Changes (8/?)
Chapter 7
Chapter 8:
The February wind whipped viscously at their exposed skin, biting and nipping the sensitive skin cold at attempted frostbite. White-grey clouds hovered over Princeton, threatening snow for the tenth time this winter. Why on Earth someone had decided to get married in winter was beyond House but Wilson could see the attraction, even if it was below freezing out and one of the most romantic holidays of the year.
Though he hadn’t been around work, House had still managed to tease Cuddy for getting married on Valentine’s Day. Wilson on the other hand could understand it. If there was one “holiday” that he thought was ridiculous to celebrate, it was V-day. He liked the idea of having something worth celebrating happen on that day and if it was a wedding, so be it.
Both men watched where they walked with strong care. It had snowed not twelve hours ago and they didn’t trust that the church had salted the walk as thoroughly as they should have, especially with Wilson on crutches.
It was sweet how much of a mother hen House was being. Not only was he watching where he was going but he was watching where Wilson stepped, herding him into the church with carefully concealed concern. He made sure to grumble and complain, rather loudly, about having to take care of a cripple while being a cripple himself. He made sure to make a few jokes about it within earshot of almost everybody then smirked viscously as several heads turned in disgust.
Cuddy and Lucas had decided to have two ceremonies performed. One traditional for Lucas’ “side”, which basically included House and Cuddy’s non-Jewish friends, and one Jewish ceremony to make her mother happy.
House and Wilson had been invited to the traditional one and so they walked into the church and sat down a pew closer to the back. Wilson’s entire body ached from using the crutches and his leg throbbed painfully more so from the extreme cold and the constant pounding of his good leg on the hard, unyielding sidewalk.
With a shrug, House followed. He was more than happy to sit at the back where he could easily slip out and walk around if he should get bored or his leg begins to cramp but he was surprised that Wilson didn’t want to sit closer. The oncologist wasn’t an attention hog but he would want to sit closer to where he could see the ceremony with perfect clarity and take a few pictures.
“You should stretch out to keep your leg elevated,” House commented as they settled into the wooden bench. He wasn’t wholly uncomfortable being in church, it was just a place after all since there was no God, but he was a little annoyed that there wasn’t a way to keep Wilson’s leg off the floor while keeping the injured man comfortable.
“And what if someone wants to or needs to sit down?” Wilson asked worriedly. He didn’t want to take up room that was needed but he couldn’t deny the appeal to get his throbbing leg off the floor.
House rolled his eyes. He wasn’t shocked by Wilson’s answer in the slightest but he still found it ridiculous. “Look around,” he answered using his hand to wave openly at the half empty church, “it’s about 5 minutes until show time and half the place is still empty. Unless they get a last minute rush, no one is going to need that seat.”
“What is this, dinner and a show?” Wilson asked, his brows wrinkling in sarcastic confusion.
“Well, there is a meal afterwards so I’d say it’s more a show then a lunch,” House responded thoughtfully. He proceeded to roll his eyes heavily as Wilson proceeded to hesitate. “Just put your leg up,” he commanded lightly in agitation.
Wilson looked around like he expected someone to come out and attack him. There was a pretty fair amount of empty pews and given that most of Cuddy’s friends knew House, none of them would want to sit near him anyways. Reluctantly he raised his leg onto the hard surface almost wishing that he’d brought a pillow as his leg met with unmoving resistance.
The ceremony started with the organ groaning out every solemn note and Cuddy walked down the aisle, every head turned to her in beautiful awe.
Her dress was a simple white with a manageable trail flowing behind. Beads accented the shoulder line of the strapless top, showing off her beautiful collar bone and a blue emerald necklace. Her hair had been kept down, curls waving through the brown locks beautifully and her makeup had been done expertly to accent her grey eyes.
A bouquet made up of various tulips, lilies and roses accented her delicate but strong hands. She’d decided not to go with a veil for this particular ceremony since she’d be wearing one for her mother.
Lucas’ face had been priceless as he watched his bride walk down the aisle towards him. There was the look of “Yeah Baby!” but there was also a look of “Wow!”
The ceremony itself passed swiftly and before the men knew it, it was time to stand up and watch the happy couple walk out of the church.
