Summary: Wilson comes to House's on Christmas Eve. Dinner, Scotch and a Present. Falling snow all around and House and Wilson facing each other and their own feelings.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Yeah it's mine but I sold the idea...NOT. Not mine at all.

A/N: Very first House M.D fanfic. Gimme feedback!

º Falling Snow º

By: Teh Little One

It was starting to snow; House noticed the small snowflakes falling slowly on the street and on people's heads. He smirked as he glanced at a couple of women which by their expressions, he could tell were annoyed at how it ruined their hairstyles. He glanced through the window of his empty apartment and snorted at the bustle and running about of the people in the streets, carrying packages and moving all around. It was Christmas…and House simply could not have cared any less.

He pushed himself away from the window and limped towards the couch, where his cane rested. A bottle of scotch laid open on the small table before him, a bag of chips and the ever present bottle of Vicodin. He sat and rubbed at his thigh slowly, grunting ever so softly, he sighed and gripped his cane tightly. He stole a glance at the wooden object and it seemed ridiculous to him, how he could hate and need the thing so much. He tapped the floor with it, it bounced lightly and it diverted his attention away from his leg.

His apartment was cold, he lit up the fireplace which he hardly used and let the thing wooden logs burn away. The TV was on in front of him but silent as always, the people in it acting and moving, opening and closing their mouths with not sound ever coming out, it was perfect. He allowed his head to fall back on the soft cushions of the couch as he let out an audible sigh which filled up the entire place, he closed his eyes and as he felt himself began to drift into tranquillity there was a soft knock on the door.

"Brilliant," he groaned under his breath, he thought of leaving whomever was standing out by the door there and thus made no attempt to move. There was another knock, this time more insistent and a voice followed it.

"Open up, House," the voice said, "I can hear you sulking,"

House could not help the smallest smile escape him at that remark, he sighed once more and heaved himself up slowly, rubbing at his haphazardly throbbing leg. He limped once more towards the door and opened it just enough to thrust his head out and catch Wilson rolling his eyes at him. The man in question stood in his dark coat with various plastics bags which seemed to contain various culinary products and by the clicking sound probably a six-pack of beer.

House smirked at Wilson and raised a greying eyebrow; Wilson looked at him with a somewhat annoyed stare and shook the bags once more, making the bottles of beer clink.

"Are you planning on letting me in sometime this year?" the younger man asked.

"Oh, what do you mean?" House asked while putting on his puppy-dog expression, "No carol singing?"

"I seriously doubt you're willing to put up with my carol singing," Wilson replied with a sigh.

"Try me," was House's reply.

"I'd rather not," Wilson said with a sceptical look, "seriously House, these bags are not getting any lighter,"

"You wimp," House said with a roll of his eyes which then turned to an evil stare, "what's the password then?"

"I brought beer," was Wilson's retort as he raised the bad which contained the six-pack and the bottles clinked once more.

"That was an easy one," the older man took the bag from Wilson and moved away from the door as the latter let himself in and walked straight towards the kitchen to leave the rest of the bags there. House limped once more towards the couch, his leg still throbbing but the beer would soon take care of that. He could hear Wilson move around the kitchen, taking out pots and cooking utensils, finally his voice rang again:

"You up for some dinner?"

"Why, Jimmy," House replied with a mocking voice, "I don't expect you need an answer for that one," House heard Wilson's soft chuckle and he allowed himself a little smile as well. It was always like this, Wilson would come over, bring beer and food and they would sit together watching TV (probably the L Word) and finally they would comment on whatever crossed their minds as they drained a bottle of scotch.

Wilson's presence was somewhat comforting to House, he had never considered this until his friend had actually lived with him after leaving Julie, the place seemed less void and far more alive that House would ever admit. He enjoyed Wilson's company, even if he never truly uttered it.

A couple of minutes later Wilson came out of the kitchen with some cloth of his shoulder and a small smile on his face, he looked back at House who had raised his head at the sound of footsteps and started unpacking the six-pack. Wilson sat next to him on the couch and let out a small sigh, he turned to House as he passed him a beer.

"I made pasta, it's a new recipe I found and I figured this would be a good time to try it," House smirked a little and laid back on the couch as he propped his leg on the table.

"So long as it does not stink, I'll have it," he said as Wilson imitated his gesture.

"If you'd rather have take- out on Christmas..." Wilson started as he sipped his beer.

"Aww...I'm sorry if I ruined your Christmas spirit," House remarked in a tone which evidently evidenced that he was not sorry at all, "you're a Jew, Wilson, you shouldn't even care about the holiday,"

"Take a leaf out of your book, you mean?" Wilson said as he glanced at House, "I'll leave you the role of Grinch, if you don't mind...seems dinner's up," Wilson left his beer on the table, stood and walked towards the kitchen, House could hear once more his shuffling about, plates and glasses clinking and then the air was filled with a delicious aroma which got House sniffling as he raised himself off the couch.

