo was taken aback by both the question and the proximity of House, he was so close she felt overwhelmed being able to feel the heat and tension radiating off of his body. 

“Because everyone deserves a second chance when they make a mistake,” she swallowed thickly, making a half-hearted attempt at meeting his eyes, “besides I’m hardly innocent in all of this, I made the mistake of kissing you…”

With a quirked eyebrow, House leaned in even closer, “you really believe that?”

Jo suddenly stood up sharply from the breakfast bar making House take a pace back, “I have to believe it! Yes, James cheated but what I did was far worse and I don’t need you being a jerk and reminding me of the fact!”

It was House’s turn to be heated, letting his anger and frustration pour out in one heartfelt declaration, “For god's sake, Jo! Wake up! You think I’m coming across as a jerk? Wilson’s a jerk too! You fell for the Boy Scout act and the Prince Charming good looks but he’s been divorced three times, slept with a dying patient and screwed more nurses than all the ones in my porno collection combined. He’s cheated on you once, he’ll do it again.”

His voice began to cool down a little as he approached her.

“He doesn’t deserve you…” 

His hands reached out and cradled her hips, pulling her closer to his body.

“He doesn’t love you, not like I do…”

His words took her breath away, staring up at him completely entranced.

“Loving you makes all the pain, all the fear of relapsing and what I went through at Mayfield worth it. I know you feel the same, stop denying yourself and let me love you…”

Jo took a shaky breath in, her whole body trembling at House’s admission, “I do, Greg… god, I love you too…”

Her hands pressed against his broad chest feeling his heart pounding against her palms as his lips descended, taking hers in the most tender of kisses. Sparks flew at that first connection sending a tidal surge of emotions forward that neither one could hold back. One hand sprawled across her back, the other clutching at her waist keeping her close against his body, fearing that she would fade away into his subconscious and he’d wake up in a sweat.

To House, she tasted of home, of safety and security. He needed her and now that she was in his arms and kissing him back as though her life depended on it, she needed him too. 

Her hands traced upwards following the line of his shoulders letting her arms thread around his neck, anchoring herself to his strong body, fully embracing every ounce of love he gave her. 

Just as House’s hands began to venture and toy with the hem of her clothing, Wilson strolled in.

“The Chinese place was closed so I got us-”

The pair were so lost in each other, the typical reaction of springing apart like startled cats was a forgotten memory. They merely stopped kissing and turned to look in the direction of a shell-shocked Wilson.

“Wh-what the hell?” 

House released his hold on Jo wanting his hands free in case Wilson quite rightly started throwing his fists, “Jimmy, let me explain. This wasn’t planned, okay-”

“What, me coming back too soon or you making a move on Jo?”

House merely sighed, what was he supposed to say, she was more tempting than a vial of Vicodin but she just so happens to be your girlfriend. He was in a lose-lose situation here, it was best to just rip off the band-aid.

But seeing the hurt, anger and confusion in his best friend's eyes had House moving to stand in front of Jo, following his natural instinct to shield and protect her, “I made the move, not Jo, so any anger is aimed at me, not her.”

“Just wanted to wait until I was out of the way did you?”

Jo brushed her hand across House’s shoulder as she moved between the two friends teetering on the brink, “James, I care deeply for you, but what I feel for Greg…” She sighs trying to find the words, “we know it’s wrong but there’s a connection, please try to understand.”

House sees Wilson’s eyes falter and soften, “have things gone any further?”

He gestured between the two just needing to put his mind at rest, with House quickly shaking his head no. 

The room was full of tension and unspoken words, and as the uneasy silence hung heavily over the trio, Jo had to speak up. 

“I’m going to go, you two need to talk,” she looked between House and Wilson and merely held up her hand before they could protest, “I’ve already done enough damage. I’m sorry.”

It cut House to the quick watching Jo turn her back and disappear into the bedroom only to reappear mere moments later with her belongings in her arms and her eyes downcast. 

She barely gave them both a second glance, instead heading straight for the door leaving the two men to hash things out, just hopefully not in a physical sense.

Taking heed of everything he’d learnt from Nolan in his sessions, House opened up without prompt or needing to be prised open like a pesky jar of pickles.

“This isn’t some game on my part, I really do love her. But if the idea of me and Jo upsets you, tell me. I’ve given up Vicodin, I can give her up too…I think.”

“House, I’m not angry. A little shocked, granted, but I’m not angry. From that first night, I could just tell there was something between you two, a connection as Jo had put it.”

“How could you, I barely even knew her name.”

Wilson smiled in that all-knowing way, seemingly proud that he was the one to spot the symptoms before the world-famous Diagnostician.

