Chapter Text
They kissed for the first time on the very night they first met.
Having bailed the young doctor out, House didn’t want to part ways with him. No when he finally met someone who didn’t bore him. He wanted to learn everything there was to learn about this interesting stranger who hated Billy Joel’s music.
“So why did she divorce you?” he asked as they were sitting at a bar. A different one, obviously, they had no intention of going back to the same place and risking another arrest.
The stranger, James Wilson, as he introduced himself, looked at House with clear surprise on his pretty face. Because yes, James Wilson was undeniably pretty. Not simply handsome or attractive, but pretty was the specific word that came to House’s mind.
“You were staring at papers from a law agency specializing in divorce for the whole duration of the conference. And judging by your overtly emotional reaction, it’s obvious she’s the one who ended things. And I’m assuming it’s a ‘she’ because since you’re a ‘he’, you cannot marry someone who’s also a ‘he’.”
“I didn’t even know anything was wrong,” Wilson admitted, staring at the shelves filled with various alcohols in front of him. “I found out when I got served the papers. By her lawyer. This morning.” His voice sounded bitter, though with a drop of honest sadness.
“Huh,” House said.
Wilson remained silent, waiting for his companion to continue. When he didn’t, Wilson was the one who spoke, “Huh? Really, that’s all you’re going to say?” He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
Why was House even talking to him? Guy clearly was emotional and needed someone to vent and while being a man of many talents, Gregory House was not the man to go to if one wanted emotional support.
“What do you want me to say, that I’m sorry it happened and you’re free to cry on my shoulder if you feel like it?” he scoffed.
“Nevermind,” Wilson sighed. “Can you just, please, listen to me?” House nodded. If listening to the whining of an overtly emotional man meant he would get to find out more about this interesting - and pretty - young doctor, he was willing to withstand it.
At that bar, constantly ordering more drinks, House learned his not boring companion was even less boring than he’d initially thought. Apparently he’d graduated med school recently and had been working two jobs ever since his soon-to-be-ex wife picked up a paid internship. Someone seemingly so selfless, so people-pleasing must have ulterior motives, House thought, because nobody was so noble. Human beings were naturally selfish and anyone claiming to be otherwise was lying. But despite analyzing his every word and behavior for the past hour or so, House found no trace of dishonesty in this Wilson guy. Interesting. He surely must have not been watching him long enough.
“What are you thinking about?” Wilson waved his hand in front of House’s face. “You’ve been staring at me for an unsettling amount of time. What’s on your mind?” he repeated.
“Just thinking about how I wish my hotel was nearer so I could take you to my room and make out with you for the rest of the night.” Not exactly a truthful answer to the question, but not a lie either.
“Such a shame I’m a married man,” Wilson laughed in response, clearly taking the thing as a joke.
“About to be divorced,” House reminded him. “I’m actually thinking I need another double whisky and that you should pay because I left my wallet in my other pants.”
“I’ve just seen you tip the bartender,” Wilson pointed out.
House waved his hand, dismissing Wilson’s observation. “That must’ve been my evil twin. Bastard always shows up wherever I am.”
Wilson just sighed with resignation and waved at the bartender, asking her for another round of drinks for the two of them. To their surprise, they were denied. Apparently their tab was so long, the bartender was genuinely concerned. They tried arguing that they were doctors, and therefore know how much is too much, and that they know their own limits, but she wasn’t having any of that. Not wanting to cause another brawl that night, House offered to pay and gave the bartender a credit card. Only some time later when he got his credit card bill in the mail did Wilson realize that House had, in fact, not been the one who paid.
* * *
Because the bartender very kindly threw them out of the bar by refusing to serve them, the next logical step was finding a place where they would be served. James offered another bar, just down the street, but to that proposition House groaned and said he’d had enough of bars full of people for the night. And so they ended up in James’s hotel room. House had booked his own, but claimed James’s was closer and since that was actually true and James didn’t want to just yet part ways with this newly met man, he didn’t argue.
“I’m also saving on room service if everything’s on your bill,” House pointed out in between bites of the snacks from the mini bar, which would undoubtedly cost James a fortune. It was a worry for tomorrow’s James, though. For James who will wake up hungover from all the drinking he’d done with a complete stranger. He tried asking House some questions, but the deflective answers made it clear he didn’t want to share things about himself. Also, House seemed way more interested in the soap opera on TV than the fact that James was sitting next to him and asking him about things. And in calling room service.
“I really would make out with you,” House stated, not looking away from the TV.
“Gotta cancel that room service order, you’ve had enough for the night.” James reached out for the phone, but House caught his arm and pulled him closer. They were now shoulder in shoulder with each other, literally. Half their bodies in physical contact, if they both turned heads at the same time…
“If you don’t like what I’m about to do, you can punch me in the face or something.” Not waiting for an answer, House put his hand on James’s cheek to make them face each other and kissed him. Actually kissed him. Not just a quick peck on the lips, but rather passionate, almost desperate, like a man dying of thirst discovering a spring with clean water. It felt different than it did with any of the women he’d ever kissed. House was taller than him, stronger too. The sensation of unshaved stubble rubbing on the delicate skin of his face, a body pressed so closely to his, the taste of whisky and all the other alcohol they’d drunk - House had drunk - was overwhelming him in the most positive way possible.
James hadn’t kissed men before, he’d never even thought about them that way. Growing up he’d told himself he was too busy with his education to care about romance and sex, and throughout his college and med-school it was natural that he should date girls, because all the other guys did. And then he met Sam so he stopped looking for new experiences. Now, soon to be divorced, James found he didn’t actually dislike it. It didn’t have to mean he was gay. He was simply drunk and desperate for human connection, and it just so happened he’d made a friend. Drunk girls made out with their friends all the time and it didn’t make them lesbians or even bisexual so why wouldn’t it be the same with guys?
God only knows how much time they spent like this, hands exploring one another’s body, lips parting only to draw small gasps of shared air into their lungs. Lost in each other, the two of them had completely forgotten about the room service House had ordered. If not for the knock on the door, chances were they would have continued, maybe even gone a step further. Startled by the sudden noise, House backed off and opened the door so that the server could hand them the fancy drinks that would probably make up half of James’s entire hotel bill. A quick thought appeared in his mind that he would love to pay double if it meant the server wouldn’t have disrupted them.
Somehow it had felt so comfortable and good in the heat of the moment, but once the moment had passed, a feeling of awkwardness overcame him. How was one supposed to act around someone they’d just been making out with? Normally, James wouldn’t let the mood be ruined by such a small matter and would have ended up in bed with the girl anyway. Except now he wasn’t with a girl, but with a man, and said man seemed to act like nothing had ever happened. He was back on the couch, continuing watching some telenovela he for some odd reason found interesting. Who the hell willingly watched telenovelas, let alone enjoyed watching them?
House waved, inviting James to join him in front of the TV, and he did. They didn’t talk, just watched the silly show. When the episode ended and it was clear House wasn’t going to initiate anything again, James, while disappointed, figured he’d rather have House as a friend than none at all.