([identity profile] wrote in [community profile] sick_wilson2016-12-17 10:47 pm

A Leg to Stand on Chapter Three

Title: A Leg to Stand On (3 of 4)
Summary: House and Wilson come to terms with House losing his leg. Takes place at the end of season seven in an alternate universe.
Rating: PG 13 for sexual innuendo, discussion of drug use, and mild swearing. No actual sex but a bit of talk about it.
Warnings: same as previous chapters plus it is definitely slash/romantic from here on out.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

"Did I ever take you in my arms,
look you in the eye, tell you
that I do?
Did I ever open up my heart and let
you look inside?" Paul McCartney

“Okay, Wilson,” House groaned. “You can let me go. The power’s back on.” He was stretching and rubbing right up against me. It was first thing in the morning. I was half asleep. You can imagine what happened next. “Okay, the bonner makes sense, but why did you kiss me?,”

“Would you believe me it was out of habit? That I forgot who I was with” I asked, still holding his body close to mine. He shrugged. “If I’m bothering you, I can head to the kitchen.”

“No don’t go. We might have power but I’m cold.”

“If you really want me to keep cuddling you, we need to talk.” House sighed and pushed away from me. “You’ve just been dumped, and dealt with it by injecting yourself with experimental drugs. I have a right to worry about your emotional stability.”

“You proposed to your ex-wife. When she left you, you were so afraid of being alone you adopted an elderly, diabetic cat!”

“Exactly,” I replied. “Maybe we’re both too screwed up to be making changes to the only stable relationship in either of our lives. What would this even be?” I had to pretend not to want him. If Gregory House realized I was in love with him, I’d never hear the end of it.

“I don’t need you to take me out to fancy dinners, and I don’t need an ugly rock on a gold band but we could…whatever. I like you, and you like me. Maybe the reason our other relationships fail is because we belong together.” I couldn’t decide if I should laugh or cry. Surely, he couldn’t be serious. I held my breath and rubbed the nape of my neck.

“If I had kissed anyone else while half-asleep, they would have known it was an accident and ignored it. I know you can’t ignore anything. Mock me and move on.”

“Can you really say you’ve never thought about this? We were in bed together. I’ve had to share a bed with another dude before. Never kissed anyone. Neither have you.”

“What?” I gasped, feeling all the air go out of my chest. My mouth went numb. House squirmed, turning to face me.

"You said it yourself. We’ve been best friends for years, put up with all kinds of crap from each other. And we still have fun. Keep coming back. Why not date?”

“This! Is! Not! Funny!” I muttered, rolling off the mattress. I knew I needed to get away and fast. I was already hyperventilating. It wouldn’t be long before I was having a full blown panic attack. I couldn’t let him see any of this!

"Wilson! Stop," he cried. “I can’t chase or tackle you. Running away from a cripple is seriously uncool.” I nodded, turning my back to him..

“Fine. Won’t. Run.” I couldn’t catch my breath. Mouth dry and velcro-y, heart racing, the world swam around me.

“Jimmy,” he whispered in a voice that could almost be mistaken for kind. “Breathe. Right now before you pass out.” I tried. “Sit down.” He patted the mattress. I obliged. “So in answer to my question, yes you’ve thought about this.”I leaned back, knees hugged to my chest. “Wow, I’ve never had this kind of power over somebody.”

“Yeah, how fantastic for you. Can I leave yet? It’s bad enough you get to know about this, you don’t get to watch it too!”

“Wilson,” House draped his arm around me awkwardly. “Have you ever wondered if maybe I feel the same way you do?” he asked, and planted a tender kiss on my lips. His tongue traced the outside of my mouth before pushing inside. I fell into his arms, sobbing.

“I’m almost positive you want me to admit to something you can hold over my head for the rest of my life.”

“I kissed you. Look, I suck at this emotional stuff. Especially talking about my feelings. I don’t know what the right thing is to say.”

