Work Text:
Disclaimer: The characters from the show aren't mine, they belong to others. No copyright infringement intended. Any characters you don't recognize are mine. Feedback would be nice, positive feedback would be nicer. Enjoy!
Category: House MD angst, hurt/comfort ficlet
Series: No, just a glance into their co-habitation
Spoilers: Anything up to end of Season Three
Summary: Wilson loses a patient. House tries to be supportive. In his own way.
Archive: Just tell me where it's going and keep my name attached
Additional 'stuff': Wilson’s still living with House.
WARNING: Nothing I can think of.
Notes: I’ve written a couple of fics where I referred to House and Wilson as Greg and James. It didn’t feel right, so in this one I’ve using their last names. Let me know which you prefer?
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Title: Doctor’s orders
Wilson drove home in a daze. A long-term patient had died suddenly and he was devastated. He had seemed to be responding to treatment, even improving enough to go on vacation.
Then, barely a week after a follow-up appointment, being shown photos of the couple standing outside the White House and in front of the Washington Memorial, Wilson had received a letter from the man’s wife inviting him to the funeral.
Parking behind House’s bike, Wilson let himself in, intending on taking a bath and then going straight to bed.
As he pushed his key into the front door, the door opened and he came face-to-face with House.
Ignoring the look on Wilson’s face which screamed: ‘GO AWAY!!’, House reached out and took Wilson’s briefcase from him.
‘Dinner’s almost ready.’
‘House…no.’ Wilson’s eyes were dull, but the meaning was clear.
‘And I got DVDs.’ House continued, ignoring Wilson completely.
Wilson inhaled the delicious mingling scents emanating from the kitchen but they seemed somehow to bypass his brain. He didn’t even notice them, his feet carrying him an autopilot towards the bathroom.
‘Go wash up for dinner.’ House handed Wilson a beer as he spoke.
‘NO, OKAY, NO, HOUSE!!’ Wilson found the energy to yell from some reserve of energy he hadn’t realized he had.
House’s expression changed from indifference to annoyance. ‘Shut up. So you lost a patient. It happens. It’s not the first. It sure as Hell won’t be the last. You move ON.’
Wilson stared at House as if he had two heads. Or no head. Or something. Whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by the smoke alarm’s incessant beep.
‘Dammit!’ House limped as quickly as he could into the kitchen and, as usual their argument was forgotten as something more pressing happened, in this case accompanied with clouds of acrid smoke.
Wilson threw open windows, moving quickly from room to room to ensure the smoke dissipated as quickly as it could and House salvaged the still-edible parts of the dinner.
Finally, Wilson ended up in the kitchen and looked around. ‘What the hell?! House! Did you use every utensil in this kitchen?!’
House shrugged unapologetically. It wasn’t his turn to do the washing up ‘I saw the letter. I wanted to make dinner.’
Wilson frowned. ‘You…you read the letter from the patient’s wife?’
House nodded. ‘I was in your office to see if you wanted to buy me lunch but…’
‘I wasn’t there?’ Wilson hazarded.
House nodded. ‘So to pass the time until you got back I read the stuff on your desk.’
‘How come you find a letter buried under a heap of patient files on *my* desk but you can’t find your own patient files which aren’t buried under anything on *your* desk?’
House made a face. ‘Your stuff is *way* more interesting than my stuff.’
Wilson sighed. ‘Look…House…I appreciate the thought, but I’m…’
‘Ungrateful?’ House offered.
Wilson shook his head. ‘Tired.’
House limped over to the coffee table and leaned down. ‘I got DVDs.’
Defeated, Wilson looked over. ‘Alien?’
‘Yeah. And Aliens.’
‘I guess I should be grateful you didn’t get Love Story.’ Wilson conceded.
House grinned, holding up the third DVD. ‘Guess what?’
End