House quickly handed Wilson a dose of pain meds before swallowing his own then they slowly made their way to the car to head where the reception was being held, Cuddy’s house.
They walked into the living room of the cozy home just in time to watch the happy couple come bursting through the doors. The smiles on their faces wanted to make House puke but he held his true feeling in behind a fake smile.
He watched as Wilson crutched his way up to the couple and give his and House’s happy wishes. He rolled his eyes at the sentiment but stoically kept his opinions to himself.
The furniture of the home had been either put in storage or pushed to the side to allow for the decent sized group, making almost everyone stand around, chatting about whatever their hearts desired. Every time he’d looked for an empty place to sit, someone had quickly taken over it.
Surprisingly, he didn’t want the seat for himself though his leg was beginning to ache awfully. He didn’t like how much standing Wilson was being forced to do and he wanted to get the injured oncologist off his feet as quickly as possible.
“House,” Cuddy’s voice called softly in his ear.
“Doctor Cuddy fancy meeting you here,” House commented acting surprised. “I suppose congratulations are in order, though why you’d want to attach yourself to one person for the rest of your life, I have no idea.”
“Thanks I think,” Cuddy answered, her brows wrinkling briefly in confusion. “I reserved a place for you and Wilson to sit down if your interested.”
“Are you kidding?” House asked, “I love standing, why would I want to sit down?”
Cuddy nodded, easily reading what was beneath the sarcasm. “It’s over there,” she said, pointing in the direction of the dining room, “it’s a couch so you both should fit. I’ll bring a spare chair for Wilson’s leg.”
She walked away, not bothering to wait for House to answer. She was just as worried about all the standing her head of oncology was doing and she wanted to get him settled comfortably as quickly as she could.
House walked over to where Wilson was awkwardly standing, “Come on, Cuddy found primo seats.”
“Are we attending a concert?”
“Nope, just a dance.” House’s eyes twinkled merrily, “Come on, let’s get you sitting down.”
Wilson couldn’t resist a caring House and submitted easily. He was exhausted and beginning to hurt so the request wasn’t that hard to give in to.
He groaned as he lowered his aching body onto the couch but soon breathed a sigh of relief as his weight was distributed easily on the well stuffed cushions.
It was a few minutes before House gently pulled Wilson’s hurting leg onto his lap, making sure not to put pressure on his ruined thigh. Tender hands massaged Wilson’s thigh lulling him into a relaxed state one doesn’t normally get into when around strange company.
He was more than a little surprised but just how, dare he say sweet?, House was being while being surrounded by people he didn’t know, didn’t like and thought were morons. Normally the misanthropic man did his best to distance himself from everyone and everything no matter who was doing the touching.
Now he was openly touching him, massaging him, in an effort to provide comfort Wilson found it no only extremely weird but wonderfully sweet. He could get used to this House. He had the acerbic wit and dry sarcasm that he grew to love but he also had a caring side that he often craved in his friend.
An ipod station began and Cuddy and Lucas came into the room to begin dancing to Nat King Cole’s “When I Fall in Love”.
The dance was beautiful. It was no surprise that Cuddy could dance, she was a woman after all and most assumed that all women can dance, but the mere fact that Lucas was the one leading her expertly across the hard wood floor in such a trance-inducing style was shocking.
Most men depend on their wives to get through the dance part, allowing them to lead or taking lessons before hand but everyone who watched, which was almost every person in the house, could tell that Lucas was the one in full control.
For a brief moment, Wilson imagined he and House in Cuddy and Lucas’ position. He imagined House looking absolutely handsome in a tux and Wilson looking like himself in his own tux with matching silver bands on their hands.
Pain spiked hot and fierce in his leg reminding him that neither of them would be able to dance at their own ceremony. It saddened him a little to think that he wouldn’t be able to have exactly what Cuddy and Lucas were currently having, a romantic moment with the just the two of them.
Wilson shook his head to clear the images out of his mind and to remind himself that he and House had just barely started this relationship. They hadn’t even talked about what they were doing or anything, he had no right to jump to a civil union.
But a part of him held on to the wonderful image his mind had conjured up. It was a beacon of hope for him and that hope is what kept him around when most would have left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By eight pm the guests had all left with the exception of House and Wilson. House had all but begged to leave over three hours ago but Wilson had insisted that they stay for the whole thing claiming that it was rude to leave before everyone else had the inclination to.
