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sick_wilson2007-07-09 09:55 pm
alanwolfmoon.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2007-07-09 09:55 pm
trash cans beware (ch 9)
Title: Trash cans beware (ch 9)
Pairing: House / Wilson
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG (so far)
Summary: In honour of the '200 members' prompt onsick_wilson
The prompt was "Today wasn't the first time Wilson had been a little late for work recently, so House didn't give it much thought. Especially since the patient Cuddy had found for him was turning out to be more than just a case of intestinal flu, after all."
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Notes: Only my seccond attempt at fanfiction. Ever. Reveiws and flames alike are welcome.
This scene was inspired by Nyaar on deviant art’s picture and accompanying story.
(who am I kidding? I just described the pic and wrote what she said the background was)
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/54755960/?qo=1&q=house+wilson+couch&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5
go, see, ogle, and check out her other stuff too. She’s one of my favorite artists.
here are the links to the other parts.
i cannot, for the life of me, get them to act like links....
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wilson/50225.html#cutid1
ch 9
Wilson opened his eyes, confused.
That definitely wasn’t Amy’s ceiling, but there was somebody moving beside him.
He turned over, hoping he hadn’t gotten drunk or something, and saw House sitting up on the side of the bed, fumbling in the dark for his cane.
Wilson frowned.
Now he *really* hopped he hadn’t gotten drunk.
Then he remembered House limping worse than usual and their argument.
He blinked, and looked at his watch.
It was 1:30 am.
House stood up, took a step, and then half knelt, half fell, cursing quietly.
Wilson waited until House had stood back up, before he sat up.
“House? Is everything ok?”
“Yeah. Fine. Go back to sleep.”
“Why’re you up?”
“Feels weird sleeping next to someone. I’m going to watch some tv.”
House limped out into the living room.
Wilson heard a soft thump, as House sat down on the couch.
Wilson got up, not buying it at all.
“House, you have hookers over at least monthly, and I know you slept with that nutritionist at least once. That isn’t the reason.”
House sighed.
“Go to bed Wilson. If you don’t, I’ll call Cuddy tomorrow morning and tell her that I accidentally poisoned you with my cooking, and if you show up for work, to send you home because you’re hallucinating.”
Wilson snorted.
“Uh-huh, and she’ll believe you.”
“Hey, she knows how my cooking usually tastes.”
“House, I’m not an idiot. You can’t sleep because your leg hurts. More than usual.”
“If my leg hurt more than usual, you would see me popping more vicodin than usual.”
“Not if you were being discrete. I haven’t seen you taking your vicodin in days, so I don’t know if you’re even taking the normal amount.”
“I am. But not more. Because my leg doesn’t hurt more.”
“House, yes it does. You can fall asleep in the middle of a suspense horror movie. The only time you don’t fall asleep is when you’re in more pain than usual. A lot more.”
“That, and when I’m horny. Or have had coffee. Or am on speed, or lsd, or–”
”House! Stop it. I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just worried about you is all. And I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”
“No it isn’t. I told you, I fell off the couch last night and bumped it.”
“House...just...I’m sorry. I know your going to rebuke it, but I am. And that’s all I’m going to say.”
and with that, Wilson sat down on the couch next to House.
House glared at him.
“Go to bed.”
“There’s supposed to be a new late night comedy show on fox.”
“Go to bed.”
“Or there’s probably a movie on, you want to watch one?”
House opened his mouth, stopped, and smiled quietly.
He knew he wasn’t going to win this fight.
House flicked the tv over to comedy central, and Wilson sat back, happy.
An hour or so later, Wilson was starting to shiver.
House finally noticed this, and tossed the couch blanket onto Wilson’s head.
Wilson pulled it off, and wrapped himself in it.
Neither of them said anything.
The only sounds were the tv, the two men breathing, and the soft rubbing sound of House’s hand going back and forth over his thigh.
Wilson started to find that was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and rubbed them.
House sighed, and changed the channel.
Wilson didn’t notice.
House blinked, as he felt something snuggling up against his left side.
He looked, and saw that Wilson had fallen asleep, and had curled up on his side, using House as a pillow.
House watched Wilson, wondering if he should move him.
But he decided that Wilson could use the sleep, and let him be, only putting a hand on Wilson’s shoulder.
Now that Wilson wasn’t watching, however, House allowed himself to let the pain show, scrunching his eyes shut, and pushing his head back into the cushions.
Wilson didn’t notice.
