Under Control (1/1)
Under Control
Rating: PG-13, some rough language
Summary: Wilson has a rough day at the office.
Warnings: Death!fic, Angry!Wilson, and a tidbit for those with slash goggles on.
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em.
A/N: Beta’d by the lovely, the incomparable, the srsly awesome srsly_yes. Thanks to her tightening exercises, I have paragraphs of steel.
It was nearing seven o’clock-a late work day, but not the latest Wilson had seen this week. He pushed the completed file away and eased himself back in his chair. His back muscles groaned and he sighed in sympathy. There was entirely too much paperwork lately, and not nearly enough playtime. Thank god that House was around to make sure Wilson didn’t become a dull boy.
Speaking of which… Wilson could hear shuffling steps through the thin wall between the Diagnostics department and his. What they put into pretty glass walls, they must have taken out of the quality control budget, Wilson thought to himself, and made a mental note to bring it to House’s attention one of these days. That should be good for at least an amused snort, and House would probably think of a dozen ways to casually ride Cuddy about it. I live but to serve, Wilson grinned to himself.
He gathered his things together and made his way next door. The rest of the work can wait, he justified to himself, Cuddy won’t kill me. Hadley was finally gathering up the scattered papers generated by their last case-a real emergency, the kind that left no time for breathing, let alone for being tidy. The patient hadn’t made it, despite best efforts, but at least, as House had said, it had been a truly cool way to go. House himself was standing in front of the empty whiteboard, just waiting. Wilson pushed through the door and they both turned slightly to look at him. Hadley’s eyes were red-rimmed and slightly bloodshot. Wilson ignored the symptoms, inured to them by long practice. He sympathized with the fellows on one level, but drawing House’s attention to them had never been a kind move in the past, and it wouldn’t be now.
“You leaving?” House asked, speaking over his shoulder. Wilson nodded, knowing that House would still see him out of the corner of his eye. He always did. “My place, Chinese and porn?”
“Thanks a lot, you know I can’t,” Wilson groused, albeit with a smile. House never changed, even if the circumstances did.
“Ah, yes. Got a hot date with yourself tonight? Planning to hold the old sausage hostage?”
“Right. You’ve been holding my sausage hostage for years, now, House. I practically have to book two weeks in advance to get a night with it,” Wilson snorted, as Hadley brushed past with an armload of papers and a sniffle.
“Like all of the best whores,” House agreed with a derisive glare at the retreating fellow.
“Making the children cry again, House?” Wilson asked pointedly. Sometimes the man was just impossible to get along with, and who would remind House of that if Wilson wasn’t around?
House snorted in irritation. “She’s just such a girl sometimes. You’d think she had no balls at all.” He turned to examine Wilson’s face from across the room. His eyes softened, if his demeanour didn’t. “You look like shit. Go home and get some sleep for once, will you?”
Wilson left with a shake of his head and a middle finger to his best friend.
Cuddy caught him as he crossed the lobby.
“Dr. Wilson!” she called, and beckoned him with a crooked finger.
He cast a longing look at the freedom just a few inches away-a beautiful night, with snowflakes drifting gently down to feather the ground-and followed his boss into her inner office. She gestured for him to sit, and leaned forward for a long moment, scrutinizing his face for traces of… what? Tension pooled in Wilson’s gut, shot tendrils of panic up his spine.
“Dr. Wilson-James-you haven’t filed for your leave of absence…” she hesitated, caring filling her face. “I realize that this is a very hard time for you. I’ll have my secretary-”
“No!” Wilson cut her off violently. He scrubbed at his face, reigning in his emotions. Goddamned bitch. Fucking-He hadn’t meant to snap at her. She didn’t understand. “I don’t intend to take a leave of absence. I’m fine.”
She sat back, breathing deeply, obviously controlling emotions of her own. “Wilson, you need… I appreciate that seeking out…help might be difficult inside the hospital. I know of several very good therapists that could help you deal with…with this.”
