http://all-things413.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
all-things413.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sick_wilson2011-04-01 12:40 am
all-things413.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2011-04-01 12:40 am
Entry tags:
Recovering Faith, Ch4
A/N: mmorgan317 is still having uploading difficulties. In the mean time, here's chapter four.
Chapter 4:
At eight am the movers came. Since he was not only a morning person but already awake, Wilson let them in while House actually got up and dressed.
Wilson did his best not to micromanage the movers while they were moving things out of House’s apartment but it’s hard to deny one’s nature, so he settled for watching them like a hawk to make sure they were treating each item like it was fragile. He wasn’t all that surprised when he discovered that they were. House had done the hiring of the moving company and he wouldn’t trust his belongings to just anyone, especially not his guitars and piano.
For the most part the men tried to stay out of the way of the movers, which was both hard and uncomfortable since they’d taken the bigger items like the couch and the bed first then piled the boxes on or around them.
Once the truck was loaded and ready, House and Wilson climbed into their own cars then drove to the loft. It was in a new neighborhood, which Wilson found exciting, but it was also still close to the hospital. It was one story with a joint living room, dining room and kitchen but big enough that you could easily make out the difference. The master bedroom was almost the size of the living room allowing for a bedroom set and maybe an armchair or two as well. The master bath had a Jacuzzi tub big enough for the both of them, a separate shower and double sinks. The walk-in closet was off to the left with more than enough room for their wardrobes.
The spare bedroom or office, they hadn’t decided yet, was about one quarter smaller than the master, leaving plenty of room for both a desk and a bed if they wanted to. House had argued that they didn’t need an office because both them actually have one at the hospital but Wilson argued that it would be good for HIM to have one at home because he does bring his work home a lot. The diagnostician had grumbled about how much he didn’t like it when Wilson brought his work home but he eventually gave in to the idea.
The kitchen was spacious yet close. It was rectangular with the stove and half the counter space against the wall facing out to the rest of the room with an island with a sink and the rest of the counter space separating the kitchen from everything else. To the right was a French-door refrigerator with a pull out drawer for the freezer on the bottom. Flanking both sides of the fridge was cabinet space for things like pots and pans. There was a separate room off to the right of the fridge wall that would easily house a pantry plus a washer and dryer.
On the opposite side of the room was a fireplace with French-doors flanking it for the balcony that wrapped almost all the way around the living room. While they highly doubted they’d use it, with the exception of growing some fresh veggies, it was nice to have all the same.
When they arrived, House growled at the men to unload the couch and coffee table first so he could sit down while they unload everything else. While it was true that he just wanted to sit down and rest his leg while they unloaded, the diagnostician also wanted Wilson to sit down and get off his feet. The oncologist has been up and moving for over five hours, he’d gotten up at six-thirty like usual, and House knew he was hurting. He also knew that though Wilson was hurting, he wouldn’t be able to rest until everything was done and settled which included unpacking everything.
Wilson crutched around the loft telling the movers where to put all the boxes and furniture, trusting House to tell them how to organize said furniture in the living room while he took care of everything else. He wanted nothing more than to sit down and ice his painfully throbbing foot but that could wait until the movers left.
All the boxes lingering around the loft would drive him crazy but Wilson guessed that unpacking could wait until after a well deserved break and lunch which he’d try to rope House into helping as well. He didn’t think it would be easy but considering they didn’t have cable yet, Wilson was hoping that the scruffy doctor would be bored enough to at least micromanage while the oncologist did all the actual work.
By noon the men left. Wilson had paid them then, leaving a generous tip to thank them for putting up with House’s bad moods and his tediousness along with their gentleness when handling their belongings. When they left, Wilson crutched into the kitchen then made up a couple of sandwiches with two glasses of water. It wasn’t gourmet and it wasn’t much but at least it was something.
The boys now sat on the couch with their legs resting on the coffee table, munching on their sandwiches and mentally trying to decide how to organize things. They’d already decided to allow Wilson to organize the kitchen since he was the one who would be using it most but the rest was left up to House since he was, surprisingly enough, more picky about where things went than his friend.
