"Back to Us", post-ep Birthmarks
Oct. 17th, 2008 04:55 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
lmichelle599.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
house_wilson_ghcCategory: House/Wilson friendship, fluff
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Birthmarks
Summary: Everything is right again in House's world.
“Back to Us” (1/1)
by Lisa Michelle
“Then there was that Christmas where he didn’t even wish me
a Merry Christmas,” House said.
“But you don’t even like Christmas,” Wilson countered.
“That’s beside the point,” House said.
Wilson took another sip of beer and set the bottle down on the
floor. He decided to stretch out on the couch while he waited
for House to go into the next litany of complaints. “For someone
who didn’t like their father, you sure have a lot to say about him.”
“I didn’t like him,” House reiterated, shifting on the chair and
wondering if he should kick Wilson off the couch. He was the one
who was crippled and needed to be comfortable.
“So you say, but you seem to have some strong feelings –“
House cut Wilson’s sentence off with a wave of his beer bottle.
“If this is a ploy to have me start talking about my feelings, then
you can just leave.” He pointed to the door of his apartment with
an unsteady hand.
“You invited me back here after dinner, if you recall,” Wilson
reminded him.
“And I’m beginning to wonder why I did.” House popped a couple
more Vicodin and washed them down with the rest of his beer.
Wilson closed his eyes, tired from the events of the past few hours.
“Do you wonder what your real father is like?” he asked his friend
after a few seconds.
“No,” he replied. “I’m too old for a father now. I don’t need
someone telling me what to do.”
“Oh, I’d like to meet the person you could tell you what to
do,” Wilson remarked. He opened his eyes. “You don’t wonder if
there’s a stubborn, egotistical, self-centered man in his late seventies
who wish he had a son just like him?”
House fiddled with the cap on the bottle of pills. “Maybe,” he
said, not looking at Wilson, but staring at the amber bottle.
“You should call your mom next week,” Wilson said, changing
the subject.
“Why?”
“To see how she’s doing,” Wilson said. “Did you send her flowers?”
“No,” House said. “I assumed you did and put both of our names
on it.”
“I did,” Wilson replied. “Okay, I’ll call her. I should apologize
about the window, anyway.”
“Why? You didn’t break her window.”
“We caused a scene at the funeral home. I’m sure it embarrassed
her,” Wilson told him. “It would only be nice.”
“Nice,” House muttered. “Everyone has to be so nice just
because someone died.”
Wilson picked up the beer and finished the last of it. “What’s
that supposed to mean?”
House ignored the question. “Do you want another beer?”
“No.” Wilson set the bottle back down on the floor. “I’m getting
tired.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late. I should go.”
“When are you coming back to the hospital?”
“I don’t know. Soon,” he told House.
“Are you leaving your apartment?” House asked. “You could
move back in here if you want.”
Wilson stared at him, like he had just lost his mind. “We tried that
once, remember? It didn’t work. Besides, you just want someone to
cook for you.”
“Not every night,” House informed him. “You’d only have to
cook two, three nights tops.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Wilson said.
“That’s what women tell me.” House got up and headed to the
kitchen for another beer.
He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and rummaged around for
anything edible inside. It wasn’t to be found. He looked inside a few
cupboards, but could only find small packs of cereal and other snack
items he had stolen from the hospital cafeteria.
It would be nice to have a pot roast or some stuffed peppers
again. Perhaps he could persuade Wilson to move back in. After
all, he had agreed to come back to the hospital. Moving back in
couldn’t be far off.
House grabbed the beer off the counter and walked back into
the other room. “Are you –“
Wilson had fallen asleep on the couch. House rolled his eyes
and went over to the couch to wake him up. He was about to
nudge Wilson’s shoulder when he stopped. Wilson shouldn’t drive
home after he’d been drinking.
House set the beer down on the coffee table quietly and went
to his hall closet. He grabbed a blanket off the shelf and threw it
over Wilson.