Wilson’s mind filled with red and black. He stood, barely aware of the chair skidding backwards and falling over. “What makes you think I need help with this?” He didn’t think he was yelling, but he realized dimly that his voice was echoing around her office in a way that a speaking tone wouldn’t.
Cuddy stood too, hands splayed on the desk as if steadying herself for battle. “Dr. Hadley-”
There was a white supernova in Wilson’s vision. Adrenaline pumped through him and he knew that if he didn’t leave, and now, he might hit her. Might track down Hadley, too, and… Goddamned fucking bitch! Either one of them. Both of them.
Wilson didn’t calm down until he was back in his own apartment, seated on his own worn sofa with his head clenched in his hands, door locked and barricaded from the world outside. They just don’t know… they don’t get it…
He didn’t know how long he was sitting there before the familiar step-thump invaded his haven. “Don’t you ever knock?” he asked, checking his pulse. It was slower, under control now.
“Never did before. Can’t imagine why I would start now.”
The cane was flung onto the coffee table before Wilson, and he didn’t bother to check whether or not it had scratched the finish. A heavy body landed next to him on the couch, and House propped his feet up on the table as well. With a sigh, Wilson flicked on the TV and heaved himself up to grab the beers out of the fridge. He set them on a pair of coasters-Wilson never changed, even if the circumstances did.
After a while, Wilson muted the TV and looked at House. He looked so…touchable, just a few inches away, watching the flicker of the silent monster trucks. Wilson knew he would never dare try. He wasn’t ready for it yet, didn’t need to in any case. He was happy just having House here.
“They think you’re crazy, you know?” House interrupted the quiet. Wilson scrubbed his eyes.
“I know,” he admitted. He was aware of House’s critical, skeptical gaze. “I’m not. I know that you’re dead. I just…I don’t want you to be gone. I can’t stand it if you’re gone.” He felt his eyes fill and glanced away, ashamed.
House’s arm settled over the back of the couch nonchalantly, protective in a subtle, Housian way. “Yeah, crazy’s fine. They just want their normal to be everyone’s normal.”
Wilson took in a breath, and let himself smile. House understood-always had. Together, they had things under control.
Rating: PG-13, some rough language
Summary: Wilson has a rough day at the office.
Warnings: Death!fic, Angry!Wilson, and a tidbit for those with slash goggles on.
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em.
A/N: Beta’d by the lovely, the incomparable, the srsly awesome srsly_yes. Thanks to her tightening exercises, I have paragraphs of steel.
It was nearing seven o’clock-a late work day, but not the latest Wilson had seen this week. He pushed the completed file away and eased himself back in his chair. His back muscles groaned and he sighed in sympathy. There was entirely too much paperwork lately, and not nearly enough playtime. Thank god that House was around to make sure Wilson didn’t become a dull boy.
Speaking of which… Wilson could hear shuffling steps through the thin wall between the Diagnostics department and his. What they put into pretty glass walls, they must have taken out of the quality control budget, Wilson thought to himself, and made a mental note to bring it to House’s attention one of these days. That should be good for at least an amused snort, and House would probably think of a dozen ways to casually ride Cuddy about it. I live but to serve, Wilson grinned to himself.
He gathered his things together and made his way next door. The rest of the work can wait, he justified to himself, Cuddy won’t kill me. Hadley was finally gathering up the scattered papers generated by their last case-a real emergency, the kind that left no time for breathing, let alone for being tidy. The patient hadn’t made it, despite best efforts, but at least, as House had said, it had been a truly cool way to go. House himself was standing in front of the empty whiteboard, just waiting. Wilson pushed through the door and they both turned slightly to look at him. Hadley’s eyes were red-rimmed and slightly bloodshot. Wilson ignored the symptoms, inured to them by long practice. He sympathized with the fellows on one level, but drawing House’s attention to them had never been a kind move in the past, and it wouldn’t be now.
“You leaving?” House asked, speaking over his shoulder. Wilson nodded, knowing that House would still see him out of the corner of his eye. He always did. “My place, Chinese and porn?”
“Thanks a lot, you know I can’t,” Wilson groused, albeit with a smile. House never changed, even if the circumstances did.