Wilson had already unpacked and organized half the kitchen just looking for the utensils to make the sandwiches to it didn’t take him long to finish after they’d eaten. House had already had the movers organize the living room so that just left the boxes in the open room along with the two bedrooms.
They started unpacking boxes in the living room with each of them putting things away though House did his best to keep Wilson as stationary as possible. Wilson, however, had argued that they were both hurting (which House couldn’t argue with) and the soon they’d finished the sooner they could both relax.
Thanks to Wilson’s OCD tendencies with packing, they had the living room unpacked and the boxes torn down then discarded within an hour. Both of them wanted this process to be over with as soon as possible so they were hurrying through it yet making sure that things were how they wanted them at the same time.
The master bedroom came next, allowing at least one of them to be constantly on the bed. Wilson took care of organizing the closet while House did the actual bedroom. The bathroom they’d just decided on which of the two sinks were theirs then tossed their stuff there to wait until they actually needed to get around to it.
At seven pm House and Wilson sat on the couch with a movie in the DVD player, Chinese take-out in their laps, and sodas on the coffee table before them. House sat with his legs outstretched on the coffee table, rubbing just above his painfully searing thigh which had a heating pad wrapped around it. He’d just taken a couple of Ibuprofen so he waited for them in addition to the heating pad to take affect. Wilson sat on the other side of the couch, watching his friend with concern while he rubbed his own aching leg.
With the exception of sometimes limping around, Wilson hadn’t really been on it all day. However the constant need to keep his foot off the floor taxed his aching hip which left it throbbing angrily, sending hot, sharp pain down his thigh. Over the course of the day, his foot had become swollen. Not a lot but enough so that it throbbed mercilessly with warm, stabbing pain.
Once they’d finished dinner, Wilson gathered up the trash then one-armed crutched his way to the kitchen. He wouldn’t have used the crutches at all but his leg had been yelling at him for the few times he’d used it today so he wasn’t sure it would hold his weight right now.
Before heading back to the living room he grabbed a couple of towels and two bags of frozen peas. He placed one over his hip and the other over his foot which now rested on top of a throw pillow on the coffee table. Wilson looked to his right to happily find House more relaxed with his hand now resting on top the arm of the couch.
Neither man moved for the rest of the night until it was time to go to bed. Once the movie stopped they sat staring at the blank TV just allowing their minds to empty like water trickling out of a bucket and wandering on the floor.
Around ten they managed to sleepily drag themselves to bed, not bothering to do more than change and fall into bed before they fell into the sleep born of exhaustion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jacob and Rebecca Wilson were very correct people, Jacob more so than Rebecca but both couldn’t stand sin, especially from their sons. Their view on proper punishment was on of the few things that they conflicted about. Jacob could be very harsh, borderline abusive, depending on what the sin was. Rebecca on the other hand would never lay a finger on her sons unless it was truly deserved, mostly grounding the guilty one or making him do more chores. Another thing they didn’t meet eye to eye on was the severity of each sin. While they saw sin as unacceptable, they were aware that there were different levels. According to Rebecca, stealing was worse than lying whereas Jacob thought that lying was worse than stealing.
But today there were no little boys that needed punishing. Today they were coming to Princeton to visit their eldest son.
As they walked through the doors of PPTH on a chilly December day, they couldn’t help but beam with pride at their son’s hospital. Ever since James had become a doctor, he had always made them proud.
They walked up to the reception desk and asked if James was in. The nurse nodded and when he offered to show them to Dr. Wilson’s office, Jacob politely declined. They knew the way to James’ office. Taking the elevator up to the fourth floor, they stood in comfortable silence.
This was the first time in a while since they had seen James and Rebecca was particularly please that they had arranged to spend New Year’s with him. Being a doctor, and head of a department at that, James was often very bus and never had enough time to visit them.
Excitedly, they excited the elevator. Turning to their left, they strode to the door that said “James Wilson MD” on it and opened it. The scene they barged in on was one they had never, in their life, expected to see.
James sat on his desk, his lips pressed against his friend Gregory House’s while Greg’s arms encircled James, hugging him close. James’ legs were wrapped around Greg’s waist, locked just below the man’s butt.
