For Wilson, at the apartment, NFB, and please no interruptions
House lay in the bed until he simply couldn't stand it any more. His body felt heavy, and he ended up crawling on all fours -well, three- to get to the bathroom. His mouth felt dry and disgusting, and he brushed his teeth even though he hadn't eaten, and wouldn't eat. Couldn't eat. The very thought of food made him nauseous, and he threw up in the
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"Animals are very perceptive to human emotions," he commented softly after the tale of he duck. That, was just odd. But in Fandom, House had learned not to question certain things.
"You have been invaluable to me over the last five years. I've never trusted people, as a rule. My father taught me that. But I trusted you, and I trusted Stacy. When she betrayed me, and it left only you...I know I fought you every step of the way for a long time, but deep down, I trusted you. I trusted you because you never backed down. No matter what stupid punk stunts I pulled...Any normal person would have hit the door running the other way, not towards me when I was throwing bedpans and food trays. I had a weak moment yeasterday, because...Because I was tired and my leg hurt like hell andwhat you were saying was something I couldn't understand. I've had time to numb the pain and...and realise just how much I love you, I need you, I trust you."
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"And you needed me to be able to give you a better answer then I did." He said softly.
"We're only human, Greg. We both made mistakes last night won't be the last time." There was a thread of soft humor and also the unspoken promise that they would be together the next time as well.
"Just...I love you, House. Please never doubt that." He closed his eyes and turned so that he could bury his face in House's abdomen. It was an unspoken plea for House not to make him talk anymore, an unspoken plea for his lover to hold him.
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He closed his eyes and just held on tight, rocking ever so gently, because it comforted him so he knew it must comfort Wilson too.
After a while, House sat up, and rolled his head from side to side to work a kink out of his shoulders. "You need a warm bath. Doctor's orders. Then, if you're up for it, I want to take you to the Fiare like we talked about earlier in the week." Before the crisis at the clinic.
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"Could I have some toast, as well? My stomach's been a wreck most of the weekend."
It was hard, felt strange to be the one asking for something from House but Wilson knew that he needed his lover right now, perhaps more than he'd ever needed him in the past. He simply...couldn't do it all, even though that never seemed to stop him from trying.
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He really was, just so damn thankful that House was still there, that House still wanted him there, it was hard to let his lover pull away but he knew House was right, he needed to get into a hot shower and try to chase away the chill that had settled into his body or else he was going to join Jack in the Clinic.
Standing up, he kept close so that House could reach for him if he needed him but otherwise busied himself with stripping out of his bloodstained clothes.
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He set it to the ground, and made a face at it, realising it wasn't goingto help him much at the moment. "You. Shower." he said with a gentle firmness. "You want water or coffee? We're out of everything else."
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"You''hould get crutches, House. You're going to need them for a couple of days or I'll have to pick your ass up off the floor...which I don't know if I can do."
Wriggling out of the burgundy silk, Wilson tossed them towards the hamper, unselfconscious about his nakedness, his total and utter vulnerability in front of the older man.
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"You know I hate those things..." He growled, more to himself than to Wilson. They reminded him of a time he'd rather not remmeber. But, for Wilson he'd do it. Because there was no way he was going in to town on the cane.
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"Don't care. Crutches."
Crawling into the shower, Wilson nearly cried out when the hot water hit his hyperchilled skin. Suddenly, sitting down seemed like a really good idea and so he did just that, sliding down along the shower stall wall to sit curled up beneath the pummeling warmth of the falling spray.
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He'd been through two days of pure trauma, both clinical and personal. House had been a huge factor in that. And House wasn't a fool. He knew when to back off.
Besides, he had things to do. Crutches, from the coat closet out by the door to the clinic, because he refused to keep them in the bedroom. Then toast and water for Wilson.
He took a moment to go into the clinic to get an Ace bandage to wrap around his leg to insulate it from the cold, ran a quick check on the patients still tucked away in exam rooms, and went back tot he apartment before he could be missed.
He paused at the bedroom door. "Everything okay in there?"
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Eventually he pushed his way back up to his feet and reached for the shampoo, it was going to take a couple of washes to get the blood out of his hair, he also needed to shave.
The younger doctor was finishing up with the razor when House called out to him and he nodded, wiping the remains of the cream off his face with a towel.
"Yes, I'll be right out."
Hissing through the application of aftershave, Wilson redressed himself in deliberately warm clothes and headed out towards the small kitchen. He still looked rough, gaunt and worn but his color was more normal and his eyes were a little more alert as he moved towards the toast.
"Blackraspberry jelly?" Hopeful!
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He sat at the small table, pants dropped around his ankles so he could wrap his thigh. He secured the bandage and stood just long enough to refasten his slacks.
He settled and smiled at Wilson. "You look a hundred percent better."
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The purple ring on his lips stood out against his pale skin as he licked at it hungrilly.
"Hard to have looked worse, unless I was dead." He pointed out with a sort of clinical detatchment that spoke to the fact that he'd diagnosed himself in the mirror. "It's probably a good thing the school will be quiet for the holiday, if I don't end up with a cold..."
He let the words trail off so that he could bite into the toast against, the smallest of shrugs from his shoulders and after a moment's thought he looked up at House.
"How...I mean what do you want to do for Thanksgiving?"
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"I wish I could contridict that, but you were looking like the walking dead." House quirked the slightest of smile to lessen the truth of his words. "We both were."
He scratched his chin. "Thanksgiving...That's this week, isn't it?" He made a face that clearly showed he just hadn't realised the date. "Probably won't be much to do around here. What do you want to do?" He reached across the table to clasp Wilson's arm.
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"I think ... we should cook. We're two relatively intelligent men, we get a receipe book, the ingredients and...we cook."
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