Sorry Charlie (House; House, Wilson) - 2/2
Title: Sorry Charlie Part 2
Author:
hilandmum
Summary: Wilson makes a new friend. House is tickled pink. Or some other color.
Rating: PG for language only
Fandom: House
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Original Title: Green (http://deelaundry.livejournal.com/4171.html)
Original Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Wilson friendship, with special guest appearance by Evil Nurse Brenda
Disclaimer: House, Wilson, Brenda, and the rest of the House MD characters aren’t Dee Laundry’s and they’re not mine, either. This was my first remix, and the original was sooo good, so I haven’t changed all that much.
Note: Posting in two parts for length.
Thanks again to my beta:
plotbunny
House
Our Friday night dinner was relaxing, even fun. Wilson made dinner - a new stir-fry recipe that turned out well. I “made” dessert. “Ben and Jerry’s a la House,” I proclaimed, as I squirted a ridiculous amount of chocolate syrup on each of our bowls of ice cream.
We were shooting the breeze after dinner but hadn’t yet started the movie. Wilson was on his third beer and his second bowl of ice cream.
“No, no, no, no,” he was saying, emphasizing the point with his spoon. “Charlie says, and I concur, that Night of the Lepus is the definitive giant killer rabbit movie.”
“Oh, Charlie says. Isn’t it the only giant killer rabbit movie?”
“Yeah.” Wilson dug out another bite and was licking the spoon when he noticed the furrow in my brow. “What?”
“So Night of the Lepus is one of Charlie’s turn-ons then?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said that you and Charlie talk about, and I quote, patient care, office politics, sports, and TV shows. Night of the Lepus is none of those, so it must be one of his turn-ons.”
“Well, it’s been three weeks since I gave you that list. We’ve moved on since then. We’ve talked about, let’s see…” Wilson dropped the spoon back in the bowl and brought his finger to his lip in a mock thoughtful pose. “Art. National politics. Movies. And the CRAZY CRAP you keep pulling on him.”
“Well, isn’t that sweet? You and your gal pal have so many things to chat about. Your cell bill must be humongous.”
“Don’t get off track. We’re talking about you.”
“No, we’re not.” I pivoted out of my chair. “You can go now.”
“I’m not done with my ice cream.”
“Yes, you are.” I jerked the ice cream bowl out of Wilson’s hands and started for the kitchen. “I’ll do the dishes; you can let yourself out.”
Wilson followed me. “No, I doubt you’ll do the dishes. You’ll probably just leave them there for me to do the next time I come back.”
“Probably.” The dishes clattered into the sink. If he comes back. If I let him come back. I straightened my shoulders and leaned against the kitchen island. The silence was unnerving, and my stare told him once again to go.
Wilson mirrored my lean except against the refrigerator. Didn’t he get the message?
“What is going on in your head? We need to talk about this.”
“No,” I replied. “No, we really don’t. I know you periodically like to indulge the fourteen-year old girl you have living inside you, but I’m not interested in a long heart-to-heart on my feelings, your feelings, and, lest we forget, Charlie’s feelings.” I pushed past Wilson back into the living room.
“Yes, because you’re not being juvenile,” he said sarcastically.
“At least my inner teenager is a boy .”
“Fine.”
######################################
Wilson
I stormed out and was halfway home when I realized I’d left my jacket behind. Screw it, I thought, let him keep the damn thing.
But on Monday when I came in to work, the jacket was hanging neatly on the back of my office chair. It even looked dry-cleaned. “Maybe all is forgiven,” I murmured.
Next time I passed the diagnostic conference room, I nodded briefly to House and got a small smile and nod in return. I’d heard they’d caught an interesting case over the weekend, so I wasn’t surprised not to see House the rest of that day.
When I left for home that night, I picked up the jacket and put it on. I automatically reached into the left-hand pocket to get my keys (which I’d forgotten were in my pants), but I felt something sticky instead. And then I couldn’t get my hand out. It was stuck to the inside of the jacket pocket.
I made my way to the lobby, figuring I could manage to get home with just one hand available and then I’d do, well, something to get my hand unglued. But I never made it to the door.
“Dr. Wilson, may I have a word with you?” Cuddy’s voice seemed to shout at me.
She was standing just outside her office with a file in her hands. At first she was so intent on the file and what she wanted to ask me that she didn’t notice anything odd. It wasn’t long, however, before she broke off her long question about protocols for treating lymphomas. “What happened to your hand?” she asked.
I made a show of looking at my right hand. “Nothing.”
“I mean the one stuck in your pocket.”
She didn’t know how right she was. I motioned her into a clinic exam room. Maybe she could help me. As soon as the door was closed I began to tell her what had happened.
#################################
House
I hadn’t talked to Wilson all day, and I wondered when he’d discover my addition to his jacket. As I was leaving, I heard Putz asking Brenda whether she’d seen Wilson.
“He and Dr. Cuddy are in Exam 2” she told him.
“Is it a serious case?” Lutz asked.
