Toddler!Wilson Ear Infection

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Title:  Ear Infection

Rating: PG (just to be safe though probably G)  

AN: alternate universe in which  James Wilson woke up one day in the body of a three and a half-year-old, and with the mind of a child that age.  Several medical tests came up completely normal but despite these facts, this Wilson will remain this age for the rest of his life.  Also, I don’t want to deal with Wilson’s parents so I’m just saying they don’t want to raise him again—let alone take care of a perpetual baby—and leaving it at that. This is a sequel to "Big Baby" but can also sort of stand on it's own if you know the background information.

Summary: House deals with “Little Wilson’s” first ear infection. 

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Out of Character, Crack fic, Sick!Wilson, medical/ scientific impossibilities, oh and I don’t know that much about medicine so my treatment plan is probably incorrect but I don’t care.

Word Count: 743

Status: complete

“Ge—wegg,” Wilson whined from his room and the sound woke me up.  Slowly I lifted my head, fighting to keep my eyes open long enough to check the time.  5:30.  Damn it, I thought.  Putting stickers on the clock face were supposed to help him understand the numbers.  He couldn’t tell time but he knew if the little stick was between the sleeping boy and the sun he was supposed to stay in bed and keep quiet.

 

“Hey, Little Man,” I said as I sat on his mattress.  “What’s the clock say right now?”  Jimmy buried his little head in my shoulder and started to sob quietly.  “It’s okay.  We all make mistakes, Pal.  You don’t have to…”  That’s when I realized how warm Wilson’s little body felt against mine, and how he was tugging on his ear. “Are you okay?”  His head shook back and forth slightly but this seemed to cause him more discomfort. 

 

I took Wilson back to my room and let him lie down on my bed while I got a thermometer.  I got him to hold still and keep the thing in his mouth just long enough to get a reading: 101.7.   “We need to go to the doctor, so he can make you better.”  Had his temperature been a little lower, I probably would have stuck with children’s Tylenol and OTC drops but he was clearly suffering and—I believed—sick enough to warrant antibiotics. 

 

“No,” he whimpered.  “No more shots.”  The poor kid still was still having nightmares about the weeks he spent at Princeton-Plainsboro.  He also seemed to believe that all doctors were out to torture and experiment on him.

 

“This is a different kind of doctor, Jimmy.  And no more shots unless you really, really, really need one, which probably won’t happen. But if your ear hurts, the doctor needs to look in it and—probably give you some medicine.” 

 

“Bubb-a gum flavor?” 

 

“Of course,” I promised kissing his hair.  “So can we go?” Wilson nodded.  I got dressed quickly and drove to the pediatrician’s office.  It was early enough that they’re able to take us right away even without an appointment. 

 

Wilson let Dr. Potter perform a quick examination—which included—but was not limited too—looking in both ears, and taking his temperature.  Then Jimmy sat with a nurse, who let him pick out a lollipop and a sticker while I convinced the idiot pediatrician to write a prescription. 

 

xx

 

While we waited for the pharmacy to fill our script, I wondered around the store with the kid, trying to cheer him up.  Between the pain and his fever, he seemed sort of miserable.  Poor kid doesn’t seem to want or like anything.

 

I pull a pair of flip-flops off the shelf and put them on my head like a hat.  Nothing.  I tried pretending to clean my teeth with a packaged toothbrush, acted like I was putting my hair up in a ponytail with a rubber band thingy, and I even grabbed five different containers—each a different size and shape—and started juggling them but even that only received a small chuckle. 

 

“You know, since you're pretty sick I think you need something to take your mind off of that nasty fever and those mean germs making your ear hurt,” I explained and led him to the toy isle.  “Let’s see if we can’t find something fun to bring home.” Wilson gave me a tiny, pathetic smile, and then carefully studied every item on the shelf.  “What do you think?”

 

“This one,” he exclaimed, picking up a plastic box containing a toy doctor’s kit, jam-packed with utensils of all kinds and a black medical bag to hold them all.

 

As soon we got home I gave Jimmy his first dose of antibiotics and started cooking us a late breakfast.  Wilson went into the den to play  “Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good” I heard him say and went to see what he was up to.  “Can you breathe for me?  Good.  Good.”  Wilson was using the stethoscope to listen to the bear’s “heart.”

 

“Paging Doctor Jimmy.  It’s time for breakfast,” I instructed, walking back to the kitchen with him.  I was actually starting to get used to all of this stuff.  This was when I realized that even though I’d never wanted kids, I enjoyed taking care of the little Wilson.  I was happy.  In a strange and screwed up way.