An Opening Door 23/?
Title: An Opening Door 23/?
Words: Approx 2200
Rating : PG-13
Characters : House & Wilson, Cuddy
Contains : Slavery concepts
Warnings : : Choose Not to Warn
Summary : Slave AU. Wilson encounters a cleaning slave at PPTH called Greg and becomes intrigued with him. An unlikely friendship forms between the two as Wilson tries to secure a better life for Greg.
Link to story on AO3 .
Previous Chapter
When Wilson asked her out to dinner she immediately suspected an ulterior motive. Since Greg's arrival into his life he'd hurried off every evening to his apartment, and as far as she knew he stayed there. Before then they'd occasionally eaten out of an evening, or gone to the movies, and if neither of them were dating other people - which had become more common than not in later years - they were each other's emergency 'plus one' for social events. A nice comfortable arrangement that had suited them both.
"What about Greg?" she'd asked, only to receive the polite Wilson version of a scowl.
"I'm not actually married to Greg. I'm sure he'll survive one night without me," he'd said shortly and she'd tabled the matter until now.
Watching him push his meal around his plate, and consume more wine than food, she decided it was time to broach the subject.
"So, how is Greg? It must be difficult for him - coming to terms with all those memories in one hit." She couldn't really imagine how that would be. Her own life held enough disappointments and regrets that she wouldn't want all that landing in her mind at one time. Gregory House's life had been far more turbulent than hers. She had to admit she was a little curious too - she assumed his returning memories included their one night stand at med school. She'd long since put that particular disappointment behind her but like all her youthful crushes she'd never forgotten.
Wilson pushed aside his half eaten dinner. It wasn't as good as the food Greg prepared anyway. Not that he'd been doing so much of that lately. Greg had thrown himself into his online money making efforts with enthusiasm. Often Wilson came home from work only to find Greg still hunched over his laptop, pulling together some college essay or other.
"They pay more if it's a rush job," he'd explained. "I take all the last minute requests the others won't touch. I've got six pages on the influence of the internet on feminist thinking due by eight tonight."
Wilson had raised an eyebrow - Greg had only been on the internet himself for a matter of months, and he suspected that whatever he knew of feminist thinking, if anything, was radically out of date.
"It doesn't matter what the topic is, all you have to do is know how to research, and I can do that," Greg had explained. "That, and use lots of block quotes to take up space. It doesn't have to be great; it just has to be something they can turn in."
"It seems a little unethical."
"I'm a slave, Wilson. If some rich kid wants to cheat their way through college to get the brass ring I'm not going to lose any sleep over it. But you'll need to get your own dinner tonight."
Wilson certainly wasn't going to complain to Cuddy that Greg wasn't cooking his dinner for him regularly, or that the apartment was no longer sparkling clean. Those things had been nice, but it wasn't like Greg had to do them. Wilson had never wanted to treat him like a slave - no matter what the paperwork said. Still, the changes were a little worrying.
"What was Greg like, when you knew him?" It wasn't what he had intended to say, but Cuddy was a link to Greg's past. Greg didn't discuss it with him, not at all. Whether he talked to Nolan about it he didn't know. He had the privilege of driving Greg to his therapy once a week, and paying, but he was firmly shut out of all the sessions.
Cuddy thought about the impossibly arrogant young man she'd met in the campus bookstore. He'd taken one look at her syllabus and offered a few pithy sentences summing up her character. She'd taken an instant dislike to him, but also had felt a strong pull of attraction. When they'd encountered each other a little later in an endocrinology class one thing had led to another and she'd found herself in bed with him. Of course, in what was the story of her life, he'd disappeared by the next morning. That had been the last time she'd seen him.
"I told you before, he was an arrogant ass. An arrogant cheating ass. Even before he got kicked out of school it was widely known that he'd write papers for anyone who'd pay - and cheat on his own." She smiled fondly. "He did have a certain something though. There was something dangerous about him, something compelling. And he rode a bike. Couple that with the fact that he was a genius and well, he didn't lack for attention."
Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. "Are you having problems with him since he's regained his memories?"
