"The House Syndrome" Chapter 2
Title: The House Syndrome
Chapter: 2/6(Plus epilogue)
Fandom: House MD
Pairings: Wilson/Park, House/Wilson
Worcount: (This Chapter-800)
Rating: This chapter-PG13, but there will be NC17 material.
Warnings: Graphic sex for both pairings. Massive Angst-fest ahead. No fluff, no schmoop. Possible triggers. Read at your own risk.
Notes: THIS IS NOT A WIP! The whole thing is done. I just feel like posting in chapters. Very short chapters. Thanks to michelleann68 for Full Metal Beta. Comments and concrit welcome.
Summary: Things are back to normal, so everyone gets hurt.
Chapter 1
It took nearly a week before Park agreed to meet him after work for a drink. She emphasized the singular and made it very clear that it was not a date. Wilson was almost impressed.
Cameron had given in after only three days, two bouquets and a few smoldering looks, and that was at the height of her crush on House. Chase went willingly, although in his defense, Wilson did get him at a particularly vulnerable moment; only a few months after his father’s death and while House was still in a coma following the shooting.
Wilson sometimes wondered if House had any idea how easy he made it. Even the healthiest ego in the world would break down after a few months of House’s abuse, and House didn’t hire healthy. Healthy was boring. What happened to Kutner was extreme, but hardly an anomaly.
The system was designed to break the fellows down, leaving them vulnerable to House’s moods and whims, willing to break rules or even the law at his demand. As a result, House’s little helpers were always desperate for warmth, approval and even the illusion of love. It was almost like grooming by proxy.
Not that House would ever accept any responsibility. He’d just point out that no one was forcing Wilson to screw around, much less prey on House’s surrogate family. In his more bitter moods, he might ponder as to why Wilson would bother with any of them when all of PPTH, if not the whole world, was full of potential bedmates? House never missed an opportunity to point out that Wilson still had the looks that had gotten him three wives, as well as three divorces. Meanwhile in House’s self-pitying litany, his own prospects were limited to hookers and Wilson. After a bad leg day and too many drinks, he might imply that the only difference was the actual exchange of money.
House would be wrong. About everything. Wilson needed to make a point, and a random one-nighter with a Continental flight attendant laying over at Newark or even a whirlwind affair with Chase’s physical therapist could be brushed off as “Wilson being Wilson.” House might make rude comments, but he wouldn’t take it personally. House had earned some real pain, and this was the best way to inflict it and still keep a clear conscience.
People don’t change.
House certainly hadn’t. He’d come back from prison flaunting his drug use, as though he’d never heard of Detective Tritter, suffered a nervous breakdown that landed him in a mental institution, or served actual time.
Now that House was back to blatantly abusing Vicodin, Wilson had quickly fallen into his old patterns as well. He was still addicted to how much House needed him. To the late night calls, to the desperation, to House’s greediness in bed, to the sound of House screaming his name in something besides anger.
He needed it all so much he was willing to take a trip in the Wayback Machine and pretend that it was 2006 again. No Tritter, no Amber, no Mayfair, no jail. Just the two of them, hiding from Cuddy (now being played by Foreman). Amusing themselves and each other with nonsense that felt important to them, and the occasional locked-door office blow-job to help House break up the monotony and keep himself sane. It was as though the pain had never happened.
And then it all came back.
Sure, there were still good times. Nights when they could sit on House’s couch for hours dissecting the Kardashians and finish up with some comforting hand jobs, but the ratio of good to miserable tipped pretty quickly, leaving more and more nights where House couldn’t get it up and took it out on Wilson with lethally aimed verbal abuse.
Once House was sure he’d “won,” he felt free to go back to treating Wilson as badly as anybody else. As soon as Wilson got tired of being treated like shit, he started eyeing House’s current team as potential bed mates. Adams was too obvious, Chase too easy, and Taub too pre-occupied. Park was perfect, mostly because House actually seemed to like and respect her.
Seducing Park was the best way to get House’s attention and it would be fun to boot. By reputation on the hospital grapevine, she was no virgin, but he couldn’t imagine she had all that much experience. The way she’d gone scampering off when he first asked her out had piqued his libido.
Park might think it wasn’t a date, but Wilson knew better. He almost wished he could tell House himself. It was just the kind of they would have gossiped about if it were happening to someone else. Oh well, House would find out soon enough.
