One Small Consequence Part XIII

[geelady.livejournal.com]

One Small Consequence
Part XIII

By GeeLady

Time-line: Post-season 6
Summary: Once is usually enough when cheating love. Relationship angst and a few other things, too.
Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: NC-17, Adult, +18, Mature. Language. Sexual situations. SLASH.

Disclaimer: The guy with the cane and the hot a$$ doesn't belong to me, yadda, yadda...

 

I know how over-due this is but, on the other hand, this chapter is twice as long as usual.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Patient?" House asked his fellows. He ignored the coffee Taub offered and walked directly to his office. "I'm not

hearing anything." He called over his shoulder.

"This could be Mesenteric adenitis." Hadley suggested.

Taub shook his head. "Mes' aden' appears and disappears usually within two weeks."

House returned to the room. "That's if it's bacterial in nature. Other things can cause it." House looked at them.

"I gave you the opening - now earn your money."

 

Foreman spoke. "If it's not bacterial, then it could be the lymph nodes. It can mimic appendicitis but the pain can

become systemic. Only problem is, X-ray and CT's are often ineffective at detecting it, unless the lymph's are

grossly enlarged."

"Often but not always, so get a CT anyway, and schedule an OR for an exploratory." House said, this time picking up

the coffee cup Taub had offered to him earlier and taking a sip. He made a face. "This is cold. And weak. And

bitter. And did I mention cold?"

Taub shrugged. "It was warm and smooth and fine when you entered the room ten minutes ago. Plus I like my coffee a

little weak."

House flared his nostrils at him. "You are here-by forbidden to touch the coffee maker on penalty of having weak

coffee grounds shoved into your underwear and being laughed at and being fired. Though, if you're looking to keep

your job by kissing some ass - learning to make your boss strong, hot coffee is a good start."

Taub answered evenly, sounding bored. "Fine. I won't, 'cause I'm not." Then looked at Foreman. "Who's doing the

exploratory?"

Foreman looked at House. "Well?"

House shrugged this time. "Cuddy made you da' man. Make da' hard decision."

Foreman rose from his seat. "I'll ask Chase. Hadley and I'll assist."

House nodded his approval. "Good thinking. Juan Valdezenbaum here can stay here and research the fine art of coffee

brewing." House looked down into the dregs of his cold, weak coffee. "What I wouldn't give for a Kutner coffee. Just

one more reason he should've hung around." House stopped Foreman and Hadley's rapid exit by shoving his cane between

them and the glass outer wall. "No one said school's dismissed. I'm still talking."

They reluctantly sat down again.

House frowned at them. "You're both in an awful hurry to get out of here." He turned suspicious eyes on Foreman

alone. "When I said she should be getting more, I didn't mean at work."

Hadley ignored him and Foreman folded his hands. "What else, House?"

House suddenly appeared uncomfortable, looking everywhere but at them. Foreman recognized it as a rare moment of

House and his emotions laid-bare, hence the explanation behind the deflecting sexual innuendo. House and vulnerable

did not play well together. "What's going on?"

House announced to the rubber tip of his cane. "Wilson needs an assistant. Who here wants to work for him

part-time?"

Hadley looked at Foreman who looked at Taub who looked back at House. "To do what?"

"To assist." House said without explanation to the corner of the table. "Three half days a week. The rest of the

time you'll work for me. You will still be paid by me."

"So, no raise obviously." Hadley commented.

House ignored her and spoke to the dregs at the bottom of the coffee cup in his hand. "Anyone? No one?" He sounded

puzzled. "Really?"  To the wall behind Foreman. "This is Wilson of the nice hair, nice smile, nice eyes, so

nice-all-around it chokes you."

Taub put up his hand. "I'll do it."

House nodded his approval, a fleeting flicker of gratitude making it all the way up to his eyes. "Good." Soft moment

over, House returned to his usual clipped, all-business-with-mocking-too overtones. "It comes with a six percent pay

raise."

Hadley frowned. "Why didn't you say so before? I might have taken it in that case."

House stared her down by scrunching his face up to the janitor passing by in the hall. "Because I know Taub doesn't

want to be here. And because I wanted whoever volunteered to want to work for Wilson, and to do a good job out of

honor, sincerity and love, not with eyes glazed over with dollar signs." House looked at Taub's sleeve. "Though with

Taub that's kind of a given."

Taub said. "I do want to be here. I just don't . . . like you much."

House nodded, though seemed un-ruffled by Taub's confession. In fact, Hadley noted, it seemed to relax him.

Something familiar. A good, regular, honest dislike, that he could easily process and effortlessly deal with.

Believing people universally hated you made human relationships a breeze. It eliminated them for the most part, by

simply hating them all back. No need to interact further.

"Well," House was saying to his fingers. "I like you even less, so this works."

Hadley also noticed the little divet between House's brows had deepened over the last few weeks, undoubtedly due to

Wilson's recent diagnosis of HIV. Her boss was a demanding, frustrating, pompous ass, but he was also a rare and

interesting study of human nature. House was the only person she had ever met who was so closed off that it had in

effect become a countenance glaringly obvious. House hid himself as much as possible from common view and in doing

so, made himself a curiosity - a spectacle. It also, ironically, rendered him far more exposed to the scrutiny of

outsiders then had he simply been able to relax and quietly enjoy being among other humans; just one among the herd.

Taub had threatened to quit a year ago, just after House had returned to work after his mental breakdown (which in

and of itself was proof of his inability to effectively deny his intrinsic humanity, however much he tried), and

House, with either threats, bribes or public degradation (she didn't know because House never admitted to doing a

thing and Taub since had remained mute on the subject), had somehow managed to convince Taub stay. Now House was, in

a distant, weird, uniquely House way, being nice to his unhappiest employee. She wondered if Kutner's suicide had

changed her boss's outlook on people somehow. Because he all-in-all refused to engage in confessions of the heart,

the question for her would remain speculative.

