House M.D. Fanfiction: Hitting the Nail on the Head
Title: Hitting the Nail on the Head
Author: pgrabia
Disclaimer: I don’t own House M.D. and I’m making no profit off of this…which really sucks.
Genre: AU, H/W Pre-slash, sick!Wilson, humor.
Characters/Pairings: House, Foreman, Chase, Taub, Masters, Wilson/ H/W pre-slash.
Warnings/Spoilers: Coarse language, adult concepts./ Spoilers up to and including episode 7x17 "Fall From Grace".
Author’s Notes: Written for the LJ Sick!Wilson Fourth Anniversary Pic Challenge Prompt # 2: Hammer.
Rating: PG-13 (T)
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House was seated alone in the cafeteria eating his lunch because Wilson hadn’t shown up at work that morning and his attempts to find out why-including sneaking out of the hospital to go over to the loft-ended up unsuccessful. Wilson hadn’t been at home when House had stopped by unannounced, his P.A. claimed to have no idea where her boss was, only that he’d called in sick and asked her to reschedule all of his appointments, and a thorough search of the hospital came up empty. He’d resorted to barging in on Cuddy and getting chewed out for not being in the clinic. She had refused to give up what she knew and had threatened to add five more clinic hours onto his allotment if he didn’t vacate her office immediately.
He didn’t know if he was so much worried as he was frustrated. House hated it when there was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. It only spurred on his competitive need to win-to find the answers he sought-all the more. Because this time the puzzle had to do with his best friend he was even more preoccupied with it. It was a good thing he didn’t have a case he was working on. His patient would end up being neglected if it came down to sharing his deductive powers with figuring out what was going on with the Chief of Oncology.
He saw his four minions standing in line to get their food. They had been acting a little off all morning but claimed that they didn’t know anything about Wilson’s whereabouts. When they walked in his direction through the very busy cafeteria he thought that they might ask to share the table with him but instead they sat down at a table kitty corner from his, behind him. It was noisy there but House managed to hear most of their conversation, hoping that they would say something about Wilson that they had refrained from telling him. After some nonsense chit chat their conversation got interesting.
“Well, I’m just glad I’m not Wilson today,” Taub said, changing the subject of their conversation.
“Poor bastard,” Chase said, “that had to have been excruciatingly painful.”
“I heard the ER nurses talking about it when I went down there looking for a case,” Taub added. “It wasn’t just bruised-it was mashed. There was vascular damage done as well. He won’t be using it for quite a while.”
“It may never fully recover,” Masters said with a sigh.
“Any word on how it happened?” Foreman asked, sounding bored-as usual.
“Nothing specific,” Taub answered. “Apparently he had a date over for dinner when the thing unexpectedly popped up out of nowhere and wouldn’t leave. Wilson admitted that he reacted worse to it than his date did. He tried to get rid of it by pouring a glass of cold water on it but that didn’t work, just made a mess. She expressed her disgust and he offered to try again but she was completely disgusted with him by now and reacted by searching for his tool box and took a hammer to it. Her trajectory was bad and it kept bobbing and weaving. She slipped on the water on the floor after taking a huge swing, Wilson couldn’t dodge it in time, and, well…he was brought in unable to walk, writhing in agony with his date nowhere to be seen; apparently he was so embarrassed he was begging the ER staff on hand not spread what he was there for. Cuddy showed up and threatened to fire anyone who spread gossip about it. He looked mortified having to tell Cuddy what happened. I guess it would be a little…emasculating.” He began to chuckle followed by Chase.
“I don’t think it’s nice to laugh at his misfortune,” Masters told them haughtily. “I’ll bet you guys wouldn’t think it was funny if it happened to you.”
“Oh, please,” Chase said, still chuckling. “If it happened to me I’d take it in my bare hand and squeeze it until it gave up the fight before I’d take a hammer to it.”
“Or dump ice water on it.” Foreman added.
Now all three men were laughing behind House. If they were talking about what it sounded like they were talking about he’d take a hammer to each of them and then see who was still laughing after that. House felt sick to his stomach.
“Is he still in surgery to repair the vascular damage?” Master’s inquired.
“No, I heard he’s got a private room in the old wing, where the rooms don’t have glass walls so he can hide. He’s probably sleeping off the rest of the anesthetic. “ Taub answered. “He’s using a false name so House can’t find him. Mr. Will Evans-but don’t tell anyone I told you that.”