"Not really. Not problems as such, but he's... different."
"Different?"
He took another sip of wine, this really was difficult. How could he explain this to Cuddy without seeming like a complaining slave owner?
"Before he went to Mayfield he was very... compliant. He cleaned the apartment, and studied hard, and he always had dinner prepared when I got home." When he saw Cuddy's eyebrow raising he hurried on, "I didn't ask him to do any of those things of course, he just did them - and he seemed pleased to do them. Now he seems distracted. He's working on ways to earn his own money online, and he doesn't always get the cleaning, or dinner, done. I don't think he's studying as much - he was working through some medical exam practise reviews before but he doesn't seem to have made much progress on them since Mayfield."
Cuddy shrugged. "Well, I hate to point this out, Wilson, but you're the boss - in every sense of the word. If he needs a little more direction then you have to give it to him. House in college was a lazy ass - enormous potential but unless something caught his attention he'd sit around playing his guitar all day. Sounds like you've let him slack off. He's testing you."
"So, I'm supposed to... what? Punish him?" His mind flitted uneasily to the crop and paddles he'd seen in his Slave Ownership 101 course. He shook his head firmly, clearing the image. Even if Greg had done anything to warrant that - which he hadn't - Wilson would never use physical discipline on him. Or any other form of discipline. He wanted to help Greg, not abuse him.
"I'm not saying you should take a whip to him, but he's used to discipline, and being told what to do. You're probably confusing the hell out of him with this softly, softly, approach."
"Well, he'll have to be confused then. I've told him that I won't treat him as a slave and I meant it." He looked around for the waiter. He needed to get back home. Greg would be waiting for him.
When he opened the door he was immediately hit by the smell of Thai food. Dumping his keys and wallet on the stand by the door he went through to the living room where he found the source.
Greg was sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, watching one of the trashy reality shows he favoured. Open on the coffee table were a variety of containers from a take-out place. There was an open beer can by his feet.
"You ordered Thai?" Wilson asked. He'd told Greg he'd be out for dinner, expecting Greg to make something for himself.
"Didn't feel like cooking," Greg answered without taking his eyes off the television. He grabbed his beer and took a swig.
"How did you pay for it?"
Greg nodded his head towards his laptop, sitting abandoned on the table. "Paypal."
Ah. Once Greg had discovered that he could receive payment directly through paypal for some of his online activities he'd opened an account. Wilson had opened a separate bank account in his own name so that the funds could be withdrawn if needed but Greg was able to spend the funds in the PayPal account himself. Up until now he hadn't spent any of his earnings as far as Wilson knew.
"Had to borrow some quarters to tip the delivery guy though," Greg said - indicating the jar where Wilson kept change. "He didn't look very impressed."
"He didn't say anything about you being a..." Wilson had visions of the delivery guy ringing the police and reporting that there was an unattended slave in his apartment, ordering food off the internet.
"Wore a scarf," Greg said shortly and Wilson followed his eyes to see one of his winter scarves lying discarded on the floor.
He picked it up and carefully folded it. Greg knew as well as he did that it was illegal for any slave to cover up their collar.
"Greg..."
Greg finally looked at him properly. His expression held no regret for his actions. "He didn't suspect anything. Don't worry - you won't be getting any more complaints about your slave."
"I'm not worried about complaints - I'm worried about you. If you wanted to order in something for dinner I could have organised it for you."
Greg shrugged. "Well, you didn't have to. I can do things like that for myself now."
Wilson was glad of that, he really was, but he was also worried, both by Greg's changing attitude, and by what could happen if he overstepped his mark. The 'laundry incident' had shown that was all too easy to do.
"Did you have a good dinner?" Greg asked before Wilson could say anything else. Greg was staring at the television again but he seemed oddly tense. "With Doctor Cuddy?"
"Yes, thanks," Wilson said cautiously. He'd told Greg where he was going tonight - it wasn't a secret. Greg had made no comment.