Though, watching him now, doing something that might be construed as nice, and looking so distant and angry about

it, told her more about him than if he had simply addressed Taub, stated facts, and left it at that. Much like

Foreman's method of communication. But even Foreman's methods required personal, sometimes intimate, human contact

and an interchange of respectfully stated ideas. House would find such a method so distasteful as to be rendered

impossible for him to carry out. He was terrified of being seen as weak, and she suspected it had nothing to do with

being a cripple. Weak meant, in some way known only to himself, that House was or felt defenseless.

House had hated his father. In a rare moment of tremulous honesty, House had said as much. What additional set of

background circumstances had lead the man to such a sad picture of family, she wondered. House was a stone wall of

contradictions. Pig-headed narrow-mindedness when it came to the traditional values of the strong and powerful, and

a forgiving, almost tender understanding of those who had traveled life's bumpier roads. And of that predilection,

House was immovable.

With the exception of Wilson, of course. To her knowledge, he was the only person in House's life who could alter

the man's behavior with a well placed hand on his shoulder or a disapproving glance. Even Cuddy couldn't reach House

to that degree, or that easily.

If House possessed nothing else, he possessed an intense, sometimes nerve-wracking enchantment. About him, you

couldn't help but wonder.

She could almost see why Doctor Wilson (who was frequently so terribly nice a guy that at times it was nauseating),

might be attracted to him. Almost. They were polar opposites, so she supposed it made some crazy sense.

House explained to the employee he claimed to dislike almost above all others. "You'll be drawing blood, examining

patients, running labs. No diagnostics involved at all. It's cancer. Boring. No mystery. Enjoy."

Hadley disguised her own fondness for Taub by giving him a measured look of disapproval. "Deserter."

Taub smiled back at her. "I like Doctor Wilson."
-
-
When House entered his office, Wilson immediately closed down his computer screen behind him.

House noted it. "Living with AIDS site?"

Wilson frowned, rolling his chair over the few feet to his regular work desk. "No. What makes you thin-?"

"You were recently diagnosed HIV positive. What else would you be looking at but the horror you think your future is

going to be?"

"It's probable."

"It's possible." House retorted. "Like winning the lottery is possible. Stop being so morose. I got you an

assistant. I mean, besides the useless intern Cuddy hired for you."

"Morrison's working out just fine."

"He's nineteen."

"He's twenty-four."

"He's an idiot. Yesterday I saw him roller-skating to work. Who does that in November?"

"Young, athletic, good looking men?"

House frowned, a little suspicious at the way Wilson had worded it. A Wilson-esque attempt to screw with him. "Lame.

Look - Taub's going to be working three half days a week for you. You don't even have to pay him -well -  mostly. I

offered him a twelve percent raise half of which you'll have to cover."

"I don't need another assistant."

Unconvinced. "Yes you do." House replied. "Besides the paper-work's already on Cuddy's desk with her approval, and

your short fellow Jew is jumping around in his patent leather loafers like he was coming to see Moses."

"I don't need help, House." God, it made him nuts that House just assumed he needed what he decided he needed. Then,

along with his irritation, Wilson felt a strong sense of de-ja-vu. Countless times, he'd done the same to House.

"Who are you, my mother?" His anger quickly abated. The damn HIV med's caused his moods to swing back and forth

wildly, like Tarzan on a vine. "I'm a gown man. I've been taking care of myself since I was ten."

"Ten?" House repeated. "That's a little weird."

Accusingly  "You were the same as me. You were diagnosing your dad at twelve."

"That was different."

"Oh?"

"I was alone with no choice. You had a sweet, Jewish mom and dad, nannies and a maid. But Danny goes off the deep

end and James Wilson blames himself. You made yourself your bother's keeper, and when Danny wasn't around anymore to

save, you drowned your misplaced guilt in becoming everybody's savior."

"Being a keeper didn't seem to do you any harm. There's nothing wrong with worrying about family, House."

"You made yourself responsible for his choices. That's not just caring." House waved his hand high in the air.

"That's guilt the size of the Vatican. It's your turn now. Stop trying to be Super man and let someone help you."

"I keep telling you-"

House stood, leaned across the desk and spoke hard words mere inches from his face. "You're fine! Yeah. You need

nothing and no one. So I guess you don't even need me. You never did."

Wilson turned his eyes down to the paperwork in front of him. Force of habit. Focus on something else for a minute

until his swirling thoughts and hapless emotions settled into a mash he could masticate. Softly, reluctantly, "O-of

course I need you."

House smiled tightly. The grin of a wolf to his prey. "Prove it. Move in with me."

It sounded like the best solution. It would be so easy to just give in and do what House wanted, like always. But it

always came back to the base-line. "You might get infected."

House straightened up. Tapped his cane on the carpet. "Fine. Whatever. Tell me you'll at least take Taub?" Wilson

still hesitated. "Come on. He's fat and cuddly, and I  already taught him to fetch."  Sighing,  "P-l-e-a-s-e? I

can't survive another day of his crappy coffee."

Wilson sighed. "Only if you pay half of the twelve percent."

"Done." Still the wolf smile.

Wilson caught it this time. "Holy crap." He suddenly caught up to House's playing him like a dime-store flute. A

little late as usual. "That's all you wanted when you came in here, wasn't it? Moving in with you was just a grenade

to get me to swallow the bullet. To get me to cave on Taub." Wilson narrowed his eyes when the remainder of House's

manipulation hit home. "And you told him it would be a six percent raise, not twelve! Didn't you? So you're not

actually going to have to pay him anything extra, because I just agreed to pay the six percent."

House shrugged, letting Wilson's verbal musings land where they may. "I wanted you to have help. Now you do."

Wilson shook his head. Years and years and years, and he still fell for House's fibbing. From A to B to Gotcha! in

an arc the size of Japan. "You're a weasel."