Now House was incredibly grumpy and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sit on the couch, drink a beer, then fall asleep. He gave up on waiting for Wilson and went out to the car on his own.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, House briefly wondered if he should be around to gently herd Wilson out to the car to make sure the injured man doesn’t fall on a hidden patch of ice. His annoyed mind reminded him that Wilson was a big boy and didn’t need someone mother henning him, injured though he may be, and that if Wilson should fall, House wouldn’t be able to do more than to fall down with him.
None the less, the diagnostician released a silent breath of relief when Wilson arrived in the car safe and sound. A shrill ringing interrupted any comment House was about to make and Wilson automatically pulled out his phone.
“Hello,” he had answered. Luckily Wilson’s phone was loud enough for House to hear the entire conversation since it was pretty hard to get information out of Wilson after the fact.
“Hi James,” an unfamiliar voice answered almost affectionately.
“Melissa how are you doing?” Wilson asked in his most caring oncologist voice.
“I’m good considering,” Melissa replied evenly, “listen I just wanted to call and let you know that I’ve finally gotten things hashed out with Ashley, she had challenged almost every decision I had made with regards to the funeral and burial, and I have the information on the service.”
“Oh, okay,” Wilson responded and House knew he was a little surprised by the idea that he was just now receiving a call about SIJ’s funeral and that the girlfriend would challenge anything.
Swiftly, House handed his friend a spare piece of paper, a receipt from a porn store, and watched with affectionate amusement as Wilson pulled out a pen from the inside pocket of his sports coat.
He listened quietly to the oncologist’s soft “uh-huh’s” and “okay’s”. He hadn’t realized until now just how much he loved hearing Wilson’s voice. Most of the time the familiar tone could be heard carrying a lecture quality or, more often than not, a sanctimonious note that House always resolved not to listen to but right now it held nothing but caring, something that he’d received from Wilson on many an occasion and had often batted it away with the fierce bite of a viper.
“Okay,” Wilson said with a tone of finality effectively pulling House out of his thoughts, “Thanks for calling and letting me know Melissa. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Don’t expect me to go to Self Important Jerk’s funeral,” House automatically said after Wilson hung up.
Wilson let out a frustrated groan, “Don’t worry. I know that asking you to go to the wedding today was asking a lot of you, I wouldn’t want to push it.”
“Oh it’s not that,” House snapped more than a little offended, “I just refuse to pay my respects to man that I actually had no respect for.” He paused for a second while his quick mind thought then added, “I can’t believe you’re going. I would have thought that you have lost all respect for him to. I guess you don’t have as much common sense as I gave you credit for.”
“Yes it must be that I’m a complete moron,” Wilson snapped almost fiercely, the sarcasm in his tone not getting lost in it, “either that or I’m going to support Tucker’s family.”
“You hardly knew his family,” House scoffed, his temper slowly rising.
“Unlike you, I have more than one friend,” Wilson reminded sharply, “Melissa and I have been friends for almost ten years.”
“I’ve never heard you mention her.”
“That’s because every time we talk, it’s usually about you or your case.”
“Oh please,” House rolled his eyes as he pulled up to the curb then turned to face Wilson.
“You think I’m being dramatic?” Wilson challenged. “The only reason you know about any of my ex wives is because I told you about them whether or not you wanted to hear it. If I hadn’t done that you wouldn’t know a damn thing about me except for the information you deduced when we met.”
Angrily Wilson opened the car door then got out of the car. He crutched towards the loft with a passive aggressive grace. It always amazed House how Wilson could do almost everything passive aggressively, including smile.
Memories swirled through his mind as he sat in the quickly cooling car. He couldn’t deny there was truth in Wilson’s words even if they were said with an over dramatic air.
A shiver ran down his spine as his nerves registered the below freezing temperatures in the car and he decided to it was time to get inside.
He had just arrived through the door when soft sniffling reached his ears. The sarcastic reproof on his lips died instantly when he walked into Wilson’s bedroom not to find him crying on the bed in a dramatic gesture but on the floor, crutches splayed carelessly about the sparse room, body curled in a protective ball and hands clutching his left thigh so tightly there was no circulation getting to them.
