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Chapter Text

  'Creak!'

  She felt herself coming to— she felt her eyelids sit heavily as she turned to her left side, curling back into a ball and readjusting the fleece blanket she was wrapped up in. Her fan let out a soft hum. She started slipping asleep again...

  'Creeeeak!'

  She opened her eyes, and glanced at her phone to see the time read '4:09 AM'. She didn't remember coming home. ‘I didn't think I drank that much,’ she thought. Her vision blurry, she blinked a few times again before hearing a noise from across her apartment again. 

'Thunk!'

  This time she felt her blood run cold and her heart begin to race. Groggily, with a thumping heart, she threw herself upright. In the dark, she patted around in the air for her night stand. She tries to quietly find her taser, her mouth dry as adrenaline courses throughout her body. She feels her breathing quicken as her skin begins to feel as though it's covered in a sheet of ice. Her panicked movements become rigid as she shakily grabs her phone. She turns the volume all the way down, legs shaking as she begins to struggle to hold herself still. 

  What does she do? Who does she reach out to? Her boss? Her colleagues? 

  'Someone's in my house' 

  Sent at 4:10 AM

  She frantically texts her friend, Remy, who is on the night shift in the ER. She doesn't know who else to reach out to, who else would be awake at this hour— she can only hope she will see it. 

  She begins typing again. 

  'If you see this Remy please'

  'THUNK!'

  'The bathroom. They're in the bathroom now. Oh my God.' She thinks, feeling her heart rate soar. She feels her heart begin to beat so rapidly, she feels an uneven thumping in her throat. Her arms begin to feel weak as she tries to quietly stand up, the cold floor not even phasing her as she felt her heartbeat in her face. Her legs shake as she feels her late dinner begin to try and lurch upwards. 

  She felt her phone begin to vibrate, the soft and rhythmic whirring just enough to send her into a further state of panic. She glances to see she's getting a call, unable to make out the contact name. 

  'CLANK!'

  The bedroom door slams open. 

  Her phone drops to the ground. Her heart feels as though it stalls, she gets a good look at the figure in the doorway. Illuminated from behind by the kitchen light, she sees a familiar figure, but she just can’t put a name to them. 

  She feels her stomach wretch. She takes a deep breath, still gasping for air. She walks towards his figure. She feels as though she's finally calming down as she sees who it is. She finds herself in the same spot as before, despite knowing she walked towards him. 

  "Back up." He says, his voice heavier than normal. "Where's your fucking wallet?" She feels her eyelids get heavy. She looks down and back up, seeing as the colors of the lights shift. For a moment, the vision of the man she was looking at shifted to someone she couldn't place a name to. The figure was changing. First it was who appeared to be James, now it was a stockier figure…

  "Hello..?" It came out slurred and a mash of syllables, despite knowing what she was trying to say, it wouldn't come out. She was struggling to focus on a single thing. 

  She didn't even feel it until she was back on the bed, the wind knocked out of her body before she realized the figure that she thought was James wasn't him. He was shaking her, his features still indistinguishable. "Have I been drugged..?" She thought, as even with the light from the hall peering into her bedroom she was unable to make out eyes, a nose, a mouth...

  She hears screaming. He's yelling. She can't breathe, she feels herself gasping for air. Her vision becomes blurry and she feels her arms tingle. She gasps, and gasps. Every draw of air felt like an immense struggle as she put more effort in than she got worth of air. She begins to feel her numbing extremities claw at her chest subconsciously as her eyes black. 

  She hears yelling but she can't tell what the figure is saying. She hears clinking metal. She can't tell what it is. She sees nothing but feels as the man gets up, relieving pressure from the bed. She feels wind brush her face before she feels an immense pressure to the side of her head, and then blacks out entirely. 

  "____? Are you there?" she hears a woman's voice, taking an immense amount of energy to open her eyes. Shes greeted with a blurry set of surroundings, she hears movement and can make out the faint figures moving around. The warm kitchen lighting of her apartment greets her once again as she feels the warmth of someone's hand grasping her wrist. She blinks a few times, feeling her mouth fall open as she struggled to make a noise with her vocal chords. 

  "____, can you hear me?" She heard the woman's voice again. She felt a soft vibration in her throat as she makes a soft sound. Her throat felt dry and raw as she noticed every breath she took seemed to add to the dryness. She mustered the energy to nod her head. The slightest bit of movement elicited a gasp as her head began pounding. Her left temple was where it was sourced the worst, and she felt tears prick her eyes as she shut them tight. 

  “My head…” She managed to get out, and felt the hand on her forearm trail to her own. Her eyes opened and she recognized the blurry features of none other than Thirteen. She felt confusion race throughout her body. 

  “We know. Hey, hey… Calm down.” Thirteen said, watching as she began to looked panicked, heart rate picking up on the mobile reader. “We’ve got to get you to the ER. Hang tight, ___.” Remy glanced off to someone to her right, as she removed her hand from hers. The doctor said something she couldn’t quite decipher without being able to read her lips. Her heart picked up as she heard more shuffling. She had a bad case of tunnel vision, and heard a lot but was unable to tell what was going on. “We’re going to sedate you, okay?”

  “What happened?!” She gasped out, and she felt a firmer hand grasp hers. A panicked, male voice said something she couldn’t quite understand. 

  “____, calm down. You’ve bled too much.” She heard a shaky voice say. This did the opposite of what was intended. Her panic picked up as she realized something had happened. Something serious had happened. 

  “Wilson, that’s not helping. She’s going into shock.” Remy muttered, she watched as she grabbed and rifled through a bag before pulling out a vial. ___ didn’t know what to do— her surroundings blurred together as she began to panic. “Calm her down but don’t say anything dumb.” Remy said, preparing the syringe. 

  “James..?” She gasped out, as he moved in closer, Remy out of sight. 

  “Hey, ___. It’s okay. I’m here.” He said, grasping your hand. Despite the sensory overload, she felt his hand shake ever so subtly while she was still unable to gain a clear look at his face. It was blurry, but there were still split seconds where she was able to make out his face. It was red, and his eyes were swollen. “I’m right here, okay? It’s ok-kay.” He stuttered out. She felt tears begin to pour. His grip tightened.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He sounded off, almost seemingly reassuring himself of that. She watched as he looked away, a soft whimper coming from his lips. Her heart rate began to soar, eliciting  panic from Remy. She hears more indistinct voices begin to sound like argue. 

  “You’re okay. I’m so sorry.”

  She felt a pinprick in her arm, and before she 

could process what had happened, she fell unconscious. 

Chapter Text

  168 hours prior. 

    ___ went to take another sip of her coffee, just to find that it was gone, with just a cold drop finding its way into her mouth. She sat the cup back down, and pondered running to the cafeteria to get another dose of caffeine. She felt the aching of the back of her head creep its way into her mind, reminding her of the lack of sleep from the night before. She let out a sigh, before folding the folder in which the current case file sat. 

  "Going to get more 'Crack in a Cup'?" her sarcastic, lanky boss called from his desk across the room. "People don't stop dying because you're caffienated, ___." He added. She restrained the urge to roll her tired eyes, taking in a deep breath before flashing him a smile. 

  "No, but they may die if all of us aren't up to our best. Which includes me." She swallowed, pushing her chair back from the table and standing up. She felt her knees ache and tired feet begin to throb the moment she put her weight on them. 

  "What makes you think you're going to have the answer to this because you had coffee?"

  "What makes you think you'll get the answer if I don't?" 

  And with his mouth shut, she began making her way out of his office, and out of the door. She yawned as she rifled a hand through her hair, every step radiating pain up through her calves as her exhausted body continued on. Her mind wandered in an in-cohesive thought pattern as she droned on for coffee— she might even opt for an energy drink, despite being the first person to warn everyone of how dangerous they are. 'I'm so damn tired, I think this is an exception.'

  She turned the corner, and stepped onto the elevator. She didn't even register who else was in the cab until she heard a familiar clearing of a throat. Her tired eyes shot up, and felt a smile creep on her face. 