“Our friendship is the only relationship—of any kind—I’ve ever had where I can be myself. Where I am actually happy,” I confessed, tears streaming down my face. I was sure he’d never want to speak to me after today.

“Gee, I have no idea how you might feel there,” he said snarkily, arms crossing over his chest. I looked up.

“If we try dating…or whatever and it doesn’t work out,” I sighed, unable to complete my thought. “I can’t imagine what I would do if I lost you.” I managed to stop the tears for a brief moment. I expected sarcasm. Rudeness. Insults. I thought he might even bring up the time I left him. Little did he know, those months apart were hell. I had missed House every day.

“I know. I’m so scared to lose you, I have these…dreams.” He seemed more embarrassed by the feelings than by the nightmares. “I’m at a funeral or paged in the ER, or something, and you…you’re dead. You get them too? About me.” I nodded, weakly. “You know, I never had that dream about Cuddy or Stacy. Just my mom when I was a kid, and now you.” This was shocking to say the least. “People don’t like me. You do. Yes, I’m scared this won’t work. Terrified of what will happen if you start hating me like everyone else does:!I don’t know how to date a dude. Never been attracted to men. I’m not actually. It’s somehow different with you. Your face and body with a different personality wouldn’t work.”

“Ditto,” I whispered.

“Are we dating now, or taking things slow, or what?”

“Well…we already live together, and have been friends for 20 years. Maybe we’ve gone slow enough,” I suggested with a chuckle. “We’re not having sex but this is basically married life. Or at least the way my marriages tend to go.” He sniggered.

“What happens now?” he asked. “I can’t believe I’m exactly where I was a year ago, only worse off.”

“Things can get better. They will.” He began to hiccup and dry heave. It was a result of severe reflux, another side effect from treatment. “You’ve got your last round of chemo today. What do you say I put on the Gravedigger’s Greatest Hits DVD, and we play some poker?”

“But then how is today any different from the rest of the week? We watched TV, played video games, and hung out yesterday.”

“Maybe…maybe things don’t need to change. Not really. I think the trick is to keep going the same as we always have. The other things will happen when they’re supposed to.”

“How long do you think it’s going to take?” He seemed both anxious and exhilarated.

“Let’s wait until you’ve gone a full week without vomiting before we create a timeline,” I suggested. I made sure to keep taunting him. Any sudden change in the way I treated House would drive him insane. It’s not normal to call your partner an asshole, but he wouldn’t know what to do if I stopped acting like a buddy overnight.

“Are you okay?” he asked, nodding towards my lap. House had his arm draped over my shoulder. I felt warmth, the softness of his t-shirt, bristly cheeks, and greasy hair all made contact. So many new sensations. I was in Heaven.

“Yeah, give me a minute and it will go away.”

"Or you could…” Before House could finish this sentence his body was wracked by another series of violent hiccoughs. He’d been averaging a dozen attacks per day. This time it took ages to stop.

I held Greg tight, and whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” while rubbing his back. When he could finally speak again, House looked up at me and sighed. “It won’t be long before you’re back to your old self. I promise, and that is not something I tell people lightly.”

“Won’t be able to walk anymore. I’ll be…I…”

“Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself. You are awesome with a wheelchair. We can race through the hospital, bowl you into people, and all sorts of other pranks. And, you’re not in constant, unbearable agony.” House nodded, lips pursed as he prepared to argue. “We can make this work. You will be fine. This is going to work. I promise. And you know me. I don’t promise people anything unless I can deliver.”

“Okay.” He sounded unsure

“Let’s grab some breakfast. What would you say to pancakes?”

“I think I’ll stick with dry toast for now, but if you want we can go to Mickey’s in a couple days. Our first official date. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his forehead. House grinned and climbed into the wheelchair. “Last one to the kitchen does the dishes!” House raced, running over my foot in the process.

[identity profile] 2016-12-18 03:47 pm (UTC)(link)
this is just great, sweet without being too sappy and feels very real. thank you for posting this!