House couldn’t listen to any more. He got up from his table and headed to his office to look up the admission record of Mr. Will Evans (trust Wilson to come up with such a lame alias) and find out which room he was in.
##
Wilson was dozing when House entered his dimly lit hospital room. He walked quietly so as not to disturb him if he was asleep. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. The slight scuff of the chair on the floor was enough to rouse the oncologist. As soon as he saw House he moaned and closed his eyes again. Gingerly he rolled to face away from the diagnostician.
“I knew Cuddy couldn’t keep a secret. Go away, House. It hurts too much to have to put up with your mockery, too.”
“She didn’t tell me. I heard it through the grapevine,” House told him seriously. “I should have heard about it from my best friend.”
“It’s not like it was life threatening,” Wilson answered, rolling back onto his back with a grimace and a hiss. “Just humiliating. And painful…very painful.”
“What do they have you on for pain?”
“Right now, morphine by injection. Later, as it begins to settle down I’ll probably end up on Percocet for a while, or T-4s.”
“Well, it’s obviously not enough.” House was quiet for a moment. “Why did you try to hide this from me?”
“Because I didn’t want to be the brunt of your warped sense of humor for the rest of my life,” Wilson answered.
“You know, there’s a rumor going around that the panty-peeler may have to hang up his silken gloves,” House told him with a hint of a smile.
“Yeah, I heard that rumor, too,” Wilson said with a sigh. “You wouldn’t happen to know who started that rumor, by any chance?”
“I heard it from Taub,” the diagnostician replied, “but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Of course not.”
“I want to take a look,” House told him and before the oncologist could object the older man had the blanket pulled aside and put his hand very gently on Wilson’s bandaged knee. “How badly damaged was the patella?”
“Not as badly as they initially thought,” the younger man answered. “But badly enough. They also had to repair some damage done to the artery. I may require a knee replacement eventually. Gone are my aspirations to win the Boston marathon, dammit.” A smirk appeared on Wilson’s face but was quickly replaced by a grimace as House gently palpated the region before rewrapping it and covering his friend with the blankets again.
“I have one question,” House told him, sitting back down. “What possessed you to think you could drown a mouse by dumping a glass of water on it?”
“It was two glasses of water,” Wilson corrected, only to earn an eye roll from House.
“You’re not helping your case.”
“I don’t know,” the oncologist told him with a tired sigh. “I was hoping Sarah would catch it but apparently you spoiled her with white lab mice and now she won’t touch a common field one.”
House couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental picture of Wilson’s date grabbing a hammer to kill the small rodent and then hitting him in the knee instead.
“So who was the fair maiden that decided to do a job on your knee instead of your-“
“Stop right there,” Wilson interrupted him with his nose crinkled in distaste. “It wasn’t a date-date. Her name is Monica and she’s my partner in cooking class. We had prepared a dish to be evaluated and made an extra one to eat afterward. That’s it. I told you, House. I’m not ready to start dating again. I don’t when I will be-or if I ever will be again.”
“Well, there’s no hurry,” House agreed and then headed for the door.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Wilson called after him, scowling suspiciously. House looked back.
“What?”
“A few weeks ago you were pushing me to get laid and start dating again and now you’re telling me that there’s no hurry,” the oncologist said. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
House wondered how much he should say, or if he should say anything at all. He shrugged. “I was still dating Cuddy then. Now I’m not.”
Wilson shook his head and House could see the wheels turning in the younger man’s head as he tried to figure out the message behind that answer.
“While you were spoken for, it didn’t matter if I was involved with someone,” the younger man reasoned out loud. “In fact, it made it easier on you because you didn’t have to juggle your time between Cuddy and me quite so much. Or…it made it easier to be with Cuddy because I was…unavailable. Now that you’re single again, you don’t have to juggle anything, so you don’t need me to be preoccupied-in fact, you want my undivided attention again. You don’t want to have to share me with anyone else; you want me all to yourself. House, you do know how that sounds, don’t you? What somebody else might think upon hearing that?”
A sly smile touched the older man’s lips. “Well, obviously she didn’t hit you in the head with that hammer. Good thing.”
He limped out of the hospital room, knowing that Wilson was staring after him with his mouth agape without having to look back.
~fin~