“Wilson,” House called softly, stiffly and painfully kneeling down next to the fallen man, “Wilson what happened?”
But Wilson couldn’t answer. He was lost in his own world of agony, the pain engulfing him like a swarm of angry hornets that were trying to drown him under water. Tears trickled down his cheeks, landing on the hardwood floors and soaking them.
House knew enough about pain to realize when a dose of anything by mouth was not only near impossible in this state but they wouldn’t do a damn bit of good.
Regretfully he left Wilson and went into his room to grab the wooden chest that he keeps under his bed. He opened it then pulled out a syringe full of one dose of morphine before going as quickly as he could back to Wilson’s room where the oncologist’s breathing was beginning to sound ragged and too fast.
“Hang in there Wilson,” he encouraged gently as he tied the tourniquet around Wilson’s closest arm then expertly plunged the needled into the penetrable flesh then the vein. He waited somewhat impatiently for the drug to take effect, anxious from his friend to find some relief sooner rather than later.
His eyes roamed over Wilson’s prone body, his mind rapidly trying to piece together what happened but coming up blank. As far as House could tell, the injured man was still mostly dressed. The only articles of clothes that were missing were his dress shirt and suit jacket which lay neatly on the bed above.
When Wilson’s breathing eased and his body relaxed, House tried calling to him again. “Wilson,” he said quietly, placing a hand on his friend’s arm.
“House?” Wilson asked, his eyes out of focus more than usual.
“Yeah who else?”
“Right.”
“Sorry about the Wizard of Oz effects,” House apologized when he saw Wilson trying to bring everything into focus, “it’s what happens with morphine.”
Wilson’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he closed his eyes before slowly refocusing on House. “Why am I on morphine?” he slurred, his fight for consciousness getting harder with every passing second.
“Later,” House answered noticing Wilson’s trouble keeping his eyes open, “first let’s get you into bed, what do you say?”
“Whatever you say Dorothy,” Wilson said slurring so much that House could think he was wasted instead of high.
House got stiffly off the floor then bent down and grabbed Wilson outstretched hand. With the upper body strength that one gets when they use it to hold themselves up, House hauled Wilson upright, slipping quickly under his left arm to provide more support.
Wilson groaned as the movement made his stomach roll acidly but he managed to keep all contents remaining in it.
Next House carefully dragged Wilson’s half limp form over to the bed where he unceremoniously dumped it on the bed. He was careful not to bang Wilson’s bad leg against anything as he undressed the now asleep oncologist then positioned him on the bed where his leg was elevated on top of two pillows.
He watched Wilson’s sleeping form for a moment before he sat down next to the injured leg and gently felt around it. While he didn’t know what had happened, he wanted to make sure that no more damage had been done during the mysterious event.
If he really thought about it, it wasn’t so mysterious. Obviously Wilson had fallen but what he didn’t know what whether he had mis-stepped and tried to put weight on his damaged leg or whether he banged it on something while getting around.
Judging by the bump his hands were currently feeling and the winces coming from the sleeping oncologist, House would guess that he had banged the leg on something causing immeasurable pain.
He winced as his own leg pain flared in sympathy. He knew very well what that felt like and it made his heart ache to know that Wilson had experienced that kind of pain.
After gently releasing the leg, House stood up and limped heavily into the kitchen where he grabbed an ice pack. He was careful not to trip and fall over the crutches which still lay on the floor forgotten in all the excitement.
Deciding it was best to pick them up so that Wilson didn’t have to do it, House placed the ice pack carefully on top of the oncologist’s damaged calf then he used the hook of his cane to grab the fallen instruments and lifted.
House briefly checked on Wilson a second time before he exited the bedroom to leave his friend to his slumber while he camped out on the couch with a beer in his hand and a porn movie on.
If anyone asked it was because he wasn’t tired but the truth was that he wanted to be able to be awake should Wilson need him again. In hindsight he should have just crawled into the bed with Wilson but instead he fell asleep on the comfortable leather couch, the moaning in the background the last thing he heard before drifting off into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter 9
AN: I apologize for the delay in posting updates to all my stories. The bug bite for writing has worn off and a new one to be "Suzie Homemaker" has taken over. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.