He was dreaming happily as he snuggled against his warm friend.
Pairing: House / Wilson
Author:
alanwolfmoonRating: PG (so far)
Summary: In honour of the '200 members' prompt on
sick_wilsonThe prompt was "Today wasn't the first time Wilson had been a little late for work recently, so House didn't give it much thought. Especially since the patient Cuddy had found for him was turning out to be more than just a case of intestinal flu, after all."
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Notes: Only my seccond attempt at fanfiction. Ever. Reveiws and flames alike are welcome.
This scene was inspired by Nyaar on deviant art’s picture and accompanying story.
(who am I kidding? I just described the pic and wrote what she said the background was)
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/54755960/?qo=1&q=house+wilson+couch&qh=boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5
go, see, ogle, and check out her other stuff too. She’s one of my favorite artists.
here are the links to the other parts.
i cannot, for the life of me, get them to act like links....
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wilson/50225.html#cutid1
ch 9
Wilson opened his eyes, confused.
That definitely wasn’t Amy’s ceiling, but there was somebody moving beside him.
He turned over, hoping he hadn’t gotten drunk or something, and saw House sitting up on the side of the bed, fumbling in the dark for his cane.
Wilson frowned.
Now he *really* hopped he hadn’t gotten drunk.
Then he remembered House limping worse than usual and their argument.
He blinked, and looked at his watch.
It was 1:30 am.
House stood up, took a step, and then half knelt, half fell, cursing quietly.
Wilson waited until House had stood back up, before he sat up.
“House? Is everything ok?”
“Yeah. Fine. Go back to sleep.”
“Why’re you up?”
“Feels weird sleeping next to someone. I’m going to watch some tv.”
House limped out into the living room.
Wilson heard a soft thump, as House sat down on the couch.
Wilson got up, not buying it at all.
“House, you have hookers over at least monthly, and I know you slept with that nutritionist at least once. That isn’t the reason.”
House sighed.
“Go to bed Wilson. If you don’t, I’ll call Cuddy tomorrow morning and tell her that I accidentally poisoned you with my cooking, and if you show up for work, to send you home because you’re hallucinating.”
Wilson snorted.
“Uh-huh, and she’ll believe you.”
“Hey, she knows how my cooking usually tastes.”
“House, I’m not an idiot. You can’t sleep because your leg hurts. More than usual.”
“If my leg hurt more than usual, you would see me popping more vicodin than usual.”
“Not if you were being discrete. I haven’t seen you taking your vicodin in days, so I don’t know if you’re even taking the normal amount.”
“I am. But not more. Because my leg doesn’t hurt more.”
“House, yes it does. You can fall asleep in the middle of a suspense horror movie. The only time you don’t fall asleep is when you’re in more pain than usual. A lot more.”
“That, and when I’m horny. Or have had coffee. Or am on speed, or lsd, or–”
”House! Stop it. I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just worried about you is all. And I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”
“No it isn’t. I told you, I fell off the couch last night and bumped it.”
“House...just...I’m sorry. I know your going to rebuke it, but I am. And that’s all I’m going to say.”
and with that, Wilson sat down on the couch next to House.
House glared at him.
“Go to bed.”
“There’s supposed to be a new late night comedy show on fox.”
“Go to bed.”
“Or there’s probably a movie on, you want to watch one?”
House opened his mouth, stopped, and smiled quietly.
He knew he wasn’t going to win this fight.
House flicked the tv over to comedy central, and Wilson sat back, happy.
An hour or so later, Wilson was starting to shiver.
House finally noticed this, and tossed the couch blanket onto Wilson’s head.
Wilson pulled it off, and wrapped himself in it.
Neither of them said anything.
The only sounds were the tv, the two men breathing, and the soft rubbing sound of House’s hand going back and forth over his thigh.
Wilson started to find that was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and rubbed them.
House sighed, and changed the channel.
Wilson didn’t notice.
House blinked, as he felt something snuggling up against his left side.
He looked, and saw that Wilson had fallen asleep, and had curled up on his side, using House as a pillow.
House watched Wilson, wondering if he should move him.
But he decided that Wilson could use the sleep, and let him be, only putting a hand on Wilson’s shoulder.
Now that Wilson wasn’t watching, however, House allowed himself to let the pain show, scrunching his eyes shut, and pushing his head back into the cushions.
Wilson didn’t notice.
He was dreaming happily as he snuggled against his warm friend.