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alanwolfmoon.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sick_wilson2007-07-10 06:38 pm
alanwolfmoon.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2007-07-10 06:38 pm
trash cans beware (ch 13)
Title: Trash cans beware (ch 13)
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.
and here's the new chapter!
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.
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_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/51271.html?#cutid1
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_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wi
http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wilson/51271.html?#cutid1
and here's the new chapter!
T
“Wiiiilson....Wilson. Wilson! Wilson...wake up...Wilson....Wiiiiilson....James Wilson....Wilson....wake up....Dr. Wilson....Wilson....Dr. Wilson, wake up, eight of your patients just when into anaphylactic shock....Wilson....Wilson! Wake up already! Wilson....Wiiiilson....Wilson.”
“Wha?”
“Finally.”
“Did you say something about anaphylactic shock?”
“You must have been dreaming.”
“House...what am I doing here?”
“Up till now? Sleeping.”
Wilson glared at him.
He was on the floor of one of the elevators.
It looked like he had been there for a while.
House was sitting next to him and Chase was leaning against the side of the elevator, looking rather bored.
“How long have I been here?”
“I don’t know for sure. Chase called and said that he had gone to take the elevator, and you were lying on the floor of it. Since nobody else in the entire hospital happened to notice a sleeping department head on the floor of an elevator, I’m assuming it wasn’t long before Chase called. Since then it’s been about half an hour.”
“Half an hour?!”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you guys move me?!”
House gave him a “look”
Wilson blinked.
“Sorry.”
“Maybe we need to get you a GPS chip. If it stays still too long it’ll make my pager beep...”
Wilson glared at him.
“This is the fifth time we’ve found you asleep in various parts of the hospital Dr. Wilson.” said Chase, as he waved some nurses with a man in a wheelchair away from the elevator.
“I know...”
Wilson looked very unhappy about the whole thing.
“Here’s an idea. How about you actually *tell* me when you get dizzy. Instead of just ignoring it unless you start puking. Or can’t stand.”
“House, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No, you need to be more attentive to how likely you are to be completely exhausted within the next three hours. However, as you don’t seem to be capable of that, I was hoping we could settle for my being attentive for you.”
Wilson blinked.
It was odd enough that House had said that, but he had said it in front of Chase...
Chase grinned.
“I have been sworn to an oath of secrecy. Nothing that is said in this elevator, leaves it.”
Wilson blinked, and then snorted.
But still...saying that in front of Chase...even if it wasn’t going to become hospital gossip...wasn’t like House at all.
“House, look, I know I need to figure out how to deal with this. But the month is up, cuddy isn’t going to make you take care of me anymore.”
Chase looked at House, guessing he would be getting Wilson out of the elevator by himself after all.
“The month was up two days ago.”
Wilson blinked.
“So...cuddy thinks I still can’t deal.”
“Yep.”
Wilson sighed.
Chase looked relived.
“Ah, here’s our floor.”
House got up awkwardly, and Chase offered a hand to Wilson.
Wilson sighed, and took it.
As Wilson stood, he staggered slightly, bumping into House.
This would not have been a problem, except for the fact that House had been sleeping on the couch for a month, and had been sitting on the hard floor of the elevator for over half an hour.
He dropped.
Wilson and Chase, who had grabbed Wilson’s elbow to keep him from doing what House had done, stared.
“House?” asked Wilson, not sure what had happened, “How badly has your leg been hurting recently?”
“More than a paper cut.”
“House....”
“Hey, that wasn’t even a lie, what are you complaining about, Mr. Falls asleep in elevators?”
“House, if your leg has been hurting that much, why didn’t you say something?”
“You *do* remember what I said a few days ago, right?”
“Yeah...but still...”
“Give it a rest, Wilson. Literally. You need to sleep. Just not in the elevator.”
Chase, who had been holding the door the whole time, coughed.
Wilson looked at him, and sighed.
“Sorry Chase.”
“No problem.”
Chase and Wilson switched places, and Chase helped House up.
As he pulled, he blinked.
House’s hands were shaking, up close he looked pale, sweaty, and seemed to be breathing hard.
House met Chase’s eyes, and Chase stayed silent.
If House didn’t want Wilson worrying about him, Chase wasn’t going to interfere.
Asking him could wait.
After they got Wilson settled on the familiar surface of the differential room’s couch, House went in to his office, and Chase followed.
Chase had been under House longer than either Cameron or Foreman, but he never actually talked with his boss all that much.
It probably had something to do with the fact that House seemed to enjoy making his life miserable.