  "You look awful." His soft voice rang out with a gentle laugh. She let out a soft laugh herself, and readjusted her lab coat. Her eyes met his soft brown ones, the brunette man with a warm smile pressed a button as the doors closed. 

  "Yeah, that's what I get for working on his team." She said, referring to the rough man with blue eyes she continuously clashed with. "I haven't slept in two days. I feel like I'm going nuts."

  "Two days?? That kind of sleep deprivation can't be good." 

  "No shit. I can't stop drifting off. But we are so close to cracking this case." 

  "You've been saying that for four days, ____. Get some sleep." He said, before feeling the elevator cab come to a gradual stop. The doors opened on the bottom floor, directly into the cafeteria. 

  "I forgot to press a button but I guess it worked out. Grabbing breakfast?" She asked, and he gave her a chuckle. 

  "Making sure you don't OD on caffeine."

  158 hours prior. 

    ____ felt a tap on her shoulder, during her from the sleep that she had accidentally fallen into in the chair next to the patient's bed. 

  "You were right. It was an infection. Broad-spectrum antibiotics worked." Foreman said, quietly. She sat up from the slouched position she was in epic too tired eyes a few times before I look it up at the tall, Black doctor with a faint smile on his face. 

  "Brain damage? From the uh... the fever?" She asked, feeling her mouth dry and neck sore from the position in which she'd unexpectedly and unintentionally fallen asleep in. 

  " if there is any, it's minimal. He still hasn't woken up so we're not sure, but we will do some generalized testing once he's awake. We didn't see any on the MRI." His warm voice made her feel a little better about passing out next to the sick man. "You did some really great work, ___." 

  "Thanks, Foreman." 

  "Go home. I'll call you if anything changes." 

  She was quick to make her way to her locker. Unable to focus on packing the bare minimum of her things up, she sat for a minute, fighting the urge to fall back asleep. It took her a little longer than it should've to remember her lock combination as she felt she was battling herself. 

  "Hey." She heard a voice call from her right. She glances up and is greeted by the same warm, brown eyes she'd met in the elevator this morning. 

  "Hey, James." She said softly, feeling her dry throat scratch at itself with every syllable. 

  "I'm taking you home. House demanded." He said, and she rolled her eyes. 

  "Yeah right. I'll be fine." 

  "You haven't slept for coming up on three days. Your cognitive function is that of someone who is over the legal limit of alcohol. You're not driving. That's a fast pass back here." He said, and she just found the ground with her eyes. "Besides. I watched you for all of three minutes to try and remember your lock combination. Worry about your dry cleaning later and come on." 

  She fought the urge to argue, holding her tongue and falling behind the tall brunette who was now in his casual clothing. 'He must've gone home and come back. He could've just called me a cab.' 

  "Thanks." She said softly, her worn eyes finding themselves struggling to keep from drifting closed. 

  "Yeah." He said, flashing a warm smile, and before she could register where they were, they were already in the parking garage and she was climbing into the passenger seat of his car. She fell asleep sooner than he could pull out of the garage, and he laughed softly to himself. 

  'Only she could preach the importance of sleep like it was gospel but find herself sleep-deprived.' He thought. He glanced over to her sleeping figure, and watched as her chest rose and fell, hair disheveled from the ponytail it was falling out of.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

  Her eyes shifted from the brunette with an amber tint in her hair as she glanced back down to her hot cup of coffee in hand. Despite having slept a lifetime for many people, she still felt the pangs of exhaustion on her overworked body tugging at her joints as well as her lack of ability to focus on one thing at a time as she gradually recovered. She found herself longing for the comfort of James' bed, as odd as it was. Not him, but the wonderfully luxurious bed in which she now sees a necessity.

'Who knows if I'll sleep that well again without that damn bed.'

"_____?"

Her eyes flit up to the previously mentioned Thirteen. She flashed her the familiar lost-in-thought smile in which her face is normally decorated.

"I'm exhausted, I am so fucking sorry." She stated, a soft laugh elicited from the two. Despite having slept as much as she has, she still felt tiredness tug at her eyes.

"I can tell. Wilson said you were wiped but I didn't expect you to still be a walking corpse." She said, and ___ sighed, tightening her messy bun that lay upon her head. Her soft baby hairs sat wildly as they wanted, too short to go up with the rest of her hair.

"Yeah, I'm honestly not doing the best. I think House was actually right in forcing me to take the week off. I can hardly focus on anything." 

"There's this really weird thing that happens, when you don't sleep like you're supposed to—"

"Shhh... I'm feeling the consequences of my actions. Trust me. I'm a million times more miserable than I look, and I know I'm roughing it right now." She stated, feeling her joints ache as she reached for her cup of coffee. Every movement felt as though there was sand in between her joints. “I’ve also got a lot on my mind that I am trying to navigate. I just haven’t had an opportunity between such big cases. I know it is literally our job, but we haven’t had an easy case in months. I miss the times I was able to just go screw with Wilson while he wrote up emails.”

  "So... how do things seem?" Remy asks, seemingly pushing for a conversation she didn't quite want to bring up. Not directly, at least. ____ cocked her head, setting her cup down once again.

  "How does what seem?" ____ asked.

  "Things." Remy said, again, indirectly pressing. Still confused, ____ was about to ask for clarification, before her eyes caught those of the softly parted brunette male, making his way towards the two from the coffee counter, two cups in hand.

  ____ smiled, and moved over in her booth to make room for her friend as his eyes met hers with a warm, shy smile making its way upon the flirts' face.

  "You look much better than last night." He commented, setting the cups down in front of them. Remy gave him a quiet 'hey' as he got situated.

  "Hey, James. You meeting someone?" ____ asked, moving over a little more so he could get comfortable. He moved over a little more, mere inches between the two.

  "Thirteen let me know where you guys were going so I swung by and gave you a house key." He said, and dug into his pocket for a minute, before dishing out his keys. He plucked a freshly made, bright silver one from his key ring, and handed it to you.

  Thirteen's eyes widened, and to seemingly keep her mouth shut, she took a sip of her coffee.

  "Thank you..? I don't...?" ____ stammered, wondering why this was necessary besides so she can grab her stuff later, but she assumed she'd just go back to her place until later.

  "I know your apartment is on the rough side of town, and I have a conference I leave for at the end of the month for a week, and I just wanted to extend... the offer of somewhere... safer to you. Plus I'll probably be working late, so you can grab your stuff at least." He said, 'cooly' as he could. Thirteen shot James a confused look. She arched an eyebrow and leaned forward a little.

  "Are you asking her to house-sit or are you inviting her to move in?" James' face went red and he let out a nervous laugh.

  "I'm just letting her know she is always welcome over if she needs to! When House and I went by her apartment to grab some stuff the other night it was... shady." He said, trying his hardest not to offend the girl next to him, avoiding eye contact.

  “I am happy to house-sit. We can talk about that later, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow at the latest.” ___ said, and James was happy to take any out of this conversation, even if his out is ‘house sitting’.

  "Who is the other coffee for? House?" Thirteen asked.

  "No, no. That ass can buy his own coffee after the emotional torment I was subject to last night." He said, a sigh leaving his face as he paranoidly glanced around the room, as if to judge whether or not it was clear to say what was on his mind in the moment. Remy cocked an eyebrow, obviously intrigued by the vague statement.

  "What 'torment' did you have to endure?” She said, gently tossing her long, chestnut hair behind her shoulders.

  “It is a crime and extremely offensive for me to be friends with a female that is not the exact same age as me.” He said, feeling a heat make its way to his face with the mere mention of the conversation. He almost felt like he was ripping the innocence from his mature, younger friend by even thinking about her following the visuals House had nearly injected into his head.

  Several hours were spent on and off “teasing” Wilson for his intentions with the young colleague the two shared. House consistently swore she was only around for being an excellent doctor and a total idiot with the passion for her job to leave her relentlessly exhausted at all times, seeing as she needs to be virtually held at gunpoint to sleep.

