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sick_wilson2007-05-22 10:55 pm
Back in the Saddle (Part 1/2)
Summary: Wilson finds House suprisingly easy to talk to after they get stranded in PPTH's basement together...
Just a little something that got stuck in my head and refused to let me do any work 'till it got posted; absolute randomness really - I hope you enjoy it! Part two is on its way...
No real spoilers for anything...but lets say it's set around the end of season 3, just to be safe. (x-posted)
“He was wearing a thong!” House announced, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he burst in Wilson’s office. The fact that House was really smiling, actually baring his teeth, was disconcerting…Wilson could count on one hand, the number of times in the last year that House had graced him with such a smile. It didn’t necessarily mean that Wilson would get as excited; although, the mere mention of thongs was mildly interesting.
“Who?” Wilson asked, realising that House was actually waiting for him to finish the paperwork he was currently slaving over. This meant that he probably wanted to show him the thong in question…it was going to be a long day.
“My patient…” House grinned, watching closely for Wilson’s reaction.
Wilson frowned, “your patient is a seventy-two year old man…” House smirked in acknowledgement as Wilson cringed and pulled a thoroughly disgusted face at the thought. “I don’t believe it” he added, seriously.
“That’s what I thought you’d say-” House began, with a smug look creeping into the ever-present smile.
“You haven’t got it with you, have you?” House rolled his eyes, which Wilson took as a no. “Well, then – I don’t believe you” he stated before returning to his paperwork.
House didn’t budge though, he remained seated on Wilson’s couch; he tapped his cane annoyingly on the floor a few times, apparently building up to something.
“I’ll be happy to prove you wrong” he stated casually, “but the item in question is in the basement; lots of boxes and that need moving…” he trailed off, leaning forward and taking a piece of paper from Wilson’s desk and folding it into the shape of a paper aeroplane.
“So…you really came here to ask me to come with you and help you find it…” Wilson concluded, glancing up briefly from his paperwork.
“Sure, c’mon” House got up and limped to the door, expecting Wilson to follow. “If you come now – I’ll share my half of the winnings with you” he added, as though it were the deal breaker of a lifetime.
“What winnings?” Wilson asked curiously.
“The $200 that Foreman and Chase have each bet on the possibility that I’m telling lies” House replied, smirking again. There’s nothing like knowing you’re right, to put you in a chirpy mood, Wilson thought as he remained firmly in his seat.
“What makes them think that you wont cheat and come up with any old thong and claim that it's his?” he asked, feeling guilty for raining on House's parade.
“Right...” House said, leaning in towards Wilson as though he were about to let him into some big secret; “there's this new thing called DNO...no wait...DNE?” he frowned. “DNA!” he announced triumphantly, letting loose his mock cry with the added accompaniment of the paper aeroplane.
Wilson sighed as it came precariously close to landing on his head; “If we haven’t found it by half three, I’m leaving you down there” he stated in a stern tone as he threw his pen down in defeat. “Unlike you – I actually do have work to do! What exactly should you be doing right now?”
House pretended to think deeply about this question. “Well,” he began, “my working day pretty much consists of standing around looking good, throwing around the occasional snarky comment, flirting with every member of staff in the hospital, and jumping in at the last minute before my team gets to kill any patients…if I get bored, I rearrange the order…”
Wilson gave him a confused look; “rearrange the order?” he repeated slowly.
“Yeah…sometimes I flirt with the patients, and jump in at the last minute to stop my snarky comments from killing my team…did I take anything when I came in here?” House asked, pulling out his Vicodin. “No wait – it was that gas leak they had in the OR earlier...” he mumbled, shaking his head and returning the tub to his blazer pocket.
Wilson frowned in response – gas leaks in the OR? Well it certainly explained House's abnormally good mood; “I definitely should have gone into diagnostics” Wilson muttered irately as he exited his office behind the unusually chirpy diagnostician.
He followed the other man towards the elevator; it was surprising how fast House could actually move when he was excited about something. The prospect of clearing his fellow’s pockets out was obviously enough to amuse him close to the point of genuine happiness. That, and an apparent nerve gas leak in the OR...
As they reached the basement, House bolted from the elevator, especially eager to find his bounty. Wilson, on the other hand, trailed behind; the prospect of finding some elderly cross dresser’s panties wasn’t as appealing as it may have once sounded.
He mumbled monosyllabic answers to House’s insistent rambling about his patient as they drifted further and further away from the bustling hospital. “So, this guy gets discharged this morning – making it all the way out to the kerb” House began, not bothering to check if Wilson was still following; “All of a sudden, he just strokes out; the nurses get to him and race him back in…Anyway, I was watching him being transferred into the ICU, when something in his clothing bag catches my eye” House paused as the image of the silky pink thong came back to him. “I'm betting his wife doesn't know anything about his...perversion”
“Are you actually betting with the wife; or was that a figure of speech?” Wilson asked warily.
“Oh, she doesn't bet; what with being an ex-senator's wife and all” House drawled; “The thong definitely wasn't hers either” he snickered.
“Did you just giggle?” Wilson asked disbelievingly as they descended the few steps into the basement.