“James, what is the meaning of this?!” Jacob bellowed.
Wilson froze in both mind and body. “M-mom, D-dad?” he stuttered.
“James?” His mother breathed in horror, hoping, praying, that this was a mistake.
Wilson moved hastily away from House, almost as if the man had the plague. Terror and panic welded up in his chest along with the suffocating sense of the walls closing in. No, no, no, no! This can’t be happening! They’re not supposed to be here yet! Wilson’s thoughts raced. The memory of being thrashed with his father’s belt exploded before his vision.
“What did I tell you, boy?”
“That it’s sinful to like other boys.”
“James.” Jacob Wilson’s stern and angry voice lanced through his thoughts. And just like that, the memory was gone. He was no longer James looking up at his father with tears in his eyes and bruises on his body. Furious brown eyes fixed themselves on frightened ones of the same color.
“You’re not that little child anymore, Dr. Wilson. You can stand up for yourself now. You can give yourself a chance to be happy.”
The sweet, soft words of Dr. Raymond filtered through his head. She was right. He wasn’t that kid anymore.
With more courage than he had ever shown to his father, he straightened himself and went to grab House’s hand. Looking his dad squarely in the eyes, he announced, “Dad, Mom, House and I are dating.”
And just like that, the pin dropped. Rage and disgust stuffed every crack and crevice in Jacob’s face. He thought he had fixed this problem. Apparently he hadn’t beaten that filthy demon out of his son all of those years ago.
House watched in pure amazement at Wilson’s announcement. He had just admitted to loving another man to the two people he was most afraid of when it came to his homosexuality. Maybe that Dr. Raymond was better than House originally thought.
Slowly, Jacob strode up to his son. He had the urge to beat the demon before him, but he would never do that to his wife. It would break her heart more than it already was. “You disappoint me, boy. I thought I had fixed you. Apparently, I was wrong. As God is my witness, you are no son of mine.”
He turned and left.
“Dad, wait!” Wilson called after the retreating man. He hastily went to the door where his mom was still standing. With grey, tear filled eyes, she looked on him as if he was dead. “Mom, please-,” he started but was cut off when a hand came out and struck his left check.
Stunned, Wilson stared at Rebecca’s grief stricken face. “You monster,” she sobbed, “You killed my boy.”
With that, she fled the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wilson stood in the doorway to his office, stunned frozen with a hand resting on his face, covering the red handprint that now covered the left side. A triumphant part of him recognized that he got off easy and at least he had been honest with them but the little boy inside of him screamed, “Dad, Mom, come back!!!!”
A soft hand covered his left shoulder then squeezed. The tears that he had been so desperately trying to keep from coming fell, leaking out of his eyes like water over a dam. Immediately he was pulled into a warm, comforting hug while his office door was closed then locked. House guided him to the couch where they sat and Wilson curled into his lover, taking refuge in the safety of his friend.
House held on to Wilson tightly, allowing the oncologist to release the tears of pain that the whole situation had caused. He was very proud of his friend for standing up to his parents though he must have known that there would be similar consequences. Wilson probably thought that there’d be a beating involved later when House wasn’t around; the diagnostician didn’t think the younger man had anticipated being disowned.
Wilson had been crying softly for twenty minutes when there was a knock on the door; one that House immediately recognized as Cuddy. Gently, he disentangled himself from Wilson and limped to the door.
Cuddy stood with her arms crossed and annoyance in her eyes, “I just received a complaint from a patient saying that she and her husband had walked in on her doctor making out with another man. You can guess how not surprised I was when she said that her doctor’s name was James Wilson.”
House rolled his angry eyes, “That wasn’t a patient.”
“How do you know? Do you know every single patient of Wilson’s?” She argued as her annoyance grew into anger. “You two need to keep things professional when you’re on hospital grounds, you know that. Now, I’m going to have to write this up in your files and…” she trailed off while she tried to think of something that would punish them but not leave her with a ton of work, “I don’t know what else but I’ll think of something.” She warned.
House sneered at her threat which only made her angrier. Then something seemed to connect in her mind, “Why are you answering the door?” She asked.