  “You’re keeping her around and only doing this as a fastpass into her panties. I’ve seen her ass, I don’t blame you, but at least be honest and stop making yourself look like you’re sacrificing things so she feels more compelled to lie with you.” He remembers House uttering. Wilson just threw him another hateful glance, and resumed his attention back to his phone.

   ‘Maybe I seriously like her around. Is that such a forgein concept to you? I have a plethora of female friends that I have never tried sleeping with. You can’t seem to make friends with any woman without making it clear the relationship is one-way.’ Wilson thought to himself, just before standing up to check on you. That was the last comment House got in last night before finally dropping the topic.

  At least, until midnight struck another day.

  “Says House?” ____ asked, cocking her head.

  “ Implied House. He also implied a lot of other things that have me ignoring his existence today.” He said, taking another heavy sigh as he took a sip of the warm coffee in hand. He felt the urge to glance at ____ as she was part of the discussion, but ignored it. 

  ‘I don’t want her knowing House thinks of her that way. Besides, I have more than one very close female friend, so it's not like she would gather that from this conversation. Right?’ He thought to himself, before finding his inner monolog more confusing than beneficial.

  He would, in moments following, find that this did not work as planned.

  He sat up readjusting his position next to the tired woman next to him. She slowly nodded, finally understanding what the conversation likely included. She fought off a soft giggle, watching her brunette friend fight a soft blush that was finding its way up on the flirts’ cheek. 

  “Why are you so pressed? Sounds like textbook House to me. Angry and horny.” Remy muttered, once more taking a sip of her coffee. James stuttered over himself.

  James, in fact, was not entirely upset because of the misogyny that he had to endure by sitting idly by his now hammered best friend. He, too, was drunk, while you slept heavily in the other room. Occasional, soft snores could be heard in the living room. 

  “So, you’re not gonna even try ?” The diagnostician said, setting his now-empty scotch glass back onto the coffee table.

  “House. She is not interested, and young.” James muttered for what felt like the millionth time.

  “‘Young’ is an awful excuse to not pursue the babe in your bed. You really can tell me more about her than any of your ex-wives but you refuse to even try going on a date with her.” The drunk spat out, some truth to his searing words that James refused to accept.

  “Maybe I want a serious, platonic relationship like this with someone other than you, House. Whether or not I like her doesn’t matter, I’m not pursuing anything.”

  “Now that you’ve made it very clear you’re not going to sleep with her, when I do, I’ll be sure to take pictures.”

  “Yes, that is textbook House. Doesn’t mean I should have to deal with him reducing my friends to nice bodies.” He said, glancing to his left and unintentionally making eye-contact with the hopefully-unaware person that brought upon the subject matter.

  Both Remy and ____’s eyebrows arched, shooting the oncologist a curious glance as he continued to clam up.

  “Who is House jealous that you have around?!” The pair spat out at once, almost as if they had rehearsed the moment a million times. He was mildly taken aback, wondering why this conversation didn’t run through his head as a potential outcome to the topic posed.

  For obvious reasons, he was not sure he was ready to sell out his best friend to the innocent, or so he assumed, younger woman next to him that he was not sure would like to hear of the ways her boss objectified her while she was unconscious in the other room. 

  James felt the familiar heat he tried to overcome over the last few minutes on several occasions burn as it finally won– the tall, flushed brunette finding himself stumbling over words in his head, unknowingly stuttering a response out to the two.

  “Cameron.” He spat, little thought following the exclamation. She was the first, non-___ girl that he has even remotely considered a ‘close’ friend over the two facing him. 

  He locked eyes with ____, and she looked puzzled. He knows, even while absolutely exhausted, she was not buying the lie the man spoke. He knew she was calculated, and knew this was not something she would drop until she knew who he was really referring to. He could feel the urge to call him out to his face– a characteristic he both loved and hated about her– but watched as she readjusted in her seat.

  Strangely enough, she nodded, flashed him a smug grin, and shrugged. 

  “Sounds about right. He always did want to sleep with her.” ___ said softly, taking another sip of the now less-scalding, bitter coffee. James watched in shock as she seemingly continued about listening, not a word leaving her lips. Her baggy eyes now trained on the opening and closing of the slightly busy coffee shop.

  “Cameron? You still keep in touch with her?” Remy asked, setting her now almost empty cup to the table. James pulled his confused face from the apparently disinterested girl next to him.

  “Well, yes, but very sparingly.” He said, shifting as he felt Remy nearly see right through him. Her face quickly became that of disbelief, but she knew better than to press the man for more answers than he was ready to give. She cleared her throat, it becoming increasingly obvious that she did not believe a word he was saying.

  “Okay. Okay. Not Cameron. But who it is doesn’t really matter. They’re a close friend and that is that, I don’t know why House seems to think I only ever want to sleep with the people I have around me. Maybe they’re just good company.” He explained, and relaxed, not realizing the short lived lie had already begun to take a toll on his physicality. The bigger lie he didn’t need to address was that he’d almost definitely, on more than one occasion, found himself wondering what this ‘unspoken’ person would be like as a romantic partner, but that’s just curiosity, right? Is it a crime to imagine what a friend would be like as a partner? 

  He glanced back at ____, who was still seemingly anywhere emotionally than the coffee shop.

  “It’s House, Wilson. You know better than anyone else his cynical ass only brings young women around for one reason.” She said, letting a sigh leave her lips, as she sat back against the rest of her chair. “You’re telling me he’s never harassed you for anyone else?” She pushed.

  “Yes, of course he has, but he is particularly insistent with this person in specific.”

  “Maybe it is his weird ‘House’ way of getting you two together. He is very good at reading people.” Remy said. She took the final sip of her coffee, gently setting the empty cup down onto the table. She glanced over at her friend, noticing her blank stare towards the floor. ‘Maybe she should get going.’

  ‘“I-I mean, maybe. But regardless it isn’t any of his business. And I don’t even know if I could be in a romantic relationship with this person. I’m not sure it has even crossed my mind prior to this conversation.” He said, rubbing his thumb against one another underneath the table. He felt unusually nervous speaking those words right next to the unspoken woman in question. He caught another glimpse of the unusually quiet ___ next to him. She had her eyes trained on the door again. He gently tapped her thigh under the table, and she whipped her head around to look at him. She came to, seemingly previously stuck in another universe before flashing him a soft smile.

  “‘M sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. Sorry, I am listening!” She muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, flashing a sleepy, almost distracted smile to the oncologist. He felt his anxiety manifest as butterflies in his stomach. He was unsure if it was because of the smile or the subject matter. 

He flashed a warm smile in response, feeling his anxiety climb higher with the innocent action.

  “Hey, ___, I’m sorry to drag you out. You don’t look well. Let me take you home.” Remy interrupted, and ____ shook her head.

  “No, no, it’s okay! I’ve missed you guys. We haven’t hung out like this in months. I’ll go home and go to bed later. Do either of you have somewhere to be?”

  “I’ve got work in about an hour. But, Remy is right. You should go rest.” James said, finding his hand rubbing her shoulder. She flashed him a warm smile, and shook her head. “I can take you home if you need, too, or you can grab your house key from my car.” He said, glancing at Remy to watch as she nodded her head in response.

  “I have a lot on my mind right now. This is more helpful than you know.” She said. 

  “So… Who is the extra coffee for?” Remy asked, and James, without a word, hands it to Remy seeing as ___ has not even nearly finished hers.

Chapter Text

144 hours prior.

  Wilson felt incredibly uncomfortable the entire ride to work after and following. Now he finds himself sitting at his desk, wondering how the conversation derailed to the point it did at coffee. She didn't seem alarmed, and nothing really came of the situation, but he wondered why he even felt the urge to talk about it. Maybe he just wanted to get the situation off of his chest to his closest friends, but regardless, it left him feeling as if he would have been better off without bringing it up. 

  He ran a hand through his once well-groomed hair for what was the millionth time, sat up in his desk chair and readjusted. He stretched, feeling more relaxed as he sat back, just to find his previous stress and conversation-related anxiety making its way back to his mind, making every sentence an uncomfortable and virtually impossible feat to type as his mind continued to overthink and stress.

