House M.D. stuffs
I spent far too much money downloading episodes of House on iTunes today. The weekend is a bad time to get a House craving - there are no episodes on TV!! Ah, well, it was sure worth it. :)
Title: Delicate
Chapter: Some Devil (twelve)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: This stuff, all these awesome people? Not mine. I don't claim to own them, even though I sure would like to!
Summary: House is changed in a way that no one could have seen coming, and Wilson is left to pick up and take care of what's remaining. Can he handle it?
Warnings: sick!vulnerable!House, House/Wilson slash.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6&7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
“Hey, buddy, you want to calm down?”
Wilson looked up from his jeans, which he had been absentmindedly picking non-existent lint off of for the last 20 minutes. The man sitting next to him in the airplane was staring at him, a look on his face that was a cross between annoyance and worry. “Sorry.” After looking apologetically at the poor man who was stuck next to him, Wilson smoothed his hands over the fabric on his thigh and glanced out the window of the plane. They should have taken off 15 minutes ago, so why were they standing still, not even on the runway? The airplane was still waiting at the gate, even after it had been delayed two hours, because it got held up on its way from Canada. Wilson rolled his head from side to side and breathed out slowly. He caught the stewardess as she walked by.
“Excuse me,” he asked her politely, smiling softly, “do you think it would be okay for me to make a phone call on my cell? I know it’s supposed to be off and all, but it’s just that if we’ll be waiting much longer, I need to call work and tell them I won’t be in today.”
The young woman grinned at him and leaned on the back of the seats in front of Wilson. “Well,” she said in a southern accent, “we should be takin’ off real soon. But how about I let you make that phone call if I find out it’s gonna be more than half an hour?” She touched the top of her styled hair lightly, making sure the blonde do was still in place.
“Thank you very much,” Wilson nodded quickly before she walked away.
The man next to him looked up from his magazine and leered at Wilson. “You sure got a way with the ladies. They never let me use my cell phone.”
Wilson chuckled a little, “I’m used to having to coerce information out of unwilling sources.” He reached between his legs and under his seat to grab his bag, searching for the catalogue he had taken from the conference. He thought he might be able to convince Cuddy that the hospital should invest in some new equipment, so he had brought the catalogue, hoping the glossy imagery would assist in his presentation.
“What, are you a lawyer, or something?” the man next to him seemed less interested in his book now, and much more intrigued by Wilson.
“No, actually, I’m a doctor.”
“Oh, so patients keeping secrets and stuff.” The man nodded his head knowingly and went back to his book. He seemed much less engrossed in Wilson now that he was just a doctor.
“No, I work in oncology, so it’s rare that they have much to keep from me. It’s actually my best friend. He...liked to tell lies.” Wilson bobbed his head before looking back to his catalogue. He wasn’t sure what had prompted his admission, and now he was feeling shy, especially when it came to talking about House. Hoping the man thought he was reading, Wilson flipped through a few pages.
“Liked to?” his seat mate asked sadly.
“He doesn’t really tell them anymore. He’s much more honest. But for almost 20 years, I had to sneak the truth out of him,” Wilson told the catalogue, “he was just a very private person.”
“Well,” the guy scoffed, looking back at his book, “I don’t really know if he sounds like a best friend I’d want to have.”
Wilson sighed and closed the catalogue. He wasn’t taking in any of it, so he tucked it into the pocket in front of him and leaned on the cool window, praying the plane took off soon. The less time he had to spend telling this man about his past relationships, the better. He was obviously pretty nosy, or at the least, just talkative, and Wilson wasn’t in any mood to share. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from muttering, “You know, a lot of people say that. But it’s just because they don’t really know House.”
“House? Like the thing you live in?”
“No, it’s his name.” Wilson berated himself mentally for allowing this conversation to continue. He really should just shut his mouth, right now.
“Weird name to pick for your kid. How old is he anyway? Were his parents ultra modern, or something?”
Wilson tapped his head lightly on the Plexiglas window and groaned. “It’s not his first name. His first name’s Greg. He just goes by House, because doctor’s use their last names more often.” In actuality, Wilson believed it probably had something to do with House’s military upbringing, more than anything. He had grown up in a society where everyone was called upon by their last name, and regardless of his loathing for the culture, some habits are hard to break.
