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sick_wilson2007-08-02 04:50 pm
alanwolfmoon.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2007-08-02 04:50 pm
Entry tags:
"Was he puking?" (ch 2)
Title: "Was he puking?" (ch 2)
Pairing: House / Wilson
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG
Summary: written in reply to the "adopt a plot bunny" by
chwheeler
"Would anyone care to write a lack-of-sleep Wilson? And from the lack of sleep comes... any sort of trauma. Just not a car accident! Ah, I know. Lack of sleep = breakdown. Which can lead to any other sort of trauma. Use your imagination!"
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Notes: Reveiws and flames alike are welcome. (They make it look like i'm writing fast)
Pairing: House / Wilson
Author:
alanwolfmoonRating: PG
Summary: written in reply to the "adopt a plot bunny" by
chwheeler "Would anyone care to write a lack-of-sleep Wilson? And from the lack of sleep comes... any sort of trauma. Just not a car accident! Ah, I know. Lack of sleep = breakdown. Which can lead to any other sort of trauma. Use your imagination!"
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Notes: Reveiws and flames alike are welcome. (They make it look like i'm writing fast)
Ch 2
“Wilson? Wilson, can you hear me? Wilson, wake up. Come on Wilson, answer me. Wilson. Hello? Wilson?”
Wilson squinted up at the scruffy face that was about a foot above his own.
“House?”
House sighed, and sat back, moving his right leg to a different position.
“Wilson, just how big of an idiot are you?”
“About one eighty and six foot.”
House snorted.
“Uh-huh. Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought, because I’m pretty sure that right now you’re at least two hundred.”
“That’s cus I’m lying down.”
“Yeah, which is exactly why you’re an idiot. What kind of person manages to knock themselves out in a hospital room?”
“The kind that thought they heard their crippled friend fall halfway down the hall, and despite their friend being a total jerk, decided they should probably check on said cripple.”
“Right. And the fact that you’re so tired you can’t focus enough to do your job didn’t clue you off to the fact that it might be better for you to stay in bed.”
“House, I know you’d just leave me, but I’d rather know you’re ok.”
“Wilson, you’re the one in the hospital bed, for once. Act like it.”
“House, you’re really being a jerk, you know that? It’s one thing for you to ignore me being this tired for more than two weeks, that’s just you being you, but the fact that you’re acting like this now is just insulting.
House looked at Wilson for a moment, no emotion registering on his face, before he got painfully to his feet, and limped heavily out the door, leaving Cuddy to help Wilson get his now rather bruised body back onto the bed.
***************************************
Cuddy walked back out into the hall, finding House once again on the floor, this time with his right leg out in front of him, rubbing the painful muscles he had jarred when he had nearly run to Wilson’s room after hearing the sickening thud from within, his eyes closed, face white, mouth a thin line.
“You know, if you actually told him that you were trying to give him some measure of privacy before, he might stop being mad at you.”
House sighed, then looked up at Cuddy.
“Ah, but that would be too easy.”
Cuddy sat down next to him, and lightly put a hand on his shoulder; not enough to break his rules, but enough to let him know she could see right through him.
House looked away, uncomfortable.
“If you want to talk to him, I’ll make sure nobody interrupts.” she offered, wishing House’s pride would allow him to take the offer, but knowing it wouldn’t.
“Why would I want to talk to him? He’s boring when he’s all cranky, and he’s definitely cranky now.”
Cuddy got up, and offered House a hand, knowing that he could at least accept that kind of help, but was surprised when he shook his head slightly, still looking away.
Cuddy smiled sadly.
“I’ll bring some blankets and stuff later, but I’m afraid I have to get back to work. Oh, and you might want to tell the ducklings that Wilson isn’t actually in need of diagnostic medicine. They’re worried.”
“You tell them. I’m not getting up.”
Cuddy considered him for a minute, trying to discern whether he had meant that in the sense of the fact he was worried about Wilson and didn’t want to leave, or the fact that his leg hurt enough he didn’t think he could get up. She decided it was probably a combination of the two, and nodded.
“All right. I’ll tell them. And don’t worry, I’ll tell them it’s cus you’re being an ass.”
House actually grinned for a moment, before going back to grimacing at his leg.
Cuddy walked off, shaking her head slightly as she wondered what on earth she could do to help her stubborn friends.
**********************************
Wilson was lying on the hospital bed, writing notes for the medications that needed refilling, and checking the reports he had received about his patients’ progresses, when Cuddy came in, looked around, smiled at him, and left.
Wilson blinked confusedly at the door for a moment, and then shrugged and got back to work.
