Fic: The Way It Goes, PG13
Title: The Way It Goes
Spoilers: None
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG13, for language
Disclaimer: Don't own House MD, or the characters. I'm not making any profit.
AN: This is angst. Pure, unadulterated angst.
Thanks go out to moonbeamsfanfic who beta'd this, and compared it to a woodchipper (in a good way).
The Way It Goes:
In the beginning, they fuck like bunnies. House is quite proud of that fact.
For the first time in a long while things are going great. His vicodin intake decreases, if only by a little, and sometimes he smiles and actually means it. It’s only when he finds himself actually being nice to Chase that he thinks, if he was a romantic at heart (and he’ll crush the souls of anyone who says that he is) that this just might be forever, that it’s inexorable. He refuses to use phrases like ‘meant to be.’ Of course, Cuddy watching him and anxiously wondering what the fall out of this latest prank will be - because, as everyone knows, he’s never nice - only adds to the fun.
He says things like “Oh God, right there,” and “I might just keep you.” It’s only once Wilson’s asleep and his aching thigh is keeping him awake, though for once it’s juxtaposed with far more pleasurable pain, that he leans over and brushes sweaty strands of hair from Wilson’s face. It’s only in the dark, when he can’t be overheard, that he says things like “You’re beautiful” and “I love you.”
--
In the middle, they fight. House thinks he should have anticipated it.
Sometimes Wilson comes home smelling like perfume, with lipstick stains on his shirts, and sometimes his boxers. Wilson tries to hide it, but House knows. He isn’t a diagnostician for nothing. He’s used to looking for clues and putting them together. He’s cruel more often than not, these days, not simply mean. Even Cameron’s taken to avoiding him when possible. Cuddy watches him with worried eyes like she’s waiting for him to blow up about the whole thing.
He says things like “You whore,” and “Must I pay you for your time?” It’s only when Wilson’s slammed the door behind him that House collapses onto the couch. He takes his usual dose of vicodin and chases it with scotch. He goes to bed and lies awake waiting for the sound of the key in the door. He thinks things like “I didn’t think you could betray me,” and “I didn’t think I’d let you.”
--
In the end, there is silence. House has resigned himself to it.
Wilson still comes home some nights smelling of perfume, with lipstick stains, but he doesn’t hide it anymore. Sometimes they still fuck like bunnies. When they’re done and Wilson’s asleep, he rolls out of bed and showers. He’s quiet these days because sometimes hating the world takes too much effort. He doesn’t have anyone to turn to, doesn’t have anyone to bitch at, because that used to be Wilson. Cuddy watches him with sad eyes but he doesn’t care. He thinks that they might be stuck in this end until they die.
He says things like “I’m working late tonight,” and “There might be cold pizza in the fridge.” Wilson nods and they pass each other like strangers. Late at night House sits in his office and finishes his reports because he isn’t going home until they’re done. Even if his leg aches. Even if he’s almost out of vicodin, and there’s a full bottle at home. He thinks things like “Maybe tonight will be different,” and “You could always lie to the world, Greg, but never to yourself.”
Spoilers: None
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG13, for language
Disclaimer: Don't own House MD, or the characters. I'm not making any profit.
AN: This is angst. Pure, unadulterated angst.
Thanks go out to moonbeamsfanfic who beta'd this, and compared it to a woodchipper (in a good way).
The Way It Goes:
In the beginning, they fuck like bunnies. House is quite proud of that fact.
For the first time in a long while things are going great. His vicodin intake decreases, if only by a little, and sometimes he smiles and actually means it. It’s only when he finds himself actually being nice to Chase that he thinks, if he was a romantic at heart (and he’ll crush the souls of anyone who says that he is) that this just might be forever, that it’s inexorable. He refuses to use phrases like ‘meant to be.’ Of course, Cuddy watching him and anxiously wondering what the fall out of this latest prank will be - because, as everyone knows, he’s never nice - only adds to the fun.
He says things like “Oh God, right there,” and “I might just keep you.” It’s only once Wilson’s asleep and his aching thigh is keeping him awake, though for once it’s juxtaposed with far more pleasurable pain, that he leans over and brushes sweaty strands of hair from Wilson’s face. It’s only in the dark, when he can’t be overheard, that he says things like “You’re beautiful” and “I love you.”
--
In the middle, they fight. House thinks he should have anticipated it.
Sometimes Wilson comes home smelling like perfume, with lipstick stains on his shirts, and sometimes his boxers. Wilson tries to hide it, but House knows. He isn’t a diagnostician for nothing. He’s used to looking for clues and putting them together. He’s cruel more often than not, these days, not simply mean. Even Cameron’s taken to avoiding him when possible. Cuddy watches him with worried eyes like she’s waiting for him to blow up about the whole thing.
He says things like “You whore,” and “Must I pay you for your time?” It’s only when Wilson’s slammed the door behind him that House collapses onto the couch. He takes his usual dose of vicodin and chases it with scotch. He goes to bed and lies awake waiting for the sound of the key in the door. He thinks things like “I didn’t think you could betray me,” and “I didn’t think I’d let you.”
--
In the end, there is silence. House has resigned himself to it.
Wilson still comes home some nights smelling of perfume, with lipstick stains, but he doesn’t hide it anymore. Sometimes they still fuck like bunnies. When they’re done and Wilson’s asleep, he rolls out of bed and showers. He’s quiet these days because sometimes hating the world takes too much effort. He doesn’t have anyone to turn to, doesn’t have anyone to bitch at, because that used to be Wilson. Cuddy watches him with sad eyes but he doesn’t care. He thinks that they might be stuck in this end until they die.
He says things like “I’m working late tonight,” and “There might be cold pizza in the fridge.” Wilson nods and they pass each other like strangers. Late at night House sits in his office and finishes his reports because he isn’t going home until they’re done. Even if his leg aches. Even if he’s almost out of vicodin, and there’s a full bottle at home. He thinks things like “Maybe tonight will be different,” and “You could always lie to the world, Greg, but never to yourself.”