http://rslhilson.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
rslhilson.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sick_wilson2011-06-25 12:47 pm
rslhilson.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2011-06-25 12:47 pm
Poison and Wine (5/15)
Title: Poison and Wine
Author: rslhilson
Rating: T
Summary: A dying Wilson returns home after a 5-year absence.
Spoilers: General spoilers through Season 7, although I've revised canon.
Pairings: Eventual Hilson
Disclaimer: I own nothing :( The fic is loosely based on the RSL film "In the Gloaming" (but not a crossover), and the title is taken from the song by The Civil Wars.
Warning: Eventual character death
Author's Notes: AU in that Amber survived the bus crash and took off with Wilson at the end of Season 4. Minus Wilson's absence, everything else that has occurred on the show since then is still game. Hopefully the only discrepancy is that I've kept Cuddy around (since it takes place 5 years post-Wilson's Heart, this would technically be Season 9 – and apparently we've seen the last of her after Moving On). Also, special thanks to srsly_yes for convincing me to post my work here...again. =)
Previous chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
FF.Net link:
Chapter 5
Author: rslhilson
Rating: T
Summary: A dying Wilson returns home after a 5-year absence.
Spoilers: General spoilers through Season 7, although I've revised canon.
Pairings: Eventual Hilson
Disclaimer: I own nothing :( The fic is loosely based on the RSL film "In the Gloaming" (but not a crossover), and the title is taken from the song by The Civil Wars.
Warning: Eventual character death
Author's Notes: AU in that Amber survived the bus crash and took off with Wilson at the end of Season 4. Minus Wilson's absence, everything else that has occurred on the show since then is still game. Hopefully the only discrepancy is that I've kept Cuddy around (since it takes place 5 years post-Wilson's Heart, this would technically be Season 9 – and apparently we've seen the last of her after Moving On). Also, special thanks to srsly_yes for convincing me to post my work here...again. =)
Previous chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
FF.Net link:
Chapter 5
* * * * *
"House?" Wilson whispered. He tentatively poked the diagnostician, who groaned and rolled over on the couch. "You awake?"
"No," House mumbled.
"I can't sleep."
"Don't care."
Wilson opted to wait in the quiet, his eyes already adjusted to the dark from lying awake until 2am. He'd wiggled into a semi-comfortable position between the couch and the coffee table, surprised that House had actually cleaned up the remains of their dinner. His legs drawn to his chest, he patiently rested his chin on his knees until House finally heaved a heavy sigh, turning back over to face him.
"What do you want?" he mumbled tiredly.
Wilson shrugged. "Nothing."
"So why are you here?"
"Told you. Can't sleep."
House yawned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Why not?"
"Hurts," Wilson replied quietly, his voice so distant that he may as well have been talking about the time or the weather.
Instantly, House was alert, the old blanket draped over him flown back over the couch. "How bad?"
"It's fine," Wilson assured him quickly. "It's nothing new. I just…could use some company."
House held his gaze for a while, as if measuring Wilson's actual pain level through his eyes. Finally, he shifted into a sitting position and eased himself onto the floor beside him, pushing the table away with his good foot.
"Okay," he said simply.
Together, they stretched their legs along the carpet, House absently rubbing his thigh. Wilson eyed him sympathetically. "I'm sorry," he said.
House shrugged. "Sleep is overrated."
"I mean…about before. I didn't…I said some things I didn't mean." Without waiting for House's inevitable sarcastic retort to signal that the apology was accepted, Wilson gestured towards the empty coffee table. "You cleaned up," he said. "I'm impressed."
"Figured only one of us in here could handle the smell."
"Good point." Grimacing suddenly, Wilson closed his eyes, his head leaning back into the sofa cushions behind him.
House frowned. "What pain meds are you on?"
"None."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"It's not that bad." Wilson opened his eyes again to meet his gaze. "Really."
"Your ass isn't blue, it's a fucking rainbow."
Wilson snorted, his amusement followed by another groan of pain. House rolled his eyes and dug his hand into the pocket of his pajama bottoms.
"Here," he said, opening the pill bottle.
Wilson eyed the Vicodin and shook his head. "No, thanks."
"You're in pain, you moron."
"Don't need it."
House grabbed Wilson's hand and emptied a pill into his palm. "Just one isn't going to make you an addict."
"Says you," Wilson mumbled, but after a few moments of staring at the white sliver of relief, he reluctantly gulped it down and leaned back again with a sigh.
"Better?"
"Mmm."
House pocketed the pills again. "This isn't going to cut it, you know," he said.
"I know you normally like to down about twelve at a time, but one Vicodin can be surprisingly effective."
"It's just going to get worse. Your body is going to go to hell and my leg can't handle wiping your ass for you."
"At least you'll get to see what color it really is," Wilson joked, but his smile faded at the sight of House's glare. "I know," he said quietly.
"You gotta tell me what you want."
"Whatever you think is best."
"Which would be…?"
"I don't know, House. But legally, you can do whatever the hell you want with me."
House blinked. "I'm still your medical proxy?"
"Of course." Wilson rolled onto his side, becoming more comfortable as the pain subsided. "Am I still yours?"
"Yeah."
"So why are you so surprised?"
House shrugged. "Thought you would've replaced me with Amber by now."
"Never did," Wilson murmured.
"Cuddy never knew," House admitted. "I lied."