  He was worried about her. She seemed so stressed and lost during the entire conversation, but continued to vouch for hanging out after work. James was not one to fight off a night outing with the two people that do not devalue the conversation to purely sex and direct insults after a few drinks. Granted, he did know a little bit more about her sex life because of those occasionally escalated, drunken conversations, but they were very rare and not a regular occourance. He enjoyed that, though. 

  Not the sex conversations with her. That's not what he meant. He meant that they were rare. Not that they're not welcome when they happen because her, him, and Remy don't talk about them that often and it’s not like it’s not fun and enlightening to learn about your friends sexual habits—

  'Jesus, James.' He thought to himself, completely shutting down that thought train. 

  Until it came right back to her. 

  What was she like as a partner? Like, romantically?

  He's never put THAT much thought into it. Into what all she could potentially be, romantically. Of course he's wondered what she'd be like as a romantic partner... just not in the way he insinuated. He's never just thought about the romantic characteristics she could bring to a relationship. In fact, in the last two years, he has very seldom heard of her romantic life outside of their late-night-drinking conversations. She is human, of course she is going to hookup with people, isn't that what college was for? He's just never put that much into whether or not he's heard of the "real" relationships she might've previously had. 

  Those conversations always had him distracted the days following. Every time he would see her standing in the hallway, tense discussion with her boss, he could only imagine her with another man. How many times he might've seen you at work not knowing you'd just moments before been with another man? She hadn't ever told him about any specific person she might've been seeing or 'fucking' while they'd been friends, but he can't imagine that she had been celibate the entirety of their friendship. 

  Anyone would be a monster to pass up on her. Have they seen her? You don't have to want to be in your pants to admire her perfect body and hair that falls past her shoulders, a smile that can do a million things to a man, and an attitude that stops for no one. You don't have to be interested to imagine her in his bed, that she had been sleeping in—

  'I should go for a walk.' He thought. 

  139 hours prior.

  Wilson, while in the elevator, was thanking God he'd made it to the moving car with few interactions. He was almost excited to get home. Everyone and their mother loves to stop and chat, but for once, he was set on making his way home and getting out of hospital. Maybe that's why he's so anxious. 

  He was surprised when the car doors opened to see you, a big smile, seemingly freshened up and makeup done. Your hair was up in a ponytail, and your eye bags gone with virtually no sign of ever existing. 

  "Hey, James!" 

  He felt his heart lurch at the sight of you, and butterflies again, but this time he knew why he was feeling them. 

  "Hey, ___! You look... great! Much, much better. Wow." He spat, exiting the car. Her now widening grin made his heart suddenly skip a beat. "It's so nice to see you feeling better. Wow." He got out, as the two walked to the side of the hospital lobby out of the path of traffic to and from the elevator. She softly giggled. 

  "Thank you, I took the most relieving drug-induced nap, took the most relaxing shower ever, got my nails done, and ate the first real meal in days." She said. He still found himself fighting the total one-eighty she had exhibited. 

  "That's so great to hear. Again, you look great." He said, once more checking ___ up and down. He took in her well dressed figure, high-waisted black slacks tracing every inch from the beginning of your soft skin-pink, satin button-up down to the flared pant legs that barely cover your black heels. The top button of the satin shirt was unbuttoned, but leaving very little exposed. 

  He swallowed. 

  "You off?" She asked, after a few quiet moments had passed, bringing his eyes back to hers. He muttered a sorry before clearing his throat, tearing his eyes from her. 

  "Yeah, actually. You're here? I mean, like why are you here? If you don't mind me asking?" He asked, it finally occurring to ask what she could be doing on a vacation here. 

  She readjusted her purse on her shoulder that he had failed to notice earlier.  

  "I'm picking you and Thirteen up. It's my turn to be DD." She said, confused, cocking her head at him. He let out an 'Ohhh.' "I texted you, silly. I just figured since Remy said she was running late wrapping up some labs, I'd just come hang out with you until you're off. She has an ETA of another two hours but didn't text back until I got here."

  "Hey, don't worry about being DD. I'll just buy us a cab. Are you feeling okay enough to go to the bar tonight? We can always stay in at my place, a No-House-Allowed-Party." He asked, and she giggled and nodded. He felt himself fidgeting with his keys in his pocket. Why was he so anxious today?

  "Yes, I feel much better, but I have no problem having a night in. Maybe we can play Mario Party or something on the Switch!" She suggested, and he laughed. "Unless you're too old..." She carried on, and he rolled his eyes. 

  "I can still have fun as a geezer." He stated, and she giggled once again. "Besides, I'm going to kick your ass. Mario was my thing longer than yours, kid." 

  "I'm not a kid! I'm a whole ass adult with a doctorate. Please, James, show me how great you are at Mario Party." She joked, biting her lip softly to keep from smiling and continue with the 'sassy' act, but ultimately failing as the corners of her mouth betrayed the act and curled upwards. 

  He again, felt his heart skip a beat. All he did was smile, like a total idiot for all of 20 awkward seconds, before readjusting his shoulders. 

  Whatever she was doing was intentional, it had to be. This has to be flirting. Or he was reading too deep into it. Was this because of the derailed thought train from earlier? 

  'You imagine your incredibly beautiful coworker and friend beneath you for one second and now you've got a manufactured crush. God, I hate the brain.' He thought to himself. 'This'll go away by the end of the week. Just don't fuck things up between now and then.'

  "Yeah, sure. Let's go hang out in my car while we wait for Thirteen to get off?" He asked. Wait, why did he ask? Maybe right now the last thing he needs is one-on-one contact with her, considering his confused and odd feelings awkwardly presenting itself—

  "Oh! Well, sure! I'd love to." She said, and with that, she started walking towards the sliding doors of the lobby. He watched as she took every step, the black cotton slacks complimenting her figure, doing nothing good for the situation he was in. 

  He quickly came to, following her, a few big steps to make sure it was not obvious he'd stopped and gawked at the woman moments before. 

137 hours prior. 

  "I feel great, really, Wilson. Thank you for keeping an eye on me. Oh, and really, thank you for letting me crash at your place for a while. It means a lot." She said. "Also, your shower is sooo comforting. I showered at mine earlier but it reminded me of the literal heaven you harbour." She said, eliciting a laugh from the woman next to him, as the two sat in the driver and passenger seat of his car. 

  "Yeah, absolutely ____. I'm really glad you let me... help, I guess? But you're always welcome to 'crash' at my place." He said, and she flashed him a soft, sincere smile, as her eyes float up to meet his. He had to glance away and break eye contact, but his efforts were short lived as he still felt the boyish-crush he refused to accept cause his heart rate to pick up for a moment. 

  "Thank you, James. Really. I mean that. You have no clue how much I appreciate this. You're great." She said. This feels like deliberate teasing but her words are saying otherwise. 

  "Yeah. Absolutely." He said, making eye contact with her. A mistake had been made, as her beautiful eyes peered into his. He'd found his eyes stuck on hers as he took her delicate, expressive eyes in. The captivating, youthful woman was nothing short of an absolute beauty. He's always known this. He's always known how beautiful she is. Why is this an issue now? Why is he physically incapable of tearing his eyes from her? 

  How can she look at him like this and not feel the way he does? Does she feel this nearly electric draw towards her that he does? Did this weird almost... attraction start destroying her thoughts recently too? Or is this all in his head, and this a purely platonic relationship for her? Could she possibly be into someone a little over 10 years her senior? Why is age a thing to him now, he didn't care before? 

  Why did she have to wearing such a complimentary shirt? Why does that emerald necklace he's never noticed prior compliment her eyes so well—

  And then the rear passenger car door opened, and House peered in. Wilson's gaze tore from the evidently distracting woman in his passengers seat, to look at the one man he sought to avoid most at the current moment. 

  "I told you not to come into the hospital. Didn't expect you to be so excited to come back." The gruff doctor said, setting his cane in the seat, ducking his head to get in and sit in the sedan. 