But recently, House had seemed too distracted by worrying about Wilson to do much teasing.
Chase had been surprised at first, not having believed that House would act like that for anyone.
But after a while, he had realized that, out of everyone in the hospital, the only person House would have cared about if they got sick, was Wilson.
And House *did* care about him.
He cared about him enough to have deserted several differential sessions to go track him down when Wilson called to say he was puking, or stranded halfway down a hall, leaning on whatever surface had been closest, or simply sitting there.
He had cared about him enough that when they didn’t have a case, the differential room and House’s office would be scattered with pages and pages about meniere’s.
He had cared enough that one time, when Wilson had called because he was supposed to be in an meeting that cuddy would have killed him if he left, but had gone to the bathroom, and had gotten stuck halfway back, House had grabbed Chase by the ear an dragged him out, explaining what was up as they went.
House had stormed in, yelling at cuddy about some totally nonexistent patient, while Chase had quietly helped Wilson back in, then “dragged” House out, apologizing to cuddy, who had noticed Wilson’s extended absence, and played along.
And House had apparently cared enough to completely hide and ignore his own pain.
Something that, two months ago, Chase would have betted a thousand dollars that House would never do.
“You planning on waiting until you pass out in the middle of helping him up to tell Wilson that you’re in more pain than you can handle?”
“I’m not in more pain than I can handle. Just more pain than usual.”
Chase was glad that House was taking this at least somewhat seriously.
“You can barely handle ‘usual.’”
“I’m not....”
House faltered.
Chase frowned, worried.
House sighed.
“I’m not quite to the “can’t handle” point yet. But the way things are going, it won’t be all that long.”
“You’ve been cutting back on Vicodin. That can’t be helping.”
House looked at him, surprised he had noticed that.
“What? You think I learned nothing after working for you for almost four years?”
House smirked, but he didn’t make a snide comment like Chase had expected him to.
“The same rule applies to this conversation as in the elevator.”
“I was guessing that.”
House sighed again.
As far as Chase could tell, House had been allowing everything to build up inside him, as he was currently denying himself the only things that helped: complaining to Wilson, and massive amounts of Vicodin.
Chase knew that it didn’t matter if it was House, everybody had to let it out sometime, and he felt almost honored that House was trusting him as a substitute for Wilson.
House didn’t trust anyone easily.
“You planning on telling Wilson?”
“No.”
“Because he’s going to keep making it worse if you don’t say anything. And when he does finally find out he’s going to feel totally devastated that he was the cause of it.”
“Then he won’t find out.”
“House...I know you’re good at lying. But the moment you give him a hand up, he’s going to feel you shaking.”
“Which is why I’ve been dragging you along every time he called for the last week and a half.”
“And if it happens while you two are at home?”
“It has happened. But I’ve been watching him so if it happens, I notice and get him sitting before helping him up becomes necessary.”
“And if you’re asleep? Or in the bathroom? Or aren’t home when it starts?”
House sighed.
“You’ve been lucky so far. You can’t count on it continuing.”
House looked like he wanted to snap at Chase, but he didn’t.
Chase watched him, reading the expressions that were, for once, visible on the scruffy face of his boss.
“What are you going to do, House? One way or another, you’re going to hurt him. But I think he would rather be hurt physically than emotionally.”
“There’s gotta be some way I can do this without hurting him at all.”
Chase frowned, his eyebrows coming together, thinking.
“House...there’s pain involved whether you want there to be or not. It’s just a result of both of you being...less than healthy.”
House looked at him sharply.
“The only thing you can do is make sure the only pain that gets involved is the pain that’s there no matter what. Don’t lie about how you’re feeling, and don’t make it so that Wilson is going to feel guilty. He hates hurting people, and if he finds out he’s been causing you this much pain, he’s going to get really upset.”
“I can’t just kick him off the bed...”
“No, but you can admit he was right about the couch being a bad idea.”
“Yeah, but that’s the same as kicking him off the bed.”
“Well, you could get a second bed. Or even just a fold out couch. I’d help, and I’m sure Foreman would too.”
House looked at Chase for a moment, then looked broodingly through the glass at the sleeping form of his friend.
“That’s....an ok idea.”
Chase blinked.
House stood up, winced as he put weight on his leg, and then limped out of his office.
Chase watched him go, thinking that he had never, in a million years expected to have a conversation like that with House, but he had felt strangely right doing it.
Maybe he didn’t mind House as much as he thought he did.
Maybe House wasn’t quite as much of a jerk as Chase had thought he was.
