Chaptered Fic: (De)Constructed Life: Will Not
Title: (De)Constructed Life
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG
Characters: Wilson
Part: 4/5
Author Notes: Originally written for fraternizing (Prompt: “Life is so constructed that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation.” - Charlotte Bronte) and alphabetasoup (Y is for Yielding).
Warnings: N/A
Summary: “Life is so constructed that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation.” - Charlotte Bronte
Will Not
The dining room table looked as though a wedding supply store had exploded on it. Every last inch seemed to be covered with something related to someone’s impending nuptials. There were catering menus from various restaurants boasting their sumptuous leg of lamb or their succulent stuffed mushroom caps. There were little heart-shaped boxes with candy in them and bottles of bubbles among an array of other wedding favor samples. To top it all off, the entire spread seemed to be covered in a layer of lavender tulle rose petals.
Sitting with a huge chart covered in little sticky labels in front of her, the soon-to-be Mrs. Bonnie Wilson held two post-it-notes, one in each hand. Was it safe to seat her fiancé’s best friend next to her niece? Or would she pay for it later? She could always put him next to her pompous Auntie Muriel, but that was a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Seating House next to her cousin, “the artist,” guaranteed tears from the overly emotional young boy. Any other time she would have paid to see that, but not on her wedding day.
She’d been debating over where to seat the man for an hour, and no matter what she tried, nothing seemed to work.
Truth be told, if she had had her way, Gregory House wouldn’t have been invited at all.
He was rude, arrogant, and inconsiderate. He was also a lot of other things that the woman wasn’t comfortable saying. But even if she wouldn’t say them, House still was them.
Bonnie didn’t understand the friendship between James and House. She had tried. Really, she had. The relationship was a disgusting mixture of sadism and masochism that sickened her whenever she thought about it. Unfortunately, it seemed to work for them. It was heartbreaking, but for some reason, her fiancée needed the other man’s friendship.
She may have accepted it, but that didn’t mean that she had to like it.
“Whoa ho… It looks like a wedding store threw up in here.”
“James, it’s looked like this for the past two weeks.” Her response had been absent minded, the two nametags clutched between her fingers still weighing heavily on her mind.
“I know. It just seem like…” Pausing, James looked over the table taking in the tulle rose petals and sample wedding favors with a sense of amusement and bewilderment that seeped into his voice.. “There’s more. I guess I just never realized how much went into planning a wedding.”
Placing his hands on the back of Bonnie’s chair, James began to look over the seating chart in front of his bride-to-be. All of their friends and family seemed to be seated according to who was least likely to kill who. Scanning over the elaborate chart he noticed that his parents were seated together and the same table as Bonnie’s. The man also noticed that certain cousins were seated at opposite ends of the rooms (for good reason). As his brown eyes poured over the chart, the groom to be noticed something. There was one very important name missing.
The absence of a tiny yellow post-it bearing the name “Gregory House” bothered James, but it didn’t surprise him. He knew that his fiancée and best friend didn’t get along. He’d given up hoping that they would long ago. So long as the two were kept at least ten feet apart, things were usually fine.
It was this knowledge that made James nervous about what he knew he could no longer put off saying. He’d been working up to this moment for a week now. No matter how he phrased it in his head, nothing seemed right.
With her focus torn between the man behind her and the chart before her, Bonnie brought up the topic that had been causing James so much pain and worry. “So, have you decided on a best man yet?” The question was asked absentmindedly, as if she were asking the man whether it was raining or not. “We really need to get the tuxedos ordered.”
Still gripping the back of her chair, James knew that this was his chance, probably his only chance. But he just couldn’t force out the words.
The silence had finally pulled the woman from her thoughts of seating charts and impending fights. Turning around for the first time, the brunette caught the look of worry in her fiancé’s eyes. “James?”
“I… want House to be my best man.” He had tried to keep his tone matter of fact. He had tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. But as the words fell from his lips, he saw Bonnie’s eyes harden, James knew he’d failed. “Before you say anything, he’s my best friend. He’s my…” Though it pained him to admit it, it was the truth, and they both knew it. “Only friend.”