  "I believe you said I was allowed if I was 'gawking at my old man crush, James Wilson' or something?" She retorted, absolutely baffling the brunette in the drivers seat. He struggled to keep his expression of extreme shock from being painted as he looked at House to read his expression, then back to her, quickly glancing as ____ and House locked eyes. His narrowed. 

  "Touché." He said to her, before moving his steel eyes to Wilson's. 

  "What are we doing tonight?" He asked, a smug smile on his face, knowing his prying was all but necessary. 

  "We... me, ___, and Thirteen are playing Mario Party. Anything else, Dad?" He asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

  "Am I not invited?" House asked, a hand on his chest as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. When James rolled his eyes, the feigned choking back tears ensued, and James turned around, facing forward in his seat. Looking at the woman next to him, he watched as she locked eyes with his once again while fighting back laughter. 

  "No. Now get out of my car." James said, crashing the playful banter as though it was inappropriate... for sitting in the car while waiting to get drinks. 

  ___ playfully smacked his leg. 

  "C'mon, James! It'll be fun." She said, seemingly vouching for her 'asshole boss', as she calls him.

  "No. This is a No-House-House-Party." He said, sternly. No one bought it. 

  "No-House-Allowed-Party." She coughed in correction, and his upset expression changed immediately as he gave her the knowing look he was struggling to keep his composure while playing around. 

  "No. Seriously though. We can do something another night, House." He said, and House huffed. 

  "Fine. I didn't want to play Mario Party anyways." He said, before grabbing his cane, opening the door, and swiftly leaving. 

  "He took that well." She said. 

  "There's still a fifty-fifty chance he will show up." 

  "Ahhh." She noted, eyes then training on the windshield and the stagnant car in front of the two. 

  The door opens once again, and the unwelcomed guest pops his head in once again.  

  "By the way, Thirteen was wrong on the diagnosis so she won't be going to your Mario Party. Serves you losers right." And walked away after a slammed car door. The pair watched as he kept walking and hobbling out of the parking garage until he was no longer able to be seen.

  James is glad House busted in. He almost didn't stop himself from kissing her.

Chapter Text

132 hours prior. 

  ____ was bummed, but she would be lying if she said Remy needing to stay late isn't anything she didn't at least semi-expect. She knew how the job worked, seeing as she works in the same position, but knew that this wouldn't exactly mean they wouldn't hang out. At least, hopefully. 

  For the past few hours, ____ and James have been sitting on his couch. Small talk and the like, they'd begun watching the Iron Man movies in order while they waited for a text from their missing friend. ____ had started drinking on the hours prior, and was a little more than buzzed but was already feeling the 'buzz' fade.  The slight impairment of her cognition was nothing that bothered her after the days of sleeplessness. 

  "You know? Tony Stark is kind of hot. For an old dude. The gray looks good." She said, cleaning the spoon she had in her mouth from the cookie dough ice cream pint she'd bought earlier for their impromptu movie night. 

  "Never had you pegged as a Robert Downey Junior kinda gal."James said, leaning forward to place his empty bowl of mango sherbet onto the coffee table she had her feet resting on. 

  "No, no. Not RDJ. Tony Stark. Big difference. One is a sexy, rich, 'egotistical' life-saving dude." She responded, her eyes still trained on the movie in front of her. She readjusted, the soft gray throw blanket falling from the shoulders they were previously draped upon. 

  "Oh. So rich is what's attractive to you?" He asked, his genuine curiosity coming out as sly sarcasm. 

  "No, I mean, money is nice. But I make money so that's never been a deal breaker for me." She said, digging her spoon into the ice cream for another bite, picking out the cookie dough pieces. 

  "What are your dealbreakers? Just curious." He asked, eyes keeping focused on the action movie, glancing on occasion towards her to see hers hasn't left the television. 

  "Hmm. Never really put much thought into it. Someone who is incapable of fun, bad hygiene, people who lack the ability to see something as more than black-and-white, judgmental people I guess." She said, swallowing the bite of carefully crafted cookie-dough-only cookie dough ice cream. 

  "Well, those are... normal. You sound like you would date anyone. Any specific turn ons?" He pried, wondering himself at this point if he was really just curious or his horny subconscious was just trained on the woman on his couch and what it'd take her to be with him. 

  She filled a shot glass with more vodka, and slammed it.

  "Oh.... oh! Emotional maturity, tall, I like a guy to be a little older than me—" She started, but her phone began ringing before she could even finish the sentence she was speaking. 

  "Hey, Remy! What's up?" She asked. 

  James' eyes finally leaving her and back to the television as he attempted to process her responses. He was emotionally mature. Was he tall? He was definitely older than her. How could she not be talking about him? Was she into him? 

  No, no. Why would it matter? 

  "Hey. James." She said, waving her hand in his face, trying to get the man's attention. He quietly apologized and fixed his attention on her. "They lost the patient. Remy is gonna take the night to herself." She said, and he sighed. 

  "That's really difficult. I'll reach out later and see how she's doing." He said. 

  "Yeah, for sure. I think I should probably head out if we aren't really doing anything. Thanks for having me over. We should watch the second movie sometime soon!" She said, and while he hated to see her leave, he couldn't keep her if she was ready to leave. 

  "Hey, I haven't drank anything yet, I'll just take you home." He said, walking towards her end of the couch to help his friend up. 

  When standing up, she stumbled a little bit. Her knee gave in.

  She instinctually wrapped her arms around the man helping her up, her arms wrapping around his arm as he helped her stand up. She blushed, embarrassed by her almost-tumble. He laughed softly. She did as she decided not to fight the embarrassment. She looked up at him once more with those incredulously distracting eyes. 

  He, in this moment, was once again distracted by his coworker in his arms. He was unsure of where this was going or why he keeps ending up in this position with her. Is it because he's finally noticed his... feelings... no matter how temporary they may be? Is that why he keeps catching these moments? How did he not notice these moments before? How have they not happened before and how did he go so long not knowing he felt this way—

  Before he could stop anything that happened, she pressed her lips onto his. Drunken confidence, or whatever it may be, her lips were on his. 

  He felt the feverish warmth her lips radiated. The soft flesh she placed upon his was nothing shift but delicate, incredibly soft, and a pleasure to feel against his. 

  He was not fighting whatever was going on. Even if this is just a small crush, he isn't fighting her. Not the moves she's making while touching him and kissing him the way she is. 

  He is still drinking the shock and feeling in, feeling as her hands made their way to his chest, gently pressing. He stumbled backwards, and sat back on the couch. She was on top of him, lips refusing to leave his as she pressed her body weight further into him. Without noticing, he continues to kiss back, pulling her into his lap so she sit directly on top of his crotch. She opens her mouth, allowing him to press his tongue further into the kiss, tasting her tongue... and immediately pulled away. 

  "Oh my god. You've been drinking. I forgot your drink." He said out loud. "I am so sorry. I don't know why I didn't stop this sooner. Why did I not stop? You're drunk." He said, recoiling into himself as she stares at him in shock, pulling away from his face. 

  "James, I've had some to drink, that doesn't mean I'm hammered."

  "No, but you struggled to stand on your own, meaning you've drank enough to probably be making rash decisions."

  "James, I'm an adult who can handle her liquor."

  "So you make out with me? Sober ____ isn't interested in me in that way, why would ____ be other than because she's drunk?" He asked, and she drug her hand down her face. 

  "James. I drank some to build confidence. Jesus. I kissed you because you're attractive and I'm interested."

  "You kissed me because you're drunk." He said, unsure of how she can insist that this was all consensual when she couldn't even stand on her own. 

  "I understand why you feel that way. But I promise I'm not hammered. I was making a move on you because I wanted to. My knee just gave out."

  She was still sitting in his lap, eyes scanning his face for any expression shift. His brown eyes nearly bored into her as he was left incredibly confused. She is vouching her sobriety, while sitting in his lap... after drinking as much as she has and struggling to stand. 

  "Why did you make a move? We've been friends for two years. Why now?"

  "I-I don't know. It just felt right. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." She said, eyes avoiding his, shifting to get off of his lap, before his hands reached her hips and brought her right back to where she was. Her mesmerizing eyes met his again. He felt as though he was hypnotized by her gaze, as her eyes searched his for any answer for his actions. 