“Oh, I see...” the man was officially no longer interested, so Wilson, ever the polite man, finally found himself some peace and quiet. The runway started to blur in the window as he closed his eyes.
“So what’s your name?” the scruffy guy asked, grinning, leaning on the counter as James filled his pockets with his belongings. Wallet, name tag, pager, keys...check, check, check, and check.
“James Wilson,” he replied, looking at the stranger. “And you?”
“I’ll call you Wilson, then,” he refrained from giving his name.
“Why’d you bail me out?” They started walking out to the parking lot.
“There’s always one interesting person at these things. I figure the guy who smashes the mirror because he can’t stand Billy Joel-“
“I like Billy Joel just fine!” James interjected, “Just not over and over again.”
“No need to get all emotional on me, here,” the man shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and started walking towards James’ car. “Mind giving me a ride?”
“How did you...my car was at the bar...”
“Yeah, well, I figured you might want it. You’ll just have to fix some of the wires,” the guy shrugged, he obviously felt little to no guilt over hot wiring someone else’s car just to follow them to jail and bail them out. When James thought about it, it really was a small price to pay. This guy could have stolen his car and left, but instead he came and paid the bail and then gave the car back.
“Sure, I’ll give you a ride.” He opened the passenger side door first and let the man in before getting in on his side. Once the car started, he turned to his new found friend. “You never told me your name.”
“I’m House.”
“House?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged as James started to back out of the parking stall, “like the thing you live in.”
When Wilson woke, they were flying at a high altitude. He preferred sleeping through take off, he always hated the sensation of his ears popping. He checked his watch, and hoped they would be getting back soon, Cameron and Chase were off work in 3 hours, and he wanted to surprise House before they went back home. He thought it would be nice to take him back to the apartment tonight, and tell him all about the conference. Maybe even give him his gift. He wiped at his face before glancing over to where the man from earlier was. But he wasn’t sitting there anymore. His book and iPod were still there, so Wilson assumed he had gone to the bathroom and watched for a stewardess to walk by. He was thirsty.
The young blonde from earlier strolled by and her smile lit up like a Christmas tree. “You’re awake! I was startin’ to think you might sleep through the whole flight.”
“Not likely,” he joked, “8 hours is a long time to sleep in this chair.”
“Can I ask you a question?” she said, resting her hip on the vacant seat next to Wilson.
“Um, sure.”
“Well, I couldn’t help but over hear you talkin’ to that man, earlier. You said you were an oncologist. I’m no Einstein, but I sure know you doctors make a lot of money.”
He nodded, not really sure if he liked where the conversation was going.
“And I was just wonderin’ what you’re doin’ over here in coach. Wouldn’t you rather fly first class?”
Relieved, Wilson let out a small laugh. “Oh, well, I don’t need to fly first class, really. I sleep most of the time anyways.”
“Oh, okay.” She shrugged and got up, starting to walk away.
“Oh, sorry,” he stopped her, “I meant to ask for some water.”
“Sure sugar, just a minute.”
------------------------------------------
“There is nothing to do in here.” House groaned and tossed the ball back and forth between his hands. “I’ve been waiting for Dr. Cameron all day.”
“House,” Cuddy looked up from her paper work, “you are driving me insane. Why don’t you go upstairs and play foosball, or something?”
He shrugged his shoulders and started bouncing the ball off of the coffee table, “Wilson said I’m not supposed to go anywhere in the hospital alone.”
“Well,” she urged, growing weary of the plop, plop, plop of the ball on the glass, “I’m his boss, so what I say goes. You can take the elevator by yourself. You’ve played foosball before. You know where it is.”
“Can you even play it alone?” he asked noncommittally.
“I’m sure you can.” She looked back to her paper work and started ignoring him again.
“Hey, look!” The noise of the ball stopped, and she heard the clatter of House ripping his cane away from the side of the couch. When she looked up, he was practically hopping to the door, itching to open it. Then she saw who was on the other side. Dishevelled and in a t-shirt and jeans, the man looked more casual than she had ever seen him. House opened the door, “Wilson!”
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