Maybe House just had a wall that no one could see over.
Maybe Chase had just caught a glimpse of what was beyond that wall.
Maybe Wilson was already pushing through the gates.
“Wiiiilson....Wilson. Wilson! Wilson...wake up...Wilson....Wiiiiilson....James Wilson....Wilson....wake up....Dr. Wilson....Wilson....Dr. Wilson, wake up, eight of your patients just when into anaphylactic shock....Wilson....Wilson! Wake up already! Wilson....Wiiiilson....Wilson.”
“Wha?”
“Finally.”
“Did you say something about anaphylactic shock?”
“You must have been dreaming.”
“House...what am I doing here?”
“Up till now? Sleeping.”
Wilson glared at him.
He was on the floor of one of the elevators.
It looked like he had been there for a while.
House was sitting next to him and Chase was leaning against the side of the elevator, looking rather bored.
“How long have I been here?”
“I don’t know for sure. Chase called and said that he had gone to take the elevator, and you were lying on the floor of it. Since nobody else in the entire hospital happened to notice a sleeping department head on the floor of an elevator, I’m assuming it wasn’t long before Chase called. Since then it’s been about half an hour.”
“Half an hour?!”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you guys move me?!”
House gave him a “look”
Wilson blinked.
“Sorry.”
“Maybe we need to get you a GPS chip. If it stays still too long it’ll make my pager beep...”
Wilson glared at him.
“This is the fifth time we’ve found you asleep in various parts of the hospital Dr. Wilson.” said Chase, as he waved some nurses with a man in a wheelchair away from the elevator.
“I know...”
Wilson looked very unhappy about the whole thing.
“Here’s an idea. How about you actually *tell* me when you get dizzy. Instead of just ignoring it unless you start puking. Or can’t stand.”
“House, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No, you need to be more attentive to how likely you are to be completely exhausted within the next three hours. However, as you don’t seem to be capable of that, I was hoping we could settle for my being attentive for you.”
Wilson blinked.
It was odd enough that House had said that, but he had said it in front of Chase...
Chase grinned.
“I have been sworn to an oath of secrecy. Nothing that is said in this elevator, leaves it.”
Wilson blinked, and then snorted.
But still...saying that in front of Chase...even if it wasn’t going to become hospital gossip...wasn’t like House at all.
“House, look, I know I need to figure out how to deal with this. But the month is up, cuddy isn’t going to make you take care of me anymore.”
Chase looked at House, guessing he would be getting Wilson out of the elevator by himself after all.
“The month was up two days ago.”
Wilson blinked.
“So...cuddy thinks I still can’t deal.”
“Yep.”
Wilson sighed.
Chase looked relived.
“Ah, here’s our floor.”
House got up awkwardly, and Chase offered a hand to Wilson.
Wilson sighed, and took it.
As Wilson stood, he staggered slightly, bumping into House.
This would not have been a problem, except for the fact that House had been sleeping on the couch for a month, and had been sitting on the hard floor of the elevator for over half an hour.
He dropped.
Wilson and Chase, who had grabbed Wilson’s elbow to keep him from doing what House had done, stared.
“House?” asked Wilson, not sure what had happened, “How badly has your leg been hurting recently?”
“More than a paper cut.”
“House....”
“Hey, that wasn’t even a lie, what are you complaining about, Mr. Falls asleep in elevators?”
“House, if your leg has been hurting that much, why didn’t you say something?”
“You *do* remember what I said a few days ago, right?”
“Yeah...but still...”
“Give it a rest, Wilson. Literally. You need to sleep. Just not in the elevator.”
Chase, who had been holding the door the whole time, coughed.
Wilson looked at him, and sighed.
“Sorry Chase.”
“No problem.”
Chase and Wilson switched places, and Chase helped House up.
As he pulled, he blinked.
House’s hands were shaking, up close he looked pale, sweaty, and seemed to be breathing hard.
House met Chase’s eyes, and Chase stayed silent.
If House didn’t want Wilson worrying about him, Chase wasn’t going to interfere.
Asking him could wait.
After they got Wilson settled on the familiar surface of the differential room’s couch, House went in to his office, and Chase followed.
Chase had been under House longer than either Cameron or Foreman, but he never actually talked with his boss all that much.
It probably had something to do with the fact that House seemed to enjoy making his life miserable.
But recently, House had seemed too distracted by worrying about Wilson to do much teasing.
Chase had been surprised at first, not having believed that House would act like that for anyone.
