Adjusting (3/?)

[wolfinmyheart.livejournal.com]

 Title: Adjusting (3/?)
Characters: House, Wilson, OFC
Warning: Not really. A bit of swearing.
Summary: Wilson takes House to the physiotherapist and finds out something about himself afterwards.
Disclaimer: No-one belongs to me.

Yes, it's supposed to end this abruptly. : )


Over the two weeks that followed after his divorce, Wilson bought a new couch for House – well, mostly for himself, but still – and finally convinced House to get out of bed and pick up physical therapy. House, knowing just as well as Wilson that the pain wouldn't go away unless he started to act on it, reluctantly obeyed.

“It's only for the best.” Wilson said, driving them to House's appointment. “If you ever want to be able to walk again, and ride a car – not mine – you have to start working the leg.”

He saw House move slightly from the corner of his eye, and knew the man hated it when he referred to his leg with 'the leg'. Wilson couldn't help it. House had started to ignore it as much as he could, so it became almost an object on it's own to Wilson.

They drove in silence, neither man looking at the other while they came closer to the hospital.

“Do you want me to go inside with you?” Wilson asked cautiously, when he'd parked the car on the handicap space. House glared at the sign with the wheelchair on it, before shrugging. “Don't care.” he muttered. “Just get me out of the car, first.”

Wilson sighed and obeyed, rolling the travelling wheelchair next to the passenger's side. House opened the door, but stayed put.

Wilson wordlessly helped his friend into the wheelchair and locked the car.

“What's there to steal?” House muttered grouchily. “Pink bunny slippers 'you got from a patient'?”

Wilson rolled his eyes and started to push the wheelchair to the small building where the physiotherapist had her clinic situated. “No.” he said. “But I do like to keep my CD-collection complete.”

“What, that old album from the carpenters?” House scoffed.

Wilson flushed. “It's a really old one.” he muttered in his defence. “Really rare...”

House simply grinned.

The wheelchair went across a slight bump in the road and the next thing Wilson knew, was that he was trying to hold House in the wheelchair while the older man vomited on the pavement.

“House, are you alright?” Wilson asked worriedly. “I'm sorry, I didn't see the bump. I'll go get-”

“Stay- stay here.” House gasped, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand. “Don't go...” He coughed and spat onto the ground, trying to clear the leftovers of bile from his mouth.

Wilson wearily watched him. “You sure you're okay?” he asked, after watching House for a minute. Maybe two.

The diagnostician sat hunched over his right leg, swaying back and forth a little. He was panting, Wilson noticed. He quickly pressed his fingers against House's neck, but the older man immediately pushed them away.

“House, you're near tachycardia!” Wilson exclaimed, looking upset. “Why didn't you-”

“I'm fine!” House snapped. “Just... just give me a pill, I'll be fine.” His eyes were red-rimmed, while the rest of his face was pale. It made Wilson think of his patients. House clenched his jaws together and grunted, closing his eyes. “Pill.” he brought out.

Wilson's lips were a thin line while he shook one pill out of the orange vial he kept in his pocket. He gave it to House, who dry-swallowed it.

Wilson frowned disapprovingly. “You should stop using them.” he said. “Before you get addicted.”

House glared at him. “Shut up.” he muttered. “It helps against the pain-”

“So will physiotherapy!” Wilson exclaimed, gesturing at the front doors of their destination. “You just don't want to do anything to get better, unless it includes swallowing a pill!”

House slammed his hands on the armrests of the wheelchair. “Goddammit, Wilson, you KNOW that's not true!” he snarled. “I need the pills because of the pain!”

“No, you need them because you're turning into an addict!” Wilson roared.

The two men glared at each other, breathing heavily in pain and anger. It was Wilson who looked away first.

"Fine." he said, rubbing his neck in an agitated. "Just don't come running to me for new prescriptions when you don't need them anymore."

House snorted humourlessly. "Like you wouldn't sign them." he muttered, leaning back in the chair. He sighed, looking tired. "Can't we just go back?" he asked. "I can afford to ditch one appointment..."

"No, you can't." Wilson muttered, starting to push the wheelchair forward again. "Your leg is probably already too damaged to be completely painless again." he added.

House twisted his head around, scowling. "Then why are you dragging me to that appointment?" he demanded.

"I'm not dragging you, I'm rolling you to it." Wilson snapped. "You need it! You have to work it out! You-"

"Your hands are trembling." House noted, glaring at his friend.

Wilson closed his eyes, his mouth becoming a thin line. He desperately tried to fight back the tears that were burning behind his eyelids. The infarction, the divorce, taking care of his friend... It was all getting too much to handle. His eyes snapped open when his hand was covered with another one. He looked down and saw House's hand on top of his own. "What- what are you doing?" he brought out.

House pulled his hand away, face hardening again. "Checking if you were really trembling." he said. He cleared his throat and said: "So... you don't really want to bring me in there and see me suffer while trying to walk without any use, right?"
 

"Okay, Dr. House. Have you done your exercises I told you to do this week?" Amanda Terra, physiotherapist at the PPTH, asked. House huffed and looked away. Amanda wasn't discouraged and turned to Wilson. "Dr. Wilson, did he do his exercises?" she asked. Wilson sighed. "Barely." he said, feeling responsible for House and thus ashamed the man hadn't followed Amanda's advice.
 

Amanda looked at House again, who was studying his fingernails, looking bored. He looked up when Amanda kept her hard stare at him. "Oh, please. I'm in pain!" he snapped.
 

"You will stay in pain if you don't do what I tell you to do!" Amanda answered with a fierce tone. "I'm here to help you, Greg, not to hurt you even more!" She sighed and outstretched her hand. "Come on, get up." she said.
 

