I’m weary of the pace...

[dr_j_wilson]

Who: Wilson, tagging Cuddy (Closed)
Where: Cuddy's house
What: Takes place after this thread. Wilson shows up at Cuddy's front door.
When: Tuesday 28th March. 5.45pm.

Complete

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[dr_l_cuddy]

Cuddy felt Wilson's body shaking under her hand. When he leaned forward, covering his face, she slid her hand across his shoulders. She kept a slow, gentle movement with her hand, hoping to give him some physical comfort at least. She wasn't sure there was anything she could do that would bring him any emotional comfort, and she found it distressing to be so...useless.

Cuddy nodded to herself when Wilson choked out House's name. That was the crux of the situation, the secret both men had been trying to keep.

"House. And you. I know."

Strictly speaking she didn't know, she suspected. And it was only a very general suspicion at that.

"What I mean is, I figured out that there'd been a change in your relationship with House. That the two of you have become...more than friends," she explained, choosing her words carefully because she didn't really know how far they'd taken this change.

And still, this shift in their relationship didn't explain why Wilson was here now, so utterly bereft. Granted, House had a talent for reducing people to tears, but that unfortunate group had never included Wilson.

"What happened?" Cuddy asked again, because clearly something had.

[dr_j_wilson]

Feeling the movement of Cuddy’s hand on his back, Wilson honestly didn’t know if he wanted her to stop or not. Partly it made him remember House touching him in a similar way, which was not something he wanted to be thinking about, and in another way it was comforting. Comforting to think he might not be as alone without House as he had initially thought. There was no comparison to the friendship he had had with House, of course, but it was still something.

Wilson could have been shocked and horrified at Cuddy’s statement, yet in the state he was in, it wasn’t as if things could get any worse. A part of him was relieved that Cuddy knew, however she figured it out… Wilson did not have the energy right then to speculate on that. She didn’t seem to be judging him at all at least.

“More than friends?” Wilson repeated, when those particular words sank in, and then let out a choked, harsh laugh. “No…no we weren’t,” he said, shifting his hands so the heels of his palms were pressed against his forehead, fingers curled tightly into his hair. “I thought…” Wilson shook his head slightly, unable to finish.

He’d thought they’d been in a relationship, or the beginnings of one at least. Wilson had thought all those quieter, gentler moments between them had meant something. They had, for him. All Wilson could think now was House had just been lonely, had been wishing he was someone else. Obviously the thought of an actual relationship had not even crossed House’s mind, since he’d been so taken aback by it.

“Whatever we were…we’re not anything now,” Wilson finally said, hopelessly. As if saying it out loud made him realise how true that was, Wilson surrendered finally to the need of release that was demanded by his body. He hated himself for it when tears squeezed out of his eyes and another silent sob seized at his muscles, but he no longer tried to stop it.

[dr_l_cuddy]

Cuddy remained silent at Wilson's side, giving him time to release some of the emotion that seemed to nearly overwhelm him. She didn't believe for a moment that everything was finished between the two men. They'd known each other too long, been through too much together for it to just end. But Wilson clearly believed it and right now that was all that mattered.

Cuddy wished she knew what to say or do to reassure Wilson. The problem was she was flying blind here. She didn't know how or when or why things had changed between House and Wilson. She certainly didn't know what had precipitated Wilson's belief that he'd lost his best friend. When she'd seen House earlier, in coma guy's room, he'd been his usual bitchy self...right up until she'd shut him up by confronting him about Wilson.

Cuddy suppressed a groan. What if that was it? She'd committed the cardinal sin with House--she'd pushed him. She'd exposed his secret and he'd run scared. House didn't like being pushed, and he hated being scared. His usual reaction was to lash out at a convenient victim...like Wilson.

"James, listen to me," Cuddy said. Her voice was quiet but firm, trying to get Wilson to focus on her. "If House said anything this afternoon, or did anything, it's probably my fault. I talked to him at lunch. I asked him about the two of you. I...I scared him."

Under normal circumstances she would've loved to be able to scare House just a little, once in a while, but only to prevent him from being such an ass with his patients or coworkers. She never would've said anything had she thought he'd take his fear out on Wilson.

"You know how House is. When he feels threatened he attacks," Cuddy continued. "House has to be in control, he has to be the one calling the shots. Whatever he said or did to you today, I think it's probably more about him than it is about you."