The diagnostician rolled his eyes at how long it had taken her to notice. He stepped into the office, gently closing the door behind him. He could still hear Wilson’s soft crying and didn’t want him to hear all of this. It would just drive the stake of hurt further into his heart.
“The patient who came up to you was actually Wilson’s mother and her husband had been his father. They came, found us together and yelled. Wilson announced his relationship to them and his father disowned him then left. He went to follow but his mother stopped him, slapped him then called him a monster before she followed her husband.” House summarized, “Still want to punish him?”
Cuddy stood in the hall with her mouth agape. She studied House for a moment, trying to decide if what he was saying was really the truth. She wouldn’t put it passed him to come up with a complete lie in order to get out of whatever punishment she deemed necessary but then something clicked. He’d said “him” not “us” which meant that he didn’t care what happened to himself, he didn’t think Wilson deserved punishment though.
After what seemed like ten minutes of thought which was actually closer to two she looked back up at House’s face, the sadness and anger in his blue eyes catching her off guard. He was pissed at Wilson’s parents for doing this to his friend, that much was obvious, but it also seemed that it hurt him to know that Wilson was hurting. That more than anything melted her angry disposition. “Is he alright?” She asked with a note of resigned weariness in her voice.
“No,” House answered succinctly. His right hand flexed and clenched angrily on his cane, showing the whites of his knuckles each time. He bent around to look in the window to the left (or his right) of the door to check on his friend. Wilson appeared to be asleep while clutching the one and only pillow on the couch. He lay curled up in a protective ball while the shuttering of his body was the only clue that he was still crying.
Cuddy checked her watch, “Take him home, he doesn’t need to be here. I’ll cover both of your clinic hours.”
“Thanks.” House said, giving her a minute nod of the head before he re-entered Wilson’s office.
As it turned out, Wilson was no longer crying just shivering violently. House guessed it was a combination of shock from the events and exhaustion from crying. He climbed back under his friend and held him close, offering warmth and protection. “I’m so sorry James,” he whispered as he felt Wilson relax under his touch and the shivering slowly fade.
To Be Continued...
Here's Ch1: http://mmorgan317.livejournal.com/16003.html
Here's Ch2: http://mmorgan317.livejournal.com/16628.html
Here's Ch3: http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wilson/395748.html#cutid1
Chapter 4:
At eight am the movers came. Since he was not only a morning person but already awake, Wilson let them in while House actually got up and dressed.
Wilson did his best not to micromanage the movers while they were moving things out of House’s apartment but it’s hard to deny one’s nature, so he settled for watching them like a hawk to make sure they were treating each item like it was fragile. He wasn’t all that surprised when he discovered that they were. House had done the hiring of the moving company and he wouldn’t trust his belongings to just anyone, especially not his guitars and piano.
For the most part the men tried to stay out of the way of the movers, which was both hard and uncomfortable since they’d taken the bigger items like the couch and the bed first then piled the boxes on or around them.
Once the truck was loaded and ready, House and Wilson climbed into their own cars then drove to the loft. It was in a new neighborhood, which Wilson found exciting, but it was also still close to the hospital. It was one story with a joint living room, dining room and kitchen but big enough that you could easily make out the difference. The master bedroom was almost the size of the living room allowing for a bedroom set and maybe an armchair or two as well. The master bath had a Jacuzzi tub big enough for the both of them, a separate shower and double sinks. The walk-in closet was off to the left with more than enough room for their wardrobes.
The spare bedroom or office, they hadn’t decided yet, was about one quarter smaller than the master, leaving plenty of room for both a desk and a bed if they wanted to. House had argued that they didn’t need an office because both them actually have one at the hospital but Wilson argued that it would be good for HIM to have one at home because he does bring his work home a lot. The diagnostician had grumbled about how much he didn’t like it when Wilson brought his work home but he eventually gave in to the idea.
The kitchen was spacious yet close. It was rectangular with the stove and half the counter space against the wall facing out to the rest of the room with an island with a sink and the rest of the counter space separating the kitchen from everything else. To the right was a French-door refrigerator with a pull out drawer for the freezer on the bottom. Flanking both sides of the fridge was cabinet space for things like pots and pans. There was a separate room off to the right of the fridge wall that would easily house a pantry plus a washer and dryer.