But after a while, he had realized that, out of everyone in the hospital, the only person House would have cared about if they got sick, was Wilson.
And House *did* care about him.
He cared about him enough to have deserted several differential sessions to go track him down when Wilson called to say he was puking, or stranded halfway down a hall, leaning on whatever surface had been closest, or simply sitting there.
He had cared about him enough that when they didn’t have a case, the differential room and House’s office would be scattered with pages and pages about meniere’s.
He had cared enough that one time, when Wilson had called because he was supposed to be in an meeting that cuddy would have killed him if he left, but had gone to the bathroom, and had gotten stuck halfway back, House had grabbed Chase by the ear an dragged him out, explaining what was up as they went.
House had stormed in, yelling at cuddy about some totally nonexistent patient, while Chase had quietly helped Wilson back in, then “dragged” House out, apologizing to cuddy, who had noticed Wilson’s extended absence, and played along.
And House had apparently cared enough to completely hide and ignore his own pain.
Something that, two months ago, Chase would have betted a thousand dollars that House would never do.
“You planning on waiting until you pass out in the middle of helping him up to tell Wilson that you’re in more pain than you can handle?”
“I’m not in more pain than I can handle. Just more pain than usual.”
Chase was glad that House was taking this at least somewhat seriously.
“You can barely handle ‘usual.’”
“I’m not....”
House faltered.
Chase frowned, worried.
House sighed.
“I’m not quite to the “can’t handle” point yet. But the way things are going, it won’t be all that long.”
“You’ve been cutting back on Vicodin. That can’t be helping.”
House looked at him, surprised he had noticed that.
“What? You think I learned nothing after working for you for almost four years?”
House smirked, but he didn’t make a snide comment like Chase had expected him to.
“The same rule applies to this conversation as in the elevator.”
“I was guessing that.”
House sighed again.
As far as Chase could tell, House had been allowing everything to build up inside him, as he was currently denying himself the only things that helped: complaining to Wilson, and massive amounts of Vicodin.
Chase knew that it didn’t matter if it was House, everybody had to let it out sometime, and he felt almost honored that House was trusting him as a substitute for Wilson.
House didn’t trust anyone easily.
“You planning on telling Wilson?”
“No.”
“Because he’s going to keep making it worse if you don’t say anything. And when he does finally find out he’s going to feel totally devastated that he was the cause of it.”
“Then he won’t find out.”
“House...I know you’re good at lying. But the moment you give him a hand up, he’s going to feel you shaking.”
“Which is why I’ve been dragging you along every time he called for the last week and a half.”
“And if it happens while you two are at home?”
“It has happened. But I’ve been watching him so if it happens, I notice and get him sitting before helping him up becomes necessary.”
“And if you’re asleep? Or in the bathroom? Or aren’t home when it starts?”
House sighed.
“You’ve been lucky so far. You can’t count on it continuing.”
House looked like he wanted to snap at Chase, but he didn’t.
Chase watched him, reading the expressions that were, for once, visible on the scruffy face of his boss.
“What are you going to do, House? One way or another, you’re going to hurt him. But I think he would rather be hurt physically than emotionally.”
“There’s gotta be some way I can do this without hurting him at all.”
Chase frowned, his eyebrows coming together, thinking.
“House...there’s pain involved whether you want there to be or not. It’s just a result of both of you being...less than healthy.”
House looked at him sharply.
“The only thing you can do is make sure the only pain that gets involved is the pain that’s there no matter what. Don’t lie about how you’re feeling, and don’t make it so that Wilson is going to feel guilty. He hates hurting people, and if he finds out he’s been causing you this much pain, he’s going to get really upset.”
“I can’t just kick him off the bed...”
“No, but you can admit he was right about the couch being a bad idea.”
“Yeah, but that’s the same as kicking him off the bed.”
“Well, you could get a second bed. Or even just a fold out couch. I’d help, and I’m sure Foreman would too.”
House looked at Chase for a moment, then looked broodingly through the glass at the sleeping form of his friend.
“That’s....an ok idea.”
Chase blinked.
House stood up, winced as he put weight on his leg, and then limped out of his office.
Chase watched him go, thinking that he had never, in a million years expected to have a conversation like that with House, but he had felt strangely right doing it.
Maybe he didn’t mind House as much as he thought he did.
Maybe House wasn’t quite as much of a jerk as Chase had thought he was.
Maybe House just had a wall that no one could see over.
Maybe Chase had just caught a glimpse of what was beyond that wall.
Maybe Wilson was already pushing through the gates.