Wilson came out of the kitchen carrying two dinner plates filled with pasta and a red sauce with herbs, he handed the plates to House, who set them down on the table and then proceeded to 

remove the bag of chips and the scotch from its surface while sliding the Vicodin into his trouser pocket. Wilson came with two wine glasses filled with the dark liquid which swayed slightly, Wilson seemed to love red wine, House did not mind it but Wilson had shown an evident preference for the drink.

"Here," the younger man said as he handed House his own glass. House nodded his head and made himself comfortable on his couch, they both sat down and proceeded to dig into their meals, Wilson managed to contain a smile as he saw that House truly enjoyed the new dish, he shook his head lightly and sipped at his wine.

"This is not half as bad as I expected," House commented after a few minutes of silent eating, Wilson nodded his thanks to House's hidden compliment. They then proceeded to their usual discussions, Cuddy's underwear or lack thereof, Cameron's bothersome attempts at persuading House to get into the Christmas spirit and The L Word. By the time they reached the last subject their dinner was long gone and the plates left in the sink, probably to remain dirty for a couple of weeks before Wilson noticed that House had not bothered to wash them.

They were still sitting in front of the TV, it was still on mute, the bottle of scotch had returned and with it an increasing number of beer bottles. Wilson was stifling giggles and House was mocking him because of it. House's leg was not throbbing anymore, it was numb due to the alcohol and House was glad of it. He glanced at Wilson who giggled once more and then kept silent, he turned his boyish face towards him and gave him a real, heartfelt smile of happiness. House's heart jolted in his chest and he found himself completely caught off guard by it. He simply shifted his gaze and poured down another shot of Scotch.

"Easy there, don't want you to fall asleep on me, ol' man," was Wilson's slightly tipsy comment. House simply scoffed and poured more of the gold liquid into their glasses and handed Wilson his.

"I hope you're not as drunk to truly believe I'll fall asleep," House stated dryly. Wilson took his glass and it was almost in contact with his lips before he stopped short and turned towards House once more, his glassed raised. He smiled a small smile and House's chest tightened unnecessarily.

"What should we toast to?" Wilson asked with true wonder. House almost laughed at him, however, he decided just to go along with him in this one.

"Oh, I dunno Jimmy," House said as he glanced at the Scotch in his hand, enthralled by how the liquid swayed from one side to the other, how its light shifted with the weak light that came from the barely burning fireplace...maybe he was just a little touched by the alcohol. He turned towards Wilson once more and found him sitting slightly closer, a small smile still plastered on his face.

"What are you smiling about?" House demanded in a somewhat vexed manner, it made him truly curious, he desired to know why Wilson seemed happier this evening even though nothing was different.

"I'm just...content," was all Wilson said, he looked away from House's fire lit visage and started swirling his own Scotch-filled glass in his hand, "It's been a fine evening, I suppose,"

"Aww, Jimmy," House said mockingly as he placed his hand on Wilson's, completely ignorant of his breath hitching, but then again, not so oblivious of the jolt the touch through his own body. His leg throbbed lightly, "I'm touched now,"

Wilson simply chuckled and patted House's hand lightly. The golden liquid in their glasses still remained intact and thus House decided to shift the heavy air which had fallen around them, he raised his glass and said:

"Well, here's to Jewish cooking oncologists and to the L Word too,"

"Here's to the Grinch and his aged Scotch," was Wilson reply. Their glasses clinked together and they drank, Wilson did not take his eyes of House as he did and House obviously did not fail to notice this. House was about to make a move for his piano and play a melody for a while but then Wilson spoke and he sat still.

"Listen...I might not hear the end of this but..." he turned back towards the edge of the couch and procured a neatly wrapped present, he held it in his hands for a couple of seconds before sighing and handing it over to House, who remained silent, his eyes somewhat wide and his mind working its way towards a sarcastic comment, "Merry Christmas, House,"

House took the present but did not open it, he probably would have mocked Wilson in any other circumstance, he would have embarrassed him endlessly and this would have just made his Christmas Night, but instead he remained silent. The fire cracked in the fireplace, the light kept on shifting and as House looked at Wilson he realised that Wilson was actually shifting ever so slightly, he was anxious...nervous even. House found himself horrifically speechless, his heart kept thumping in his chest and his eyes fixed on Wilson's somewhat blushed face.

He opened the present ever so slowly, for the first time not tearing the wrapping paper apart but actually peeling away the bits of tape which held the wrapping together. As the paper fell off House saw about five LP's and neatly placed on top of them a bar of rich, dark chocolate. He wondered at the chocolate...and as if on cue Wilson said:

"It's for the cold," and House could only nod at this. He smiled a little and then looked up at Wilson.

"Thanks," was all he said and after a few seconds he added, "Foreman stole your present...just so you know," and Wilson laughed.

"Hmm...this has been the first decent Christmas I have had in many years, House," he said with an incredibly soft voice, he laid back on the couch and turned his head towards House. The older man noticed his tired yet content expression and wondered once more.

"Indeed?" was all House could say.