On the opposite side of the room was a fireplace with French-doors flanking it for the balcony that wrapped almost all the way around the living room. While they highly doubted they’d use it, with the exception of growing some fresh veggies, it was nice to have all the same.
When they arrived, House growled at the men to unload the couch and coffee table first so he could sit down while they unload everything else. While it was true that he just wanted to sit down and rest his leg while they unloaded, the diagnostician also wanted Wilson to sit down and get off his feet. The oncologist has been up and moving for over five hours, he’d gotten up at six-thirty like usual, and House knew he was hurting. He also knew that though Wilson was hurting, he wouldn’t be able to rest until everything was done and settled which included unpacking everything.
Wilson crutched around the loft telling the movers where to put all the boxes and furniture, trusting House to tell them how to organize said furniture in the living room while he took care of everything else. He wanted nothing more than to sit down and ice his painfully throbbing foot but that could wait until the movers left.
All the boxes lingering around the loft would drive him crazy but Wilson guessed that unpacking could wait until after a well deserved break and lunch which he’d try to rope House into helping as well. He didn’t think it would be easy but considering they didn’t have cable yet, Wilson was hoping that the scruffy doctor would be bored enough to at least micromanage while the oncologist did all the actual work.
By noon the men left. Wilson had paid them then, leaving a generous tip to thank them for putting up with House’s bad moods and his tediousness along with their gentleness when handling their belongings. When they left, Wilson crutched into the kitchen then made up a couple of sandwiches with two glasses of water. It wasn’t gourmet and it wasn’t much but at least it was something.
The boys now sat on the couch with their legs resting on the coffee table, munching on their sandwiches and mentally trying to decide how to organize things. They’d already decided to allow Wilson to organize the kitchen since he was the one who would be using it most but the rest was left up to House since he was, surprisingly enough, more picky about where things went than his friend.
Wilson had already unpacked and organized half the kitchen just looking for the utensils to make the sandwiches to it didn’t take him long to finish after they’d eaten. House had already had the movers organize the living room so that just left the boxes in the open room along with the two bedrooms.
They started unpacking boxes in the living room with each of them putting things away though House did his best to keep Wilson as stationary as possible. Wilson, however, had argued that they were both hurting (which House couldn’t argue with) and the soon they’d finished the sooner they could both relax.
Thanks to Wilson’s OCD tendencies with packing, they had the living room unpacked and the boxes torn down then discarded within an hour. Both of them wanted this process to be over with as soon as possible so they were hurrying through it yet making sure that things were how they wanted them at the same time.
The master bedroom came next, allowing at least one of them to be constantly on the bed. Wilson took care of organizing the closet while House did the actual bedroom. The bathroom they’d just decided on which of the two sinks were theirs then tossed their stuff there to wait until they actually needed to get around to it.
At seven pm House and Wilson sat on the couch with a movie in the DVD player, Chinese take-out in their laps, and sodas on the coffee table before them. House sat with his legs outstretched on the coffee table, rubbing just above his painfully searing thigh which had a heating pad wrapped around it. He’d just taken a couple of Ibuprofen so he waited for them in addition to the heating pad to take affect. Wilson sat on the other side of the couch, watching his friend with concern while he rubbed his own aching leg.
With the exception of sometimes limping around, Wilson hadn’t really been on it all day. However the constant need to keep his foot off the floor taxed his aching hip which left it throbbing angrily, sending hot, sharp pain down his thigh. Over the course of the day, his foot had become swollen. Not a lot but enough so that it throbbed mercilessly with warm, stabbing pain.
Once they’d finished dinner, Wilson gathered up the trash then one-armed crutched his way to the kitchen. He wouldn’t have used the crutches at all but his leg had been yelling at him for the few times he’d used it today so he wasn’t sure it would hold his weight right now.
Before heading back to the living room he grabbed a couple of towels and two bags of frozen peas. He placed one over his hip and the other over his foot which now rested on top of a throw pillow on the coffee table. Wilson looked to his right to happily find House more relaxed with his hand now resting on top the arm of the couch.
