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Traditions
by Adrienne S.
James Wilson smiled at Cameron as she talked about spending the
Christmas holidays with her parents. He nodded at the right
places, although his mind was occupied with two equally horrible
thoughts.
One, it was New Year's Eve and only about twenty minutes to
midnight. Traditionally, the skeleton staff gathered in one of
the lounges and waited out the change in year together as long as
there wasn't a patient actively dying. Another tradition was to
kiss the person standing closest to you, irrespective of gender,
status and personal feeling. Last year, House managed to be
standing right next to Steve Farmington, who hated him with a
passion. The memory of Steve's expression before, during and
after the enthusiastic liplock that House gave him still made him
smile. He had a sinking feeling that if Cameron was still within
reach at midnight, he'd be forced to kiss her.
There was another tradition between that he and House had, one
that had nothing to do with the hospital. Which led to the other
horrible thought. Their tradition was, traditionally, private.
No one else knew about it and Wilson would have preferred to keep
it that way. This year, however, House had been wandering about
all shift with a gleam in his eye that did not bode well for any
kind of decorum on House's part. House was planning something
outrageous and, considering some of the other things House did on
a regular basis, that was a terrifying thought.
Why had he agreed to work the overnight on New Year's Eve,
anyway? House always worked that shift, not out of any desire to
be accommodating to staff with families, but because it gave him
the perfect opportunity to mock those stuck working. And, he
claimed, he liked the extra pay for working the holiday.
Normally, Wilson would not work on New Year's. That holiday was
sacrosanct. He spent it alone with his wife, save for the few
minutes House would stop by and fulfil the Hogmanay tradition of
having a tall, dark man first cross the threshold. It was
supposed to bring good luck for the coming year. Wilson
suspected that House was not all that interested in bringing
luck, but was quite interested in taking an hour off work and in
the dram of Scotch that had to be offered.
Since the infarction, House's visit led to the other tradition,
the one that they celebrated privately. Not even Wilson's wives
knew about that one. Wilson smiled reminiscently at the memory
of how that tradition came about.
-------------
The first days back at work for House were difficult. Wilson
knew he was tired and aching and every reminder that he was no
longer whole in body irritated him.
House coped relatively well with the inconveniences of his
disability; he had thought out well in advance what he was to
face, but a simple, innocuous thing like morning coffee had been
devastating. Wilson had never seen such a look of helplessness
in House's eyes as he had seen the first time House went through
the line up at the cafeteria and tried to pay for his drink.
With the coffee in one hand and his cane clutched in the other,
House could not reach his pocket to pull out his wallet. Wilson,
behind him with his own coffee, could see the well concealed
panic in the way House just stood there, frozen. House was not
yet confident enough on his feet to let go of the cane at all and
the wallet was in his left inside jacket pocket.
Wilson had nudged him forward gently and paid for both coffees.
He could tell House was embarrassed, but he thought nothing of
it. House had faced more embarrassing things that having Wilson
pay for his coffee.
Wilson did not realize then that he had started what was to
become yet another tradition between them. Every time after
that, House simply assumed that Wilson would pay. Lunch,
takeout, coffee, cab fares; House now expected him to pay for it
all.
It had been going on for about three months and Wilson was
starting to get thoroughly sick of it. At first, he hadn't
minded. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it and he honestly
didn't mind making House's life a little easier, but the
unrelenting mooching was getting on his nerves. He hinted rather
strongly that he would appreciate a little reciprocity, but House
blithely ignored it. Wilson felt used and resentful towards
House and their friendship suffered as a result.
It was New Year's Eve before the issue was forever resolved.
Julie had answered the door about ten minutes after midnight,
slipping out of his embrace with resigned reluctance.
Wilson had not expected House to keep with the tradition, but he
wasn't entirely surprised to see House on his doorstep. Julie
motioned him in, with a tolerant smile. She knew that House
never stayed long.
House limped in and touched his lips to Julie's cheek briefly in
passing. She accepted it with good grace, brushing his stubbled
cheek with a kiss of her own.
"I'm not kissing you," Wilson warned as House approached. "So
who was this year's victim?"
"Nancy caught me." House grimaced. Nancy Gerrold was a
volunteer at the hospital and possibly the perkiest person he'd
ever met. She laughed when House growled, and even the rudest,
most sexist comments didn't deter her from being sickeningly
sweet to him.
"Poor baby. Must be tough, having pretty young things lusting
after your bod."
"You'd know," House returned, leering at Julie. Julie smiled
briefly and then fidgeted as House kept looking at her.
"Oh!" Julie exclaimed. "The Scotch."
Julie left the two of them standing there and Wilson started to
say something. House held up a hand and reached into his jacket
pocket. Wilson thought he was going for his pills, but instead
House pulled out a slip of paper and handed it over.
Wilson took it and looked at it blankly. It was a cheque, made
out to him.
"It's what I owe you for all those lunches and coffee and
whatever," House said gruffly. "Thanks."