“You smiled naturally for the first time in years House. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t a pity smile or an act to make Jo more comfortable around you, it was a real smile because of her. That’s how I knew and I guess that’s why it was so easy for me to slip back into my ‘pantie peeler’ ways. I’d seen the way Jo looked at you, how she would ask about you constantly but she’s such a sweet person that even when she caught me out, she gave me a second chance.”

Wilson sees the furrow in his best friend’s brow, not sure whether to still edge on the side of caution or to break out into a face-splitting grin at the turn of events. 

“As if I need to make it any clearer, go to her, House. Take her out on a date and make it work.” He grabbed a nearby scrap of paper and in his chicken scratch scrawl, he jots down Jo’s address, “If you screw this up, I promise you I’ll drive you straight back to Mayfield within the hour.” 

House has the good grace to look sheepish, his rugged features morphing into a shy grin as he scratched the back of his neck, unsure whether to laugh or cry with the torrent of emotions coursing through him. 

“Wilson… I, uh, thank you.”

-x-x-x-

House felt like a teenager heading to his date’s house for Prom, his hands uncharacteristically trembling as he knocked at Jo’s apartment door. 

The door opened sharply and there she was, all wide-eyed and on edge, scanning House’s face and hands for evidence of him and Wilson coming to blows and when she saw nothing she allowed herself to smile and meet House’s eyes. 

“No bruised knuckles, broken nose or black eyes, dare I assume that things went well?”

He said nothing as he stepped over the threshold, he brought his hands up to her lightly blushing cheeks and kissed her deeply with the freedom they now had. It took a second before Jo relaxed and twined her arms around his shoulders, melting into his touch. She couldn’t stop smiling, the evening had been nothing short of a rollercoaster of emotions and now House was kissing her and she never wanted it to stop. 

But like all good things, they had to come to an end eventually and with a groan House brought the kiss to its conclusion, instead focusing on brushing his nose against hers savouring their newfound closeness.

She walked her fingers up the centre of his chest until she reached his stubbled jaw, “I was rather hoping we could carry on with that kiss we started earlier…”

“And I was rather hoping to take you out on a date.”

“I’d really like that, Greg.” She smiled up at him feeling like a teenager being asked to prom, “when?”

“No time like the present.”

“But Greg, it’s getting late and I’m really not exactly dressed up for going out.”

He took a hold of her waist, “it’s never too late. You’re fine as you are, you just need a jacket.”

“A jacket, why, is there no heating in your car?”

“I’m not in my car.”

A devilish smile tugged at Jo’s lips, unable to resist a teasing jibe, “now let’s just get one thing clear, I don’t ride on the first date. But seeing as it’s you,” she laced her arms around his broad shoulders and reached up to brush her nose against his, “I’ll make an exception…”

A burbling groan rose up through his chest and his hands clutch at her hips a little tighter, “temptress.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Her lips ghosted over him before pulling away just as he made an attempt at kissing her properly. “Back in a sec.”

Sure enough, she emerged moments later wearing a brown quilted leather jacket that hugged her curves, fitting to her svelte figure like a second skin.

“Will I do?”

House moved over to her, needing to touch and caress. Standing in front of her he trailed the tips of his fingers down from the top of her shoulders, following the silhouette of her body. 

“You’ll do.”

Given the late hour, they’re past the point of going to a decent restaurant for dinner, so instead, they settled on a homely-looking, if slightly dilapidated 24-hour diner on a sidestreet in the centre of Princeton. They slid into a well-worn leather booth side by side, unable to break their newfound closeness. 

The rosy-cheeked waitress recognised them as a couple completely engrossed in one another not wanting to be disturbed and once she had taken their drinks order and served them, she left it up to them to seek her out when they wanted to order food. It was a solid hour before they signalled for her again, by that point their pot of coffee and Cokes were drained and all their talking had left them hungry. 

With a menu between them, Jo especially was torn over all the delicious food items, “Greg, the cheeseburger is calling my name but the all-day breakfast sounds so good too. I can’t decide, what are you thinking?”

She turned up to look at him and in the low light, a golden hue took over her hazel green eyes, so warm and inviting.

“Cheeseburger sounds good, how about we get the breakfast to share?”

“Worked up quite an appetite, have we?”

House leaned in even closer until his nose brushed against hers, “you have no idea…”

A mouthwatering feast laid out before them with a flourish. Huge plates piled high with all things breakfast and towering juicy burgers oozing with cheese.

“Hmm hm! This looks and smells so delicious.” Said Jo appreciatively, breathing it all in. 