“Don’t be ridiculous” House replied, smirking to himself as he quickly set about moving boxes. He staggered slightly as the contents of one box shifted when he lifted it; Wilson turned away in protest, unwilling to watch what catastrophe might unfold.
When he heard House slam the box down behind him, he turned back again; “Where's his bag then?”
“Through there” House pointed to a stack of boxes that totally obscured the large container holding the various patient bags. He picked up another box and continued talking; “Shipping picked up an order of stationary, or something, earlier” he explained as he pivoted on his good leg, almost toppling onto Wilson who had stepped up to take the box off of him. It didn't seem right, watching a cripple carrying all those heavy boxes; although, a huge part of him just knew that this was why House had invited him along, on the treasure hunt, in the first place.
“One of these days you’re gonna hurt-” Wilson was cut off by a strangled cry, coming from his own mouth, as pain shot through his lower back; he dropped the box and grappled blindly, grabbing House’s arm in the process.
House, who was unprepared for this reaction, found his centre of gravity severely skewed; he lost his balance and ended up tripping over the small row of boxes behind his feet. He fell, literally, arse over tit and crumpled the boxes behind him with a satisfying thud.
Cursing loudly, he had to take a minute to get his breath back; falling directly onto your back seemed to be a bad idea, especially if you didn’t want to be winded. Eventually he managed to groan and slide himself off of the boxes; thankful that he didn’t seem to have any lasting injuries.
“House?” Wilson gasped, seeing the movement from the corner of his eye. His first priority would be to make sure he hadn’t just knocked out his best friend.
“Jesus, Wilson” House moaned from his prone position beside the, now crumpled, boxes; “next time you want to push me into a bunch of boxes, at least make sure they’re not filled with excruciatingly painful office supplies – which they were!” he grumbled, attempting to massage his sore shoulder which seemed to have taken the brunt of the impact.
“House?” Wilson repeated in a strained tone of voice that didn’t seem to belong to him at all.
House froze in his massage, lifting his head to take a better look at his friend, who was miraculously still standing…sort of. He was bent over, almost double, his hand placed firmly on his thighs; he was trembling slightly and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.
House chuckled humorously, realising that Wilson had 'done his back in'. “Just…don’t” Wilson said desperately, catching the smirk forming on House’s lips.
House took a deep breath to compose himself before gingerly picking his bruised body up. “Need a hand?” he asked innocently, as he hopped labouringly over to his friend's side.
“I just…need…to lay…down” Wilson gasped brokenly, the pain in his lower back was beginning to become unbearable.
Luckily for him, House wasn’t into seeing his best friend in agony. He placed his arm under Wilson’s and swiftly helped lower him to the ground, not before forcing a Vicodin into his mouth; he sat beside him, trying to work out the annoying knot that had already formed in his stiff shoulder.
“This is the third time this year” he grumbled as he leant over to reach his cane, his leg was absolutely killing him for his mid air somersault. He wouldn't have though it possible to back flip from a standing position...but, you learn something new everyday.
“I know” Wilson replied through gritted teeth, refraining from asking House how long the Vicodin would take to work. “Last time…was when you…passed out-”
“-In the kitchen; yeah, I remember” House finished for him.
“You were unconscious” Wilson reminded him.
“Yeah, I woke up concussed and laying next to you on my kitchen floor – that’s how I came to the conclusion that you dropped me when your back went…unless we were doing something with a kinkier edge to it?” House asked, feigning alarm at the thought.
“No, you were unconscious before I got there” Wilson dead panned, sounding a little better now that the Vicodin seemed to be working.
“Ah, see? Not my fault then-”
“You were paralytic!”
“How could you possibly know that, if I was unconscious at the time?”
“You rang me and told me you'd been drinking since 9am…in not so many coherent words” Wilson muttered. “I only came round to make sure you didn't try anything stupid”
“What possible stupid things could I have gotten up to in my own kitchen?” House feigned ignorance; he could actually imagine himself doing all sorts of irresponsible things in his own kitchen, especially if he was blind drunk at the time.
“You actually gave me a list of 'possible stupid things'...steak knives and washing up liquid were in the top ten” Wilson remembered.
“Think it's a good thing I don’t remember any of that?” House asked, frowning as he racked his brain for any memories of that night.
“I think it was the anniversary of something...you were pretty angry” Wilson said as he turned his head to see what House's reaction to his next statement would be. “I was scared you'd do something you'd later regret.”
House turned to face him, allowing a small genuine smile to play on his lips; “I think if we've learnt anything in the past half an hour; it's that the only person I have to worry about trying to kill me, is you...”
Wilson grinned, despite the seriousness of the conversation; to be honest, he'd wanted to tell House about that night for a while. His back, giving out again, had given him the opportunity to talk about it without having to bring it up himself – it was a win win situation...'apart from the absolute agony it brought with it' he thought as he groaned miserably, his back refusing to be ignored as he lay helplessly on the basement floor.
He'd have to take the rest of the day off, but that was no problem; Cuddy would understand - it's not like he was constantly taking sick days.
There was one thing that was bothering him though...
“Err, House...how exactly are we gonna get out of here?”
TBC...
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It would be pretty funny wouldn't it?!
Damn, now you've put that idea in my head...
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Chapter two will be up today...at some point!
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Thanks much for the story. I can't wait to see where you take this.
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