...and Thou

[yarroway.livejournal.com]

Rated: PG
Thanks: to Srsly_yes for her marvelous beta and to Pwcorgigirl for writing the prompt.

From pwcorgigirl's story beginning, here. This picks up right where she left off.






He starts to sit up but his back tells him in no uncertain terms how very unhappy it is with him, and he lies back down again.

“You’re quite a drinker,” Arlene accuses. “Passing out on the floor in my daughter’s home.” She turns her head and raises her voice, speaking to someone out of the room. “You employ this man?” Her voice is doubtful, critical.

“He’s one of my best doctors,” Cuddy answers, and she’s got that tone she uses when she’s speaking through clenched teeth.

“A drunk?” Arlene asks. She laughs, “I’m never going to your hospital again.”

“You passed out too, Mom,” Cuddy points out.

“I’m an old woman, and I ate almost nothing. He’s a young man with…” she eyes Wilson’s middle, “a healthy appetite.”

Wilson’s face is on fire. He wants to leave, badly, but he knows if he moves his back will clench up and his humiliation will be compounded, so he folds his hands across his chest and plants a smile on his face.

“Mom,” Cuddy begins, but Arlene talks over her.

“That must have been some wine if it made a grown man pass out. Do you drink like this all the time? In front of Rachel? Who’s taking care of my granddaughter while you’re carrying on this way?”

“Actually it’s my fault,” Wilson jumps in, because he can’t let Cuddy be provoked into telling Arlene what really happened. She might make a complaint and House would be in serious trouble for what he did. Wilson won’t let that happen. He gives his best self-deprecating laugh. “I’m on a new medication and I forgot I’m not supposed to drink on it. My doctor’s going to give me one heck of a lecture when he finds out.”

“Doctors make the worst patients,” Cuddy says tightly.

Arlene shakes her head, but the disgust has vanished from her face. “Men are such babies,” she says, and she’s smiling down at Wilson like he’s an infant who can’t find his toes. She turns her attention to House. “That’s why you need wives to look after you. When are you going to marry my daughter?”

“Mom!”

“Well, you’re obviously sleeping together,” Arlene says. “Why not take the next step? Rachel needs a father, not your fly by night boyfriends coming in and out of her life.”

“Your cab is outside,” House announces.

Wilson hopes he’s speaking to Arlene, and apparently he is because she sniffs and gets her purse. Wilson can hear the front door open and close again. A moment later he hears a car pull away.

Wilson braces himself for Cuddy to round on House and chew him out, but she doesn’t. Maybe they fought earlier, or maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe she enjoyed the time alone with House and didn’t care that her aging, ailling mother had been drugged.

Now he really wants to leave, but he is still afraid to move.

Cuddy is looking down at him. “Do you want a pillow,” she asks, but what she means is for him to get up and get out.

“He can’t move,” House says.

He knows. Of course he knows, and now Cuddy knows too. Her expression clears. “I have some muscle relaxants,” she says, and leaves the room.

___________________________________

It’s late when Wilson gets home. He moves slowly, gingerly. The medicine Cuddy gave him is going to wear off soon and then he’ll hurt again. He creates a nest of pillows for himself in the armchair, the one place he knows he can sleep without pain and get to his feet again in the morning without hurting his back muscles. He lays his phone beside him in case the hospital calls. Then he turns off the lamp. His mind won’t stop going over everything that happened. House thinks drugging him is funny. Apparently he thinks laying Wilson on the hard floor is funny too. It won’t be only that, though. Not from House. It’s also a punishment. Wilson’s been demanding lately and House has had enough. Wilson’s been on the other side of this scenario and knows how annoying it is, so he sighs and decides to keep himself busy in other ways.

He’s feeling sorry for himself, which is useless, so he starts thinking of the women he knows who might be interested in going out. He knows he won’t do it, though. Sam’s absence is a gaping hole in his life. Maybe he should take up knitting. Or get back into racquetball. It would be good for him to be more active, and he used to like the game. He still has his old gear stashed away.

_________________________________________________

He’s careful to give House time alone after that. He doesn’t appear in House’s office at lunch time, doesn’t suggest bowling or mini golf or movies. After work he goes home and heats up dinner and watches television until it’s time for bed. The pile of paperwork on his desk demanding his attention dwindles down to nothing. His apartment is tidy and the milk is where it belongs and everything is absolutely fine.

____________________________________________

“You’re avoiding me,” House yells from his office doorway. He strides inside, closing the door behind him. “Are you really still sulking that I drugged you?”

Wilson blinks. “I-"

House tilts his head. He’s seen the hesitation. “Unless you weren’t sulking at all. Wilson, you IDIOT.”

Wilson frowns. “You-"

“You are a moron. You decided to give me space. You decided to be nice. You know I have no use for nice.”

Wilson doesn’t have to frown again because he held onto the last one. “Do you think I might possibly say something that isn’t a pronoun?”

“No need,” House says. “I can have this conversation for you. Yes, I want some time for myself. Yes, I’m an introvert. What you forgot while you were being a self-sacrificing idiot, is that I chose you. When Cuddy forced me to choose, you’re who I picked.”

“Because you knew I’d let you off the hook.”

“Which I knew you’d do because you love me. Also because your people-pleasing ways demand it. Both work in my favor. What I do not want is for you to hide.”

“We’re standing in my office, which is beside your office, which would seem to indicates a lack of hiding.”

“I never see you. You were hiding.”

“Poorly,” Wilson says, because, hello, he’s standing right here.

“You wanted me to find you,” House says, softer now.

Wilson shrugs, “As I said, poorly.”

_____________________________________________

They’re sitting on the sofa at Wilson’s place eating sausage pizza. The Birds is on and Wilson is happy just sitting here with greasy hands and the smell of melted cheese in the air. House has relaxed into the seat, finally. He’d been upset at Wilson’s armchair nest when he saw it, but he didn’t say anything and Wilson was happy to avoid the subject. Let House see what he’d done—it was Wilson who was the one sleeping in the damn thing and maybe now House would think twice about where he lay Wilson down the next time.

“Shh!” House says, though Wilson hasn’t spoken. “This is the best part.”

It’s the middle of a detergent commercial and Wilson knows he hasn't made any noise. He’s confused until House takes a piece of sausage from Wilson’s slice and pops it into his mouth.

It’s a declaration that things are back to normal. On the TV cartoon bubbles are singing as they scrub away grime, and Wilson realizes that House is right. This really is the very best part.