Inconsequential Misunderstanding

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Hello, my dears! Some of you know me already- I've been lurking and commenting a few of you. This community is one of the most productive and well-run that I've seen- I love it.
So, I come out into the open, and I come bearing a gift. My first published House/Wilson that may or may not be part of a loose series. Enjoy!

Title: Inconsequential Misunderstanding
Author: enfant_deboheme
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13 (some swearing)
Summary: He should have asked this question, this one, seemingly inconsequential word, so, so long ago.
Author's Note: Physical pain, tears, and some kisses lie ahead. Reviews are as lovely as a House/Wilson kiss (but  the sex trumps you guys, I hate to say). 

 “Jimmy,” Wilson hears through the haze of sleep. “Jimmy…” It’s hoarse and raspy, more pronounced than usual.

 

“James Wilson!” comes a gravely shout, followed by a clattering thump. That startles Wilson enough that he groggily throws off the covers and stumbles off the couch, stubbing his toe on the coffee table.

 

“What, House?” he asks cautiously, steadying himself against the arm of the couch and peering into the darkness.

 

“I’m a cripple.”

 

“We knew this already,” Wilson says, moving slowly towards the bedroom, feeling for a light.

 

“A cripple who can’t get out of bed to get his meds.”

 

“That would be the definition of cripple,” Wilson sighs, edging into the room and towards the bathroom.

 

“Well, Jesus was hanging with me for a while. You know, maketh the lame to run, that sort of shit,” and Wilson hears the pain clearly in House’s voice, coming from behind him. He fumbles with the cap on the Vicoden bottle.

 

“He’s up and left, I see,” he says, trying to distract House from the pain. Judging from the moan that escapes through clenched teeth, it doesn’t work too well. When House speaks again, his voice is breathy, like he can’t fill his lungs.

 

“I was jilted by Jesus,” he says. Wilson finally pries the top off. He briefly considers asking House how many he wants, but realizes that could get out of hand. He shakes out three.

 

“Jesus loves me, that’s a lie,” House sings, sotto voce, half voice. He doesn’t have a full voice. “Christ, Jimmy! I take them dry.”

 

“That isn’t good for you, House,” Wilson says patiently, filling a Dixie cup and carefully walking through the dim room. When he hands House the pills, the stubborn bastard ignores the water and tosses the pills back. Wilson sighs resignedly and drinks the water himself.

 

“Good for you, Jimmy,” House says, gingerly shifting. He’s wincing. “Don’t get dehydrated, now.”

 

Wilson throws up his hands in despair and turns to leave.

 

“Wait…” an unknown, naked voice holds him back. Wilson realizes that it’s House, and turns around slowly. The completely stripped quality in his voice is unfamiliar territory. Can Vicoden kick in that fast and did Wilson give him too much?

 

“Just… can you just sit?” House asks, not quite looking at Wilson.

 

“Um… sure,” Wilson says, patient and trying to appear unfazed. He sits at the far edge of the bed and picks at the pattern of the blanket.

 

“Damn it,” House mutters under his breath, still in pain. Wilson looks up at him sharply, just before House convulses violently, yelling through his teeth.

 

Wilson leaps up and grips House’s arm, anchoring him to the bed and swiftly turning him on his side.

 

“House! What happened? What is it?” He’s collapsed, completely limp and panting.

 

“Not… not having… epileptic fit, Jimmy…” he wheezes.

 

“I know that, you idiot! You wouldn’t be able to yell! What was tha…” and House cuts him off with another strangled cry, slamming into fetal position. Wilson’s heart is banging against his ribcage, and he’s trying hard not to cry.

 

“Greg,” he moans, feeling for a pulse, which is racing. Lymph nodes, normal. “Shit! Did I give you too many pills?”

 

“No,” House gasps, with a painful attempt at a smile. “I’ve taken shitloads more… ah…”

 

This time it isn’t violent. He shudders down his whole length, extending his body, as if someone was pulling at his head and toes. When he relaxes, sucking in the breaths, Wilson leans over him.

 

“Do you know what this is? Have you had these before?”

 

“Yes… I… ah…” Wilson struggles to hold him against the bed. “Fuck!”

 

“Greg! Do I need to call 911?” Wilson asks desperately, once House has slumped against him.

 

“No…” he breathes, leaning into the crook of Wilson’s arm. “Just give me another few minutes.”