"You and I both." Wilson smiled a little, sighing contentedly. "I could just sleep like this, right here."
"'Bout time," House muttered.
"You should take your bed tonight. I'll stay here."
"Forget it."
"Or we could both sleep out here," Wilson suggested.
"Fine. Good night." House closed his eyes, burrowing into a more comfortable position, when suddenly he felt something resting on his shoulder and opened them again. Wilson had shifted over and was leaning against House's side, gracing his line of sight with a floppy mop of brown hair.
"Seriously, Wilson?"
"I needed a pillow," Wilson mumbled into his sleeve.
"So go back to bed."
"Can't. Tired."
"Exactly why you should be going back to bed."
Wilson sniffled sleepily in response, and House rolled his eyes. "Jesus. I would've let you sit there in agony if I'd known the Vicodin would make you this stupid."
"Not stupid. Just tired. G'nite, House."
House raised his free hand, poised to nudge his intruder away, but on second thought he lowered it again, letting his head fall gently on top of Wilson's as they drifted off to sleep.
"No," House mumbled.
"I can't sleep."
"Don't care."
Wilson opted to wait in the quiet, his eyes already adjusted to the dark from lying awake until 2am. He'd wiggled into a semi-comfortable position between the couch and the coffee table, surprised that House had actually cleaned up the remains of their dinner. His legs drawn to his chest, he patiently rested his chin on his knees until House finally heaved a heavy sigh, turning back over to face him.
"What do you want?" he mumbled tiredly.
Wilson shrugged. "Nothing."
"So why are you here?"
"Told you. Can't sleep."
House yawned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Why not?"
"Hurts," Wilson replied quietly, his voice so distant that he may as well have been talking about the time or the weather.
Instantly, House was alert, the old blanket draped over him flown back over the couch. "How bad?"
"It's fine," Wilson assured him quickly. "It's nothing new. I just…could use some company."
House held his gaze for a while, as if measuring Wilson's actual pain level through his eyes. Finally, he shifted into a sitting position and eased himself onto the floor beside him, pushing the table away with his good foot.
"Okay," he said simply.
Together, they stretched their legs along the carpet, House absently rubbing his thigh. Wilson eyed him sympathetically. "I'm sorry," he said.
House shrugged. "Sleep is overrated."
"I mean…about before. I didn't…I said some things I didn't mean." Without waiting for House's inevitable sarcastic retort to signal that the apology was accepted, Wilson gestured towards the empty coffee table. "You cleaned up," he said. "I'm impressed."
"Figured only one of us in here could handle the smell."
"Good point." Grimacing suddenly, Wilson closed his eyes, his head leaning back into the sofa cushions behind him.
House frowned. "What pain meds are you on?"
"None."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"It's not that bad." Wilson opened his eyes again to meet his gaze. "Really."
"Your ass isn't blue, it's a fucking rainbow."
Wilson snorted, his amusement followed by another groan of pain. House rolled his eyes and dug his hand into the pocket of his pajama bottoms.
"Here," he said, opening the pill bottle.
Wilson eyed the Vicodin and shook his head. "No, thanks."
"You're in pain, you moron."
"Don't need it."
House grabbed Wilson's hand and emptied a pill into his palm. "Just one isn't going to make you an addict."
"Says you," Wilson mumbled, but after a few moments of staring at the white sliver of relief, he reluctantly gulped it down and leaned back again with a sigh.
"Better?"
"Mmm."
House pocketed the pills again. "This isn't going to cut it, you know," he said.
"I know you normally like to down about twelve at a time, but one Vicodin can be surprisingly effective."
"It's just going to get worse. Your body is going to go to hell and my leg can't handle wiping your ass for you."
"At least you'll get to see what color it really is," Wilson joked, but his smile faded at the sight of House's glare. "I know," he said quietly.
"You gotta tell me what you want."
"Whatever you think is best."
"Which would be…?"
"I don't know, House. But legally, you can do whatever the hell you want with me."
House blinked. "I'm still your medical proxy?"
"Of course." Wilson rolled onto his side, becoming more comfortable as the pain subsided. "Am I still yours?"
"Yeah."
"So why are you so surprised?"
House shrugged. "Thought you would've replaced me with Amber by now."
"Never did," Wilson murmured.
"Cuddy never knew," House admitted. "I lied."
"You and I both." Wilson smiled a little, sighing contentedly. "I could just sleep like this, right here."
"'Bout time," House muttered.
"You should take your bed tonight. I'll stay here."
"Forget it."
"Or we could both sleep out here," Wilson suggested.
"Fine. Good night." House closed his eyes, burrowing into a more comfortable position, when suddenly he felt something resting on his shoulder and opened them again. Wilson had shifted over and was leaning against House's side, gracing his line of sight with a floppy mop of brown hair.
"Seriously, Wilson?"
"I needed a pillow," Wilson mumbled into his sleeve.
"So go back to bed."
"Can't. Tired."
"Exactly why you should be going back to bed."
Wilson sniffled sleepily in response, and House rolled his eyes. "Jesus. I would've let you sit there in agony if I'd known the Vicodin would make you this stupid."
"Not stupid. Just tired. G'nite, House."
House raised his free hand, poised to nudge his intruder away, but on second thought he lowered it again, letting his head fall gently on top of Wilson's as they drifted off to sleep.
* * * * *