The post-its still stuck to her polished fingers, Bonnie didn’t say ‘no way’ or ‘over my dead bridal body will that man stand on the altar at my wedding’. Instead, she placed her hand over his, feeling the muscles in his fingers tighten as they clenched the chair even more tightly. When she spoke, the woman sounded as if she were trying to convince a small child that they wanted an apple instead of a lollipop. “What about your brother-”
Looking into the woman’s eyes, James didn’t think about how beautiful she was or how lucky he was. Instead, he thought about his brother sitting on a street corner, giving himself over to cancer because of foolish pride. Up till that night, he’d always thought Robert would have stood on the altar with him. He would be marrying the perfect woman, and they would live happily ever after.
But now, he was on his second marriage, and for all he knew, Robert was still sitting on that corner with the cancer eating away at his body.
“Charlie. I mean… Don’t men usually ask their brothers to be their best men?”
James had never told Bonnie about Robert. Not just about his disease and their spilt but about him at all. Once he’d walked away from his brother for the last time, part of the youngest Wilson had died. He’d driven away from the run down neighborhood heartbroken and brother-less.
Unable to face his parents that night; he’d driven until the rising sun began to burn his tired eyes. When he did finally face their parents, he’d lied, said that Robert needed time alone. Needed time to get his life in order. Driving away from his childhood home, the home he’d shared with Robert, James locked Robert away in his heart and his mind. His brother was gone and that part of his life was dead.
It wasn’t until he’d met House that that part of him had stirred again, for the first time in a long time.
“I’d really rather not ask Charlie.” James had closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the look he knew was sure to cross his fiancée’s features. If she hadn’t been holding onto his left hand, he would have used it to rub the back of his neck.
He’d always known that this conversation wasn’t going to go well.
“James, I know that it’s your best man, but I will not have Gregory House in my wedding. It’s bad enough that he even has to come.” The words were out, and Bonnie didn’t even have the decency to look abashed.
Pulling his hand out from under hers, James Wilson placed both of his hands on his hips and nodded slightly. He’d always known how she felt about House, and he didn’t blame her. That, however, didn’t make this any easier.
“Look, honey, I don’t feel like fighting about this, but the truth is, the man is awful, and you know it.” Her voice should have been filled with apology but instead, her words came out as factual, as if she didn’t care. “You two aren’t even on a first name basis.” Her attention was slowly drifting back to the sticky notes on her fingertips. It was her wedding, and she wasn’t about to let Gregory House screw it up.
“Just ask Charlie. Don’t you want your brother to stand up for you? I know you two have never been close, but he’s still your brother.” Turning back towards the table Bonnie’s voice trailed off, as if she had found something more important to do.
By now, the seating chart had reclaimed her attention completely, all worries about who would be the best man at her wedding gone. In the end, it was her wedding and she knew that James wouldn’t let her down.
He didn’t bother to answer her question. The painful answer was, ‘Yes, I do want my brother to be my best man. Just not Charlie.’ That dream, however, was something that no one, including Bonnie, would ever know about.
When he’d made up his mind, that he wanted to ask House to be his best man, he’d known that it was ridiculous. That it would never happen. But he’d had to ask anyway.
Dropping his hands in defeat, James gave up the impossible. Not to make the woman happy but to hide his true feelings. “It’s fine. I’ll ask him.”
The future Mrs. Wilson had already turned back to her seating chart, missing the look of defeat in her fiancé’s eyes. She’d finally found a place to seat House. Next to her deaf uncle who was seated as close to the exit as possible.
Squeeka Cuomo’s Chart
- Originally written for fraternizing (Prompt: “Life is so constructed that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation.” - Charlotte Bronte)
- Also written for alphabetasoup (Y is for Yielding)
- Katie, my beta. Thank you so much for all of your help. I’m sending someone to bake your cookies now. :duck:
Previous Chapters
Chapter 1: Constructed Life
Chapter 2: Does Not
Chapter 3: Cannot
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG
Characters: Wilson
Part: 4/5
Author Notes: Originally written for fraternizing (Prompt: “Life is so constructed that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation.” - Charlotte Bronte) and alphabetasoup (Y is for Yielding).