 

“What the hell is this?” Wilson says, wishing he could run his hands through his hair if his hands weren’t currently occupied with an armful of House. That’s a strange happening, he thinks in some far off corner of his brain.

 

House presses his face into the cool cotton of Wilson’s shirt, still pallid and sweating from the pain. “Toxicity flooding my bloodstream,” he murmurs, flexing his fists. “I feel nauseous as hell right now.”

 

“Do you usually vomit?” Wilson asks clinically, and bravely doesn’t shift away from House.

 

“No,” House says, falling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. “I think it’s done now.” Wilson could take that as a cue to leave now, but there had been something in House’s face before the pain… He continues the clinical questions. It’s easier than asking directly what he wants.

 

“Why exactly is there toxicity flooding your bloodstream? As far as I know you’re not having kidney failure.”

 

“I don’t have a cause for it at the moment, and I don’t really care for one. It goes away quickly enough.”

 

“House, this could be something serious,” Wilson says exasperatedly. Honestly, the man calls himself a doctor! “And how do you know it’s toxicity? Toxicity causes a fever. You don’t have a fever- no, wait, you do. You just don’t look like you have one. Did you have someone run any tests? Does anyone know about this?”

 

“Easy, Jimmy,” House says, his color finally starting to return. Wilson presses the back of his hand against House’s forehead. House swats it away, but not before Wilson can note that the fever’s going down. “I don’t know that it’s toxicity. Symptoms are similar. If it’s something serious, I don’t really care.”

 

Those words hit Wilson hard, each thudding into his chest.

 

“You don’t care,” Wilson says, his voice small. “You have nothing to care for.”

 

“Nope,” House says, seeming not to notice Wilson’s despair. “Other than you, Jimmy, but I don’t really think you care.”

 

That hits Wilson harder. It nearly kills him.

 

“How can you…” his eyes are stinging, his words choked. “How can you say that I don’t care?”

 

House won’t look at him.

 

“I didn’t say you don’t care. I said I don’t think you care.”

 

“Why?” Wilson lets the word fall between them. He should have asked this question, this one, seemingly inconsequential word, so, so long ago.

 

There is a long silence.

 

Then House pushes himself up, sits against the pillows and headboard, and slides one hand behind Wilson’s neck. He gently, more gently than Wilson’s ever seen him, that corner of his brain says, gently pulls him close and kisses him.

 

Wilson freezes in shock. Only that far corner, which is steadily becoming closer and closer, comprehends and notes the way House kisses him, caressing his mouth with his lips- I didn’t think he’d be so tender- the way House’s long, slender fingers feather through the down at the nape of his neck- I’ve always loved his hands- the way House draws back just as gently as he pulled forward. But his entire being sees the resigned, expected sadness in House’s eyes.

 

“That’s why, James.”

 

And that one answer, that one, seemingly inconsequential phrase, answers all the questions he’s had for so, so long.

 

After the two or three seconds in which Wilson compartmentalizes all the answers and comes to that realization, he sees that House thought he was non-responsive for anther reason entirely.

 

So James Wilson, always a determined fixer, decides to fix the problem of Greg House misunderstanding his reaction. It’s one problem in many, but suddenly he comes to the blinding moment of clarity in which he understands that fixing this one, seemingly inconsequential problem, will fix many (but not all) of the problems they’ve had for so, so long.

 

Greg has, by now, looked away, likely expecting James to run out at any minute, so James takes him by the chin and kisses him.

 

And now his entire being recognizes when Greg slides down the bed, bringing James with him. His whole mind comprehends how Greg is weeping silently as James brushes his lips over every inch of the angular, stubbled face. His body covers every part of Greg, his heart aching with a sweet heaviness, his awareness- maybe his soul- trying to find every part of Greg that he can.

 

He rests his forehead against Greg’s, their eyelashes touching, brushing, fluttering, exchanging Greg’s tears, and, James realizes, some of his own.

 

I love you.

 

I love you.

 

“I love you,” James breathes into Greg’s wet and kiss-bruised mouth, and Greg drinks it, swallows it, takes it. James knows he can’t return the statement- yet, that corner of his mind whispers- but he knows what it means when Greg touches his face and his eyes fill again.

 

There is no explanation needed. No exchanging of tales, no declarations of long hidden love, or how long it’s been hidden. Neither of them really cares.