Neither man moved for the rest of the night until it was time to go to bed. Once the movie stopped they sat staring at the blank TV just allowing their minds to empty like water trickling out of a bucket and wandering on the floor.
Around ten they managed to sleepily drag themselves to bed, not bothering to do more than change and fall into bed before they fell into the sleep born of exhaustion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jacob and Rebecca Wilson were very correct people, Jacob more so than Rebecca but both couldn’t stand sin, especially from their sons. Their view on proper punishment was on of the few things that they conflicted about. Jacob could be very harsh, borderline abusive, depending on what the sin was. Rebecca on the other hand would never lay a finger on her sons unless it was truly deserved, mostly grounding the guilty one or making him do more chores. Another thing they didn’t meet eye to eye on was the severity of each sin. While they saw sin as unacceptable, they were aware that there were different levels. According to Rebecca, stealing was worse than lying whereas Jacob thought that lying was worse than stealing.
But today there were no little boys that needed punishing. Today they were coming to Princeton to visit their eldest son.
As they walked through the doors of PPTH on a chilly December day, they couldn’t help but beam with pride at their son’s hospital. Ever since James had become a doctor, he had always made them proud.
They walked up to the reception desk and asked if James was in. The nurse nodded and when he offered to show them to Dr. Wilson’s office, Jacob politely declined. They knew the way to James’ office. Taking the elevator up to the fourth floor, they stood in comfortable silence.
This was the first time in a while since they had seen James and Rebecca was particularly please that they had arranged to spend New Year’s with him. Being a doctor, and head of a department at that, James was often very bus and never had enough time to visit them.
Excitedly, they excited the elevator. Turning to their left, they strode to the door that said “James Wilson MD” on it and opened it. The scene they barged in on was one they had never, in their life, expected to see.
James sat on his desk, his lips pressed against his friend Gregory House’s while Greg’s arms encircled James, hugging him close. James’ legs were wrapped around Greg’s waist, locked just below the man’s butt.
“James, what is the meaning of this?!” Jacob bellowed.
Wilson froze in both mind and body. “M-mom, D-dad?” he stuttered.
“James?” His mother breathed in horror, hoping, praying, that this was a mistake.
Wilson moved hastily away from House, almost as if the man had the plague. Terror and panic welded up in his chest along with the suffocating sense of the walls closing in. No, no, no, no! This can’t be happening! They’re not supposed to be here yet! Wilson’s thoughts raced. The memory of being thrashed with his father’s belt exploded before his vision.
“What did I tell you, boy?”
“That it’s sinful to like other boys.”
“James.” Jacob Wilson’s stern and angry voice lanced through his thoughts. And just like that, the memory was gone. He was no longer James looking up at his father with tears in his eyes and bruises on his body. Furious brown eyes fixed themselves on frightened ones of the same color.
“You’re not that little child anymore, Dr. Wilson. You can stand up for yourself now. You can give yourself a chance to be happy.”
The sweet, soft words of Dr. Raymond filtered through his head. She was right. He wasn’t that kid anymore.
With more courage than he had ever shown to his father, he straightened himself and went to grab House’s hand. Looking his dad squarely in the eyes, he announced, “Dad, Mom, House and I are dating.”
And just like that, the pin dropped. Rage and disgust stuffed every crack and crevice in Jacob’s face. He thought he had fixed this problem. Apparently he hadn’t beaten that filthy demon out of his son all of those years ago.
House watched in pure amazement at Wilson’s announcement. He had just admitted to loving another man to the two people he was most afraid of when it came to his homosexuality. Maybe that Dr. Raymond was better than House originally thought.
Slowly, Jacob strode up to his son. He had the urge to beat the demon before him, but he would never do that to his wife. It would break her heart more than it already was. “You disappoint me, boy. I thought I had fixed you. Apparently, I was wrong. As God is my witness, you are no son of mine.”
He turned and left.
“Dad, wait!” Wilson called after the retreating man. He hastily went to the door where his mom was still standing. With grey, tear filled eyes, she looked on him as if he was dead. “Mom, please-,” he started but was cut off when a hand came out and struck his left check.
Stunned, Wilson stared at Rebecca’s grief stricken face. “You monster,” she sobbed, “You killed my boy.”