“Ah, yes. Got a hot date with yourself tonight? Planning to hold the old sausage hostage?”
“Right. You’ve been holding my sausage hostage for years, now, House. I practically have to book two weeks in advance to get a night with it,” Wilson snorted, as Hadley brushed past with an armload of papers and a sniffle.
“Like all of the best whores,” House agreed with a derisive glare at the retreating fellow.
“Making the children cry again, House?” Wilson asked pointedly. Sometimes the man was just impossible to get along with, and who would remind House of that if Wilson wasn’t around?
House snorted in irritation. “She’s just such a girl sometimes. You’d think she had no balls at all.” He turned to examine Wilson’s face from across the room. His eyes softened, if his demeanour didn’t. “You look like shit. Go home and get some sleep for once, will you?”
Wilson left with a shake of his head and a middle finger to his best friend.
Cuddy caught him as he crossed the lobby.
“Dr. Wilson!” she called, and beckoned him with a crooked finger.
He cast a longing look at the freedom just a few inches away-a beautiful night, with snowflakes drifting gently down to feather the ground-and followed his boss into her inner office. She gestured for him to sit, and leaned forward for a long moment, scrutinizing his face for traces of… what? Tension pooled in Wilson’s gut, shot tendrils of panic up his spine.
“Dr. Wilson-James-you haven’t filed for your leave of absence…” she hesitated, caring filling her face. “I realize that this is a very hard time for you. I’ll have my secretary-”
“No!” Wilson cut her off violently. He scrubbed at his face, reigning in his emotions. Goddamned bitch. Fucking-He hadn’t meant to snap at her. She didn’t understand. “I don’t intend to take a leave of absence. I’m fine.”
She sat back, breathing deeply, obviously controlling emotions of her own. “Wilson, you need… I appreciate that seeking out…help might be difficult inside the hospital. I know of several very good therapists that could help you deal with…with this.”
Wilson’s mind filled with red and black. He stood, barely aware of the chair skidding backwards and falling over. “What makes you think I need help with this?” He didn’t think he was yelling, but he realized dimly that his voice was echoing around her office in a way that a speaking tone wouldn’t.
Cuddy stood too, hands splayed on the desk as if steadying herself for battle. “Dr. Hadley-”
There was a white supernova in Wilson’s vision. Adrenaline pumped through him and he knew that if he didn’t leave, and now, he might hit her. Might track down Hadley, too, and… Goddamned fucking bitch! Either one of them. Both of them.
Wilson didn’t calm down until he was back in his own apartment, seated on his own worn sofa with his head clenched in his hands, door locked and barricaded from the world outside. They just don’t know… they don’t get it…
He didn’t know how long he was sitting there before the familiar step-thump invaded his haven. “Don’t you ever knock?” he asked, checking his pulse. It was slower, under control now.
“Never did before. Can’t imagine why I would start now.”
The cane was flung onto the coffee table before Wilson, and he didn’t bother to check whether or not it had scratched the finish. A heavy body landed next to him on the couch, and House propped his feet up on the table as well. With a sigh, Wilson flicked on the TV and heaved himself up to grab the beers out of the fridge. He set them on a pair of coasters-Wilson never changed, even if the circumstances did.
After a while, Wilson muted the TV and looked at House. He looked so…touchable, just a few inches away, watching the flicker of the silent monster trucks. Wilson knew he would never dare try. He wasn’t ready for it yet, didn’t need to in any case. He was happy just having House here.
“They think you’re crazy, you know?” House interrupted the quiet. Wilson scrubbed his eyes.
“I know,” he admitted. He was aware of House’s critical, skeptical gaze. “I’m not. I know that you’re dead. I just…I don’t want you to be gone. I can’t stand it if you’re gone.” He felt his eyes fill and glanced away, ashamed.
House’s arm settled over the back of the couch nonchalantly, protective in a subtle, Housian way. “Yeah, crazy’s fine. They just want their normal to be everyone’s normal.”
Wilson took in a breath, and let himself smile. House understood-always had. Together, they had things under control.