House walked to the door and opened it. With a second, tiny smile of affection. "It's why you love me."
-
-
Foreman and Hadley strolled back into House's office not a half hour after they had left it. "The patient is

refusing exploratory surgery." Foreman reported. "He says he doesn't want a scar."

House frowned at them. "Well, talk him into it."

"We spent the last half hour trying to do that." Foreman answered. "The guy refuses."

House poured over a file while he spoke.

"Who's file?" Hadley asked curiously. It wasn't their patient's because she still had it in her hand.

House looked up. "Who's asking?"

Hadley exchanged telling looks with Foreman. "Wilson gave you his file?" Foreman asked.

"No." House said, clearly annoyed with the interrogation. "Wilson's not in a sharing mood. I therefore stole his

file."

Sarcastically, "Because Wilson having a right to his privacy is absurd." Hadley said.

Not biting, "Isn't it??" House said. He took out his cell phone and dialed a number, though still addressing at

Foreman. "Go and talk to him again. This time tell him that if he doesn't have the exploratory, he'll die."

Foreman shook his head firmly. "I'm not going to lie to the guy." He stood to leave again. "I'll make sure that he

clearly understands he's risking his life."

"Wuss." House said and turned his attention back to his cellular. "Taub. Where are you?" House noticed Hadley hadn't

moved and put his hand over the mouth piece. "Private call. Go away."

She ignored that and walked to the coffee machine.

Defeated, House entered his own office to complete his call. "Taub. How's Wilson looking? Any calls to his therapist

today? How is-?"

A buzzing of irritated words made House pull the phone quickly away from his ear. "No need to get snippy. Did you

think this job was just for you? Or just for Wilson? I needed a snitch. Wilson is being an idiot and I needed

someone to get me the juice. The tricky part was getting Wilson to pay for it."

After a pause. "Juice is information, you moron. Why do you care? You're getting snitch-pay. I need something

pertinent so I can use it to de-idiot-ify him." House sat down and lifted his leg up on the corner of the desk with

a sigh. "I'm not asking you to read his diary, although I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he had one complete with a

teeny, tiny, heart-shaped lock. I need you to keep an eye on him, and tell me whether he's looking worse or better,

sad or happy, where he goes, who he see's - you know, the usual." Lonely or content.

"Do it or I'll make your life miserable." House rubbed his right thigh absentmindedly as Taub protested in his ear

and House said his final word. "Then do it or I'll make Wilson's life miserable, and in turn your life miserable.

I'm that talented."

"No?? What do you mean - no!?" House was stunned. His ability to strike terror into little Taub seemed to have

weakened over distance. House was suddenly listening to static. Taub had hung up on him.

House shut his phone, then had another thought and opened it again. Dialing a number, he reached an answering

service. "This is Doctor Wilson. Please leave a message and phone number. I'll return your call as soon as I can.

Thank-you." 

"Wilson. Dinner. Tonight. My place. Bring food."

Hadley waited until House had finished his calls, then strolled into his office again, this time with a cup of

instant tea she had prepared for herself. "Why did you give Taub a raise after he'd already agreed to help Wilson?"

"Don't worry, I plan on taking away his parking space."

"He doesn't use the parking space he has. His wife drops him off."

House frowned down at his desk and the un-filled-out billing that mocked him. Cameron wasn't mooning around his

office much since she and Chase had hooked up chain and ball. "I meant to say a raise of point-six-percent. My bad."

Hadley leaned against House's opened door. She stirred her drink absentmindedly while staring down into the steaming

liquid. "I think when Taub threatened to quit, you got worried. You may not like Taub, but you think he's

interesting and you know he's a good doctor. You also know he needs the money." She looked at her boss. "And you

don't want to lose him."

"Is this attempted insight into my kind soul gonna' last much longer? I have some kittens that need filet'-ing."

Hadley nodded. A tight, simple nod just to herself. "You're a jerk, House. That's easy. But wasn't isn't easy is

there was no reason for you to give Taub a raise - he wanted the job. And, other than a bit of spying, which we all

do anyway, there was nothing in that for you. Was this possibly a selfless act? I know it's a forbidden word on your

planet, but did you just do something...nice?"

House said with a sharp twang of irked. "It wasn't. I didn't. Go help Foreman do...whatever it is he's probably not

doing right."
-
-
At his apartment door, Wilson presented House with a bag of Chinese food. House waved him in.

Wilson put the food on the coffee table. "This is just dinner, right?" He asked as he shed his coat.

House let him take the couch, plopping himself down into his easy chair. "What else would it be?"

Wilson eyed him warily as he sat down on House's old and familiar companion, the leather couch. Many a night spent

somewhere between wakefulness and fitful sleep on it's unyielding stuffing. "This isn't some ploy to get me in the

bedroom, is it?" On the drive over he had mentally sifted through the most likely suspects as to House's motives for

having him over for dinner. Football game recorded from the previous Sunday. Current Saturday night Monster Truck

Special. Cards. Shop talk. Extra prescription on the side for something or other. Or, last but most likely, sex.

House shook his head. "Nope. Just company. Conversation."

Wilson sipped his light beer. Allowed under his regime of medication. "Okay, that makes me question this already.

You're not one for talking about things, House. Whether it's an extra charge on your phone bill, or if Molly at

Mels' Three Bells forgets to extra deep-grease-fry your onion rings, you usually just clam up in disapproval or get

extra nutty and talk someone to death."

"Can't a poor, slightly insane cripple, high on multiple drugs change?"

Unthinkable. Preposterous. Wilson shook his head. "No." Painted across the sky in red blood.

House drank deeply of his own bourbon. Not allowed under his regime of drugs, only he didn't care. "I just wanted to

make sure you're okay." He said defensively. "Why can't I be nice once in a while? You don't have a monopoly on it,

you know."

Wilson sat back, relaxing. "You've never even invested in it." After a moment Wilson relented. "But, yes, I suppose

it's remotely possible that you can be nice if you want to. If you choose to. It's weird, but I can't help but

approve."