Turning the lights off, he took the beer and went off to bed,
happy that things were back to the way they should be.
****
END (1/1)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Birthmarks
Summary: Everything is right again in House's world.
“Back to Us” (1/1)
by Lisa Michelle
“Then there was that Christmas where he didn’t even wish me
a Merry Christmas,” House said.
“But you don’t even like Christmas,” Wilson countered.
“That’s beside the point,” House said.
Wilson took another sip of beer and set the bottle down on the
floor. He decided to stretch out on the couch while he waited
for House to go into the next litany of complaints. “For someone
who didn’t like their father, you sure have a lot to say about him.”
“I didn’t like him,” House reiterated, shifting on the chair and
wondering if he should kick Wilson off the couch. He was the one
who was crippled and needed to be comfortable.
“So you say, but you seem to have some strong feelings –“
House cut Wilson’s sentence off with a wave of his beer bottle.
“If this is a ploy to have me start talking about my feelings, then
you can just leave.” He pointed to the door of his apartment with
an unsteady hand.
“You invited me back here after dinner, if you recall,” Wilson
reminded him.
“And I’m beginning to wonder why I did.” House popped a couple
more Vicodin and washed them down with the rest of his beer.
Wilson closed his eyes, tired from the events of the past few hours.
“Do you wonder what your real father is like?” he asked his friend
after a few seconds.
“No,” he replied. “I’m too old for a father now. I don’t need
someone telling me what to do.”
“Oh, I’d like to meet the person you could tell you what to
do,” Wilson remarked. He opened his eyes. “You don’t wonder if
there’s a stubborn, egotistical, self-centered man in his late seventies
who wish he had a son just like him?”
House fiddled with the cap on the bottle of pills. “Maybe,” he
said, not looking at Wilson, but staring at the amber bottle.
“You should call your mom next week,” Wilson said, changing
the subject.
“Why?”
“To see how she’s doing,” Wilson said. “Did you send her flowers?”
“No,” House said. “I assumed you did and put both of our names
on it.”
“I did,” Wilson replied. “Okay, I’ll call her. I should apologize
about the window, anyway.”
“Why? You didn’t break her window.”
“We caused a scene at the funeral home. I’m sure it embarrassed
her,” Wilson told him. “It would only be nice.”
“Nice,” House muttered. “Everyone has to be so nice just
because someone died.”
Wilson picked up the beer and finished the last of it. “What’s
that supposed to mean?”
House ignored the question. “Do you want another beer?”
“No.” Wilson set the bottle back down on the floor. “I’m getting
tired.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late. I should go.”
“When are you coming back to the hospital?”
“I don’t know. Soon,” he told House.
“Are you leaving your apartment?” House asked. “You could
move back in here if you want.”
Wilson stared at him, like he had just lost his mind. “We tried that
once, remember? It didn’t work. Besides, you just want someone to
cook for you.”
“Not every night,” House informed him. “You’d only have to
cook two, three nights tops.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Wilson said.
“That’s what women tell me.” House got up and headed to the
kitchen for another beer.
He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and rummaged around for
anything edible inside. It wasn’t to be found. He looked inside a few
cupboards, but could only find small packs of cereal and other snack
items he had stolen from the hospital cafeteria.
It would be nice to have a pot roast or some stuffed peppers
again. Perhaps he could persuade Wilson to move back in. After
all, he had agreed to come back to the hospital. Moving back in
couldn’t be far off.
House grabbed the beer off the counter and walked back into
the other room. “Are you –“
Wilson had fallen asleep on the couch. House rolled his eyes
and went over to the couch to wake him up. He was about to
nudge Wilson’s shoulder when he stopped. Wilson shouldn’t drive
home after he’d been drinking.
House set the beer down on the coffee table quietly and went
to his hall closet. He grabbed a blanket off the shelf and threw it
over Wilson.
Turning the lights off, he took the beer and went off to bed,
happy that things were back to the way they should be.
****
END (1/1)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}