"Rekindling the old romance?" Greg asked. Wilson was startled for a moment before he remembered that he'd mentioned that he used to go out with Cuddy, before he found out that Greg had history with her. He felt momentarily guilty, but that was ridiculous - he hadn't even known Greg back then - let alone known about his past with Cuddy, as brief as it was. He hadn't stolen Greg's girlfriend.
"No, Cuddy is just a friend, and my boss. We have dinner sometimes." Not since Greg had come to live with him, it was true. "I can invite her for dinner again here, now that you have your memories back?" He made it a question. He'd planned to anyway, at some stage. Cuddy was very much a part of his plan to have Greg resume his medical career. She'd most likely be the only hospital administrator who'd take a chance on a slave, or even an ex-slave, if Greg had to wait that long.
"No!" Greg's vehemence surprised him. He'd even turned his gaze away from the TV to glare at Wilson. "I don't want to see her."
Wilson held up his hands, as if in surrender. "Okay, okay, you don't have to. Just thought you might want to catch up with her."
"Yeah, I can tell her about prison and how much fun being a slave is. It will be like old times. I bet she wishes she had my career path, instead of wasting her time becoming Dean of Medicine at a teaching hospital." He looked back at the TV. One hand was working at his thigh, massaging the scar there through the material of his jeans.
Wilson decided it might just be better to beat a strategic retreat. Obviously Greg was in a bit of a mood. It wasn't unusual for him these days. Nolan had warned him that things would change now that Greg had access to his memories again, and that the path wouldn't be easy. Unfortunately he hadn't given Wilson any guidance on how to deal with this.
"Well, okay, I’m going to bed," he said. "Goodnight, Greg."
There was silence and Wilson thought that Greg wasn't going to answer him. Then, as he turned away, he heard Greg's soft response. "Goodnight, Wilson."
He realised as he left the room that it was the first night that he'd gone to bed before Greg. Greg had always gone to bed when he did, or earlier. As a slave he was used to early bedtimes after a hard day’s work and waking up at the crack of dawn or before.
Now he left Greg in the living room by himself, the drama on the television screen playing out in front of him. He lay awake until eventually he heard Greg make his way to his own room some time after midnight.
Words: Approx 2200
Rating : PG-13
Characters : House & Wilson, Cuddy
Contains : Slavery concepts
Warnings : : Choose Not to Warn
Summary : Slave AU. Wilson encounters a cleaning slave at PPTH called Greg and becomes intrigued with him. An unlikely friendship forms between the two as Wilson tries to secure a better life for Greg.
Link to story on AO3 .
Previous Chapter
When Wilson asked her out to dinner she immediately suspected an ulterior motive. Since Greg's arrival into his life he'd hurried off every evening to his apartment, and as far as she knew he stayed there. Before then they'd occasionally eaten out of an evening, or gone to the movies, and if neither of them were dating other people - which had become more common than not in later years - they were each other's emergency 'plus one' for social events. A nice comfortable arrangement that had suited them both.
"What about Greg?" she'd asked, only to receive the polite Wilson version of a scowl.
"I'm not actually married to Greg. I'm sure he'll survive one night without me," he'd said shortly and she'd tabled the matter until now.
Watching him push his meal around his plate, and consume more wine than food, she decided it was time to broach the subject.
"So, how is Greg? It must be difficult for him - coming to terms with all those memories in one hit." She couldn't really imagine how that would be. Her own life held enough disappointments and regrets that she wouldn't want all that landing in her mind at one time. Gregory House's life had been far more turbulent than hers. She had to admit she was a little curious too - she assumed his returning memories included their one night stand at med school. She'd long since put that particular disappointment behind her but like all her youthful crushes she'd never forgotten.
Wilson pushed aside his half eaten dinner. It wasn't as good as the food Greg prepared anyway. Not that he'd been doing so much of that lately. Greg had thrown himself into his online money making efforts with enthusiasm. Often Wilson came home from work only to find Greg still hunched over his laptop, pulling together some college essay or other.
"They pay more if it's a rush job," he'd explained. "I take all the last minute requests the others won't touch. I've got six pages on the influence of the internet on feminist thinking due by eight tonight."