Chapter 8:
The February wind whipped viscously at their exposed skin, biting and nipping the sensitive skin cold at attempted frostbite. White-grey clouds hovered over Princeton, threatening snow for the tenth time this winter. Why on Earth someone had decided to get married in winter was beyond House but Wilson could see the attraction, even if it was below freezing out and one of the most romantic holidays of the year.
Though he hadn’t been around work, House had still managed to tease Cuddy for getting married on Valentine’s Day. Wilson on the other hand could understand it. If there was one “holiday” that he thought was ridiculous to celebrate, it was V-day. He liked the idea of having something worth celebrating happen on that day and if it was a wedding, so be it.
Both men watched where they walked with strong care. It had snowed not twelve hours ago and they didn’t trust that the church had salted the walk as thoroughly as they should have, especially with Wilson on crutches.
It was sweet how much of a mother hen House was being. Not only was he watching where he was going but he was watching where Wilson stepped, herding him into the church with carefully concealed concern. He made sure to grumble and complain, rather loudly, about having to take care of a cripple while being a cripple himself. He made sure to make a few jokes about it within earshot of almost everybody then smirked viscously as several heads turned in disgust.
Cuddy and Lucas had decided to have two ceremonies performed. One traditional for Lucas’ “side”, which basically included House and Cuddy’s non-Jewish friends, and one Jewish ceremony to make her mother happy.
House and Wilson had been invited to the traditional one and so they walked into the church and sat down a pew closer to the back. Wilson’s entire body ached from using the crutches and his leg throbbed painfully more so from the extreme cold and the constant pounding of his good leg on the hard, unyielding sidewalk.
With a shrug, House followed. He was more than happy to sit at the back where he could easily slip out and walk around if he should get bored or his leg begins to cramp but he was surprised that Wilson didn’t want to sit closer. The oncologist wasn’t an attention hog but he would want to sit closer to where he could see the ceremony with perfect clarity and take a few pictures.
“You should stretch out to keep your leg elevated,” House commented as they settled into the wooden bench. He wasn’t wholly uncomfortable being in church, it was just a place after all since there was no God, but he was a little annoyed that there wasn’t a way to keep Wilson’s leg off the floor while keeping the injured man comfortable.
“And what if someone wants to or needs to sit down?” Wilson asked worriedly. He didn’t want to take up room that was needed but he couldn’t deny the appeal to get his throbbing leg off the floor.
House rolled his eyes. He wasn’t shocked by Wilson’s answer in the slightest but he still found it ridiculous. “Look around,” he answered using his hand to wave openly at the half empty church, “it’s about 5 minutes until show time and half the place is still empty. Unless they get a last minute rush, no one is going to need that seat.”
“What is this, dinner and a show?” Wilson asked, his brows wrinkling in sarcastic confusion.
“Well, there is a meal afterwards so I’d say it’s more a show then a lunch,” House responded thoughtfully. He proceeded to roll his eyes heavily as Wilson proceeded to hesitate. “Just put your leg up,” he commanded lightly in agitation.
Wilson looked around like he expected someone to come out and attack him. There was a pretty fair amount of empty pews and given that most of Cuddy’s friends knew House, none of them would want to sit near him anyways. Reluctantly he raised his leg onto the hard surface almost wishing that he’d brought a pillow as his leg met with unmoving resistance.
The ceremony started with the organ groaning out every solemn note and Cuddy walked down the aisle, every head turned to her in beautiful awe.
Her dress was a simple white with a manageable trail flowing behind. Beads accented the shoulder line of the strapless top, showing off her beautiful collar bone and a blue emerald necklace. Her hair had been kept down, curls waving through the brown locks beautifully and her makeup had been done expertly to accent her grey eyes.
A bouquet made up of various tulips, lilies and roses accented her delicate but strong hands. She’d decided not to go with a veil for this particular ceremony since she’d be wearing one for her mother.
Lucas’ face had been priceless as he watched his bride walk down the aisle towards him. There was the look of “Yeah Baby!” but there was also a look of “Wow!”
The ceremony itself passed swiftly and before the men knew it, it was time to stand up and watch the happy couple walk out of the church.