He looked up again a few minutes later, as House barged in, and snatched the papers from his hands and sat down, breathing heavily.
“I told you to rest! Not keep working!”
“House, I can’t just drop my patients, I have to–”
“Shut up, and go to sleep.”
House pushed himself out of the chair, and limped out as quickly as he had come in.
“House! Come back with those!”
House didn’t seem to hear.
Wilson sighed, very annoyed by this, and reached for the phone.
It immediately got the nurse’s station, without even a dial tone.
House had made it so the only thing he could do with the phone was call for help, and his own phone had been removed from his room.
Wilson was getting more annoyed be the minute.
House had *no right* to do this, and Wilson didn’t appreciate it in the least.
House was putting his patient’s at risk, and he was not happy at all.
************************************
Wilson looked up as Chase came in, bearing a piece of paper.
“Yes?” asked Wilson, pleasantly.
“Um, House asked me to give you this.” replied Chase, dreading Wilson’s reaction; he knew Wilson was angry at House.
“If he wants to talk to me, he can do it in person. No offence to you, Chase.”
Chase looked uncomfortable.
“Uh...he threatened to fire me if I didn’t give it to you, and I think he might make good on that threat.”
Wilson sighed, rolled his eyes, and held out his hand.
Chase handed him the paper.
“Stop worrying about your precious patients. They’re being taken care of.” was all the note said.
“What does that mean, “being taken care of”? What the hell is House doing with my patients?”
“Testing it, I’m sure. Other than that, he went through all the case histories with Foreman, Cameron, and I, and we’re currently basically reassigned to oncology for the time being. He’s actually been did paperwork for three hours, if you can believe that.”
Wilson stared at Chase, stunned that House was going to such lengths to keep him stuck in a hospital room.
“What the hell is wrong with him?! Fine. Tell him that if he really doesn’t want to see me he can just ignore me, and I won’t act like he’s there, but I refuse to let him stick me in here, just for his own stupid manipulating plans.”
Chase looked like he was rather disappointed in Wilson.
“He didn’t tell me to bring this because he didn’t want to tell you himself.” said Chase, as he walked out the door, “he told me to bring you this because he’s been walking around the hospital for over thirty two hours by this point, and he passed out twice already. Cuddy locked him in the differential room.”
Wilson looked at the door, feeling confused, shocked, and guilty.
“I couldn’t have had any idea he was doing that badly. He would never stick around this long normally. He should have gone home. He *would* have gone home. Why didn’t he? Why the hell is he doing this?”
The door didn’t answer Wilson; it was a door.
**************************************
“Good morning.” said House, somewhat grumpily, as he limped heavily into Wilson’s room.
“Good morning.” said Wilson, matching his friend’s irritated tone.
“You going to stay angry?”
“You’re putting my patients at risk.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“You got me stuck in a hospital room. How is that proof that I can trust you?”
“Medically, you don’t trust me?”
“Medically, I trust you to do whatever it takes to do *your* job. Not mine. Mine’s boring. You won’t do it for more than a day before you get bored and start cutting corners.”
“You’re forgetting that the only reason I’m doing it is so that you will stop worrying long enough to get some rest.”
“Then you’re an idiot, because I know you well enough to know that you hate doing stuff like my job, enough to make me know I can’t trust you with my patients.”
House glared at Wilson, before dry swallowing two Vicodin and leaving the room, having to go slightly too slowly for it to be very a dramatic exit.
**************************************
Chase poked his head in Wilson’s room, looking around as if he were trying to find something.
“Have you seen House recently?”
“Not since around ten this morning.”
Chase sighed, glaring at the ceiling at though it was its fault he couldn’t find House.
“Why? And have you checked coma guy’s room?”
“Checked, double checked, rechecked...”
“The clinic? His office? My office?”
“All checked. Foreman checked all of the first floor, Cameron checked all of the third floor, not that we thought he was there, and I just finished checking the entire second floor. We all checked the fourth floor because that’s where we figured he’d be.”
“Did anybody check the basement levels? The morgue?”
“Security said they haven’t seen anybody hop down the stairs, so I’m guessing House didn’t go down there.”
Wilson snorted at Chase’s reasoning.
“That leaves the fifth floor.” said Chase, frowning at his hand, which he had been ticking off floors on.
“But why would he be there....?”
Wilson frowned.
That’s where the oncology lab and inpatient rooms were.
Chase seemed to have reached the same conclusion, and hurried out the door, heading towards the stairs.
****************************
Chase reached the oncology lab out of breath, regretting the fact that he so often took the elevator because he was talking to House.
