Fic: Skeletons in the Closet
Title: Skeletons in the Closet
Fandom: House MD
Prompt: Book(s), #88 in Prompt of Day
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13 because Wilson gets frustrated
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Nor am I making any money off them. That's David Shore's job.
Summary: This was the part of House that was hidden. Buried. Gone.
Beta: Un-beta'ed
Word count: 536
Status: Complete
There was one place Wilson was never allowed to go in House's apartment. After they started living together, after Wilson began to think of House's house as home, after a round of sex in House's their bed, House turned to Wilson and simply said "Don't go into the closet in the hallway." And Wilson agreed, because there were plenty other places to put a coat or a hat or whatever else you put in a closet, and Wilson loved liked House, so why argue?
And the months passed, and the closet door stayed shut, and Wilson was a little bothered, because it was their apartment now (they were both paying the rent, buying the food and the soap and the bedsheets), so why couldn't he just look?
And a year passed, and they were both much the same. House was still a snarky bastard, and Wilson was still the nice young doctor who let dying patients hold his hand and cry on his shoulder. And Wilson still wanted to look in that closet, to see the secret that House held, because even if he knew he shouldn't, because he knew House, the closet door burned a hole in his mind. House had more secrets and unresolved ties in his life than anyone else Wilson knew, so shouldn't he just let one out to the light?
And five years passed, and the closet door stayed shut. And Wilson became angry and tired of the stupid closet door mocking him every time he went into their bedroom, into the kitchen, into any room in the whole fucking house, and one day, when House was working late, Wilson wrenched open that stupid fucking door of that stupid fucking closet and saw...
Nothing.
There was nothing in the closet but an old, faded cardboard box simply titled "Greg." And Wilson took the box, set it on the floor of that stupid closet, and opened it slowly.
Anyone else would've been disappointed in what was in the box, an old toy car, a broken jack-in-the-box, a small stuffed elephant, a little duck that you pulled on a string. But Wilson wasn't, because this was the part of House that was hidden. Buried. Gone. That no one saw, that no one wanted to see, that House hid in the deepest parts on himself. And this cardboard box.
And at the bottom, there was a single book, a children's book, "Goodnight Moon." And on the inside of the cover, there was a small notation.
To: Greg
Love: Mom
Tucked inside the book was a picture of the House family, Blythe and John, with House between them, and John had such a grip on House's shoulder. And they were all smiling, but you could see the anger in John's eyes, the fear in House's eyes, and the pain and worry and sorrow in Blythe's eyes. And all of a sudden Wilson knew he shouldn't have opened that box, knew he shouldn't have seen that picture and that book and the fear in House's eyes. And so he placed everything carefully in the worn cardboard box and he backed out of the closet and sat on the couch and waited for House to come home, to look at him with his blue eyes that he didn't deserve and kiss him which he didn't deserve and never know that Wilson saw the fear in his eyes, the eyes that now held hate for the same person that had caused him pain. And when House finally did come home, he walked over to Wilson and sat, exhausted. And when House fell asleep, Wilson wasn't annoyed that House used his body as a pillow, that he drooled a little in his sleep, that he grumbled and tossed and turned and sometimes wimpered in his sleep. Because Wilson still saw the fear and the hopelessness in House's eyes, the same fear that was present in the picture from his childhood, when House was alone and no one was looking. Wilson still saw Greg.
~WM~
x-posted to:
house_wilson
prompt_of_day
my journal
housefic
Fandom: House MD
Prompt: Book(s), #88 in Prompt of Day
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13 because Wilson gets frustrated
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Nor am I making any money off them. That's David Shore's job.
Summary: This was the part of House that was hidden. Buried. Gone.
Beta: Un-beta'ed
Word count: 536
Status: Complete
There was one place Wilson was never allowed to go in House's apartment. After they started living together, after Wilson began to think of House's house as home, after a round of sex in House's their bed, House turned to Wilson and simply said "Don't go into the closet in the hallway." And Wilson agreed, because there were plenty other places to put a coat or a hat or whatever else you put in a closet, and Wilson loved liked House, so why argue?
And the months passed, and the closet door stayed shut, and Wilson was a little bothered, because it was their apartment now (they were both paying the rent, buying the food and the soap and the bedsheets), so why couldn't he just look?
And a year passed, and they were both much the same. House was still a snarky bastard, and Wilson was still the nice young doctor who let dying patients hold his hand and cry on his shoulder. And Wilson still wanted to look in that closet, to see the secret that House held, because even if he knew he shouldn't, because he knew House, the closet door burned a hole in his mind. House had more secrets and unresolved ties in his life than anyone else Wilson knew, so shouldn't he just let one out to the light?
And five years passed, and the closet door stayed shut. And Wilson became angry and tired of the stupid closet door mocking him every time he went into their bedroom, into the kitchen, into any room in the whole fucking house, and one day, when House was working late, Wilson wrenched open that stupid fucking door of that stupid fucking closet and saw...
Nothing.
There was nothing in the closet but an old, faded cardboard box simply titled "Greg." And Wilson took the box, set it on the floor of that stupid closet, and opened it slowly.
Anyone else would've been disappointed in what was in the box, an old toy car, a broken jack-in-the-box, a small stuffed elephant, a little duck that you pulled on a string. But Wilson wasn't, because this was the part of House that was hidden. Buried. Gone. That no one saw, that no one wanted to see, that House hid in the deepest parts on himself. And this cardboard box.
And at the bottom, there was a single book, a children's book, "Goodnight Moon." And on the inside of the cover, there was a small notation.
To: Greg
Love: Mom
Tucked inside the book was a picture of the House family, Blythe and John, with House between them, and John had such a grip on House's shoulder. And they were all smiling, but you could see the anger in John's eyes, the fear in House's eyes, and the pain and worry and sorrow in Blythe's eyes. And all of a sudden Wilson knew he shouldn't have opened that box, knew he shouldn't have seen that picture and that book and the fear in House's eyes. And so he placed everything carefully in the worn cardboard box and he backed out of the closet and sat on the couch and waited for House to come home, to look at him with his blue eyes that he didn't deserve and kiss him which he didn't deserve and never know that Wilson saw the fear in his eyes, the eyes that now held hate for the same person that had caused him pain. And when House finally did come home, he walked over to Wilson and sat, exhausted. And when House fell asleep, Wilson wasn't annoyed that House used his body as a pillow, that he drooled a little in his sleep, that he grumbled and tossed and turned and sometimes wimpered in his sleep. Because Wilson still saw the fear and the hopelessness in House's eyes, the same fear that was present in the picture from his childhood, when House was alone and no one was looking. Wilson still saw Greg.
~WM~
x-posted to:
house_wilson
prompt_of_day
my journal
housefic