  "I'm into you. I'm just not sure of where we are or what we are doing. Or what I even... want."

  "James, I'm into you too. This has been obvious for ages." She said, and he cocked his eyebrow at her. "I... I also heard some of the stuff you and House said last night. I know you're not interested romantically and I'm okay with that. I'm okay with just having... you." She said, and he shifted, feeling her weight shift and almost press more into his crotch, sending more of exactly the signals you'd expect. 

  "I-I... I don't know what to say." He said, and she leaned forward, her forehead pressed to his, tips of noses touching. 

  "You don't have to say anything. Just no if you're not interested, okay?" She said, eyes close to his, reading the brown optics as they shifted from uncertainty to what was unmistakably internal calmness. "Just tell me to stop if you want me to stop."

  "Wait... Wait. You're sober, right? Like, one-hundred percent?" 

  "If you had me blow, I would pass. Probably. Mentally, very sober." She confirmed, pausing for a minute, watching his face continue to soften. 

  After a few more moments passed, her soft hands found themselves bracing his soft, well shaven face. One hand cupped his right cheek, while her left hand met the hair on the back of his head. She leaned in, placing a soft kiss to his lips once again, the feverish heat calmed as his lips return the kiss. 

  His hands slowly made their way to her hips, as she continued to kiss the man in her lap, being bent to her will with what could've just been a smile. 

  He was finally realising how much she had him truly wrapped around his finger, as he felt his hardened penis twitch in his slacks against what was unmistakably her warm nethers. She shifted, and he fought back an unexpected grunt that attempted to make its way from between his lips.

  She once again opened her mouth, and his tongue entered her mouth. He pulled her forward one again, ass directly upon his throbbing penis through his work pants. His head flew back, head now resting on the back of the plush couch.  He took a deep breath as he felt her intentionally begin to grind in his lap. He knew watching her clothed hips move in such a sultry manner would be enough to end the night early, so he didn't dare watch. His eyes were closed, anyways, as he tried his hardest not to take her then and there. 

  He couldn't believe she was here, in his lap, grinding on him. With every shift of her hip, he found the feeling much more surreal and welcomed than the last. The feeling of her ass pressing against him was nothing he'd imagined before, but knew in the moment was surpassing all expectations he could've had. She felt great and they were both fully clothed. 

  With another thrust, a soft moan left her lips, sending absolute shockwaves throughout his body. His eyes open and move back to her, to see her eyes closed, hair hanging in front of her face, and mouth gaping as soft noises left her throat. He watched as she grasped her breast over the silky pink button down that she'd managed to get unbuttoned to the third button from the top since this interaction began. 

  He reached forward, grasping her right breast over her hand as she continued to grind into him. Her eyes flit open, and the eye contact sent jolts through his form, his cock throbbing more as her weight shifts. 

  He began unbuttoning her blouse, leaving forward into her, pressing their chests together while he reached around her frame to unclamp her bra that had left her breasts behind the fabric. He helped pull her straps down, watching as her beautiful bust met his eyes, swaying with the movement of her hips while she grinds into him. 

  She stopped her movements and kissed him again, untying his tie and beginning to unbutton and expose his top as well. Her hands and freshly groomed nails raked his chest, smooth and soft. 

  She stood up of off him, and began unbuttoning her slacks while he watched. She dropped her panties with, eyes trained on James and never leaving his as the eye contact was nothing more than hypnotising. She felt like a surreal, almost mythical force taking him this way. She had him obediently following her every move, and absolutely speechless with every second that passes. 

  And she knows she has this effect on him. So what does she do? She continues. 

  Her hands trailed up her body slowly as he watched, absentmindedly fidgeting and unbuttoning his pants as well. His penis strained at his boxers, a small wet mark where the tip of his penis is. 

  She slowly crawled back into his lap, his penis still clothed. He felt as she sat down, placing her body weight against his member once again. The wetness of her aroused pussy pressing against him, all wet and warm was enough to send his mind into overdrive as he felt every moment of it. 

  "James, am I sexy?" She asked, the unsureness inflicted by her selection of her words contradicting the smug smile painted across her normally innocent face. 

  "Absolutely, baby." He said, struggling to keep himself from devouring her whole as she sat in his lap, little shifts worsening his composure. 

  "Is that why you like me?" She asked, cocking her head. 

  "Is what why I like you?"

  "I'm young. Is that why? Is the age gap sexy to you?

  "No, it's not the only reason. But it is... kind of a turn on."

  "Me? Being younger? Sitting in your lap, all wet for you is what is a turn on?" She asked, feigning naivety as she bucked her hips up and into his cock once again, riding the shaft of his feverish penis through his boxers. 

  "You are the turn on. Everything about you is a turn on." He said, lowering her hips and once again dragging her against him, making his cock absolutely pulsate against her hot pussy. 

  "I think about you a lot, James." She said, pointer finger touching his lips as she slowly dragged it down his body. "I think about you and touch myself a lot, I mean. And you are so much more delicious than I expected." She said, her finger dragging along his stomach. 

  "You feel so fucking good when I imagine you. I hope the real thing is just as good." She said, leaning forward and whispering into his ear. 

  The shudders this sent down his spine were enough to distract him from the fact she had pulled his penis from his boxers, and now had her hand wrapped around his shaft while her finger gently and slowly collected precum from the tip of his dick and ran her thumb along the underside of his head. 

  The eyes that bore into his were absolutely unrelenting. He watched as she touched him so intimately without any words or device or orifice. He is completely encapsulated by your sexiness and hands alone.

  "How does just the touch of my hands feel, James?" She asks, picking up speed mildly as she begins to jerk the man off. "Your cock is really nice, by the way. So thick, perfect length... I can only imagine it would hit me in all the right places if I was all wet around you." She hummed. 

  "Fucking good. So good. And yeah. I'd hit that G-Spot until no tomorrow. You wouldn't be able to see right, and I'd be so fucking in those guts, you'd— Hoooo fuck yeah, ____. Just like this." He was caught off, as her lips wrapped around his thick cock. Her tongue was quick to flit on the sensitive spot right underneath the head on the underside of his cock. She moved her hands up and down in sync with one another and her tongue did not relent. The muscle that would likely be sore by now if it were anyone else was unrelenting and absolutely determined to make this man whine beneath her. 

  He felt as if his world was spinning around him while he struggled to catch his breath and keep quiet. The unyielding power of her tongue while she stroked his dick was nothing short of mind numbing. Eyes trained on her, he watched as her mouth enveloped nearly every inch of his cock. He watched her eyes as she gagged just a little, before going back up and down on his hot, throbbing dick. His breath hitched and a soft 'Oh... fuck.' slipped from the oncologists lips while he had the woman's movements destroy any thoughts he had. Her mind numbing oral expertise was nothing short of that— expert.

  James felt himself growing near, watching as the woman in her knees in front of him continued without a single stop. The rhythmic stroking she exhibited seem to be down to a science, as she knew right away when he started to get close and picked up her pace, tongue never faltering. 

  "Oh my God, ___." He hissed, feeling the familiar feeling of what was to be an explosive orgasm further creeping up on him. She glanced up and locked eyes, a sinister smile all but visible while her mouth was full with nothing other than his member. 

  Close. He's so close. 

  "Oh my God, I think I'm gonna—"

  And without fail, her phone begins to ring once again. 

  "It's Remy." She announced, before picking up the phone. 

  His eyes flit open, and she is on the other side of the couch again, his mango sherbet was melted in his lap, and Iron Man was still on. 

  "You're on your way? Awesome. We haven't even opened any drinks yet. Yes, I know, save the Tito's. Okay. I'll see you in a few! Yes, door is unlocked."

  He blinked twice, looking around. He looked down, seeing nothing more than a penis-shaped bulge in his pants. He reached for a blanket from the basket to his left, and made no hesitation covering himself up. 

  "How was your nap?" ___ asked, getting up to grab drinking glasses from his cabinets to set the room for the party following. 

