House MD Fanfiction

New Year Resolutions

Hilson, first kiss, 1,584 words
By: bananacosmicgirl

A glass of champagne hung lazily from his hand. He didn’t particularly care that it was New Year’s Eve, but he’d received the bottle from a happy patient in remission and they might as well drink it now, welcoming the new year, rather than waiting and feeling like a random alcoholic for drinking it mid-week when nothing special had happened.

Wilson took a sip and glanced at House. “So, any New Year’s resolutions?”

The chairs on their shared balcony weren’t particularly comfortable, but the view of the star-studded sky made up for it. It was nineteen minutes left until the new year, and for some reason, they were still sitting there, at the hospital. Wilson had been called in for an emergency, and he’d forced House to come along. They’d been sitting at a bar and whilst Wilson had kept sober because he was on call, House was far from it. His only other options were to take a cab home or walk, and House was too cheap and lazy respectively, to do either.

“Nope,” House said. “I’m already perfect.”

Wilson snorted.

House glared at him, but it mellowed into a drunken, glazed over look soon enough. Wilson wondered just how much House had had to drink – he’d lost count after the first four shots, three drinks and any number of beers, which House had started on before Wilson had even reached to the bar.

“We should go home,” Wilson said. “My shift ended an hour and a half ago.”

“Nuh,” House said. “’m fine here.”

“My butt’s sore,” Wilson said. “These chairs aren’t comfortable.”

“I can kiss ‘n’ make it better,” House said. He slurred, the words coming out jumbled together.

Wilson had yet to finish his first glass of champagne – it felt wrong to be drinking in the hospital. He knew House didn’t care. Off the top of his head, he could remember just some of the times when he’d gotten drunk in the company of patients: with the death row guy, with the woman who heard with her eyes, and probably on other occasions – and he’d been high, low and everything in between on a wide variety of drugs.

However, as Wilson himself was still sober, the image of House kissing his ass, in a very non-sucking up way, entered his mind.

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing to his side at House, to see that the latter hadn’t noticed. House hadn’t – he sat staring dreamily into the sky, newly re-filled glass of champagne in hand, obviously already oblivious to the effect his words were having on Wilson.

Then again, House couldn’t possibly know how many times Wilson had thought about House kissing him – not necessarily on his ass; his mouth would suffice just fine.

“So what’s your new year’s resu—ruso—you know,” House said, still staring at the stars.

“Re-so-lu-tion,” Wilson spelled out for him, grinning.

“Show-off,” House muttered. “Well?”

Was House drunk enough for this night to be a big black hole, come morning? Could Wilson himself drink just a little bit more, and then blame whatever was about to come out of his mouth on the alcohol? Wilson wasn’t sure.

“I’m thinking about trying to be more honest,” Wilson said.

House looked at him. “Ev’rybody lies – you can’t change that.”

“Yeah well, I can try.”

“So wha’ about?”

“What?” Wilson asked, playing dumb.