[dr_j_wilson]

“What?” Wilson choked out, struggling to breathe right, struggling to focus on what Cuddy was saying. He swallowed hard and turned his face away, harshly wiping at his eyes and face. “No, he…” Cuddy had talked to House about them?

Wilson rubbed hard at his forehead with the heel of one hand, as if it would clear the confusion in his mind. As much as the idea pained him, Wilson replayed the scene since the time he’d walked into House’s apartment to find him with the hooker. He remembered House’s expression when he’d paid the woman, one that could have been shame, or guilt, Wilson wasn’t sure.

It was hard to focus, hard to think straight with the mix of alcohol and emotions making his head swim. But Cuddy was right, Wilson thought, House did go to extremes when he was afraid, and he attacked when he felt threatened. And he had most certainly attacked.

Think I'm not confused about any of this? What, you think I did this to spite you? Is that what you think?

Wilson shook his head slowly before slumping back against the couch’s backrest. He felt too exhausted, not to mention still too hurt and angry by the whole thing, to analyse it all. “I don’t know,” Wilson finally said quietly, still not looking at Cuddy.

What he did realise, reluctantly, was that at least half the reason for him walking out had been because of what he’d admitted. That he was in love. With House. It terrified Wilson that he had lost control and ended up saying that, especially when he’d never even consciously thought the words before. House wasn’t the only one with control issues. The words were true though, were probably still true.

Wilson closed his eyes, tiredness hitting him with the force of a semi-trailer. At least he felt slightly calmer now. “I should go…find a hotel,” he said half-heartedly.

[dr_l_cuddy]

Cuddy watched Wilson struggle to make sense of everything, and wondered which of the two men was more confused. As far as she knew both of them had always been straight. As far as she knew they had always thought they were straight. She couldn't imagine the turmoil this new self-knowledge must be causing.

When Wilson slumped back against the couch, she busied herself with retrieving his forgotten glass. It had been empty so the upholstery was undamaged. Not that she would've cared much. Furniture could be cleaned or replaced, friends couldn't.

She glanced over her shoulder at Wilson when he admitted he didn't know. He looked exhausted, almost defeated. She set the glass next to the open bottle on the coffee table, then shifted her position so that she was sitting sideways on the couch, facing him.

"Of course you don't know," Cuddy said in an attempt to reassure him. "You're too upset right now. Give yourself some time. You'll figure it out."

A small voice in the back of Cuddy's head wanted to know how the hell she would know anything about it. She'd never managed a successful long-term relationship after all. She wasn't all that good at short term relationships either. She stubbornly ignored the voice because she still believed love was possible, and she believed it was possible for Wilson.

"A hotel?" Cuddy said, almost surprised when Wilson's comment drew her back out of her own thoughts. Then she realized he must've been staying with House, which was clearly out of the question now. Well, wasn't that just great. Wilson was not only broken-hearted, but essentially homeless.

"Er...okay, this is going to sound a little bossy, but I have this thing about drinking and driving," she told him. "So you have two choices. If you really want to go to a hotel then I will drive you wherever you want to go. Or you can stay here. There's a barely used guest bedroom just a few yards that way, with a bathroom right across the hall. You can have all the privacy you want."

Cuddy smiled at him. "Although, you may have a fight on your hands if you try to take the first cup of coffee in the morning."

[dr_j_wilson]

Wilson managed a faint smile, looking over at Cuddy with clear gratefulness. His smile faltered however at the thought of the morning, which lead to thoughts of work. Until then Wilson hadn’t even thought about the fact that he and House would no doubt see each other at work, sooner or later. The knowledge left him with a sick feeling of dread, but he shut it quickly away and focused back on the present.

“Thanks. I’ve had a stomach-full of hotels to be honest,” Wilson said, still sounding weary but better than he had been not a minute ago. He glanced away again but reached out to find Cuddy’s hand and squeezed it briefly with one of his own, the touch saying more than he was capable of putting into words. It was more the offer of a place to stay for the night that Wilson was grateful for.

“Which...reminds me,” Wilson looked at Cuddy again, getting an idea that could at least be a temporary solution to potential problems. “You uh, you said I could ask for some time off if I needed it?” Wilson paused for a moment, “I think it’s about time I find my own place,” he said, trying to ignore the pang of regret in his chest at those words. “I’ll only need a few days, and I know for a fact that Dr. Julian will jump at the chance to run the department in my place,” Wilson added with a vague, wry smile.