  "Good. Didn't they lose the patient?" James asked. 

  "No, it was just some fungal infection. Easy case."

  "Oh."

Chapter Text

  127 hours prior. 

  She'd noticed James hadn't drank a sip more that night after waking up from his nap on the couch. Remy had finally made it in— thanking the traffic for delaying her cab’s arrival at least an hour or so longer than initially anticipated. James almost seemed like a thousand-pound weight was removed from his chest when she arrived. While she'd felt fine, maybe there was some unknown tension the liquor had masked from her perception, she could feel it was as if he was lying in a bed of nails. All while trying his best to entertain her, keep her glass full, and not once asking her to leave. If he was uncomfortable, it couldn't have been with her. She knows him well enough he'd say something.... right? At least if it were her. 

  By now, she was at least a finger or two deeper into her heavy pour of a drink, which had changed to scotch, and it was evident she wasn't making her way home by herself. The drunken Scrabble had turned into gigglefest full of poor excuses for words, some definitely absent from any dictionary besides the Urban. Remy was a good middle-ground between the two. Drank enough that she was cracking comments she wouldn't sober, but not enough she'd lost any facilities. 

____, on the other hand, was teetering on being a great example of how much you can drink just before blacking out. 

  That said, she wasn't as gone as you'd think, or is at least more receptive than most when she's had a drink or three too many. She'd caught a few times as James wiped hands along his face, a long and clearly sobered drag down his features, she'd imagine coming to from his pregame earlier. Maybe he needs to cut loose some more?

  "I can pour you something." She offered, his eyes tearing from the board and back to her vicinity, then back again and quickly off to the side as he clasped his hands in front of him, leaning his jaw on them as a support. 

  "No, no. I think I'm good for the night. Thank you, though." She noticed his normally eager eyes didn't meet his once during this statement. Maybe the liquor was painting a deeper picture than it was, but she noticed this. She swallowed down, and looked up to her friend Remy just to her right, who had clearly had her day and drinks begin to catch up to her. 

  "Are you ready for us to head out?" She asked, considerately to the point, figuring maybe the man whose work day starts at 6 AM was ready to tie in, too. 

  "I'd had an Uber scheduled for 12. Did you want me to book you one? I'd let you stay with me but if he doesn't like the part of town your place is in, Wilson surely won't approve of you staying with me." Remy asked, and jokingly jabbed, not even giving James a moment to confirm his exhaustion before taking her cue to leave. They were just about thirty minutes shy of her planned departure, a yawn or two had circled the group, and it was nearing an appropriate natural end. ____ rolls her eyes with small smile still making its way across her lips. 

  "No no, you guys are fine for a little longer. Just had a lot on my mind. If you're ready, though, I can just give ____ a ride. Or you can crash here again. I can sleep on the couch." He offered, once more evading locking eyes with the woman directly across the table from him. Which was an interesting thing to do while also offering his bed to her. He doesn't even acknowledge he isn't fond of the area of town her apartment is in. 

  "I'm starting to think you like her sleeping in her bed." Remy joked, taking a sip of her mixed drink while she tried hiding her grin. She couldn't help herself. She practically watched as James struggled to find a good enough response that didn't make him seem much weirder than he means, and ____ process a million of her own emotions in the same breath. 

  "It is super comfortable!" She found herself defending the mattress, not even to mention that shower of his, and then played into the joke. "But yeah... I think I might need proof you've taken your sheets to dry cleaning since the last time I crashed here." She said, finally getting the brunette to break a little from his clearly somewhat-guarded demeanor.

  "Ah yes, because I have all of the ulterior motives." He threw in. She finally managed to catch his eyes, for just a split second, before he looks down again, all while letting out a soft laugh. While she didn't think he had 'ulterior motives,' no, this was the first second she had identified that maybe beyond his joke he'd been concealing something. Neither of them had noticed Remy catching this herself. 

A quick, repetitive buzzing from ____'s phone draws everyone's attention to where it says on the edge of the table, face down, just to her left. 

  'Wonder what Jasper needs.' ____ thinks to herself, as she begins to collect the game board pieces from the nights' activities into their respective container, slyly (to her knowledge, at least,) checking in on James from behind her half-lidded eyelids. ____ didn't make eye contact, no, but she felt his gaze leave her as soon as her eyes met his. He was clearly looking for some read on who may have been reaching out to her at this hour, that she would ignore. Pleading for her phone to have just been flipped the other way, just out of curiosity, obviously. Just a clue into who it may’ve been, because clearly it wasn’t House. Remy’s phone would’ve gone off, too. 

  ____ didn't catch it, but he opened his mouth as if to say something, backed out at the last minute, and just cleared his throat. She looked down at the table. Remy slammed the rest of what was left in her glass. 

  "Woah there, cowgirl. I'm thinking I might have to watch your location when you're heading out. Are you going to be able to walk in?" ____ catches, surely that was another shot or two at least. Remy laughed, knowing her much-more-hammered friend came from a place of love, but nonetheless ironic. 

  "Mhm, if you can keep your eyes open long enough to even unlock your phone. I know how you get." She said, delivering her acknowledgments to the many other drunken nights they've spent together, managing to ensure the other made it home safely despite their blood alcohol content. "My Uber should be here in the next few, if you wanted to tag along. Thanks again for having us over, Wilson." 

  "Yeah, of course." He said, swallowing. "_____, it's your call, but you are welcome to stay over, or I can walk you to your door. Begrudgingly, but I will." He said, again, eyes anywhere but where they'd previously found themselves in the years of friendship prior when speaking. 

  Why was he avoiding her eyes? Was there something on her face? Maybe her nap earlier messed up her makeup? Why hadn't Remy said anything if that was the case? James would tell her, they're close enough. He's told her before when her foundation shade didn't match for Christ's sake (to his credit, he was right.)

  Maybe it was the alcohol, she's not sure. But she looked up quickly, catching his eyes, as she stared him down for all of twenty seconds, eyes boring into his for every single second before responding. It's the alcohol. She didn't catch him rubbing his neck as she did this, feeling like she'd filleted him alive and was watching his organs as they operated for sport. She didn't realize it but he was squirming under her incredibly intense, ethanol fueled gaze. She didn't catch when he fixed his posture. 

  He felt it heating him up from the inside out, wondering when he was going to combust from the sensation of her stare. When she would relent. If she wasn't drunk, he'd think she'd somehow caught that he was having trouble maintaining eye contact with her, after that incredibly intense dream of his. 

  She felt a drunk smile creep up onto her face as she finally responded. "I'd love if you walked me in." She said, a lilt to her voice that sent him spiraling for a moment. 'She is a hell of a flirt when she's drunk.' He thought, feeling those words begin to make his pants tighten in all the wrong places. 

   "That's my cue! Good luck, Get her home safe. She's very flirtatious after drink four or five. You're not special." Remy joked— half joked, considering the wink, a knowing one at that— while she slung her purse over her shoulder. Gathering her things, she looked over at her friend, and James once again. He watched as she took her turn at backing out at the last minute of saying something, just resolving to a smile in both of their directions. 

James would be lying if he said that, just because she was drunk, doesn't mean that comment didn't do a number on the man. 

  "I'm gonna miss you. I'll see you tomorrow?" ____ whined, feeling her friend reach for a hug from the side. Remy pressed a kiss to the top of her friend's head, giving her one more squeeze. An outsider would think she was her older sister if they didn't know any better. 

  "Yes, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't let House catch you if you come in early for an IV. He saw logs from last time and he'll send you home. Something about you turning into a frat boy with a PhD." Remy said, advising the one in the room with the impending hangover. "On second thought, I'll just have one set aside for you. But, take not. He’s noticing." She said, zipping up her jacket. She treaded towards the door, then following and sharing their final goodbyes. 

  "How often are you getting hangover drips?" Wilson asked, leaning against the door after closing and locking it. Even though he can hardly look into the incredibly investigative eyes before him, he still felt the compulsion to ask this question bubbling to the point he just asked.

  She may have been drunk, but this didn't make her any less perceptive to the questioning she wasn't quite used to having from James. 

