"The House Syndrome" Chapter 5
Title: The House Syndrome
Chapter: 5/6(Plus epilogue)
Fandom: House MD
Pairings: Wilson/Park, House/Wilson
Worcount: (This Chapter-840)
Rating: NC17 (This Chapter-G)
Warnings: Graphic sex for both pairings. Massive Angst-fest ahead. No fluff, no schmoop. Possible triggers. Read at your own risk.
Notes: THIS IS NOT A WIP! The whole thing is done. I just feel like posting in chapters. Very short chapters. Thanks to michelleann68 for Full Metal Beta. Comments and concrit welcome.
Summary: Things are back to normal, so everyone gets hurt.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
It was nice of Foreman to knock, although he started talking before Wilson actually finished saying “Come in.”
“Have you seen House?”
The worst part of Cuddy leaving PPTH was having to learn how to read a new Dean of Medicine. Foreman had grown since his days as House’s fellow. For one thing, he’d gotten cagier. Some of House’s mind-game mojo must have rubbed off.
Did “Have you seen House?” mean Foreman was genuinely worried about House’s well-being or just covering his own ass? Another possibility was that Foreman already knew about Wilson and Park and was trying to decide how to use the information for his own advantage. His expression wasn’t giving anything away.
Wilson was damned if he he’d be one-upped in the Machiavelli department by a mere upstart. He plastered on his best innocent expression.
“I’m not his keeper.”
Foreman didn’t bother to say “bullshit.” He let his eye-roll do it for him. Wilson felt his mask cracking.
“He’s called in sick two days in a row,” Foreman said, showing at least one of his cards.
“So?” Wilson snapped, feigning indifference, “At least you know he’s well enough to pick up a phone.”
“Sure. To call HR, but not you?”
There was no point telling Foreman how many texts and calls from House he’d ignored in the past two days. He had assumed House was playing hooky and wanted Wilson to join him in some escapade. The “sick calls” were just a game and a way to play on Wilson’s past guilt. Now he felt an ugly twisting in his gut.
Staying away from work for one day was par for the course. Two days without a new puzzle and House started getting cranky. Either he really was sick or he’d managed to kill himself. This was what House did to people, he remembered. After a while, you could only think of the worst possible outcome. It was far more likely that House was holed up with two hookers, a bottle of JD and a marathon of Punkin’ Chunkin on Tivo.
Wilson narrowed his eyes at Foreman thinking he had the upper hand, until Foreman proceeded to sit down opposite him and fold his arms, with an almost House-like expression of smugness.
“You really need to cover your tracks better. You know how he is,” Foreman sighed, as if he were disappointed by Wilson’s failure to be a better philanderer.
Great.
Foreman knew about Park. If he knew, then House did too. The most likely result: a petulant bender followed by immoderate revenge. They were all screwed.
He involuntarily rubbed his face, squinting against the reality of exposure.
“Shit,” he muttered and then did it again when he opened his eyes again and caught the hint of a sneer.
Foreman had been bluffing. Now he definitely knew and Wilson was more definitely fucked. That was OK for him; he’d been there before. Park on the other hand…she’d known the risks, presumably. Losing her job or facing more of House’s abuse than a human being could stand. Amber thought she could beat the odds too. Wilson winced involuntarily.
That wound was covered with layers of scar tissue, which wasn’t the same as healing. It was just hiding the pain. House hadn’t deliberately caused the accident, but he’d put Amber on the bus. He hated to admit it to himself, but Wilson had no doubt that deep inside, House still considered her death a win. He’d only been annoyed at his failure to solve the puzzle in time. Amber herself was merely collateral damage.
Park didn’t deserve to go down that road. There was only one way to fix this and that was the problem. Park was supposed to be a one-time thing. A means to an end. Disposable. Except…she was smart and sweet and absolutely amazing in bed. Maybe even someone he’d already deluded himself into caring about. He didn’t want to let her go, not yet.
His ambivalence must have shown on his face, because he caught Foreman shaking his head in disgust.
“Park? Really? Just because you’re bored and House is a bastard? As if any of this is a surprise?”
Wilson considered feigning outraged innocence, but that game was over. Foreman knew the score and wasn’t going to let him get away with it. He was still House’s keeper as far as Foreman was concerned, and Foreman was a good enough Dean of Medicine to know he needed to protect all his doctors. In that way, he was better than Cuddy.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” Wilson asked Foreman, letting him know by his tone that he was not playing games anymore.
Foreman nodded, equally grave.
“New case?”
Another nod.
Wilson stood, grabbing his lab coat from the hook on the door. Somehow he felt like he was dressing for battle. At the very least he had to deflect the worst of House’s emotional brutality away from Park and back towards himself.