[dr_l_cuddy]

Cuddy returned the squeeze Wilson gave her hand, trying to infuse the simple gesture with all the reassurance she could.

"Of course," Cuddy said when Wilson mentioned time off. She wondered if it wasn't more than simply looking for a place to live, more as in wanting to avoid House. Wilson and House were going to have to deal with this at some point, but maybe it would be best to postpone that confrontation until Wilson's emotions weren't so raw. Her lips twisted briefly in a grimace when she thought about what House's emotions would be like in the morning. She pitied the students in his class, more so than usual.

"I'll let Dr. Julian know first thing in the morning. I'll tell him you'll be gone the rest of the week, but we can adjust that depending on how things are working out for you. You're more than welcome to stay here as long as you need."

Cuddy gave Wilson a quick pat on the knee before getting to her feet. "Why don't you go get your things from the car and bring them in? Bedroom's second door on the right. Speak up if you can't find something you need." Cuddy picked up her still untouched glass of whiskey and nodded toward the kitchen. "In the meantime I'm going to round up something for supper. If you're feeling up to it, you're welcome to join me."

[dr_j_wilson]

Wilson nodded at Cuddy and got to his feet, giving her another faint smile before he went out to his car. Opening the boot, he rummaged around in his suitcase, putting some clothes and other things into his backpack to take inside. Putting the bag over one shoulder, Wilson shut the boot again and locked it. Instead of walking away though, Wilson turned and slumped back against the car. It was a mild night, but Wilson felt cold….chilled even.

Despite everything, he wondered what House was doing right then, if he was okay. Idiot, Wilson told himself, he wanted you to leave.

Pushing himself away from the car, Wilson made his way back into Cuddy’s house and found the guestroom without any problems. He dumped his bag in there before going into the bathroom across the hall. The reflection of himself in the mirror made Wilson grimace. He splashed water over his face and then deliberated about joining Cuddy or not. His body was demanding food, but at the same time the thought of eating made him feel nauseous.

And he was tired. So goddamn tired. Maybe he’d just have a quick nap beforehand, Wilson decided. Going back to the guestroom he kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to pull a blanket over himself. Only a minute later Wilson was fast asleep, sleeping like a man who was going to stay sleep until something forced him back into the real world.

[dr_l_cuddy]

Cuddy made a detour on the way to the kitchen and stopped in her bedroom. Once she'd changed into jeans and a royal blue t-shirt, and was feeling much more comfortable, she finally made it to the kitchen. She pulled the fixings for turkey sandwiches from the fridge, figuring Wilson wouldn't be in the mood for anything heavy...assuming he was in the mood to eat at all.

She slapped together a quick sandwich for herself and stood leaning against the counter to eat. In the background she could hear the muffled sound of doors opening and closing as Wilson settled into the guest bedroom.

Part of her wanted to believe that Wilson was wildly overreacting to whatever had happened between him and House. She'd seen the two of them have some real knock-down, drag-out fights before and nothing had ever been able to fracture their friendship. But the rational part of her knew that Wilson didn't overreact to House, not to this extreme degree.

Cuddy set her sandwich down, suddenly not all that hungry herself. She realized she hadn't heard anything of Wilson in while. She could understand if he didn't feel like eating, or that maybe he simply wanted to be alone for a while, but she thought it would be a good idea to get some fluids in him to counteract the dehydrating effects of the alcohol. A couple of aspirin wouldn't be a bad idea either.

She made her way to the guest bedroom. The door was almost but not quite closed. She gave the door a quick, one-knuckle knock, then pushed it open. She cringed a little when the hinges made a dry creaking noise, but she needn't have worried. Wilson was sprawled out on the bed, dead to the world.

Conflicted, Cuddy stayed where she was for a moment. Should she wake him and try to coax him into eating or drinking something? Or leave him in peace? She glanced at her watch and realized that although it felt like hours had passed since she'd arrived home, it was actually still fairly early in the evening. She decided a nap wasn't a bad idea--Wilson clearly needed the rest--so she crossed to the foot of the bed and grabbed a thin blanket folded across the footboard. She shook it out and draped it across Wilson's still form.

If he didn't wake on his own in an hour or so, she'd check on him again. Until then,

"Sweet dreams."