  "Wow, James, I don't think I remember you caring about my hydration like this." She said, both denying the information requested and not chastising the man for a probably well-natured question. Even drunk she could think of a million different ways that answering this question, no matter how innocent, could bite her.

  "I'm not going to say anything to House. I didn't mean it like that. I just... didn't realize you both went out that much." James said, simultaneously drawing some conclusions while trying to emphasize the lack of guard on his part. "It's none of my business, I just hadn't realized you went out... like that. Really. That’s it." He figured he'd backed himself into a corner at this point, the least he could do was justify his curiosity. He felt the courage he felt for a split second, even given the events of the night, simmer quickly as she thought of her response. 'Even when drunk, she's clearly guarded. Or at least not drunk enough she's going to just talk with no inhibition,' he thought. 

  "I do go out, I wouldn't say often... but more frequently lately. I've made some friends, you know, those reps that came by? For Orchid Bridge. They bought the hospital lunch from that super bougie steakhouse last week. They wanted too much for a contract for us to supply prescriptions and shit but I hit it off with Jasper Han— their marketing guy?" She said, he watched as she drug her shoes with her to his couch, so she can sit down while putting them on. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before picking up her left shoe to put on. "We've gone out a couple times. He goes out a LOT. But it's just for fun." She said. "It's nothing. Just clubbing." She quickly added, almost stumbling over her words as she forced them out quicker than her vocal cords could operate. She didn’t really even understand her self as to why she felt so compelled to clarify. But she did. As if it mattered. 

  It wasn’t only the fact she was trying to disarm him that, in turn, had him reading for red flags, but the tone in which it came out. Casual. All too casual. The way the House slips something out when he wants Wilson to catch on. He was certain she didn’t have the same goal, but it still left him wondering whether or not she was lying to him, or herself when she said that. He didn’t like the ambiguity. 

  Was she lying about 'Jasper'? Who the hell is Jasper? He sounds like his wallet is nothing but joke stocks and NFTs. 

  He can hardly remember a day in the last month they haven't coordinated their lunches together in various ways, often of which was a game of finding somewhere House wouldn't think to find them before joining. Was it a day he had off? He doesn't remember them catering, but pharmaceutical representatives market to the hospital often, so that's not too crazy. But still, who was this guy she was spending her nights with, clearly? Also, clubbing? She'd never struck him to be the type to go to the club. Given her maturity, he has to remind himself she's only up to what's age appropriate. House may be caught in a club every here or there but Wilson is certain he won't ever be caught in a club. But her? Jasper may be new but how had she not mentioned—

  He heard the phone that she’d left on his kitchen table buzz once more, in the same manner as the last time. Whoever it was reached out again. 

  "I mean, really. I think he might be a little interested but I don't think he's looking for anything." She said, him jerking his eyes from her vicinity where he hadn't realized he'd been staring from the door. He'd slipped his shoes on in this time, and she had stood up, making her way towards him. He wasn't sure that reassured him in the way he thinks was intended. "Plus, as you know, courtesy of House, I'm only into men eighty-plus." James finally felt his shoulders relax just the smallest bit. Any brevity was something for him, and he was pleading for any form of relief. 

  "If he's taking you clubbing, I'd just try and use the same brain that's solving half your team's cases faster than House nowadays." He said, walking over to sit next to her on the couch. "Please just be careful." He said, and even though his eyes had an inability to look at hers in any ways this night, he'd still caught that she'd rolled her eyes. He couldn’t decided whether or not to take it to heart, but his subconscious certainly took note. 

  "We go clubbing. It's nothing more than that. He just asked for my number when we'd had a good conversation the other day." She said, again, words clearly intended to reassure but leaving James twisting underneath his skin. While his brain wanted to ask what great conversation they had, he knew it would be clear as day he was jealous if he should even hint at wanting to know. If it wasn’t already. 

  "Just... exercise caution." He said, almost pleaded, watching from his peripheral as she stood up from her end of the couch, walking towards to door. His eyes, fixated on the off television before him, never left the red light in the bottom right corner, at least not until she'd made it to the door. "You sure you don't want to crash here?" He asked, throwing the offer out one last time. He felt the warmth of her hand meet his upper arm, as she placed her hand gently upon his bicep. She swallowed at the feeling of the tone of the man's arms, something she'd found herself wondering how they'd felt. 'Firm but his skin is soft.' It must've been the alcohol that had her feeling testy enough to just lay a gentle hand upon him. He watched, still evading her eyes— his, trained on her lips— as she almost spoke, before swallowing down her thought, demonstrating some degree of restraint, even while drunk. Her touch lingered even after she'd removed her hand, light but firm, present and warm. 

  His mind began wandering immediately at this hesitation. She was quick to quell his thoughts. 

  "I would, but one more night turns into two, and then I start leaving my toothbrush. You don't want that kind of responsibility." She said, coming out as a joke, eliciting a soft chuckle from Wilson. His laugh may have been soft, but she felt the joke land heavier than intended, leaving behind an implication, joking or not, that is surely open to interpretation. "You're responsible for me when I'm drunk now, too, apparently. Let's ease into it. Lots of things come with the title." Whatever title she was referring to, he'd already mentally agreed to doing what it takes to meet the requirements. 

  Her drunken giggle as she took her turn slinging her purse over her shoulder did a number on him, not that he'd let her know. 

  "Not yet, maybe." He joked back, fishing his keys from the bowl on the credenza, just to the left of the front door. Anything to keep his eyes from even catching a glance at her. 

  While she hadn't said it directly, and knew she was drunk and meant it as a joke, he wasn't sure she wasn't somewhat serious. Could she possibly be feeling... similar, in regards to seeing where things could go? Is she even looking for any form of anything right now? Going out with whoever she has been going out with doesn't really make him think she's on the market, but there is no way in hell she would play down her relationship with that sales rep if she wasn't looking to remain... available? Specifically to him? Before this week, this side of her was entirely private. He'd hardly had a clue her and Remy even went drinking without him! He wasn't jealous, no, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't confused by the signals she's sending. He's not even sure why he seems to think she's off-limits anymore. Maybe she's just... bored. And trusts James. Maybe she doesn't like the kind of sex that comes with the nightlife as much as she thinks. Maybe he can show her, maybe she's already interested? Maybe—

  'Remy did say she was a flirt when drunk.' All of a sudden, he found solace in this, dismissing her polite excuse for needing to be home as nothing more than looking to get a rise out of him while intoxicated. He was just looking for anything to write it off. To shut down the brain that hasn't been looking this deeply for any sign that would fit his narrative that the woman before him was into him, since middle school. 

  It was far from the truth— that she didn't mean it, she did. 

  He hadn't noticed it, but they'd made it to the car, and she was already buckled in his passengers seat before he'd realized where they'd made it, strictly off of autopilot. She’d been texting someone, he quickly used the opportunity to watch himself buckle his seatbelt to catch a glimpse at her screen, before he could even process whether or not he should. The capital J, the blurred but clearly young, 20-something profile photo of the man with what looked to be black hair, maybe? It was a blur, but he caught enough confirmation for himself to answer it had been Jasper that just-so-eagerly was double texting her, at this hour. He saw at least three or four blurbs on the left hand side, and ____ had maybe a message or two in between. He didn’t catch the context, but he could tell the other person’s tone— presumably Jasper’s— was urgent, but clearly familiar to her by her being comfortable with hearing from him at this hour— the kind of pressure you don’t waste on someone you just “club with.”

  “Jasper is begging me to swing by but I think my bed sounds more fun right now.” She said, still glancing down at her phone. He felt himself already bittering when just his name had come out. 

  “You… are too drunk. I can’t, and won’t, in good conscience take you near any other man right now.” He said, already swallowing down his own unspoken words, let alone the unspoken anxieties he has surrounding dropping her off while drunk anywhere besides her home. Hell, if it was up to him, she wouldn’t have left his place, but he will be the last person to deny her own reasonable autonomy. 

  “I’d rather be with you right now.” She said softly. 

  All he could answer her with was a soft smile.