"Indeed, with them...it was tense, complicated...exhausting," House assumed that by them Wilson meant his wives, "don't get me wrong...you're exhausting as well...but...I'm fine with that,"

House's leg started to throb badly; his right hand flew down immediately to rub at his thigh while the other slid down to his pocket until it touched the almost but not quite forgotten Vicodin bottle. Wilson was not ignorant of his moves, it seemed as though he had already sobered up and as House rubbed at his thigh, Wilson's hand drew closer and finally it rested over House's own, on the damaged leg. House's electric blue eyes met Wilson's chocolate ones, House was trying to read Wilson but it proved to be immensely difficult when he could not ignore Wilson's hand on his own.

"I'm fine with this," the younger doctor said as he squeezed House's hand lightly. The latter continued to gaze at Wilson and he heard himself say:

"I'm a cripple, not an idiot..." he turned his face away from Wilson, "No one is fine with this,"

"I am," Wilson pressed on and at this point he was absently caressing House's hand, he squeezed it once more, a bit more insistently this time, "I am fine...with you,"

House scoffed but did not remove his own hand, he seemed to have lost control over it and thus he simply kept looking away from Wilson. He looked around his apartment, he saw Wilson's dark coat, he could still smell the lingering aroma of the pasta, he could still hear the crackling of the fire...and he could feel Wilson's hand.

"This is why I hate Christmas...it makes people say this kind of things," House turned his head back, "say things just because of the holidays... with no meaning,"

"I'm a Jew," Wilson smirked, "I could not care less about the holiday...I just wanted to have an enjoyable afternoon and to tell you a rather evident truth,"

"Seriously, Wilson," House said as he started to remove his hand from under Wilson's.

"Seriously...House," Wilson replied as he grabbed House's hand and boldly entwined their fingers.

"What is it that you want, Wilson?" House demanded rather coldly and he regretted his tone for a moment as he saw something shift in Wilson's eyes, but the younger man still held onto his hand, the pain in his leg long forgotten.

"To be here, House," Wilson replied in an incredibly soft voice as he pushed himself off from where he was sitting and instead leaned in towards House, the latter almost jumped at the movement but he managed to remain still, awaiting Wilson's next move, "will you let me...?"

House suddenly felt Wilson's stubble-free face right next to his own, his soft hand letting go of his own in order to place itself on the small on his back. House was frozen; Wilson then proceeded to wrap his arms around House's shoulders and bury his face in the man's neck and he inhaled his scent. House almost shivered at the contact of Wilson's skin against his own, of Wilson's lips against his neck.

"What...are you doing," House whispered as he closed his eyes and unconsciously tilted his head to provide Wilson with more space.

"I'm just here," was all Wilson whispered against House's neck, "This can be your gift to me...nothing would make me happier,"

"Are you..." House had to stopped then, Wilson had laid an incredibly soft yet burning kiss on his neck and House found himself short of breath, "Are you...saying...that I...ah...make you happy?"

"Surprising, isn't it?" Wilson replied with a small laugh which collided with House's skin and made him shiver once more as he felt Wilson's hands softly trailing on his back, "You don't make a habit out of that...attempting to make people happy, I mean,"

"You...noticed?" House said with a small smirk.

"It would be hard for me not to..." Wilson said, "Notice you..." and he kissed House's neck again. He then moved up slowly, finding himself nose to nose with House, their eyes meeting once more for the umpteenth time that night. The fire was almost out.

They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, the room was completely silent except for their soft breathing, Wilson's hands still travelling up and down House's back in a soft caress. Slowly, closing his eyes, Wilson moved forwards and his lips barely brushed against House's, who almost gasped at the contact. They were not kissing, they were just there. House looked at Wilson, the latter's eyes closed and his lips barely touching his own...he suddenly felt Wilson wet his lips with his tongue and he felt the air leave his lungs.

"House..." Wilson whispered with a husky voice, one of his hands moving towards House's chest, it then moved upwards towards his neck, where it stayed.

"Wilson..." House replied in a deep almost groggy voice, he felt himself in a different world, it all seemed awfully surreal, "I..."

"I want you to stop hurting for a moment," Wilson said as he closed the almost inexistent distance between him and House, the older man remained still for a moment not knowing how to react to the contact and then as he felt Wilson's hand travel down and place itself once more on his leg, as he felt Wilson softly massage it, he began to kiss back, softly, hesitantly. He opened his mouth and Wilson took the opportunity to go in, to know House's mouth and to taste the very own Scotch he had been drinking.

After a few minutes they pulled away from each other, House rested his forehead against Wilson's and sighed, still feeling the younger man's taste on his mouth, he brought his hand up slowly and placed it gently on Wilson's cheek. He allowed himself a small smile as he felt Wilson shift to bring himself even closer to House and then he allowed a few words to escape him...

"Thank you..." he whispered, "Merry Christmas, Wilson,"

Wilson simply chuckled and brought himself closer to House as he sighed once more while the fire gave out and the snow kept falling outside.