That was the whole point.
Chapter: 2/6(Plus epilogue)
Fandom: House MD
Pairings: Wilson/Park, House/Wilson
Worcount: (This Chapter-800)
Rating: This chapter-PG13, but there will be NC17 material.
Warnings: Graphic sex for both pairings. Massive Angst-fest ahead. No fluff, no schmoop. Possible triggers. Read at your own risk.
Notes: THIS IS NOT A WIP! The whole thing is done. I just feel like posting in chapters. Very short chapters. Thanks to michelleann68 for Full Metal Beta. Comments and concrit welcome.
Summary: Things are back to normal, so everyone gets hurt.
Chapter 1
It took nearly a week before Park agreed to meet him after work for a drink. She emphasized the singular and made it very clear that it was not a date. Wilson was almost impressed.
Cameron had given in after only three days, two bouquets and a few smoldering looks, and that was at the height of her crush on House. Chase went willingly, although in his defense, Wilson did get him at a particularly vulnerable moment; only a few months after his father’s death and while House was still in a coma following the shooting.
Wilson sometimes wondered if House had any idea how easy he made it. Even the healthiest ego in the world would break down after a few months of House’s abuse, and House didn’t hire healthy. Healthy was boring. What happened to Kutner was extreme, but hardly an anomaly.
The system was designed to break the fellows down, leaving them vulnerable to House’s moods and whims, willing to break rules or even the law at his demand. As a result, House’s little helpers were always desperate for warmth, approval and even the illusion of love. It was almost like grooming by proxy.
Not that House would ever accept any responsibility. He’d just point out that no one was forcing Wilson to screw around, much less prey on House’s surrogate family. In his more bitter moods, he might ponder as to why Wilson would bother with any of them when all of PPTH, if not the whole world, was full of potential bedmates? House never missed an opportunity to point out that Wilson still had the looks that had gotten him three wives, as well as three divorces. Meanwhile in House’s self-pitying litany, his own prospects were limited to hookers and Wilson. After a bad leg day and too many drinks, he might imply that the only difference was the actual exchange of money.
House would be wrong. About everything. Wilson needed to make a point, and a random one-nighter with a Continental flight attendant laying over at Newark or even a whirlwind affair with Chase’s physical therapist could be brushed off as “Wilson being Wilson.” House might make rude comments, but he wouldn’t take it personally. House had earned some real pain, and this was the best way to inflict it and still keep a clear conscience.
People don’t change.
House certainly hadn’t. He’d come back from prison flaunting his drug use, as though he’d never heard of Detective Tritter, suffered a nervous breakdown that landed him in a mental institution, or served actual time.
Now that House was back to blatantly abusing Vicodin, Wilson had quickly fallen into his old patterns as well. He was still addicted to how much House needed him. To the late night calls, to the desperation, to House’s greediness in bed, to the sound of House screaming his name in something besides anger.
He needed it all so much he was willing to take a trip in the Wayback Machine and pretend that it was 2006 again. No Tritter, no Amber, no Mayfair, no jail. Just the two of them, hiding from Cuddy (now being played by Foreman). Amusing themselves and each other with nonsense that felt important to them, and the occasional locked-door office blow-job to help House break up the monotony and keep himself sane. It was as though the pain had never happened.
And then it all came back.
Sure, there were still good times. Nights when they could sit on House’s couch for hours dissecting the Kardashians and finish up with some comforting hand jobs, but the ratio of good to miserable tipped pretty quickly, leaving more and more nights where House couldn’t get it up and took it out on Wilson with lethally aimed verbal abuse.
Once House was sure he’d “won,” he felt free to go back to treating Wilson as badly as anybody else. As soon as Wilson got tired of being treated like shit, he started eyeing House’s current team as potential bed mates. Adams was too obvious, Chase too easy, and Taub too pre-occupied. Park was perfect, mostly because House actually seemed to like and respect her.
Seducing Park was the best way to get House’s attention and it would be fun to boot. By reputation on the hospital grapevine, she was no virgin, but he couldn’t imagine she had all that much experience. The way she’d gone scampering off when he first asked her out had piqued his libido.
Park might think it wasn’t a date, but Wilson knew better. He almost wished he could tell House himself. It was just the kind of they would have gossiped about if it were happening to someone else. Oh well, House would find out soon enough.
That was the whole point.