House quickly handed Wilson a dose of pain meds before swallowing his own then they slowly made their way to the car to head where the reception was being held, Cuddy’s house.
They walked into the living room of the cozy home just in time to watch the happy couple come bursting through the doors. The smiles on their faces wanted to make House puke but he held his true feeling in behind a fake smile.
He watched as Wilson crutched his way up to the couple and give his and House’s happy wishes. He rolled his eyes at the sentiment but stoically kept his opinions to himself.
The furniture of the home had been either put in storage or pushed to the side to allow for the decent sized group, making almost everyone stand around, chatting about whatever their hearts desired. Every time he’d looked for an empty place to sit, someone had quickly taken over it.
Surprisingly, he didn’t want the seat for himself though his leg was beginning to ache awfully. He didn’t like how much standing Wilson was being forced to do and he wanted to get the injured oncologist off his feet as quickly as possible.
“House,” Cuddy’s voice called softly in his ear.
“Doctor Cuddy fancy meeting you here,” House commented acting surprised. “I suppose congratulations are in order, though why you’d want to attach yourself to one person for the rest of your life, I have no idea.”
“Thanks I think,” Cuddy answered, her brows wrinkling briefly in confusion. “I reserved a place for you and Wilson to sit down if your interested.”
“Are you kidding?” House asked, “I love standing, why would I want to sit down?”
Cuddy nodded, easily reading what was beneath the sarcasm. “It’s over there,” she said, pointing in the direction of the dining room, “it’s a couch so you both should fit. I’ll bring a spare chair for Wilson’s leg.”
She walked away, not bothering to wait for House to answer. She was just as worried about all the standing her head of oncology was doing and she wanted to get him settled comfortably as quickly as she could.
House walked over to where Wilson was awkwardly standing, “Come on, Cuddy found primo seats.”
“Are we attending a concert?”
“Nope, just a dance.” House’s eyes twinkled merrily, “Come on, let’s get you sitting down.”
Wilson couldn’t resist a caring House and submitted easily. He was exhausted and beginning to hurt so the request wasn’t that hard to give in to.
He groaned as he lowered his aching body onto the couch but soon breathed a sigh of relief as his weight was distributed easily on the well stuffed cushions.
It was a few minutes before House gently pulled Wilson’s hurting leg onto his lap, making sure not to put pressure on his ruined thigh. Tender hands massaged Wilson’s thigh lulling him into a relaxed state one doesn’t normally get into when around strange company.
He was more than a little surprised but just how, dare he say sweet?, House was being while being surrounded by people he didn’t know, didn’t like and thought were morons. Normally the misanthropic man did his best to distance himself from everyone and everything no matter who was doing the touching.
Now he was openly touching him, massaging him, in an effort to provide comfort Wilson found it no only extremely weird but wonderfully sweet. He could get used to this House. He had the acerbic wit and dry sarcasm that he grew to love but he also had a caring side that he often craved in his friend.
An ipod station began and Cuddy and Lucas came into the room to begin dancing to Nat King Cole’s “When I Fall in Love”.
The dance was beautiful. It was no surprise that Cuddy could dance, she was a woman after all and most assumed that all women can dance, but the mere fact that Lucas was the one leading her expertly across the hard wood floor in such a trance-inducing style was shocking.
Most men depend on their wives to get through the dance part, allowing them to lead or taking lessons before hand but everyone who watched, which was almost every person in the house, could tell that Lucas was the one in full control.
For a brief moment, Wilson imagined he and House in Cuddy and Lucas’ position. He imagined House looking absolutely handsome in a tux and Wilson looking like himself in his own tux with matching silver bands on their hands.
Pain spiked hot and fierce in his leg reminding him that neither of them would be able to dance at their own ceremony. It saddened him a little to think that he wouldn’t be able to have exactly what Cuddy and Lucas were currently having, a romantic moment with the just the two of them.
Wilson shook his head to clear the images out of his mind and to remind himself that he and House had just barely started this relationship. They hadn’t even talked about what they were doing or anything, he had no right to jump to a civil union.
But a part of him held on to the wonderful image his mind had conjured up. It was a beacon of hope for him and that hope is what kept him around when most would have left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By eight pm the guests had all left with the exception of House and Wilson. House had all but begged to leave over three hours ago but Wilson had insisted that they stay for the whole thing claiming that it was rude to leave before everyone else had the inclination to.