House swallowed a jigger of his almost full glass of burning alcohol. "Approval enough for a roll in the hay?"

Wilson sat forward again. "House - son-of-a-! This- "

"-A joke! Geez, you've not only lost your common sense, your humor went with it." House looked away across the room.

The television was on mute. Boring game anyway.

Wilson sighed and tried to relax once more, putting his feet up on House's coffee table. "A joke. Sure. Fine." He

took a deep breath. "So? When do you move into your house?"

"Not yet."

"When?"

"When it's ready."

Wilson didn't like the sound of that. Almost twenty grand of his money went into the thing. Had House bought a

lemon? "What's wrong with it? Does it need a roof or something?"

House poured another glass of dark, heady alcohol. If he held the glass up to the light, he could actually see the

chemical heat waves rising from the tumbler. He really wanted to get drunk with Wilson, but he knew Wilson would

stop at two beers. "I'll move in after you've agreed to move in, too."

Wilson groaned. "Oh god. I knew this wasn't just dinner." Rubbing his eyes, as though to see better what House might

think or do or say next, or to ward of the headache that was revving its engine. It wasn't working. Never did.

"House, paying for that place and this apartment is going to cost you a fortune. Don't you know that?"

House shook his head, unconcerned. "Sure. Don't care."

"You'd better start caring because I'm not moving in with you."

"I bought that place for us. If you're not moving in, then I'm not moving in. I'll keep paying the mortgage for it,

and the rent for my apartment until I run out of savings. Then I'll sell the piano and the guitars, then the car,

then the bike, and then my RRSP's and my retirement funds, until you see that moving in with me is the only way you

can help me avoid bankruptcy, scandal and early death from over-work and stress."

Wilson nodded. "I see. This is a "bribe". A warped, very House-ish type of reverse blackmail." House acting

irresponsible just to get his own way.

Wilson felt the headache arriving. No Tylenol in his pockets. Situation normal.

"Yup." House sipped his bourbon happily.

Not going to work, House. "I'd rather see you have twenty years in precarious health and abject poverty than twenty

years with HIV and possibly AIDS, and an even earlier death."

House sat back, too, contemplating his glass of the most mysterious and wonderful liquid man ever invented. "As I

see it, you have two choices. Door number one: Come into the bedroom with me. I bought extra thick condoms and a new

tube of lube. I promise I'll keep the deep-throat kissing down to a minimum. We bang each other like teenagers for

hours. OR , door number two: you can go home satisfied that you're doing a noble but ultimately stupid thing by

ending our love affair, and then writhe in guilty anguish while you watch me go broke and die."

Wilson nodded. The thought of taking House into the bedroom was tempting beyond belief. He got a little hard just

thinking about it. But then another vision of House thin in face, and sick in body quickly vanquished the swelling

heat in his groin, leaving behind a hollow fear. "I'd rather have you alive than mine." Wilson answered. "I'm stupid

that way."

House sighed. "You're being such an idiot."

"So you keep telling me."

"I can take care of you, you know." House said feebly, tired of tongue.

"No you can't. You're at the hospital all day, sometimes all night. You can't possibl-"

"You'll have your own room, if that's the way you want it. Your privacy. On the days you're feeling too sick to

work, I'll stay home. I can do differentials by web-cam. My team does all the rest. I don't have to be there all the

time."

"House. you're only well yourself half the time."

"Well, two halves make a whole. And a hole is a beautiful thing, especially if it's a protruding man-hole."

House rolled his neck to the left and stared at his recalcitrant, but good-at-heart ex-lover. Wilson was going for

broke this time. He really did care, he just choose the stupidest methods to show it. Looking unblinkingly at

Wilson's goofy but gentle profile, House was suddenly feeling very drunk, highly sexed, and even a little

sentimental. "Would it make any difference if I said I love you, I miss you, and I'm really, really horny right

now?"

House tried a simpering smile but instead drooled leftover bourbon down his chin. As he wiped his mouth on his

cotton sleeve, he was overwhelmed with a hunger for some rough, delicious sex, and stricken with a deep-seated need

for Wilson to touch him, dribble and all. It had to be the booze. House didn't even know where it had come from, but

suddenly, though his eyes remained dry, he wanted to cry into Wilson's expensive, starched shirt. Definitely the

booze. "Pity sex will do in a pinch."

Wilson smiled. "I know. Same here, and sorry, but . . ." He shrugged.

House swallowed the whole rest of the glass in three gulps. He had lost this battle, but the war wasn't over. Time

for desperate measures.
-
-
"House!"

House turned to see Wilson bearing down on him like a freightliner, complete with steaming exhaust. He stood his

ground against the unstoppable force that was Project Wilson: Convince Wilson to see the light of day or die in

Wilson's strangling hands, whichever came first.

Wilson stopped in front of him. "I appreciate that you cared enough about me to send Taub to help with my practice.

I understand your twisted version of attempted persuasion at dinner. I almost chuckled appropriately at the

Stripper-o-gram because it occurred in the privacy of my office. I even didn't get that upset at the Burp-o-gram in

the waiting room during my clinic hours, because the poor guy got the hiccups and had to cut it short, but this -

this is the intolerable, insensitive, Gregory House jerk-i-fied living end. A half-naked Gorilla-o-gram? In the

cafeteria? Singing an altered version of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls??"

"You don't like the Spice Girls?"

"I don't like my colleagues and my patient's families finding out that I'm gay by hearing "Bang your booty down and

grind it all around."

"Catchy."

 "Professionally embarrassing, actually. I most especially don't like them hearing it while a Gorilla, naked from

the waist down, gives me a lap dance."

"He was wearing pink leotards. The penis was fake."

"Stop this!" Wilson was red to the tips of his ears. "Stop it or so help me I'll never speak to you again as a

friend, or as anything."

House pursed his lips. "So I should cancel tomorrow's Condom balloon-o-gram?"