Warnings: N/A
Summary: “Life is so constructed that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation.” - Charlotte Bronte
Will Not
The dining room table looked as though a wedding supply store had exploded on it. Every last inch seemed to be covered with something related to someone’s impending nuptials. There were catering menus from various restaurants boasting their sumptuous leg of lamb or their succulent stuffed mushroom caps. There were little heart-shaped boxes with candy in them and bottles of bubbles among an array of other wedding favor samples. To top it all off, the entire spread seemed to be covered in a layer of lavender tulle rose petals.
Sitting with a huge chart covered in little sticky labels in front of her, the soon-to-be Mrs. Bonnie Wilson held two post-it-notes, one in each hand. Was it safe to seat her fiancé’s best friend next to her niece? Or would she pay for it later? She could always put him next to her pompous Auntie Muriel, but that was a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Seating House next to her cousin, “the artist,” guaranteed tears from the overly emotional young boy. Any other time she would have paid to see that, but not on her wedding day.
She’d been debating over where to seat the man for an hour, and no matter what she tried, nothing seemed to work.
Truth be told, if she had had her way, Gregory House wouldn’t have been invited at all.
He was rude, arrogant, and inconsiderate. He was also a lot of other things that the woman wasn’t comfortable saying. But even if she wouldn’t say them, House still was them.
Bonnie didn’t understand the friendship between James and House. She had tried. Really, she had. The relationship was a disgusting mixture of sadism and masochism that sickened her whenever she thought about it. Unfortunately, it seemed to work for them. It was heartbreaking, but for some reason, her fiancée needed the other man’s friendship.
She may have accepted it, but that didn’t mean that she had to like it.
“Whoa ho… It looks like a wedding store threw up in here.”
“James, it’s looked like this for the past two weeks.” Her response had been absent minded, the two nametags clutched between her fingers still weighing heavily on her mind.
“I know. It just seem like…” Pausing, James looked over the table taking in the tulle rose petals and sample wedding favors with a sense of amusement and bewilderment that seeped into his voice.. “There’s more. I guess I just never realized how much went into planning a wedding.”
Placing his hands on the back of Bonnie’s chair, James began to look over the seating chart in front of his bride-to-be. All of their friends and family seemed to be seated according to who was least likely to kill who. Scanning over the elaborate chart he noticed that his parents were seated together and the same table as Bonnie’s. The man also noticed that certain cousins were seated at opposite ends of the rooms (for good reason). As his brown eyes poured over the chart, the groom to be noticed something. There was one very important name missing.
The absence of a tiny yellow post-it bearing the name “Gregory House” bothered James, but it didn’t surprise him. He knew that his fiancée and best friend didn’t get along. He’d given up hoping that they would long ago. So long as the two were kept at least ten feet apart, things were usually fine.
It was this knowledge that made James nervous about what he knew he could no longer put off saying. He’d been working up to this moment for a week now. No matter how he phrased it in his head, nothing seemed right.
With her focus torn between the man behind her and the chart before her, Bonnie brought up the topic that had been causing James so much pain and worry. “So, have you decided on a best man yet?” The question was asked absentmindedly, as if she were asking the man whether it was raining or not. “We really need to get the tuxedos ordered.”
Still gripping the back of her chair, James knew that this was his chance, probably his only chance. But he just couldn’t force out the words.
The silence had finally pulled the woman from her thoughts of seating charts and impending fights. Turning around for the first time, the brunette caught the look of worry in her fiancé’s eyes. “James?”
“I… want House to be my best man.” He had tried to keep his tone matter of fact. He had tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. But as the words fell from his lips, he saw Bonnie’s eyes harden, James knew he’d failed. “Before you say anything, he’s my best friend. He’s my…” Though it pained him to admit it, it was the truth, and they both knew it. “Only friend.”