“House?” he said, looking at the person standing in the corner, uncertainly.
The man turned around, and blinked at Chase.
“Oh, sorry Denis, have you seen Dr. House?”
“Um, not recently, he did come by here to drop off some blood for testing about two hours ago though.”
Chase blinked.
Drawing blood required actually meeting patients.
Chase nodded his thanks to Denis, and then went off in search of House, listening intently for the sounds of yelling that usually accompanied House’s patient visits.
He nearly walked past the room where House, in a clean room gown, was sitting on a stool talking to a woman with dark circles under her eyes, who was looking....interested...content...not extremely offended....
Chase backed up, staring.
The woman looked past House, blinking quizzically at Chase.
Chase shook his head, looking pointedly at House.
The woman smiled, and said something to House, who twisted to look over his shoulder at Chase.
House said something to the woman, which caused her to smile, and got up.
Chase tried to contain his confusion for the woman’s sake, but as soon as House was in the hallway out of her sight, he stopped walking, turning to stare at House.
“What was that about?” he asked, not sure if he should be accusing or flabbergasted.
“Me filling in for Wilson. What did it look like?”
“You...filling in for Wilson....to the point where I think you were channeling his spirit.”
House snorted.
“I told Wilson I’d fill in for him. That’s what I’m doing. That’s *all* I’m doing. What are you doing?”
Chase blinked.
“I’m supposed to be telling you that...uh...”
House raised an eyebrow.
“That.....?” he said, prompting Chase to continue after an uncomfortable minute of Chase looking at his shoes.
“Well, I was *supposed* to be telling you that Cuddy said that she wasn’t letting you use Wilson as an excuse to sleep in oncology all day, and to stop pretending to be doing anything remotely useful with his patients and go do clinic duty. But I don’t think it’s really a valid message after all.” said Chase, wincing as he spoke.
House rolled his eyes.
“Tell Cuddy that I’m not giving Wilson any excuses to get up before he’s rested.”
“Do I *look* like a messenger bird?” asked Chase, somewhat annoyed that he was getting bounced around between people like a pinball.
“Yes. Except for the pocket protector. No bird would be caught dead in that...” said House, limping off to the next room as he flipped through a file that presumably went with the patient inside.
Chase looked at his pocket protector, rolled his eyes, and turned around, heading back towards the stairs.
“Wilson? Wilson, can you hear me? Wilson, wake up. Come on Wilson, answer me. Wilson. Hello? Wilson?”
Wilson squinted up at the scruffy face that was about a foot above his own.
“House?”
House sighed, and sat back, moving his right leg to a different position.
“Wilson, just how big of an idiot are you?”
“About one eighty and six foot.”
House snorted.
“Uh-huh. Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought, because I’m pretty sure that right now you’re at least two hundred.”
“That’s cus I’m lying down.”
“Yeah, which is exactly why you’re an idiot. What kind of person manages to knock themselves out in a hospital room?”
“The kind that thought they heard their crippled friend fall halfway down the hall, and despite their friend being a total jerk, decided they should probably check on said cripple.”
“Right. And the fact that you’re so tired you can’t focus enough to do your job didn’t clue you off to the fact that it might be better for you to stay in bed.”
“House, I know you’d just leave me, but I’d rather know you’re ok.”
“Wilson, you’re the one in the hospital bed, for once. Act like it.”
“House, you’re really being a jerk, you know that? It’s one thing for you to ignore me being this tired for more than two weeks, that’s just you being you, but the fact that you’re acting like this now is just insulting.
House looked at Wilson for a moment, no emotion registering on his face, before he got painfully to his feet, and limped heavily out the door, leaving Cuddy to help Wilson get his now rather bruised body back onto the bed.
***************************************
Cuddy walked back out into the hall, finding House once again on the floor, this time with his right leg out in front of him, rubbing the painful muscles he had jarred when he had nearly run to Wilson’s room after hearing the sickening thud from within, his eyes closed, face white, mouth a thin line.
“You know, if you actually told him that you were trying to give him some measure of privacy before, he might stop being mad at you.”
House sighed, then looked up at Cuddy.
“Ah, but that would be too easy.”
Cuddy sat down next to him, and lightly put a hand on his shoulder; not enough to break his rules, but enough to let him know she could see right through him.
House looked away, uncomfortable.
“If you want to talk to him, I’ll make sure nobody interrupts.” she offered, wishing House’s pride would allow him to take the offer, but knowing it wouldn’t.
“Why would I want to talk to him? He’s boring when he’s all cranky, and he’s definitely cranky now.”