Wilson had raised an eyebrow - Greg had only been on the internet himself for a matter of months, and he suspected that whatever he knew of feminist thinking, if anything, was radically out of date.
"It doesn't matter what the topic is, all you have to do is know how to research, and I can do that," Greg had explained. "That, and use lots of block quotes to take up space. It doesn't have to be great; it just has to be something they can turn in."
"It seems a little unethical."
"I'm a slave, Wilson. If some rich kid wants to cheat their way through college to get the brass ring I'm not going to lose any sleep over it. But you'll need to get your own dinner tonight."
Wilson certainly wasn't going to complain to Cuddy that Greg wasn't cooking his dinner for him regularly, or that the apartment was no longer sparkling clean. Those things had been nice, but it wasn't like Greg had to do them. Wilson had never wanted to treat him like a slave - no matter what the paperwork said. Still, the changes were a little worrying.
"What was Greg like, when you knew him?" It wasn't what he had intended to say, but Cuddy was a link to Greg's past. Greg didn't discuss it with him, not at all. Whether he talked to Nolan about it he didn't know. He had the privilege of driving Greg to his therapy once a week, and paying, but he was firmly shut out of all the sessions.
Cuddy thought about the impossibly arrogant young man she'd met in the campus bookstore. He'd taken one look at her syllabus and offered a few pithy sentences summing up her character. She'd taken an instant dislike to him, but also had felt a strong pull of attraction. When they'd encountered each other a little later in an endocrinology class one thing had led to another and she'd found herself in bed with him. Of course, in what was the story of her life, he'd disappeared by the next morning. That had been the last time she'd seen him.
"I told you before, he was an arrogant ass. An arrogant cheating ass. Even before he got kicked out of school it was widely known that he'd write papers for anyone who'd pay - and cheat on his own." She smiled fondly. "He did have a certain something though. There was something dangerous about him, something compelling. And he rode a bike. Couple that with the fact that he was a genius and well, he didn't lack for attention."
Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. "Are you having problems with him since he's regained his memories?"
"Not really. Not problems as such, but he's... different."
"Different?"
He took another sip of wine, this really was difficult. How could he explain this to Cuddy without seeming like a complaining slave owner?
"Before he went to Mayfield he was very... compliant. He cleaned the apartment, and studied hard, and he always had dinner prepared when I got home." When he saw Cuddy's eyebrow raising he hurried on, "I didn't ask him to do any of those things of course, he just did them - and he seemed pleased to do them. Now he seems distracted. He's working on ways to earn his own money online, and he doesn't always get the cleaning, or dinner, done. I don't think he's studying as much - he was working through some medical exam practise reviews before but he doesn't seem to have made much progress on them since Mayfield."
Cuddy shrugged. "Well, I hate to point this out, Wilson, but you're the boss - in every sense of the word. If he needs a little more direction then you have to give it to him. House in college was a lazy ass - enormous potential but unless something caught his attention he'd sit around playing his guitar all day. Sounds like you've let him slack off. He's testing you."
"So, I'm supposed to... what? Punish him?" His mind flitted uneasily to the crop and paddles he'd seen in his Slave Ownership 101 course. He shook his head firmly, clearing the image. Even if Greg had done anything to warrant that - which he hadn't - Wilson would never use physical discipline on him. Or any other form of discipline. He wanted to help Greg, not abuse him.
"I'm not saying you should take a whip to him, but he's used to discipline, and being told what to do. You're probably confusing the hell out of him with this softly, softly, approach."
"Well, he'll have to be confused then. I've told him that I won't treat him as a slave and I meant it." He looked around for the waiter. He needed to get back home. Greg would be waiting for him.
When he opened the door he was immediately hit by the smell of Thai food. Dumping his keys and wallet on the stand by the door he went through to the living room where he found the source.
Greg was sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, watching one of the trashy reality shows he favoured. Open on the coffee table were a variety of containers from a take-out place. There was an open beer can by his feet.
"You ordered Thai?" Wilson asked. He'd told Greg he'd be out for dinner, expecting Greg to make something for himself.