With that, she fled the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wilson stood in the doorway to his office, stunned frozen with a hand resting on his face, covering the red handprint that now covered the left side. A triumphant part of him recognized that he got off easy and at least he had been honest with them but the little boy inside of him screamed, “Dad, Mom, come back!!!!”
A soft hand covered his left shoulder then squeezed. The tears that he had been so desperately trying to keep from coming fell, leaking out of his eyes like water over a dam. Immediately he was pulled into a warm, comforting hug while his office door was closed then locked. House guided him to the couch where they sat and Wilson curled into his lover, taking refuge in the safety of his friend.
House held on to Wilson tightly, allowing the oncologist to release the tears of pain that the whole situation had caused. He was very proud of his friend for standing up to his parents though he must have known that there would be similar consequences. Wilson probably thought that there’d be a beating involved later when House wasn’t around; the diagnostician didn’t think the younger man had anticipated being disowned.
Wilson had been crying softly for twenty minutes when there was a knock on the door; one that House immediately recognized as Cuddy. Gently, he disentangled himself from Wilson and limped to the door.
Cuddy stood with her arms crossed and annoyance in her eyes, “I just received a complaint from a patient saying that she and her husband had walked in on her doctor making out with another man. You can guess how not surprised I was when she said that her doctor’s name was James Wilson.”
House rolled his angry eyes, “That wasn’t a patient.”
“How do you know? Do you know every single patient of Wilson’s?” She argued as her annoyance grew into anger. “You two need to keep things professional when you’re on hospital grounds, you know that. Now, I’m going to have to write this up in your files and…” she trailed off while she tried to think of something that would punish them but not leave her with a ton of work, “I don’t know what else but I’ll think of something.” She warned.
House sneered at her threat which only made her angrier. Then something seemed to connect in her mind, “Why are you answering the door?” She asked.
The diagnostician rolled his eyes at how long it had taken her to notice. He stepped into the office, gently closing the door behind him. He could still hear Wilson’s soft crying and didn’t want him to hear all of this. It would just drive the stake of hurt further into his heart.
“The patient who came up to you was actually Wilson’s mother and her husband had been his father. They came, found us together and yelled. Wilson announced his relationship to them and his father disowned him then left. He went to follow but his mother stopped him, slapped him then called him a monster before she followed her husband.” House summarized, “Still want to punish him?”
Cuddy stood in the hall with her mouth agape. She studied House for a moment, trying to decide if what he was saying was really the truth. She wouldn’t put it passed him to come up with a complete lie in order to get out of whatever punishment she deemed necessary but then something clicked. He’d said “him” not “us” which meant that he didn’t care what happened to himself, he didn’t think Wilson deserved punishment though.
After what seemed like ten minutes of thought which was actually closer to two she looked back up at House’s face, the sadness and anger in his blue eyes catching her off guard. He was pissed at Wilson’s parents for doing this to his friend, that much was obvious, but it also seemed that it hurt him to know that Wilson was hurting. That more than anything melted her angry disposition. “Is he alright?” She asked with a note of resigned weariness in her voice.
“No,” House answered succinctly. His right hand flexed and clenched angrily on his cane, showing the whites of his knuckles each time. He bent around to look in the window to the left (or his right) of the door to check on his friend. Wilson appeared to be asleep while clutching the one and only pillow on the couch. He lay curled up in a protective ball while the shuttering of his body was the only clue that he was still crying.
Cuddy checked her watch, “Take him home, he doesn’t need to be here. I’ll cover both of your clinic hours.”
“Thanks.” House said, giving her a minute nod of the head before he re-entered Wilson’s office.
As it turned out, Wilson was no longer crying just shivering violently. House guessed it was a combination of shock from the events and exhaustion from crying. He climbed back under his friend and held him close, offering warmth and protection. “I’m so sorry James,” he whispered as he felt Wilson relax under his touch and the shivering slowly fade.
To Be Continued...
Here's Ch1: http://mmorgan317.livejournal.com/16003.html
Here's Ch2: http://mmorgan317.livejournal.com/16628.html
Here's Ch3: http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wilson/395748.html#cutid1