Cuddy got up, and offered House a hand, knowing that he could at least accept that kind of help, but was surprised when he shook his head slightly, still looking away.
Cuddy smiled sadly.
“I’ll bring some blankets and stuff later, but I’m afraid I have to get back to work. Oh, and you might want to tell the ducklings that Wilson isn’t actually in need of diagnostic medicine. They’re worried.”
“You tell them. I’m not getting up.”
Cuddy considered him for a minute, trying to discern whether he had meant that in the sense of the fact he was worried about Wilson and didn’t want to leave, or the fact that his leg hurt enough he didn’t think he could get up. She decided it was probably a combination of the two, and nodded.
“All right. I’ll tell them. And don’t worry, I’ll tell them it’s cus you’re being an ass.”
House actually grinned for a moment, before going back to grimacing at his leg.
Cuddy walked off, shaking her head slightly as she wondered what on earth she could do to help her stubborn friends.
**********************************
Wilson was lying on the hospital bed, writing notes for the medications that needed refilling, and checking the reports he had received about his patients’ progresses, when Cuddy came in, looked around, smiled at him, and left.
Wilson blinked confusedly at the door for a moment, and then shrugged and got back to work.
He looked up again a few minutes later, as House barged in, and snatched the papers from his hands and sat down, breathing heavily.
“I told you to rest! Not keep working!”
“House, I can’t just drop my patients, I have to–”
“Shut up, and go to sleep.”
House pushed himself out of the chair, and limped out as quickly as he had come in.
“House! Come back with those!”
House didn’t seem to hear.
Wilson sighed, very annoyed by this, and reached for the phone.
It immediately got the nurse’s station, without even a dial tone.
House had made it so the only thing he could do with the phone was call for help, and his own phone had been removed from his room.
Wilson was getting more annoyed be the minute.
House had *no right* to do this, and Wilson didn’t appreciate it in the least.
House was putting his patient’s at risk, and he was not happy at all.
************************************
Wilson looked up as Chase came in, bearing a piece of paper.
“Yes?” asked Wilson, pleasantly.
“Um, House asked me to give you this.” replied Chase, dreading Wilson’s reaction; he knew Wilson was angry at House.
“If he wants to talk to me, he can do it in person. No offence to you, Chase.”
Chase looked uncomfortable.
“Uh...he threatened to fire me if I didn’t give it to you, and I think he might make good on that threat.”
Wilson sighed, rolled his eyes, and held out his hand.
Chase handed him the paper.
“Stop worrying about your precious patients. They’re being taken care of.” was all the note said.
“What does that mean, “being taken care of”? What the hell is House doing with my patients?”
“Testing it, I’m sure. Other than that, he went through all the case histories with Foreman, Cameron, and I, and we’re currently basically reassigned to oncology for the time being. He’s actually been did paperwork for three hours, if you can believe that.”
Wilson stared at Chase, stunned that House was going to such lengths to keep him stuck in a hospital room.
“What the hell is wrong with him?! Fine. Tell him that if he really doesn’t want to see me he can just ignore me, and I won’t act like he’s there, but I refuse to let him stick me in here, just for his own stupid manipulating plans.”
Chase looked like he was rather disappointed in Wilson.
“He didn’t tell me to bring this because he didn’t want to tell you himself.” said Chase, as he walked out the door, “he told me to bring you this because he’s been walking around the hospital for over thirty two hours by this point, and he passed out twice already. Cuddy locked him in the differential room.”
Wilson looked at the door, feeling confused, shocked, and guilty.
“I couldn’t have had any idea he was doing that badly. He would never stick around this long normally. He should have gone home. He *would* have gone home. Why didn’t he? Why the hell is he doing this?”
The door didn’t answer Wilson; it was a door.
**************************************
“Good morning.” said House, somewhat grumpily, as he limped heavily into Wilson’s room.
“Good morning.” said Wilson, matching his friend’s irritated tone.
“You going to stay angry?”
“You’re putting my patients at risk.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“You got me stuck in a hospital room. How is that proof that I can trust you?”
“Medically, you don’t trust me?”
“Medically, I trust you to do whatever it takes to do *your* job. Not mine. Mine’s boring. You won’t do it for more than a day before you get bored and start cutting corners.”
“You’re forgetting that the only reason I’m doing it is so that you will stop worrying long enough to get some rest.”
“Then you’re an idiot, because I know you well enough to know that you hate doing stuff like my job, enough to make me know I can’t trust you with my patients.”