Wilson looked down, hands on angry hips, gathering back some of his scattered patience. "Please." He said with such

a tightly formed, but still trembling on the edge control, that his mouth hardly moved.

House watched him storm away, now only slightly less furious than a coal-fired locomotive. "Hmm."
-
-
"Patient still being a moron?" House asked Foreman the next day.

Foreman, bright and bushy-tailed and in at seven, looked at hid watch. "It's ten-thirty."  He took note of House's

dark glasses and extra slow walk. It seemed House was unwilling to put his feet down too hard on the carpet, like

his skull was made of glass and one wrong move -

"You look like shit." Foreman offered, his voice loud and clear.

House gingerly lowered himself into his customary chair at the head of the conference table, laying his head against

the back rest. "Any coffee?"

Foreman laughed a bit, and rose to fetch his hung-over boss some revival fluid. "How was your quart of rum?"

House accepted the coffee cup and sipped from it gingerly. It passed inspection and he drank again, more deeply. "It

was bourbon. It was delicious. Patient, please?"

"Refusing the exploratory as before. Now he's showing all the symptoms of heavy metal toxicity -"

House sat up. "Was there any in the blood tests?"

"No. What ever this is, it-"

House stopped listening. "-it's heavy metal toxicity."

"But we didn't find any-"

"-none that you screened for. What about platinum?"

"That's not used in anything is everyday life, it's even rarer than gold."

House got to his feet, hang-over indulgence temporarily put on hold. "Where's his CT?" House fished them out of the

patient's chart himself, hitched quickly to his office, stuck it on the light-box and turning it on. From behind,

his patient's abdomen was lit up. House studied it for a moment, then looked aside to Foreman standing only inches

away. "See the shadow?"

Foreman squinted his eyes. "Yes. It's a shadow. The guy probably moved."

"N-o-o. It's a shadow caused by something making the shadow. He's not just an idiot, he's a lying idiot."
-
-
House stepped into his patient's room. "You had implants, didn't you?" House pointed to his patient's abdomen with

his cane. "Between the anterior layers of muscle. So you would look fit, trim and healthy. Only thing is, one of

your implants burst, and has been slowly leaking silicon gel through-out your body. Getting into your lymphatic

system, settling in your large and then smaller joints, causing a spreading, systemic, arthritic-like pain. It also

set up an immune reaction that caused even more joint swelling and more pain - followed by allergic reactions, one

of which was dizziness - a rare one, but in heavy metal toxicity, it can happen."

Gordon looked embarrassed and alarmed. "But these were gel implants, how-?"

"Silicon gel leaks platinum. Even if they don't burst, they still leak. I bet if we tested your urine for this heavy

metal, we'd find the levels of platinum salts to be about a thousand times higher than normal." House huffed a sigh.

Case solved. Idiot patient saved. "You wanted to keep your pride intact, even more than your life."

"I didn't like who I was before."

House nodded, slipping off the stool to leave. "You better find some way to start, because at the stroke of

midnight, slick, you're turning back into a pumpkin."
-
-
It took Wilson two days to cool off enough to make an appearance in House's office. He opened and sort of peeked in.

House looked at him, waiting to see if Wilson was going to say anything. At Wilson's hesitation, House waved him in.

"Come in, you idiot. Stand there any longer, you're going to draw spiders."

Wilson walked in as though House were a live wire. "Uh, I just wanted to apologize for yelling at you the other day.

I know it was just your maladjusted way of saying you care. I over-reacted."

"True. And I forgive you, though you're still acting like an idiot."

Wilson nodded, expecting nothing else but House expressing his naked thoughts in the bluntest way available.

"Right."

"You really hated the Gorilla-o-gram? That one alone cost me a hundred and fifty bucks. I'm going broke trying to

educate you." House pulled his bottle of Vicodin from his pocket. A second, smaller item dropped out and rolled

toward Wilson's foot. Wilson leaned down and picked it up. 

Wilson recognized the item as a small, sealed vial of blood. With horror, he realized what House intended, or at

least threatened to intend. "This is my blood."

House stared at the offending thing that had the nerve to disclose his plan of last resort. "Nope."

Wilson held it up for House to see, but not closely enough for House to take it back. "It has my name on it. It has

Kleinman's name on it. Have you suddenly gotten into vampire Goth or were you planning something more sinister, and

by sinister I mean stupid?"

"What can I say? The idea of a guy with fangs sucking my-"

No. Not even House would be that nuts. Wilson considered. Well, actually, yes he would be. "You're not thinking of

transfusing yourself with it?" He hoped. "Is that what you were thinking of doing?"

"That was option ...Eight. After nailing your furniture to the ceiling, doing a strip tease myself in front of your

co-oncologist's..."

"Why would you ever consider this as any option?"

"Because you're being an idiot."

"You were planning on transfusing yourself with HIV-tainted blood and I'm the idiot?"  House's calm, complacent

expression was all the answer he needed. "House, that's insane."

"I'd rather be with you and potentially very sick, than apart from you and sort of so-so well, like the way I am

now."

True. House's health no longer glowed. At fifty-one, no one's did, but House, by virtue of heart attacks and gun

shots, drug and alcohol abuse, accidents and skull fractures, seizures and very late on-set schizophrenia, barely

passed anymore for sort-of well.

Stunned by his friend's dangerously insane show of affection. "You can't do this." Wilson said. Quietly begged.

House put the vial back in his pocket. "Sure I can. Unless you'll move in with me, and let me help you while I'm

still healthy - sort of."

Wilson hung his hands at his sides, drained of the battle. "I think you would really do this. You'd really infect

yourself just to get what you wanted."

"And to get you what you need, but are too damn stubborn to admit."

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "I can't beli-...this is so...I..." He sighed.

House dropped the vial into the garbage can. "Relax. I was saving it for my last possible option."

Relieved to see the vial of deadly virus out of House's hands, Wilson softly scolded, "You shouldn't have considered

it an option at all." He would retrieve it when House wasn't looking and properly dispose of it.