The post-its still stuck to her polished fingers, Bonnie didn’t say ‘no way’ or ‘over my dead bridal body will that man stand on the altar at my wedding’. Instead, she placed her hand over his, feeling the muscles in his fingers tighten as they clenched the chair even more tightly. When she spoke, the woman sounded as if she were trying to convince a small child that they wanted an apple instead of a lollipop. “What about your brother-”
Looking into the woman’s eyes, James didn’t think about how beautiful she was or how lucky he was. Instead, he thought about his brother sitting on a street corner, giving himself over to cancer because of foolish pride. Up till that night, he’d always thought Robert would have stood on the altar with him. He would be marrying the perfect woman, and they would live happily ever after.
But now, he was on his second marriage, and for all he knew, Robert was still sitting on that corner with the cancer eating away at his body.
“Charlie. I mean… Don’t men usually ask their brothers to be their best men?”
James had never told Bonnie about Robert. Not just about his disease and their spilt but about him at all. Once he’d walked away from his brother for the last time, part of the youngest Wilson had died. He’d driven away from the run down neighborhood heartbroken and brother-less.
Unable to face his parents that night; he’d driven until the rising sun began to burn his tired eyes. When he did finally face their parents, he’d lied, said that Robert needed time alone. Needed time to get his life in order. Driving away from his childhood home, the home he’d shared with Robert, James locked Robert away in his heart and his mind. His brother was gone and that part of his life was dead.
It wasn’t until he’d met House that that part of him had stirred again, for the first time in a long time.
“I’d really rather not ask Charlie.” James had closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the look he knew was sure to cross his fiancée’s features. If she hadn’t been holding onto his left hand, he would have used it to rub the back of his neck.
He’d always known that this conversation wasn’t going to go well.
“James, I know that it’s your best man, but I will not have Gregory House in my wedding. It’s bad enough that he even has to come.” The words were out, and Bonnie didn’t even have the decency to look abashed.
Pulling his hand out from under hers, James Wilson placed both of his hands on his hips and nodded slightly. He’d always known how she felt about House, and he didn’t blame her. That, however, didn’t make this any easier.
“Look, honey, I don’t feel like fighting about this, but the truth is, the man is awful, and you know it.” Her voice should have been filled with apology but instead, her words came out as factual, as if she didn’t care. “You two aren’t even on a first name basis.” Her attention was slowly drifting back to the sticky notes on her fingertips. It was her wedding, and she wasn’t about to let Gregory House screw it up.
“Just ask Charlie. Don’t you want your brother to stand up for you? I know you two have never been close, but he’s still your brother.” Turning back towards the table Bonnie’s voice trailed off, as if she had found something more important to do.
By now, the seating chart had reclaimed her attention completely, all worries about who would be the best man at her wedding gone. In the end, it was her wedding and she knew that James wouldn’t let her down.
He didn’t bother to answer her question. The painful answer was, ‘Yes, I do want my brother to be my best man. Just not Charlie.’ That dream, however, was something that no one, including Bonnie, would ever know about.
When he’d made up his mind, that he wanted to ask House to be his best man, he’d known that it was ridiculous. That it would never happen. But he’d had to ask anyway.
Dropping his hands in defeat, James gave up the impossible. Not to make the woman happy but to hide his true feelings. “It’s fine. I’ll ask him.”
The future Mrs. Wilson had already turned back to her seating chart, missing the look of defeat in her fiancé’s eyes. She’d finally found a place to seat House. Next to her deaf uncle who was seated as close to the exit as possible.
Squeeka Cuomo’s Chart
- Originally written for fraternizing (Prompt: “Life is so constructed that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation.” - Charlotte Bronte)
- Also written for alphabetasoup (Y is for Yielding)
- Katie, my beta. Thank you so much for all of your help. I’m sending someone to bake your cookies now. :duck:
Previous Chapters
Chapter 1: Constructed Life
Chapter 2: Does Not
Chapter 3: Cannot