“Oh, there’s no patient in there with them.”
I watched as he approached the room, then moved to get between him and the door. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you” I said, lifting my cane to block his way.
He looked at me through narrowed eyes.
“Can’t disturb Mistress Cuddy and the boy wonder oncologist” I added. We were both near enough now to hear them.
“Do that again” Wilson could be heard saying clearly.
“I’m almost there, James” Cuddy was saying. “Stay still.”
“Hurry, Lisa” Wilson practically moaned.
“Turn this way slowly” she said. “Now put your other hand here.”
Lutz’s face was turning all sorts of interesting colors. I was just hoping they were doing what I thought they were doing.
I made myself scarce before Cuddy and Wilson came out, both of them embarrassed when they saw Lutz just outside.
“This is a hospital, House, not kindergarten” Cuddy shouted, assuming I was within earshot.
“He ruined a perfectly decent jacket” Wilson complained. Lutz was staring at the way the left-hand pocket of the tweed sports coat now hung by just a few threads. “Don’t ask” Wilson told him.
###############################
Wilson
Wednesday morning, an appointment ended early - when you actually have good news to report, they often do. My feet took me automatically toward House’s office until I caught myself, turned, and headed to orthopedics.
I started speaking before I was even fully through Charlie’s door.
“Hey, did you catch the game last…” My voice trailed off, because I was awe-struck by the mess on Charlie’s desk. The desk was covered, in a layer at least two inches thick, in jelly beans. Clearly, a variety pack - Wilson spotted every color imaginable except red.
Charlie picked out a few pink ones and held them up to Wilson. “Nice, this is nice.”
“I prefer the green ones” I said, helping myself to a few from his in-box.
He continued dumping them into his trash, stopping occasionally to pull out an item that actually did belong on the desk.
“You think House did this?” Skeptical expression from Charlie.
“There are no red ones” I said. “He only eats the red ones.”
“OK, stupid question” he admitted. “Look, Jimmy, you’re a good guy. I like you. But I don’t need this.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s gonna be fine. I’ll talk to House.”
“Didn’t you say that last week? And the week before?”
“Sometimes - Sometimes it takes a while to get through.”
“He keyed my car. Or caned it, probably.” On that, Charlie’s thrust was so hard that the jelly beans flew past the can and onto the carpet. He got down on his knees to pick them up.
“You don’t know that it was him.”
Charlie ignored that. “I can’t believe it took me so long to figure out just why House was doing this to me. Now I’m trying to decide whether he’s your boyfriend or your rottweiler.”
“My what?”
The trash can thumped onto the desk. “Rottweiler. Breed that is fiercely intent on, and protective of, its owner. Won’t give anyone else the time of day and becomes insanely jealous when the owner’s attention is distracted. Yeah, we can go with that.”
“It’s…” I didn’t actually know what to say next, so I trailed off.
Charlie sighed. “Sorry, I just don’t need this. I have a lot going on right now. Charlie and the boys just moved in, and my two girls are having some issues with the change. We’re trying to work through the whole blended family, step-parent thing, and it’s not going as well as it could.”
“I didn’t know - you didn’t mention - wait. Charlie?”
“Yes, my partner’s name is Charlie, too. Vaguely narcissistic, isn’t it? We even sort of look alike. Put us in matching t-shirts and jeans - but don’t distract me.” Charlie threw up his hands, in a gesture halfway between halt and I give up. “I feel stupid even saying this, but this is too difficult. With what’s going on at home, I can’t handle any more drama in my life right now.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it again.
Charlie turned back to the work of clearing his desk. “Get House to stop, and we can have lunch again. Until then, I’ll see you around.”
Great. I lifted my eyes to the ceiling before replying, “Sure.” I banged on the door frame on the way out, wishing it was House’s head.
################################
I avoided House over the next few days, but I argued vehemently with him over and over in my head. On about Variation 53, when at last I no longer sounded like a smothered husband or a pissy little girl, I knew it was time to confront House in the real world.
I found him alone in his office, bouncing a ball off the wall. Donna McGill, the doctor whose office was on the other side of the wall, had requested, and received, authorization to add two inches of soundproofing. She still complained about the noise.
“You need to leave Charlie alone.” It wasn’t a demand or a plea.
House bit his lower lip as he executed a complicated wall-ceiling bounce. “Me? What reason would I have to do anything to the great Dr. Charlie Lutz?”
I folded my arms. I’d decided how to answer by Variation 27. Avoid questions about our friendship, no matter how lightly flung; focus on Charlie.
“You’ve got a bug up your butt, and there’s no reason for it. This is ridiculous. You need to stop this vendetta. Charlie’s a good guy, and if you’d take half a minute to talk to him, you’d see that.”
“Don’t need an orthopedic consult; don’t have a reason to talk to him.” He sat upright quickly and looked directly at me. “Unless you think he’d trade clinic hours with me. He can take all of mine this year, and I’ll take all of his in, say, 2015.”