House glared at Wilson, before dry swallowing two Vicodin and leaving the room, having to go slightly too slowly for it to be very a dramatic exit.
**************************************
Chase poked his head in Wilson’s room, looking around as if he were trying to find something.
“Have you seen House recently?”
“Not since around ten this morning.”
Chase sighed, glaring at the ceiling at though it was its fault he couldn’t find House.
“Why? And have you checked coma guy’s room?”
“Checked, double checked, rechecked...”
“The clinic? His office? My office?”
“All checked. Foreman checked all of the first floor, Cameron checked all of the third floor, not that we thought he was there, and I just finished checking the entire second floor. We all checked the fourth floor because that’s where we figured he’d be.”
“Did anybody check the basement levels? The morgue?”
“Security said they haven’t seen anybody hop down the stairs, so I’m guessing House didn’t go down there.”
Wilson snorted at Chase’s reasoning.
“That leaves the fifth floor.” said Chase, frowning at his hand, which he had been ticking off floors on.
“But why would he be there....?”
Wilson frowned.
That’s where the oncology lab and inpatient rooms were.
Chase seemed to have reached the same conclusion, and hurried out the door, heading towards the stairs.
****************************
Chase reached the oncology lab out of breath, regretting the fact that he so often took the elevator because he was talking to House.
“House?” he said, looking at the person standing in the corner, uncertainly.
The man turned around, and blinked at Chase.
“Oh, sorry Denis, have you seen Dr. House?”
“Um, not recently, he did come by here to drop off some blood for testing about two hours ago though.”
Chase blinked.
Drawing blood required actually meeting patients.
Chase nodded his thanks to Denis, and then went off in search of House, listening intently for the sounds of yelling that usually accompanied House’s patient visits.
He nearly walked past the room where House, in a clean room gown, was sitting on a stool talking to a woman with dark circles under her eyes, who was looking....interested...content...not extremely offended....
Chase backed up, staring.
The woman looked past House, blinking quizzically at Chase.
Chase shook his head, looking pointedly at House.
The woman smiled, and said something to House, who twisted to look over his shoulder at Chase.
House said something to the woman, which caused her to smile, and got up.
Chase tried to contain his confusion for the woman’s sake, but as soon as House was in the hallway out of her sight, he stopped walking, turning to stare at House.
“What was that about?” he asked, not sure if he should be accusing or flabbergasted.
“Me filling in for Wilson. What did it look like?”
“You...filling in for Wilson....to the point where I think you were channeling his spirit.”
House snorted.
“I told Wilson I’d fill in for him. That’s what I’m doing. That’s *all* I’m doing. What are you doing?”
Chase blinked.
“I’m supposed to be telling you that...uh...”
House raised an eyebrow.
“That.....?” he said, prompting Chase to continue after an uncomfortable minute of Chase looking at his shoes.
“Well, I was *supposed* to be telling you that Cuddy said that she wasn’t letting you use Wilson as an excuse to sleep in oncology all day, and to stop pretending to be doing anything remotely useful with his patients and go do clinic duty. But I don’t think it’s really a valid message after all.” said Chase, wincing as he spoke.
House rolled his eyes.
“Tell Cuddy that I’m not giving Wilson any excuses to get up before he’s rested.”
“Do I *look* like a messenger bird?” asked Chase, somewhat annoyed that he was getting bounced around between people like a pinball.
“Yes. Except for the pocket protector. No bird would be caught dead in that...” said House, limping off to the next room as he flipped through a file that presumably went with the patient inside.
Chase looked at his pocket protector, rolled his eyes, and turned around, heading back towards the stairs.
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HAH! Now that I've lol'd extensively, I'll actually go back and read your story.
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I liked this part
"Wilson, just how big of an idiot are you?"
"About one eighty and six foot."
and this part
"What the hell is House doing with my patients?"
"Testing it, I’m sure."
because they zero in on the characters' specific sense of humor. Wilson is sometimes funny, but often just sort of lame, and that just seems like the sort of comment Chase would make.
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is it odd to hear an australian accent when you type chase's lines????
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meh, chase's taken.
house on the other hand...
(yes, i'm obsesed. aren't we all?)
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(yes, that means there barely ever talk to me at this point...)
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while they give wilson what? getting hit in the shin/cheek by house, yawning excesivly, and being on speed for a fraction of one episode.
(and speaking of which, it is very much possible to yawn on amphetamines. people on ADHD meds yawn just like the rest of the population....which you'd think house wouldn't mess up on)
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that was in house's halucination...
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ADHD meds are amphetamines?? I'm on that stuff without knowing it...
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