"How else do I get through to you? If I'm willing to take the damn blood on purpose, then it should be obvious I'm

willing to risk getting the damn blood by accident."

"This is nuts."

"Nothing else works on you. You're so goddamn bent on doing what you think is right for everybody else, you ignore

what's best for you. And going through this kind of life-altering shit isn't." House said, almost out of breath.

Then calmly  "Trust me, I've had the pleasure and it sucks."

The war was almost over. House could see Wilson's defenses starting to crumble. He looked like he was about to cry

or maybe throw a chair across the room. And with Wilson, House knew, you could never tell which.

"I've gotta' go.." Wilson muttered. Unenthusiastic. Mixed up. ..."work n'...patients..."

House said after his bowed retreating, back. "Right. Call me. We'll do lunch." Clipped words, too short and hard to

hold real meaning. But he was too tired to infuse any of it with his customary, thinly veiled sarcasm. That at least

might have lightened his own heart, but it would have none of it.
-
-
Wilson dragged himself to the office. Cameron entered from somewhere to his obscure left and walked beside him. She

handed him a chart. "Cuddy thought you ought to see this patient."

"Why didn't you give it to Taub?"

"He's not here yet."

Wilson wasn't interested. Without even opening the file, "Wait for Taub."

Cameron thrust it into his hands. "Look at it."

Wilson stopped, set his briefcase on the floor. "Subtle." He said wearily. "This is my file."

"You're a patient."

"I know."

Cameron saw subtly was lost on him. "Wilson. If this were House, or Cuddy or any other patient, you would recommend

frequent rest, healthy exercise, home-help, counseling,...when was the last time you talked to your therapist?"

Wilson picked up his briefcase again and started toward the elevator. "She's a relationship counselor."

"You have relationship problems."

"Which have to take second place to my newest problem."

"Why?"

Wilson was tired of everyone thinking they knew exactly what he needed. He needed - wanted-  things to go back to

the way they were. Before Janele, before his dead son, before any of this last disastrous few months. "Because - "

He didn't really know. "There is no relationship to preserve."

"If you were sicker than you are now, and had no choice but to go home, would you allow your parents to care for

you?"

Wilson was angered by the question. Very probably yes, but that was not the situation. "No."

"Liar. You know what I think?"

"I'm sure you'll tell me."

"I think you're scared to have the roles you and House have played for years reversed. I know you think this HIV

thing is just about you keeping your disease to yourself, but it's not. When my husband was dying he did everything

to protect me from it. Even refusing to see my some days. I wanted so much to be there for him, even if it was just

to comfort. Near the end, most days he said no."

"Well, I'm sorry about that, but what's your point?"

"I needed to be near him so badly, it was killing me. He pushed me away. Probably wanting to save me the agony of

watching him die. I listened and did what he wanted. I was stupid. I wasn't there when he did. I'll regret that

forever."

"You're saying you want me to let House near because I'm hurting him by pushing him away. Maybe. But it's for his

own good."

"No, it's not. House needs this as much as you do."

"Why? Because he, and you, thinks he can cure me? Save me?"

"No. Because he can't." Cameron shoved the file back into his hand. "House wants to be there for you. He wants to

take care of you. Don't you see how extraordinary that is? House doesn't even take care of himself. You'll be

helping him, too. Let him back in. Allow him to be there for you, because in the end, it's all he'll be able to do."

Cameron looked away down the hall, away from her own memories of loving House, and having never been free to take

them any further. "It's obvious he loves you. Don't take that away from him. 'Cause it may seem noble, but it's not

going to spare anything."
-
-
Wilson slumped in House's visitor's chair. "Fine. I'll move in with you. But if you want this, then there have to be

conditions."

House picked up his green lacrosse ball and started tossing it back and forth between his hands. A short, desk-top

game of one-man catch. He nodded. "Okay."

"You want to help me? Right? Not have me move in with you so you can get me drunk one night, seduce me into wild,

unprotected sex, thereby proving to me that you're indestructible and no single member of my HIV virus-infected body

fluid would ever dare to cross swords with Gregory House, the Master of the Universe?"

House screwed up his face a bit at that, but nodded, "Sure. What you said - whatever it was. It took so long, I

don't remember it all now."

Wilson withdrew a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. "If we're going to do this, then I have some rules

you'll need to follow."

House leaned back in his chair, dropping the ball and letting it roll off the desk. "Oh, god. Here we go."

Wilson stared at him. "You want this move-in thing?" He held up the sheet. "Then I need this. There are rules here

for me, too."

House blew off his misgivings in a display of mock relief. "Oh, that makes it all okay then."

"You want to hear any of this, Mister Sarcasm? 'Cause we could just forget the whole thing."

House laced his fingers together, making a little hammock for his chin. "Read the damn thing."

Wilson pursued its contents. "Okay. Sex."

"Yes, waiter."

Wilson stared him down, cleared his throat and began again. "Sex only once per week, with double condoms for both of

us. That'll keep the cross-infection risk down to near zero."

"So blue balls most of the time. Glad to know nothing much in my life is going to change."

"No deep kissing."

"Oh, come on! That's ridicul - "

" - You want this?" Wilson growled at him. "Then this," He waved the list in House's face, "is what I want." Wilson

continued. "If I have a cut, no touching at all until it's healed. Ditto for blister or whatever."

"So, no whips or chafing leather crotch cups - got it."

"No showering together."

"Now that's just stupid. Why the hell not?"

"Because it would give you ideas. You'd get frisky and forget all about the condom thing. I know you - you love the

soapy, slippery side of life."

House pretended to do some mental calculating. "Wow. I think you're going to actually manage to drop my risk to

below zero." A seductive little lip twist followed. "And that leaves some wiggle room, and I mean that literally of

course."

"No wiggle room."

House sighed despondently. "I suppose we could just jack-off while standing across the room from each other. . ."