Now House was incredibly grumpy and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sit on the couch, drink a beer, then fall asleep. He gave up on waiting for Wilson and went out to the car on his own.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, House briefly wondered if he should be around to gently herd Wilson out to the car to make sure the injured man doesn’t fall on a hidden patch of ice. His annoyed mind reminded him that Wilson was a big boy and didn’t need someone mother henning him, injured though he may be, and that if Wilson should fall, House wouldn’t be able to do more than to fall down with him.
None the less, the diagnostician released a silent breath of relief when Wilson arrived in the car safe and sound. A shrill ringing interrupted any comment House was about to make and Wilson automatically pulled out his phone.
“Hello,” he had answered. Luckily Wilson’s phone was loud enough for House to hear the entire conversation since it was pretty hard to get information out of Wilson after the fact.
“Hi James,” an unfamiliar voice answered almost affectionately.
“Melissa how are you doing?” Wilson asked in his most caring oncologist voice.
“I’m good considering,” Melissa replied evenly, “listen I just wanted to call and let you know that I’ve finally gotten things hashed out with Ashley, she had challenged almost every decision I had made with regards to the funeral and burial, and I have the information on the service.”
“Oh, okay,” Wilson responded and House knew he was a little surprised by the idea that he was just now receiving a call about SIJ’s funeral and that the girlfriend would challenge anything.
Swiftly, House handed his friend a spare piece of paper, a receipt from a porn store, and watched with affectionate amusement as Wilson pulled out a pen from the inside pocket of his sports coat.
He listened quietly to the oncologist’s soft “uh-huh’s” and “okay’s”. He hadn’t realized until now just how much he loved hearing Wilson’s voice. Most of the time the familiar tone could be heard carrying a lecture quality or, more often than not, a sanctimonious note that House always resolved not to listen to but right now it held nothing but caring, something that he’d received from Wilson on many an occasion and had often batted it away with the fierce bite of a viper.
“Okay,” Wilson said with a tone of finality effectively pulling House out of his thoughts, “Thanks for calling and letting me know Melissa. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Don’t expect me to go to Self Important Jerk’s funeral,” House automatically said after Wilson hung up.
Wilson let out a frustrated groan, “Don’t worry. I know that asking you to go to the wedding today was asking a lot of you, I wouldn’t want to push it.”
“Oh it’s not that,” House snapped more than a little offended, “I just refuse to pay my respects to man that I actually had no respect for.” He paused for a second while his quick mind thought then added, “I can’t believe you’re going. I would have thought that you have lost all respect for him to. I guess you don’t have as much common sense as I gave you credit for.”
“Yes it must be that I’m a complete moron,” Wilson snapped almost fiercely, the sarcasm in his tone not getting lost in it, “either that or I’m going to support Tucker’s family.”
“You hardly knew his family,” House scoffed, his temper slowly rising.
“Unlike you, I have more than one friend,” Wilson reminded sharply, “Melissa and I have been friends for almost ten years.”
“I’ve never heard you mention her.”
“That’s because every time we talk, it’s usually about you or your case.”
“Oh please,” House rolled his eyes as he pulled up to the curb then turned to face Wilson.
“You think I’m being dramatic?” Wilson challenged. “The only reason you know about any of my ex wives is because I told you about them whether or not you wanted to hear it. If I hadn’t done that you wouldn’t know a damn thing about me except for the information you deduced when we met.”
Angrily Wilson opened the car door then got out of the car. He crutched towards the loft with a passive aggressive grace. It always amazed House how Wilson could do almost everything passive aggressively, including smile.
Memories swirled through his mind as he sat in the quickly cooling car. He couldn’t deny there was truth in Wilson’s words even if they were said with an over dramatic air.
A shiver ran down his spine as his nerves registered the below freezing temperatures in the car and he decided to it was time to get inside.
He had just arrived through the door when soft sniffling reached his ears. The sarcastic reproof on his lips died instantly when he walked into Wilson’s bedroom not to find him crying on the bed in a dramatic gesture but on the floor, crutches splayed carelessly about the sparse room, body curled in a protective ball and hands clutching his left thigh so tightly there was no circulation getting to them.