 

James knows the strings attached. He knows there will be paranoia, suspicion, jealously, apathy, pain, isolation, coldness that will rival the Arctic Sea, but right now, with Greg open and vulnerable in his arms, taking his love without any questions or constraints, he really doesn’t care.

 

He kisses Greg again, savoring his taste, before nestling into the space between neck and shoulder and pulling the blankets over them, wrapping his arms around Greg’s chest. Greg clears his throat of the tears.

 

“Bring your stuff in here in the morning,” he murmurs, turning his head to kiss James’ hair. James grins against his shoulder. There are a few moments of truly contented silence.

 

“I’ll have Foreman run some tests on me tomorrow if we don’t have a case,” Greg says quietly, and James feels warmth infuse him from head to toe.

 

No more misunderstanding.

 

 

Comments

[aricakes.livejournal.com]

::squee!::
Cute overload!
Why does that not happen on the show?

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Aw, thank you! Squee-ness is lovely.
I know... David Shore, show the love! We all know it's there. :D

[chaoskir.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed reading your fic. Thank you and hey would like it, if it will be a part of a loose series. Thank you for posting the great feelings between H/W.

[chaoskir.livejournal.com]

Of course: I would like .... (sorry, I´m a idiot and I can only use one brain cell)

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Haha, that's fine. Your one brain cell is a lovely brain cell. :D
And thank you for the comment. I'm debating whether or not to write a continuation or a loosely related sort of thing, but I think there will be more.
Thank you again!

[teyla]

Oh, the sweetness *feels all warm and fuzzy* ;)

Very nice! At a few points, I didn't completely get what you meant, but that might just be me.

And yeah, loose series sounds great!

Small typo nitpick: "he sees that House thought he was non-responsive for anther reason entirely.

Thanks for sharing! :)

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you! *feels all warm and fuzzy that you feel warm and fuzzy*
What didn't you get? See, I've done this before, because my fingers can't keep up with the House and Wilson talking in my head, or whoever is currently occupying that dusty attic I call my brain. So people don't understand what I'm trying to say. If you just tell me what was kind of awkward, or whatever, I'll fix/explain/consult House and Wilson. :D
Hehe! The House/Wilson love must go on! (I'm just not sure how yet, so bear with me.)
Thank you for nitpicks!!! I love nitpicks. Mwah. You get a cookie. Going off to fix now.
Thanks again!!

[teyla]

Hey!

Sorry it took me so long to get back to you! I put my thoughts in this word .doc ::right click & save target as::, in case you're still interested :).

Thing I thought were kinda off are in red, suggestions/comments are in blue. If you have any questions/flames to send my way ;), you can write me an email to the address that's on my user info page! :)

[triedunture.livejournal.com]

FANTASTIC, doubly so for a first offering. The pace was...I dunno, sophisticated and was one of the few times I've gotten little fluttery feelings from a fic. Great, great stuff. I'm memming as we speak.

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

SQUEE!!! Oh, my God, I got so fuzzy and grinny and butterfly-y from your comment. Thank you so, so much. And thank you for memming. *hugs you*

[hry2007.livejournal.com]

I loved this so much! Normally when I comment I try to be more specific, but I love the whole thing.

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Aw, thanks! That's ok. I don't need specifics. :D And I love your icon.

[starrigan.livejournal.com]

This is quite wonderful...fluid and artful, with a marvellous depth of feeling.

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Thank you!!! I really appreciate that.

[shadowhuntress.livejournal.com]

This is so sweet! I would very much like to see a continuation of this series. Thank you so much for sharing this. :)

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm working on it!

[melawen-c.livejournal.com]

Ah, this is lovely. House seems so vulnerable, but still in-character, and I don't see that too often. I really like it. Great writing!!

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Thank you so, so much. I really needed to hear that- that's always the danger with writing House. I have a very, very romantic nature, so I always want things to turn out right, and there's very little in House that is right, but I think one of things that is right is his love for Wilson. So if one brings that out as his vulnerability, but still plays on his cynicism and sarcasm, it can work. It doesn't always, but it's nice to know that it did this time.
Thank you!!!

[calidragon.livejournal.com]

*tear*
...wow...
Such depth of emotion. It really suits them. I loved it.

[enfant-deboheme.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

[med-anomaly.livejournal.com]

Very nice and sweet. :)