([identity profile] wrote in [community profile] sick_wilson2017-02-14 09:01 am
Entry tags:

LOVE HURTS--A Valentine's Day Challenge


Menolly made the collage above to get you in the mood for day of Wilsony romance, and here's your challenge: Wilson tries to do something special for Valentine’s Day — whether it’s proposing to House, asking House for a first date, or arranging a spectacular evening with House — and it all goes horribly wrong.

[identity profile] 2017-02-14 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Making this it struck me how sad Wilson's love-life has been, on the show, and before. Three times divorced, two girlfriends who died, another one turned down his marriage proposal and now the poor guy has a rare form of terminal cancer. At least he still has House :)
yarroway: (Default)

[personal profile] yarroway 2017-02-14 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
His love life does seem to feature a revolving door of women...and only one man. Hmm...
blackmare: (Default)

[personal profile] blackmare 2017-02-14 11:34 pm (UTC)(link)
...wait, two girlfriends who died? Amber, I know about; who was the other?

EDIT: Oh, I know who you mean now. Grace; I never really considered her a girlfriend of Wilson's, the whole thing was just so messed up that I never classified it at all.

I'm doing a bit of fic drafting below, and anyone who'd care to jump in is welcome.
Edited 2017-02-15 02:00 (UTC)

[identity profile] 2017-02-15 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
two girlfriends who died

Oh wow, I'd forgotten there were two. Dang.

At least he still has House

Who routinely almost-dies. Poor Wilson :(

[identity profile] 2017-02-16 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
House turned down his marriage proposal too!

[identity profile] 2017-02-16 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
Well, technically he didn't. He simply did not answer either way, having assumed (as Wilson himself surely did, at the time) that the proposal wasn't serious.

I think an enterprising writer could find a scenario in which that unanswered proposal came up again, either because Wilson was teasing House about ... huh. I may now have an idea for how to end the thing I'm drafting, but if anyone else wants to run with the "Marriage proposal revisited" idea, they totally should.

[identity profile] 2017-02-16 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
I was coming here to say that :) He just says something like 'this in unexpected' and that's the last we hear of it. [ profile] alternatealto had a good AU take on the proposal and its aftermath - Getting to Yes ( but there's a lot of fertile ground there to explore I think :)

[identity profile] 2017-02-19 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
They didn't get married, therefore by default the answer is no!
blackmare: (pomegranate)

[personal profile] blackmare 2017-02-14 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"Happy Bastardized Pagan Holiday, House." He hands over the second of the two lattes he brought to work; he'd have been buying them anyway. It's Tuesday, no matter what else it is.

House flips the plastic lid from the cup and dips up some foam on one finger, which he proceeds to lick clean. "I prefer 'Miserable Failure at Relationships Day,' given who's spreading the holiday cheer."

"And to whom the cheer is being spread."

House is glaring at a shiny drop of liquid on the lid of Wilson's cup."You got the caramel syrup."

"In both of them, because I know how mature you are about that sort of thing. Aren't you supposed to just take this and run off to solve a case?"

"If you really want to woo me, forget the caramel syrup and find me a non-boring patient."


"I said, I wanted a non-boring patient." They're doing this by the light of House's halogen reading lamp, with Wilson on House's sofa, because it's ten at night and neither of them wants to go anywhere else.

"I'm sorry my head injury is less than entertaining. I tried for a concussion, at least. Ouch!"

"Hold still, you idiot."

"Only if the next thing you jab me with is more lidocaine." Wilson can feel a drop of something trickling down onto his left ear. Blood, or disinfectant; impossible to tell. He tries to dab at it, and House swats his hand away -- but then picks up the lidocaine syringe.

"Instead of saying I told you so, I'm gonna make you tell me why he did it." Half-numbed though the area is, Wilson can still feel House parting the wet, sticky hair near the wound. The injection feels strange, pressure more than pain; move to the other side of the gash, part hair, repeat. "Did he say anything?"

"He thinks I'm a robot. I ... I think. I think he thinks I'm not really me. He wasn't waxing eloquent tonight. How bad is it bleeding?"

"It's bleeding like a scalp wound. Which I'm going to finish stitching before you get it all over my sofa."

Wilson's shirt, tie, and at least one of House's towels are already ruined. No great losses, really. House keeps holding gauze to the wound, wicking the blood out of the way, and the painful needle-punctures just feel like tugging now. A twinge here and there, nothing bad enough to make him flinch.

"I've counted seven," Wilson says.

"Six. Three more to go, but not until I irrigate out this pocket of dirt I missed. What the hell did he hit you with?"

"Surveyor's stake. He pulled it out of the ground and lunged like it was a sword. Nailed me with it and ran. He's gonna die out there, House."

"Seems to me he's better at surviving than you are." The stuff running down Wilson's neck now, soaking the side of his collar, is definitely disinfectant. The wound being cleaned feels like nothing more than a cold spot. "I'm going with you next time. And don't tell me there won't be a next time."

"There will be, if I can find him. But not tonight. It's still Pathetic Lonely Loser Day for us, right?"

House is stitching him again. Seven, Wilson thinks. Two more.

"I'm not going out with you unless you made reservations. We'll never get a table."

"Order in," Wilson says. "I'll buy." Eight, he notes. There's a pause in the tugging on his scalp.

"Or I will," House counters. "On one condition."


"God, this smells amazing." He'd barely realized how hungry he was, until now. Good thing they'd gone for the Larger-Than-Large.

"So how much did you tip her?" House, classy as always, has foregone the plates and come back to the sofa with two beers and a roll of paper towels.

"Enough to make up for the shock. I hope."

"You care way too much what other people think."

"I care that she might call the cops."

"If she does, I'm not home. I can't believe you actually answered the door like that."

They are digging into the pizza like the ravenous animals they are, so it takes a moment before Wilson can reply.

"Weird, isn't it. You might think I'd just been hit on the head or something."

"What were you even doing tonight? You have a uniform you wear when you're crazy-brother hunting. Boots, that tan coat, neither of which you had on; ergo, you found him by accident this time."

Wilson's silence is all the proof House needs that he's right. "You never told me where you were. What neighborhood."

"I ... a couple blocks north of ... oh, the hell with it. I was going to the Record Exchange. He was trudging along Witherspoon, by the cemetery."

"You were going to the Record Exchange. Craving some vintage ABBA vinyl?"

"I had special-ordered something. For a friend with a record player. It was purely coincidental that it arrived on Pathetic Relationship Loser Day."

"This friend with a record player. What's her name?"

"Irene Adler. Don't you dare take that slice; that one's mine."

"Tell me what you ordered or your pizza slice gets it."
Edited 2017-02-15 02:30 (UTC)
yarroway: (Default)

[personal profile] yarroway 2017-02-16 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
Vintage ABBA, lol! This is a great piece, and I love the banter and the inclusion of Wilson's brother.

[identity profile] 2017-02-15 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
HI HI this is wonderful, and it sparked something I'm drafting. :-D

[identity profile] 2017-02-15 05:16 am (UTC)(link)

[identity profile] 2017-02-15 10:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Oooh! I'll have to try to think of something! Might not be able to post it until next week, though.