A/N: This is my first House fic, and I'm hoping that it goes well with the readers. Please review and tell me what you think - any suggestions or constructive criticism is welcome. Just no flames! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: House is the property of David Shore and Fox. I own nothing. (Sadly.)

Just Words

The sun rose over Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, illuminating the sky with shades of pinks and yellows. Silence surrounded the building, only being broken every once and a while by the chirp of a bird or the passing of a car. It was quarter to seven – still too early for most to even get out of bed – but the early morning provided a cover for those few who needed to feel the sense of peace before the upcoming day began. One of these aforementioned people was Dr. James Wilson.

Normally, Dr. Wilson didn't arrive at the hospital before eight-thirty, at the earliest. However, today was different. Today, he had a couple of things he wished to sort out before seeing his first patient. Standing on the deck that adjoined his office, he looked out on the sunrise. It seemed so peaceful from where he stood – the colors melting together like swirls of cotton candy, and the silence that hung in the air seemed to resonate tranquility. However, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the serenity around him, his thoughts seemed to come back to Greg House. They always did. Shaking his head slightly and smiling to himself, he knew that would never change. Even after the events of the previous night, events which would be considered inexcusable if done by anyone else (and still way out of line, even if it was House), Wilson knew that he wouldn't be able to hold his grudge for long.

Suddenly, the sound of the door to Wilson's office being slid open tore through the silence. Whipping around, Wilson was extremely surprised to find the object of his thoughts standing on the deck. Looking at House quizzically for a moment before turning back to face the sunrise, he spoke.

"Shouldn't you still be in bed? Go home."

The sound of House's cane (thump-step, thump-step) could clearly be heard as the older man took a couple of steps forward, leaving the door to the office open behind him. The diagnostician stopped so that he was still a couple of feet away from his comrade, leaning on his cane for support.

"I'm surprised at you, Jimmy. The one time I show up on time – early, actually – you tell me to go home. Is this one of Cuddy's evil plots to get me to quit?"

Wilson sighed heavily, but didn't turn around to face his friend.

"There is no evil plot."

"Then why tell me to go home? Are you hiding something from me? Money? A hooker? A –"

"I'm not hiding anything," Wilson said brusquely, cutting off House's spew of questions.

House raised his eyebrows, the curt tone Wilson was using registering like a blow to the chest. Letting the last sentence spoken hang in the air for a moment, House considered possible reasons for him being worthy of cold-shoulder treatment.

'Hmm…I took a pen from the jar a couple of days ago…nah. I do that at least once a week. I ate half of his sandwich yesterday, but I've done that before…nothing. I'm coming up empty.'

"I don't see any reason to be snippy," House said loosely, taking another step toward his companion.

Wilson whirled around to face House, disbelief and anger blazing in his eyes.

"You don't see any reason? You're serious? You honestly can't come up with any reason why I would be angry at you?"

House, who was leaning on his cane for support, shook his head. He seemed to be totally unfazed by Wilson's outburst, something that seemed to only infuriate his friend further.

"I don't believe this," Wilson said, pushing off of the wall on which he had been leaning and starting to pace back and forth across the small deck. "You really don't know?"

"Nope."

"Do the words 'brain cancer' ring a bell?"

A long silence answered the question, something which was uncharacteristic for someone such as House. Normally, just about every question was answered with a witty or sarcastic remark of some sort. However, even House knew that there was always the occasional line that shouldn't be crossed, no matter what the circumstance. In this case, he had done exactly what the normal rules say you shouldn't: he had crossed the line.

"First off, you lied to the doctor in Boston, making him think that you had brain cancer," Wilson yelled, stopping his pacing to look House straight in the eyes. "Second, you lied to all of us here. If the members of your team weren't as smart as they are, you'd be laying on a table in Boston, having completely unnecessary brain surgery!"

Again, silence. House matched Wilson's gaze, his expression neutral. He knew that there would be a time to speak, to give his side of the story, but he also recognized that this was not it.

"Death really must not matter to you! Are you completely emotionless? Do you know how it feels to learn that the person you're closest to, your best friend, your equal, is dying?"

Wilson's anger was quickly fading to be replaced with sorrow. In the morning light, House could see a tear make its way silently down his companion's cheek, soon followed by more. Wilson took a step closer before speaking, closing the space even further, leaving about half a foot between them.

"If I hadn't decided to pop into your office, I never would have found out at all! Were you going to tell me? Or is this how it's going to happen when you're actually sick? Are you going to hide the fact that you're dying until you drop de–"

House decided that he had heard enough. Making up his mind, he closed the gap between himself and Wilson, silencing the younger man with a bruising kiss. House's cane clattered to the ground, so that he was now using Wilson for balance and leverage. House pulled back after a moment, looking his friend up and down. With tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes, Wilson looked younger, more vulnerable, something that House took to heart before speaking.

"You'll be the first to know," House said quietly, staring into Wilson's brown eyes.

"Promise?" Wilson asked. "You're not just saying this because I'm caving? You really mean it?"

"I promise. And not just because you're caving. And I really mean it. You never could stay angry at me for long," House said, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Well, you're you."

"I'm glad that I'm worthy of being made an exception to the rule."

Wilson sighed heavily, ears picking up on the sounds of life and movement for the first time since he had stepped out on the balcony. He looked around for a moment before refocusing his attention on House. Leaning in slightly, Wilson kissed him, this time enjoying the feel of Greg's lips on his. When they broke apart, Wilson grinned.

"What?" House asked, looking at his comrade, best friend, and lover with suspicion.

"You're still a jackass."

House chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest. The two men were still within a foot of one another; House was still clutching Wilson's shoulders to help him balance. Closing the gap between them, Wilson leaned his head on House's chest. Smiling a smile that nobody could see, House replied to his lover's earlier statement.

"But I'm your jackass."

Wilson grinned at the statement, but said nothing, preferring to enjoy the moment. They stood there in silence for another minute before Wilson pulled back, leaning down to grab House's cane from where it had landed next to them. (House grabbed Wilson's ass for what he said was leverage, but Wilson didn't believe him.) Handing the cane back to the older man, Wilson spoke.

"What d'you say we head down to the cafeteria for a quick breakfast before patients show up?"

"Sounds good, seeing as you left the house before making breakfast," House replied, grinning cheekily, as he turned toward the door to his lover's office.

"Since when it is my job to make breakfast? You're fully capable of learning how to cook."

"Nah, too difficult."

Rolling his eyes, but at the same time, grinning, Wilson walked over to where House stood in the doorway.

"Let's just head down to breakfast. Patients should be here soon."

As the two men stepped inside, the last words heard before the door closed were, "You buying?"