“Wilson,” House called softly, stiffly and painfully kneeling down next to the fallen man, “Wilson what happened?”
But Wilson couldn’t answer. He was lost in his own world of agony, the pain engulfing him like a swarm of angry hornets that were trying to drown him under water. Tears trickled down his cheeks, landing on the hardwood floors and soaking them.
House knew enough about pain to realize when a dose of anything by mouth was not only near impossible in this state but they wouldn’t do a damn bit of good.
Regretfully he left Wilson and went into his room to grab the wooden chest that he keeps under his bed. He opened it then pulled out a syringe full of one dose of morphine before going as quickly as he could back to Wilson’s room where the oncologist’s breathing was beginning to sound ragged and too fast.
“Hang in there Wilson,” he encouraged gently as he tied the tourniquet around Wilson’s closest arm then expertly plunged the needled into the penetrable flesh then the vein. He waited somewhat impatiently for the drug to take effect, anxious from his friend to find some relief sooner rather than later.
His eyes roamed over Wilson’s prone body, his mind rapidly trying to piece together what happened but coming up blank. As far as House could tell, the injured man was still mostly dressed. The only articles of clothes that were missing were his dress shirt and suit jacket which lay neatly on the bed above.
When Wilson’s breathing eased and his body relaxed, House tried calling to him again. “Wilson,” he said quietly, placing a hand on his friend’s arm.
“House?” Wilson asked, his eyes out of focus more than usual.
“Yeah who else?”
“Right.”
“Sorry about the Wizard of Oz effects,” House apologized when he saw Wilson trying to bring everything into focus, “it’s what happens with morphine.”
Wilson’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he closed his eyes before slowly refocusing on House. “Why am I on morphine?” he slurred, his fight for consciousness getting harder with every passing second.
“Later,” House answered noticing Wilson’s trouble keeping his eyes open, “first let’s get you into bed, what do you say?”
“Whatever you say Dorothy,” Wilson said slurring so much that House could think he was wasted instead of high.
House got stiffly off the floor then bent down and grabbed Wilson outstretched hand. With the upper body strength that one gets when they use it to hold themselves up, House hauled Wilson upright, slipping quickly under his left arm to provide more support.
Wilson groaned as the movement made his stomach roll acidly but he managed to keep all contents remaining in it.
Next House carefully dragged Wilson’s half limp form over to the bed where he unceremoniously dumped it on the bed. He was careful not to bang Wilson’s bad leg against anything as he undressed the now asleep oncologist then positioned him on the bed where his leg was elevated on top of two pillows.
He watched Wilson’s sleeping form for a moment before he sat down next to the injured leg and gently felt around it. While he didn’t know what had happened, he wanted to make sure that no more damage had been done during the mysterious event.
If he really thought about it, it wasn’t so mysterious. Obviously Wilson had fallen but what he didn’t know what whether he had mis-stepped and tried to put weight on his damaged leg or whether he banged it on something while getting around.
Judging by the bump his hands were currently feeling and the winces coming from the sleeping oncologist, House would guess that he had banged the leg on something causing immeasurable pain.
He winced as his own leg pain flared in sympathy. He knew very well what that felt like and it made his heart ache to know that Wilson had experienced that kind of pain.
After gently releasing the leg, House stood up and limped heavily into the kitchen where he grabbed an ice pack. He was careful not to trip and fall over the crutches which still lay on the floor forgotten in all the excitement.
Deciding it was best to pick them up so that Wilson didn’t have to do it, House placed the ice pack carefully on top of the oncologist’s damaged calf then he used the hook of his cane to grab the fallen instruments and lifted.
House briefly checked on Wilson a second time before he exited the bedroom to leave his friend to his slumber while he camped out on the couch with a beer in his hand and a porn movie on.
If anyone asked it was because he wasn’t tired but the truth was that he wanted to be able to be awake should Wilson need him again. In hindsight he should have just crawled into the bed with Wilson but instead he fell asleep on the comfortable leather couch, the moaning in the background the last thing he heard before drifting off into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter 9
AN: I apologize for the delay in posting updates to all my stories. The bug bite for writing has worn off and a new one to be "Suzie Homemaker" has taken over. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.