"Are you listening?"

"Not really. How many more extra commandments are you going to pile on there, Moses? Psychologically, you've

half-way circumcised me already. Can't we call it even?"

"No. There may be even more rules as we go along."

House looked bored now. "You realize I'm just going to ignore most of those, right?"

Wilson was checking off each item as he read through them, like an accountant checking his math. "I realize you're

going to try."

"Trust a Jew to take all the fun out of sex."

Wilson folded the paper and shoved it across the desk to House. "That' all for now. When are we moving in?"

House shrugged. "This weekend good for you?"

Wilson nodded, rising from his chair. Wilson looked down at him, his eyes inky vats of uncertainty. His insides were

clearly still perking doubts. "I'm not infecting you, House."

House nodded. "I know."
-
-
The three beefy moving men conquered their combined belongings in one afternoon. The house was stuffed with

furniture and boxes of every description in no time.

Wilson surveyed the week of work ahead. "How did we accumulate so much stuff in one life-time? This is going to take

forever to unpack."

"All the better to start ignoring it now." House flopped happily down on Wilson's much softer, and gay-er looking,

couch, which had been shoved into one corner of the living room. "Come on,Willie. Let's break in the new place. Top

or bottom?"

Wilson waved away House's horny enthusiasm with one hand. "We're not prepared, House. I'll have to go to the

pharmacy first."

House rolled his head along the back of the couch. "It's closed." He smiled. "How 'bout a smooch then?"

Wilson shook his head. He was nervous, suddenly, about being alone with House. House was so reckless, insistent and

- really - hard to resist. "No way. Not until we have the stuff we need."

House sat forward, resting his elbows on long, muscled thighs. "They don't make condoms for lips, Wilson. I think we

can at least risk an exchange of epithelial's."

Wilson raised a flat hand to his new roomie. "Can you give me a few days, please, to get used to this?"

House struggled to his feet. His thigh was cramping badly and he doubted he was up for anything beyond a little

necking either. But "Days??" He asked. Unacceptable. "I've got the list of Willie' rules down. You made me memorize

the damn thing. And by those rules, it's A-okay to kiss closed-mouthed. come on. We'll do it like good little

convent school girls." House waved his cane to Wilson. "Even though you're not Catholic, and I'm not a good little

school girl. Or good little boy. Or a little boy." House walked to him. "Anyway, the point is, lay it on me, baby."

Wilson side-stepped him like a shy colt. Despite his leg House was quick on his feet and maneuvered to keep Wilson

between himself and any avenue of escape, pinning Wilson between himself and the cramped little foyer with the

wooden shoe rack and the folding coat closet, with the wide open living room behind them.

Wilson, realizing he was trapped, raised both hands to ward off House's advances. "House, stop."

"No." House pressed his body closer, until their groins were flush. "I'm sticking to your rules. Now you're going to

stick to me."

Wilson turned his head to avoid House's lips, but House was too fast. Anticipating Wilson's nervous change of heart,

he followed Wilson's movement and captured his mouth on the second try.

Wilson was stiff and uncomfortable for a minute, then relaxed into the kiss. House opened his lips a little and

Wilson followed suit, easing into the enjoyment of it. When House tried to stick his tongue in, Wilson wedged his

hands between their chests and pushed him away hard, making House stagger back and almost fall.

"House! That's not the rule."

House pressed his own lips together in necking frustration. "One little taste of tongue and you're freaking out."

"I'm HIV positive!"

"So what??"

Wilson stared at his lover, confused, scared, incredulous that House would still insist on such a risk. "So what?

I'm HIV positive. I could get - I could give you - I might get..."

House stepped closer. He pressed himself in again, but this time gently like a new and fresh love; eager to please.

Eager to accommodate; to help. To be there, ready for anything. House bent his head over Wilson's slightly shorter

physical being, and over his cowering, terrified psyche', shivering in the corner of he new and most frightening

existence, and asked him in the most tender, gentlest voice Wilson had ever heard escape House's lips. "Wilson,

...you could get...what?"

Wilson rubbed his face with one hand. "I'm HIV p-positive." Wilson covered his face. "I could get...A-A..."

"What?" House whispered. So softly, so kind. So full of surrounding care and comfort. A lush, warm valley at the

foot of frozen slopes. "Baby,...you could get what?"

"AIDS." Wilson whispered back, the word was ghost-spoken. Barely there at all. "I could get AIDS." He said again,

louder by just a fraction.

Wilson dissolved into tears, a shaking beginning in his body, starting from his toes up, until he was trembling all

over. Head to foot and back, he shook like a new-born kitten bereft of its mother's care.

House saw Wilson's sudden, unexpected wobble off his footing, and stepped forward, closing the gap between their two

stands. Wilson took that simple move as an invitation to fall forward into space, letting whatever was willing catch

him on the way down. That it was House who was there to deflect the impact was a cradle for his troubled mind.

House's supportive and strong arms helped him find the unyielding floor without injury, because Wilson's own feet

could not support him anymore. His mind fell down right after, but not as hard or sudden, and so keeping him

conscious.

House, only one good working leg, preceded his friend to the hardwood, arriving first. Slowly easing Wilson's first

fall ever into the pool of his own denial. His previously un-admitted terror that he had been swimming in all alone

for many weeks.

Wilson sobbed, burying his face in House's shirt and chest, soaking both through and through. Wilson clawed at his

lover who was there now to keep him safe to the end, whatever that was, breaking the skin a bit here and there with

his perfectly trimmed, and filed nails.

House didn't mind.

Wilson spent many minutes disappearing into the haven that was House's presence and then reappearing, unable to

raise his head at first. House's warm, wise flesh was a den from the storm. Curl up and hide. Never emerge again.

"I-I'm fucking HIV p-pos-." Wilson could hardly articulate the words now. Words that for weeks since his diagnosis,

he had been throwing around like discarded peanut shells. Words he had mindlessly chewed between his teeth and spit

out as nothing to mind.

