Fanfiction: House, MD (PG)
Title: Healing
Pairing/Characters: James Wilson, Greg House, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman, Allison Cameron, Lisa Cuddy; House/Wilson
Rating: PG
Fandom: House, MD
Word Count: 928
Spoilers: Not really.
Summary: House is wounded and Wilson takes care of him
Notes/Warnings: Written for au_bingo for the prompt Historical: Napoleonic Europe. Beta by unicorn_catcher and umbralillium.
Healing
"Dr. Wilson!" James Wilson looked up from his current patient to see two men come into the hospital tent, carrying a third between them. It was the blond man carrying the unconscious man's shoulders who'd spoken. "We found him!"
Wilson made himself finish binding the soldier's wounds before approaching the trio. "You found House? How is he?"
"Something happened to his right leg, but it looks like he did what he could when it happened." Dr. Robert Chase replied as he and the black man--Eric Foreman, an ex-slave--lifted the unconscious Dr. Gregory House onto a free bed.
A tray of medical tools appeared by Wilson's side as he sat down by his friend's hip, grimacing at the blood-stained trousers. He glanced up and smiled distractedly at the nurse who'd brought them: Allison Cameron. She briefly smiled back before turning to continue her duties. "I'm sure he did what he could, but we should check anyway. There's always a risk of infection."
Picking up a pair of scissors, Wilson cut away the bloody remains of House's right trouser leg. As he peeled away the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around the thigh underneath, the other doctor began to stir. Chase took hold of House's left arm and addressed Foreman, "Hold him, Foreman. The pain's going to get worse before it gets better."
"Thank you, Dr. Chase." Wilson bundled the bloody remains onto the empty tray provided by another nurse: Lisa Cuddy. "I need to clean the wound."
Grimacing, both men tightened their grip on the unconscious doctor. Wilson poured a liberal amount of alcohol over the wound. House strained against the younger men's tight grip, crying out hoarsely. Chase, straining more than Foreman to keep House still, commented dryly, "He's not unconscious anymore."
"Dammit, Chase, Foreman!" House exclaimed from between them, his voice rippling with pain. "Don't smother me!"
Neither man reacted to House's retort, continuing to hold him as Wilson finished cleaning the wound and began to stitch it closed. "They're doing it on my orders, House. Yell at me if you must, but not at the two men who found you God-knows-where."
"What?" At a nod from Wilson, Chase and Foreman eased their grip on House enough to allow the older man a chance to sit up and look around. "How did I end up here?"
As Wilson continued stitching up the nasty gash, Chase explained, "Foreman and I went looking for you when you didn't come back. We found you on the battlefield, unconscious, and your trousers bloody. We brought you here and Dr. Wilson's stitching you up."
"How did you get this wound, House?" Wilson asked quietly, tying off the last stitch. "It doesn't look like anything we've treated here."
When Wilson lifted his head to look at his friend, the bright blue eyes were shuttered, devoid of any emotion at all. "Of course it is. You'd be amazed how sloppy some of these French can be when they're fighting."
"If you say so." Wilson didn't believe the other doctor's explanation, but he wasn't about to call him on it in front of the others. Instead, he busied himself with wrapping a bandage around the wound. "It should heal well enough, but you'll always have the scar."
House didn't flinch as Wilson wrapped the bandage tightly around his leg. "Just what I need, another scar."
"You'll get to show it off to the ladies," Chase suggested with a grin.
Wilson shot a glance at the younger man that made the grin fade. Tucking the ends of the bandage under, he addressed his longtime friend. "Let's get you to the tent so you can rest properly."
"Yes, Doctor." House shifted around and rested his feet on the floor. The moment he stood up, he gave a hiss of pain and would have fallen if Chase hadn't been right next to him.
Wilson quickly moved around the bed to support House on the other side. As the three men made their way from the hospital tent to the one House and Wilson shared, Cuddy and Cameron stripped the bed and remade it for the next patient. Once inside their tent, Wilson dismissed Chase and Foreman, assuring them that he and House could manage on their own. With help from Wilson, House changed out of his battle-stained clothes and into a nightshirt. House settled back on his bed with a sigh. "You scared me, Greg."
"Didn't mean to, Jimmy," House replied, watching through half-lidded eyes as Wilson changed into a nightshirt as well.
Wilson sat down on the edge of the bed, gazing at House. "I know, but you should have taken Foreman with you. He may be mute, but he's good at watching your back."
"I think he'd prefer to watch Chase's back." House attempted to leer, but it didn't work. Taking Wilson's hand in his, he added, "I'd rather you watched my back."
Smiling faintly, Wilson stretched out beside his lover and friend. "I'd prefer it, too, but I'd be too busy doing my job, like you."
"I won't be doing anything until my leg heals," House reminded him, shifting so he could drape the injured leg over both of Wilson's. "You won't have to worry about me until then."
Chuckling quietly, Wilson kissed House's cheek. "I'll always worry about you, Greg."
"Same goes for me about you, Jimmy," House answered gruffly, not meeting Wilson's eyes.
Wilson smiled and rested his cheek on House's shoulder, content to simply hold him. He'd come close to losing House and he wanted to savor the fact that he hadn't.