Twenty minutes later little remained of their feast, only two strips of crisp bacon and a scattering of fries. Jo dropped her fork and sunk back into the seat with a groan, letting her head rest on House’s shoulder whilst nursing her very full stomach. 

“Oh my god, I could not eat another bite…”

House chuckled and snagged a piece of bacon, “lightweight.”

“You’re a big-ass man compared to me!” She snuggled in closer, still stroking her stomach, “I swear I just felt the food baby kick.”

“Congratulations, it’s a cheeseburger!” He pressed his lips to her forehead, “guess that means you won’t be wanting dessert.”

“Ugh, no.”

-x-x-x-

They emerged out onto the sidewalk entwined, House with his arm around Jo’s shoulder and her nestled against his side. It’s late now, the streets of Princeton are practically empty and even though they both have work in just a few hours' time, neither is quite ready for their date to end. 

Jo tucked her arms beneath House’s jacket savouring the heat and strength of his body beneath her palms, “I don’t want this date to end, Greg.”

House let his forehead rest against hers, “Hmm, me too.” 

He fell silent for a moment as a plan formulated in his head, “will you come with me?”

They saddled up on the Fireblade, scything through the deserted lamp-lit streets until they reached the outskirts of town and pulled up in a gravel-laden parking lot. The vantage point gave uninterrupted views of Princeton and with the inky black of night bleeding into a royal blue, it was the perfect vista with even more perfect company. 

House left the engine running, leaning back against the machine with Jo in his arms. The gentle thrum of the pistons firing matched the beat of his heart and kept their bodies warm against the bitter night air.

“I found this place a couple of years ago after I got shot. Something about the view and the clear air, I feel like I can breathe again.”

Jo reached up and brushed her fingers over his cheek, “you were shot?”

“Twice. In the stomach and the neck.”

He caught hold of the hand that was against his cheek and drew it down to the slightly raised welt on the right side of his neck. Jo shivered, feeling the scar as well as his jugular vein thrum beneath her fingertips, not many people walk away from such an injury. 

“I had a month where I could run again, my leg didn’t hurt. I had my old life back. I didn’t wake up in agony and have to rely on drugs to feel moderately human. I never thought I would feel happy again…” 

He gently turned Jo in his arms so they were face to face, he needed her to see him as well as hear his words.

“But then you came along and I finally felt at total peace. You didn’t pity me, you didn’t fall victim to my sarcasm, you just accepted me for me and that’s why I fell for you…why I fell in love with you.”

“When I was a little girl, my nana used to tell me that I never needed to look for Prince Charming, that it was his mission to find me and I never really knew what she meant until I met you. It was as though all those years of waiting had been leading up to that moment, and before you argue that you’re no Prince Charming, you are to me. You’re my steely blue-eyed, cane-wielding Prince Charming and I love you for it.”

Their noses brushed as their lips met in a tender kiss that warmed them from the inside out. A lot had happened in the past 24 hours and now they were standing on the edge of forever ready to tackle life hand in hand.

While there was a bittersweetness to the ride home, it didn’t overshadow the night they’d shared. House walked Jo to her door both wanting to savour every last minute of their date. Jo placed her key in the lock and turned back to face House. Neither said a word, he merely engulfed her in his arms. Burrowing his face into her collar, he closed his eyes and lost himself in her sweet scent.

Jo pressed her lips to his neck, “as much as this kills me to say, if I don’t go inside now, I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep right here in the hallway.”

He kept his hands on her hips, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Can’t let that happen.”

She brushed her thumb over the dimple that creased his bearded cheek, moving in even closer, close enough to count the lashes that framed his incredible eyes, she pressed her lips to his. While there was barely tempered passion in her kiss, it was one of thanks, both knew it wouldn’t go much further, not that it wouldn’t stop them from enjoying it. Unable to resist her sweetness, House nibbled at her lower lip, feeding his new addiction as they playfully explored.

Eventually, the kiss reached its natural conclusion and House let his forehead rest against Jo’s, not quite willing to sever the connection.

“Guess this is goodnight then?”

“Not quite, pass me your cell.”

House blinded groped his pockets and pressed the device into Jo’s palm. The sound of her thumbs clicking at the keypad followed by the sound of her cell ringing made him smile.

“There,” she placed the cell back into his jacket pocket, “please don’t leave it a week before calling, I’ve got high hopes for this relationship.”

“So demanding,” he playfully growled in her ear.

He kissed her cheek and then her lips thoroughly one last time before calling at night, knowing that if he didn’t then he never would.

“Night Jo.”

“Night Greg.”