"Didn't feel like cooking," Greg answered without taking his eyes off the television. He grabbed his beer and took a swig.
"How did you pay for it?"
Greg nodded his head towards his laptop, sitting abandoned on the table. "Paypal."
Ah. Once Greg had discovered that he could receive payment directly through paypal for some of his online activities he'd opened an account. Wilson had opened a separate bank account in his own name so that the funds could be withdrawn if needed but Greg was able to spend the funds in the PayPal account himself. Up until now he hadn't spent any of his earnings as far as Wilson knew.
"Had to borrow some quarters to tip the delivery guy though," Greg said - indicating the jar where Wilson kept change. "He didn't look very impressed."
"He didn't say anything about you being a..." Wilson had visions of the delivery guy ringing the police and reporting that there was an unattended slave in his apartment, ordering food off the internet.
"Wore a scarf," Greg said shortly and Wilson followed his eyes to see one of his winter scarves lying discarded on the floor.
He picked it up and carefully folded it. Greg knew as well as he did that it was illegal for any slave to cover up their collar.
"Greg..."
Greg finally looked at him properly. His expression held no regret for his actions. "He didn't suspect anything. Don't worry - you won't be getting any more complaints about your slave."
"I'm not worried about complaints - I'm worried about you. If you wanted to order in something for dinner I could have organised it for you."
Greg shrugged. "Well, you didn't have to. I can do things like that for myself now."
Wilson was glad of that, he really was, but he was also worried, both by Greg's changing attitude, and by what could happen if he overstepped his mark. The 'laundry incident' had shown that was all too easy to do.
"Did you have a good dinner?" Greg asked before Wilson could say anything else. Greg was staring at the television again but he seemed oddly tense. "With Doctor Cuddy?"
"Yes, thanks," Wilson said cautiously. He'd told Greg where he was going tonight - it wasn't a secret. Greg had made no comment.
"Rekindling the old romance?" Greg asked. Wilson was startled for a moment before he remembered that he'd mentioned that he used to go out with Cuddy, before he found out that Greg had history with her. He felt momentarily guilty, but that was ridiculous - he hadn't even known Greg back then - let alone known about his past with Cuddy, as brief as it was. He hadn't stolen Greg's girlfriend.
"No, Cuddy is just a friend, and my boss. We have dinner sometimes." Not since Greg had come to live with him, it was true. "I can invite her for dinner again here, now that you have your memories back?" He made it a question. He'd planned to anyway, at some stage. Cuddy was very much a part of his plan to have Greg resume his medical career. She'd most likely be the only hospital administrator who'd take a chance on a slave, or even an ex-slave, if Greg had to wait that long.
"No!" Greg's vehemence surprised him. He'd even turned his gaze away from the TV to glare at Wilson. "I don't want to see her."
Wilson held up his hands, as if in surrender. "Okay, okay, you don't have to. Just thought you might want to catch up with her."
"Yeah, I can tell her about prison and how much fun being a slave is. It will be like old times. I bet she wishes she had my career path, instead of wasting her time becoming Dean of Medicine at a teaching hospital." He looked back at the TV. One hand was working at his thigh, massaging the scar there through the material of his jeans.
Wilson decided it might just be better to beat a strategic retreat. Obviously Greg was in a bit of a mood. It wasn't unusual for him these days. Nolan had warned him that things would change now that Greg had access to his memories again, and that the path wouldn't be easy. Unfortunately he hadn't given Wilson any guidance on how to deal with this.
"Well, okay, I’m going to bed," he said. "Goodnight, Greg."
There was silence and Wilson thought that Greg wasn't going to answer him. Then, as he turned away, he heard Greg's soft response. "Goodnight, Wilson."
He realised as he left the room that it was the first night that he'd gone to bed before Greg. Greg had always gone to bed when he did, or earlier. As a slave he was used to early bedtimes after a hard day’s work and waking up at the crack of dawn or before.
Now he left Greg in the living room by himself, the drama on the television screen playing out in front of him. He lay awake until eventually he heard Greg make his way to his own room some time after midnight.