House raised his own chin, resting it on the top of his idiotic friend's head. "Finally." He said aloud, just enough

so Wilson would hear. It said enough; that House had been waiting for this since Cameron had handed Wilson his HIV

positive test result.

That day Wilson had reacted like a man playing a role. Nothing new.

But this kind of news meant something new had been needed.

"Finally." House just sat and held him. Grief had caught up to the train long since gone from the station. There was

nothing else to do.

House was in pain and wanted to get up, but right now Wilson needed him not stay put. Wilson didn't know that, but

House did and he was the only one who needed to know it. Besides, Wilson was sitting on his left leg and House

couldn't move even if he wanted to. However, this was helping. This is what friends and lovers did for each other,

so House didn't want to move anyway.

Wilson found his voice again. Small. Ineffectual, but clear enough for House's ears right next to him. Right against

him, willing, warm and strong. "I'm f-fucking HIV positive, House. I might get AIDS. I-I'm-I don't know what to do.

I don't know h-how to deal wuh-with this-s-s."

House nodded, his head bobbing up and down a little on the top of Wilson's mussed up hair. "I know. We'll figure it

out."

Being HIV positive wasn't as terrible a thing as Wilson believed, House knew. Wilson just couldn't process the new

and awful belief of it quite yet, however much he had been pretending to. 

They were in their new home, surrounded by mess. He had Wilson in his arms and Wilson was crying like a baby, though

more calmly now, into his cotton shirt, adding to a growing stain of salt-tears and watery snot. Wilson had

completely forgotten all about his Superman concern of tear-transferred infection. Wilson was just Wilson again,

only better. He was the human version, not the savior of the Universe version. Not the savior of House Wilson. He

was the Wilson who needed saving. House snuffed into his friend's soft hair. Finally!

House hugged his friend tightly, rubbing his back with one hand in little circles. His own Mom used to do that when

as a child his allergies would sock him with chest congestion that bedded him for weeks. It worked then, so it

should work here.

Wilson would take some time off now, House thought. Sleep all day and watch television. Call his Mom and cry into

the phone. Finally have good sense forced upon him to get some proper rest and decent meals (though still the

delivery-with-a-tip type).

Wilson's cancer patients would have to wait, or be served by Taub - as House had planned on. Taub wasn't bad when

dealing with people. Most of his co-workers liked him and he knew how to talk to kids. He was a good doctor.

It was quite uncomfortable sitting there on the floor soaked in snot as his lover slowly dissolved into a puddle of

Weeping Wilson, House's own body draped and immobilized in the sobbing man's limp, heavy limbs but, all-in-all 

Things were looking up.

XXXXXXXXX

Part XIV asap

 

 

 

 

Comments

[midgar-skyline.livejournal.com]

Woah. Long chapter! (*__*) Not that I'm anything but glad about it. D: I assume you've had a very busy week in real life? I've only got a week left before uni kicks in again. Nuuuuuuuuuu~! Dx

House snarking whilst doing DDX is always EPIC WIN. :D :D :D And OMIGOD ONLY 2 DAYS LEFT BEFORE THE HOUSE S6 START! *squeals in delight*

Anyways, onto this chapter. When I read this line, "I offered him a twelve percent raise half of which you'll have to cover," I SQUEALED. XDDD I was like "*SQUEEEEEEEEE* HOUSE YOU MANIPULATIVE BASTARD ILU <3 <3 <3 <3 <3!!!!!!!" XDD The instant the 12% came up I was spazzing over the computer at his Housian ways. Can't believe I didn't see that coming. :3

And... Wilson's Rules. And mt reactions. Dx LOL

"Sex only once per week"

I'm sure Hosue shares my reaction here. "WHUT?!?!? DDD8 HELL NO" *sigh* But I'm sure House will wear him down on that soon enough...

"No deep kissing."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOEZ (;O;) *mourn*

"Trust a Jew to take all the fun out of sex."

*SNORTS 7UP UP NOSE* xDD Oh, House you... <3

Finally. I am relieved that Wilson is finally starting to actually accept his diagnosis. His forcefully accepting but somewhat nonchalant behaviour during the last 2 chapters had my heart twisting.

"Wilson had completely forgotten all about his Superman concern of tear-transferred infection. Wilson was just Wilson again, only better. He was the human version, not the savior of the Universe version. Not the savior of House Wilson. He was the Wilson who needed saving. House snuffed into his friend's soft hair. Finally!"

Gosh. This brought back memories. All I can say.

Excellent writing, as usual. Hope real life eases up on you!

Dawn Phoenix

Real life...

[geelady.livejournal.com]

Nothing awful happening, just stupid busy these last few weeks. And it's about to get busier, since starting two Thursdays from today I'll be teaching evening Sign Language classes to a small group of workers at a huge local Daycare centre (a friend of mine is the district director).
If they're happy with the results, then they'll recommend me to the other centres through-out the city.
YIKES! (I haven't taught ASL in twenty years). But, it ought to be fun, too.
But, as I said, busier. However, nothing ever stops me from writing.
Don't know if you're a follower of the Gone With the World series, but Fatherland is in the works now, too - the third sequel.
I'm having so much fun with chapter II!!!

Genie

Re: Real life...

[midgar-skyline.livejournal.com]

Crud... LJ might have buggered up some of my PMs to you then, because I replied to you in them and mentioned Fatherland in them. *headdesk* I think THIS time I have the PMs saved in my outbox though, so I don't have to retype them again.

Sign language? Incredible. I've always admired people who could sign fast and accurately. I haven't the foggiest how to say anything in sign apart from "thank you".

BTW

[geelady.livejournal.com]

Good luck in Uni'. Too cool for you!

[lolainez.livejournal.com]

Great update--I was waiting for it.

[sara-tsuzuki.livejournal.com]

Oh my. I was waiting for this update. please, tell me that all this is gonna end well, somehow, please ;___;