End
Pairing/Characters: James Wilson, Greg House, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman, Allison Cameron, Lisa Cuddy; House/Wilson
Rating: PG
Fandom: House, MD
Word Count: 928
Spoilers: Not really.
Summary: House is wounded and Wilson takes care of him
Notes/Warnings: Written for au_bingo for the prompt Historical: Napoleonic Europe. Beta by unicorn_catcher and umbralillium.
Healing
"Dr. Wilson!" James Wilson looked up from his current patient to see two men come into the hospital tent, carrying a third between them. It was the blond man carrying the unconscious man's shoulders who'd spoken. "We found him!"
Wilson made himself finish binding the soldier's wounds before approaching the trio. "You found House? How is he?"
"Something happened to his right leg, but it looks like he did what he could when it happened." Dr. Robert Chase replied as he and the black man--Eric Foreman, an ex-slave--lifted the unconscious Dr. Gregory House onto a free bed.
A tray of medical tools appeared by Wilson's side as he sat down by his friend's hip, grimacing at the blood-stained trousers. He glanced up and smiled distractedly at the nurse who'd brought them: Allison Cameron. She briefly smiled back before turning to continue her duties. "I'm sure he did what he could, but we should check anyway. There's always a risk of infection."
Picking up a pair of scissors, Wilson cut away the bloody remains of House's right trouser leg. As he peeled away the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around the thigh underneath, the other doctor began to stir. Chase took hold of House's left arm and addressed Foreman, "Hold him, Foreman. The pain's going to get worse before it gets better."
"Thank you, Dr. Chase." Wilson bundled the bloody remains onto the empty tray provided by another nurse: Lisa Cuddy. "I need to clean the wound."
Grimacing, both men tightened their grip on the unconscious doctor. Wilson poured a liberal amount of alcohol over the wound. House strained against the younger men's tight grip, crying out hoarsely. Chase, straining more than Foreman to keep House still, commented dryly, "He's not unconscious anymore."
"Dammit, Chase, Foreman!" House exclaimed from between them, his voice rippling with pain. "Don't smother me!"
Neither man reacted to House's retort, continuing to hold him as Wilson finished cleaning the wound and began to stitch it closed. "They're doing it on my orders, House. Yell at me if you must, but not at the two men who found you God-knows-where."
"What?" At a nod from Wilson, Chase and Foreman eased their grip on House enough to allow the older man a chance to sit up and look around. "How did I end up here?"
As Wilson continued stitching up the nasty gash, Chase explained, "Foreman and I went looking for you when you didn't come back. We found you on the battlefield, unconscious, and your trousers bloody. We brought you here and Dr. Wilson's stitching you up."
"How did you get this wound, House?" Wilson asked quietly, tying off the last stitch. "It doesn't look like anything we've treated here."
When Wilson lifted his head to look at his friend, the bright blue eyes were shuttered, devoid of any emotion at all. "Of course it is. You'd be amazed how sloppy some of these French can be when they're fighting."
"If you say so." Wilson didn't believe the other doctor's explanation, but he wasn't about to call him on it in front of the others. Instead, he busied himself with wrapping a bandage around the wound. "It should heal well enough, but you'll always have the scar."
House didn't flinch as Wilson wrapped the bandage tightly around his leg. "Just what I need, another scar."
"You'll get to show it off to the ladies," Chase suggested with a grin.
Wilson shot a glance at the younger man that made the grin fade. Tucking the ends of the bandage under, he addressed his longtime friend. "Let's get you to the tent so you can rest properly."
"Yes, Doctor." House shifted around and rested his feet on the floor. The moment he stood up, he gave a hiss of pain and would have fallen if Chase hadn't been right next to him.
Wilson quickly moved around the bed to support House on the other side. As the three men made their way from the hospital tent to the one House and Wilson shared, Cuddy and Cameron stripped the bed and remade it for the next patient. Once inside their tent, Wilson dismissed Chase and Foreman, assuring them that he and House could manage on their own. With help from Wilson, House changed out of his battle-stained clothes and into a nightshirt. House settled back on his bed with a sigh. "You scared me, Greg."
"Didn't mean to, Jimmy," House replied, watching through half-lidded eyes as Wilson changed into a nightshirt as well.
Wilson sat down on the edge of the bed, gazing at House. "I know, but you should have taken Foreman with you. He may be mute, but he's good at watching your back."
"I think he'd prefer to watch Chase's back." House attempted to leer, but it didn't work. Taking Wilson's hand in his, he added, "I'd rather you watched my back."
Smiling faintly, Wilson stretched out beside his lover and friend. "I'd prefer it, too, but I'd be too busy doing my job, like you."
"I won't be doing anything until my leg heals," House reminded him, shifting so he could drape the injured leg over both of Wilson's. "You won't have to worry about me until then."
Chuckling quietly, Wilson kissed House's cheek. "I'll always worry about you, Greg."
"Same goes for me about you, Jimmy," House answered gruffly, not meeting Wilson's eyes.
Wilson smiled and rested his cheek on House's shoulder, content to simply hold him. He'd come close to losing House and he wanted to savor the fact that he hadn't.
End