Wilson knew he had it coming, he hoped House realized Park did not.
Chapter: 5/6(Plus epilogue)
Fandom: House MD
Pairings: Wilson/Park, House/Wilson
Worcount: (This Chapter-840)
Rating: NC17 (This Chapter-G)
Warnings: Graphic sex for both pairings. Massive Angst-fest ahead. No fluff, no schmoop. Possible triggers. Read at your own risk.
Notes: THIS IS NOT A WIP! The whole thing is done. I just feel like posting in chapters. Very short chapters. Thanks to michelleann68 for Full Metal Beta. Comments and concrit welcome.
Summary: Things are back to normal, so everyone gets hurt.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
It was nice of Foreman to knock, although he started talking before Wilson actually finished saying “Come in.”
“Have you seen House?”
The worst part of Cuddy leaving PPTH was having to learn how to read a new Dean of Medicine. Foreman had grown since his days as House’s fellow. For one thing, he’d gotten cagier. Some of House’s mind-game mojo must have rubbed off.
Did “Have you seen House?” mean Foreman was genuinely worried about House’s well-being or just covering his own ass? Another possibility was that Foreman already knew about Wilson and Park and was trying to decide how to use the information for his own advantage. His expression wasn’t giving anything away.
Wilson was damned if he he’d be one-upped in the Machiavelli department by a mere upstart. He plastered on his best innocent expression.
“I’m not his keeper.”
Foreman didn’t bother to say “bullshit.” He let his eye-roll do it for him. Wilson felt his mask cracking.
“He’s called in sick two days in a row,” Foreman said, showing at least one of his cards.
“So?” Wilson snapped, feigning indifference, “At least you know he’s well enough to pick up a phone.”
“Sure. To call HR, but not you?”
There was no point telling Foreman how many texts and calls from House he’d ignored in the past two days. He had assumed House was playing hooky and wanted Wilson to join him in some escapade. The “sick calls” were just a game and a way to play on Wilson’s past guilt. Now he felt an ugly twisting in his gut.
Staying away from work for one day was par for the course. Two days without a new puzzle and House started getting cranky. Either he really was sick or he’d managed to kill himself. This was what House did to people, he remembered. After a while, you could only think of the worst possible outcome. It was far more likely that House was holed up with two hookers, a bottle of JD and a marathon of Punkin’ Chunkin on Tivo.
Wilson narrowed his eyes at Foreman thinking he had the upper hand, until Foreman proceeded to sit down opposite him and fold his arms, with an almost House-like expression of smugness.
“You really need to cover your tracks better. You know how he is,” Foreman sighed, as if he were disappointed by Wilson’s failure to be a better philanderer.
Great.
Foreman knew about Park. If he knew, then House did too. The most likely result: a petulant bender followed by immoderate revenge. They were all screwed.
He involuntarily rubbed his face, squinting against the reality of exposure.
“Shit,” he muttered and then did it again when he opened his eyes again and caught the hint of a sneer.
Foreman had been bluffing. Now he definitely knew and Wilson was more definitely fucked. That was OK for him; he’d been there before. Park on the other hand…she’d known the risks, presumably. Losing her job or facing more of House’s abuse than a human being could stand. Amber thought she could beat the odds too. Wilson winced involuntarily.
That wound was covered with layers of scar tissue, which wasn’t the same as healing. It was just hiding the pain. House hadn’t deliberately caused the accident, but he’d put Amber on the bus. He hated to admit it to himself, but Wilson had no doubt that deep inside, House still considered her death a win. He’d only been annoyed at his failure to solve the puzzle in time. Amber herself was merely collateral damage.
Park didn’t deserve to go down that road. There was only one way to fix this and that was the problem. Park was supposed to be a one-time thing. A means to an end. Disposable. Except…she was smart and sweet and absolutely amazing in bed. Maybe even someone he’d already deluded himself into caring about. He didn’t want to let her go, not yet.
His ambivalence must have shown on his face, because he caught Foreman shaking his head in disgust.
“Park? Really? Just because you’re bored and House is a bastard? As if any of this is a surprise?”
Wilson considered feigning outraged innocence, but that game was over. Foreman knew the score and wasn’t going to let him get away with it. He was still House’s keeper as far as Foreman was concerned, and Foreman was a good enough Dean of Medicine to know he needed to protect all his doctors. In that way, he was better than Cuddy.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” Wilson asked Foreman, letting him know by his tone that he was not playing games anymore.
Foreman nodded, equally grave.
“New case?”
Another nod.
Wilson stood, grabbing his lab coat from the hook on the door. Somehow he felt like he was dressing for battle. At the very least he had to deflect the worst of House’s emotional brutality away from Park and back towards himself.
Wilson knew he had it coming, he hoped House realized Park did not.