"House..." Wilson was flabbergasted. The amount was pretty
close to the sums he had, in a fit of pique, worked out himself.
"You didn't have to..."
"C'mon, Jimmy. I may be a mooch, but I'm not a deadbeat. I do
pay my debts," House told him. "Eventually."
"Okay." Wilson put the cheque in his pocket, just as Julie
returned with a finger of Scotch in a crystal glass. House took
it, downed it and handed the glass back.
"Goodnight you two," House said, opening the door. "I trust
you'll start the New Year off with a bang."
-------------
Wilson had thought that House would give him the cheque before
the party, but House was having way too much fun picking on his
staff. They didn't have anything pressing to do, but House
insisted that they had to be here with him. He had told them
that if they had dates that they could get out of it as long as
they told him all the juicy details. Wilson really couldn't
blame them for taking the lesser of two evils.
It was only a couple of minutes to midnight and he watched in
some amusement as everybody started subtly jockeying for
position. He didn't bother. He was well liked and there wasn't
anybody there that he minded kissing, with the exception of
House's staff. He'd have House teasing him for the next year if
he kissed any of the three.
"Taking your chances?" House murmured to him and Wilson
suppressed a jump of surprise.
"You do realize that as things stand, you're going to have to
kiss me?" Wilson pointed out. House just grinned, with a
maniacal gleam in his eye and Wilson felt his heart sink. He
didn't really mind the idea of kissing House, but he suspected
that a simple peck on the cheek was not what House had in mind.
"Yup," House agreed and moved closer, leaning both himself and
his cane against the table. Wilson rolled his eyes, but didn't
move away.
-------------
"... Five... Four... Three... Two... One. Happy New Year!"
Wilson knew that House was planning something and he was resolved
to just shrug it off. It was a New Year's kiss, nothing more.
Unless, of course, you were being kissed by a hyperactive maniac
with an extremely fertile imagination. Wilson found himself bent
over the table, with House practically on top of him and House's
tongue doing a remarkably thorough job of checking his dental
work. House was also taking the time to do a proper job of
exploring his mouth, and letting his hands wander to places that
Wilson rather liked hands being. It was the most passionate and
enthusiastic kiss that he'd experienced in quite some time, and
when House finally released him, he was feeling quite dizzy.
He was suddenly and painfully aware that they had an extremely
interested audience. In fact, the looks on everyone's faces
would have caused him to laugh uproariously under any other
circumstances. He dropped his face into his hands.
"Here." House tapped a slip of paper on one of his hands and he
reached out his left hand, the right still covering his face.
It was, of course, the cheque. And this year, the cheque was
larger than usual, even taking off the five grand that House ha
borrowed for the motorcycle.
He felt a bubble of almost hysterical laughter start to rise and
took the cheque.
"Thanks."
"Paying for it now, House?"
Wilson peeked through his fingers to see Cuddy smirking at them.
"Jimmy's easy, Cuddy, not cheap," House informed her. "Don't
worry, though. He does give a nice discount for breasts. The
nicer the breasts, the nicer the discount. He might even owe you
change."
"Wait a minute," Chase protested and Wilson could hear the
confusion in his voice. "You paid Wilson to kiss him?"
"Jealous? Trust me, my little wombat, you can't afford him,"
House assured him. Wilson felt someone's hand touch his, lifting
it to see the amount of the cheque. Whoever it was gasped
softly. Wilson decided that hiding his face was neither
effective or productive. He lifted his head and twitched the
cheque out of, as it turned out, Cameron's hand.
"Wilson?" Cameron looked beseechingly at him, her eyes clouded.
"Is there something you want to tell us?"
He had no idea how to answer that one and it didn't help that he
could feel House shaking with suppressed laughter.
He saw Cuddy roll her eyes and realised that she had figured out
what the cheque was about.
"Oh, for God's sake, Dr. Cameron," she began and then caught
Wilson's eyes. Whatever she saw in them caused her own to
sparkle with mischief. "Does it really surprise you that House
pays for it? I mean, how many times has he referred to hookers
in your presence?"
"But... Wilson?"
"Wilson's reputation as a sex god isn't exactly a secret either,"
Cuddy replied, with another eye roll. "And considering the way
House normally behaves, is it any wonder that he has to pay a
premium?"
At this, Wilson lost it. Between the scorn in Cuddy's voice, the
stricken look on Cameron's face, and the we've-been-had
realization on Foreman and Chase's faces, he let out the wild
howl of laughter that had been building. He made the mistake of
glancing at House and the two of them nearly knocked over the
table with their uncontrolled mirth.
"You should both grow up," Cameron snapped and stalked away, amid
growing laughter from the rest of the crowd. Foreman and Chase
hustled after her, presumably to calm her down, but Cuddy came
closer and reached around them to pick up a couple of glasses of
champagne.
Handing one to Wilson and one to House, she picked up a third
glass and held it aloft with a wicked grin.
"Happy New Year, guys."
Please post a comment on this story.
Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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