House looked at the hand in front of him and said: "You know, I'd grab it, if I knew it would end up on my naughty place after that."
 

Both Amanda and Wilson glared at him, and the diagnostician sighed exasperatedly before taking Amanda's hand and allowing her to help him up.
 

He grit his teeth as he was helped to the parallel bars. "I really don't think-" he started, looking nervously at Wilson. He was feeling slightly nauseous already, and even the short walk to the bars made his leg hurt as hell. Wilson, however, shook his head. House sighed and looked at the bars in dismay.
 

Amanda let go of House and he quickly grabbed both bars for support. He let out a grunt when he was forced to take a step forward. "Very good!" Amanda said, encouraging House to continue walking. House glared at her and took another step, breaths coming in short, pained puffs. "Shit..." he muttered, feeling sweat well up out of his pores. His leg trembled in protest, and he quickly put all his weight on the bars.
 

"House, don't cheat." Wilson said sharply. "You need to work it."
 

"It hurts!" House snapped. He didn't look at Wilson, trying to hide his pained expression and the tears that threatened to fall.
 

Amanda sighed and tried to catch House's gaze. "Hey." she said. "Come on, two more steps and you'll be done." she promised. House looked up, face contorted in pain. "Fine." he brought out. His biceps trembled as he carefully lowered himself again. He took a deep breath 

and prepared himself for pain.

 

A lot of it.
 

His eyes were burning from the salty tears and sweat he was shedding. His lungs were burning because he was panting and sobbing so hard that he eventually felt like choking. His shoulder hurt because it came in hard contact with the floor when his leg gave out, causing him 

to crash down.
 

He could feel woman's hands on his thigh, massaging carefully but determinedly. Someone was talking to him, taking his head off the ground and onto something soft and firm, but he was in too much pain to make out the difference between the two voices.
 

House simply closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off into unconsciousness.
 

Wilson sighed when he peeked into House's bedroom and found that the man was still unconscious. Maybe he should call the hospital, ask them for the morphine again. He didn't know.
 

He softly came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, praying the diagnostician would wake up soon again.
As if someone had heard his prayers, House's eyes slowly fluttered open and he groaned. Wilson jumped up. "House!" he whisper-shouted. "Are you alright?!"
 

House brought up his hands and rubbed his face, which Wilson had washed clean of the dried sweat and tears earlier. When House lowered his hands again, he looked tired, but alright. "Fine." he said, voice slightly hoarse. "What happened? I thought we were going to see Terra today?"
 

Wilson slowly relaxed and sat down on the bed again. "We did." he said, leaning against the foot board of the bed. "We did. She made you do that exercise with the bars, but you... you were in too much pain afterwards..."
 

"I fainted?!" House exclaimed indignantly.
 

Wilson nodded. "Yeah. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He couldn't help but smile faintly at House's expression. "Come on, House. You're not invincible." he said. "Anyone else would've fainted long before you did. You did great."
 

House snorted, but relaxed again. "Did anyone see me?" he asked. Wilson shook his head and they were silent for a few minutes before 

Wilson cleared his throat. "House... A couple of weeks ago, you... you said something..."

 

"I need to pee." House suddenly said. Wilson blinked in surprise, but nodded. "Okay, I'll get you to the bathroom." he said.
 

House sat up and Wilson carefully helped him into the wheelchair. It went a lot smoother now that both men knew what to do and how to move. Wilson hooked his right arm under House's knees and helped the older man to swing his legs out of bed, and right in front of the wheelchair like that. After that he stood behind the wheelchair, which was pressed against the bed with it's left side. House turned his torso as far as he could in his position and Wilson grabbed him under his armpits, carefully lifting House into the wheelchair.
 

The screams that had accompanied all those movements right after the infarction had ceased to grunts and an occasional harsh breath, but nothing more. Wilson was glad for that. He had hated to hear House scream in pain. He still hated it.
 

He never wanted to hear it again in his life.
 

"Wilson! I really need to pee!"
 

"What? Oh! Sorry, yeah!" Wilson was startled out of his train of thoughts and pushed House towards the bathroom and helped him to get his pants down and to get onto the toilet. Just the usual drill, really.
 

Well, kind of.
 

While helping House out of his pants, Wilson's own pair suddenly seemed to shrink a size or two. His face flushed a shade of pink and he quickly looked up at his friend to see if he'd noticed anything, but the man was too busy to block the pain out and not look at his mangled thigh. Wilson took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to will his erection away while helping House onto the toilet.
"I'll wait outside." he said, getting out and slamming the door behind him before House had a chance to say anything else.

 

Wilson sat on the bed, immediately jumped up again and started to pace through the room, running his hands through his hair and looking down at his crotch. He cursed at his dick and told it to get down.
 

About a minute later, House called Wilson back into the bathroom and Wilson sighed. He slowly walked back into the bathroom, not meeting House's eyes while helping the man to pull his pants back up and get back into the wheelchair.

"I want to go to the living room." House said. Wilson nodded and steered the wheelchair towards their new goal. "Do you want to sit in the recliner or on the couch?" he asked. House weighed the options. "Couch." he then decided.
 

Ten minutes later, he was settled, and Wilson was debating with himself whether to sit next to him or take the recliner. House rolled his eyes and flicked the TV on, ignoring his friend.
 

Wilson decided to take his chances and lowered himself onto the couch. "Could you turn the TV off?" he asked.
 

House frowned and looked at Wilson irritably. "But it's Monstertruck Monday!" he said. Wilson looked away for a moment, but then turned his gaze on House again, looking determined.
 

"We need to talk. Well- I need to tell you something."
 

Curiosity spiked, House turned off the TV. "Alright, talk. Spill it." he said.
 

Wilson met his eyes nervously.