“Cut him a break, House. He’s got a lot of stress in his life right now.”
House scoffed, but I continued, “He and his partner just moved in together, and -”
”Partner? Not girlfriend?”
Hmm, frankly I hadn’t wondered about that. And this hadn’t come up in any of the variations. “Yeah. And?”
“Is Charlie gay?”
“It seems so, yes.” I shrugged. What did that have to do with anything?
House flung himself back in his chair and considered the ceiling for a second.
“Oh.” He looked back at me and waved a hand in dismissal. “Then go have lunch with him. Knock yourself out. If you get to the cafeteria before noon, they might still have some chocolate pudding.”
“What? Because Charlie’s gay, you’ll let me be friends with him?” Damn, I broke my own rule. Couldn’t be helped.
“Yep.” House bent to turn on his iPod.
I put out a hand to stop him. “I don’t get this. What are you talking about?”
“You have my blessing. Go. Have fun.” House picked up a medical journal from his desk and started to flip through it. Both his expression and tone were open and easy, with not a trace of sarcasm. It killed me. What just happened here? I had my hands on my hips now, and struggled not to scream.
“Why are you acting like this? What is so different, with Charlie being gay?”
House looked up at me over the journal. “Well, obviously, he’s just making a pass at you, so nothing to worry about, right?”
“He is not making a pass at me!”
“Suuure he’s not.”
“You think I’ll take him up on it?” I asked with a smirk of my own.
House snorted. “Irrelevant. It’s his intentions that matter, not yours. He’s not looking for a new BFF. I know how to handle your groupies. Bros before hos, right?” He held out his fist.
I resisted the urge to slap the fist away and stormed out of House’s office.
######################
When two more weeks passed without incident, I finally convinced Charlie that House was going to leave him alone and we had a peaceful lunch on a Tuesday, with House going so far as to say hello to Charlie as he stole my chips in passing. After lunch, Charlie invited me for dinner at his house that Friday.
Charlie’s neighborhood was pleasant and clearly family-oriented: good-sized houses on half-acre lots, street lamps, and wide sidewalks. Walking up Charlie’s walk, I counted two bikes, a tricycle and a push car. I shifted the bottle of wine to my other arm and rang the bell.
I heard several little feet running, and then Charlie’s voice behind the door. “Kids, kids, come on, let me open it up.”
As the door swung inward, I saw first a girl of about seven, then a boy slightly shorter than her, a preschooler, and a toddler. They were all bouncing and grinning, and I was reminded of a cousin who owned four extremely friendly dogs.
Charlie’s face was lit up as well. “You made it - great. Directions were OK?”
I nodded, and Charlie turned down to the kids. “Becky, Jeff, let him in the door.”
“Hi,” said the girl, and turned and ran. The boy threw a “hi” over his shoulder as he followed her out of the foyer. The preschooler was clinging to Charlie’s leg, but the toddler was waving furiously as he shouted, “Hi! Hi! Hi!”
“Hello there,” I laughed, and waved back.
“Where’s my boy?” a woman’s voice called. When she stepped into the foyer, I gave a small start. She looked a lot like Charlie: same shade of blond hair, same shape to the face, close to the same height. The woman stooped to pick up the toddler, and then smiled at me.
Charlie’s voice was proud as he introduced them. “Jimmy, this is my partner, Charlie.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jimmy. Hope you like lasagna.”
“Yes, I do. I guess it’s a good thing I decided on red.” I passed her the wine, which she immediately held far away from the twisting, grasping toddler in her arms.
“Thanks. Steffi, your nuggets are ready. Let’s go back to the kitchen.” Steffi eyed me suspiciously, but consented to release Charlie’s leg and be led to the kitchen.
As they left, I turned back to Charlie.
“You weren’t kidding about looking a lot like your wife.”
“Not wife. Partner.” Charlie shrugged sheepishly. “We both went through some pretty bad marriages, and we’re not doing that again. ‘Girlfriend’ just sounds juvenile to me, so we’re going with ‘partner.’” Confession over, he perked up a bit. “And no, I wasn’t kidding about us looking alike. Sometimes I get a weird ‘clone’ feeling about it, especially with the whole having the same name thing. I’ve tried to talk her into using her full name, Charlotte, but then she starts calling me Chuck, and I have to drop the whole subject.”
Charlie 2, as I was beginning to think of her, came back into view, with spatula in hand. “Why are you still entertaining our guest in the foyer? Bring him in, let him get comfortable.” She headed back to the kitchen.
I caught Charlie’s arm as he turned toward the living room. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. Your family seems great. And, uh, by the way, if House ever asks, you’re gay.”
“Umm, okay” he agreed but then asked “Why?”
I closed my eyes and my face contorted briefly. “Because he’s insane.”
Charlie laughed, and clapped me on the back.
“Fair enough. You want a beer?”
Still, all through dinner I wondered how long it would take for House to find out the truth, because I had no doubt that he would. Until then, we could enjoy our little respite.