Alright
Title: Alright
Author: Alanwolfmoon
Prompt: 88: Wilson loses sight in one eye.
Pairing: House/Wilson
Category: Slash, hurt comfort
Rating/Warnings: not much
Words: 1190
Summary: see prompt
Disclaimer: NOT MINE!
Extra Note: I'm leaving on vacation the day posting opens, so I'm posting the two stories I've finished so far early because I don't know when I'll have internet access next, and it might not be during the posting period.
T
Wilson jumped, as something touched his neck.
He turned, quicky, but there was no one there.
But then there were hands over his eyes.
Wilson shivered a little at the soft breath on the back of his neck, pulled away, and turned around.
House was standing there, grinning.
Wilson looked at him, and sighed, "what are you doing?"
"Screwing with you."
"Well, find a less annoying way of doing it."
"But annoying you is why it's fun!" pouted House, before giving Wilson a quick kiss on the cheek.
Wilson smiled, despite himself, and curled his hand around House's, "have lunch with me?"
House nodded, "duh. Cafeteria or somewhere else?"
"I’ve got time to go out."
House grinned, "meet me at the bike. There's a new place."
Wilson groaned, "do we have to take the bike?"
House nodded, "yep," he said, smugly.
Wilson rolled his eyes, but leaned into House's shoulder, "meet you there at twelve?"
House nodded, and kissed him again, before limping off to answer a page.
Wilson smiled after him, and turned back to the form he had been filing out.
He didn't see the gurney, as he turned to the left, until it was too late.
The next thing he saw, was his friend's face, creased with worry, "Wilson? can you hear me?"
Wilson nodded, dizzily, as hands supported his slow attempt at sitting up.
His vision spun, and he was starting to feel nauseous.
House helped him stand, and another person he couldn't really see gripped his left arm, helping him stagger to a chair.
"How many fingers?"
"Three."
"Your eyes don't look aligned."
"They never are, you know that."
"Yeah, but they're different than usual. you seeing double?"
Wilson swallowed, and closed his eyes, "I think I screwed up."
"Why's that?"
"I'm only seeing one image."
"So? that's a good thing."
Wilson opened his eyes, and covered the right one, "now I’m seeing no image."
House responded by gripping Wilson's arm, and pulling him to his feet, "how long?"
"A few hours...."
"Shit, Wilson, you're an idiot!"
"No, it's okay. I just mean, I screwed up by getting hit. it's probably just a migraine, I’ve gotten ones that didn't hurt before."
House grabbed Wilson's shoulders, marching him down the hall, "or it could be a clot, you ever think of that?!"
Wilson paled, "I..."
"How long. how long, exactly."
"Maybe three and a half hours."
House's hand tightened on wilson's shoulder, almost imperceptibly
Three hours was the limit for use of clot-dissolving drugs.
Dr. Marvin Baker, head of neurology at Princeton plainsboro, sighed, "I’m afraid House's diagnosis is right, James. It's a clot, cutting off bloodflow to the retina...and as he said, it's past the window for dissolving it. we can remove some of the fluid in the eye itself, and see if the clot moves on its own, but that risks it ending up somewhere more vital. in truth, the safest bet is to just let it be."
Wilson closed his eyes, miserably, and leaned against House, who was standing next to the exam table wilson was sitting on.
They made it outside, and wilson suddenly stopped, flinching back, and ducking his head down, stumbling against his friend.
House gripped his shoulder, “what?”
“It hurts... the light, it’s too bright.”
House nudged him back inside the hospital, an arm around his shoulders, keeping him from tripping or running into the edge of the door.
Wilson sat down, covering his bad eye with one hand.
He straightened, slowly easing the hand off.
“Sorry. Guess I need sunglasses.”
House nodded, “I’ve got a pair in my office you can borrow.”
“Thanks.”
House sighed, plopping down onto the couch next to his friend.
Wilson was sitting with a journal, rubbing his forehead.
His lazy eye had become more pronounced, since the clot, and was currently looking in a completely different direction than the good one.
“Hey,” he said, quietly, as House joined him.
“Headache?”
Wilson nodded, still kneading his forehead miserably.
House reached over, “let me.”
Wilson slowly lowered his hand, “House...”
“Don’t say anything. Just let me do it.”
“Why?”
“Just shut up, okay?”
House gently kissed his friend’s temple.
Wilson turned to look at him, blinking slowly.
“Did you just...”
House smirked.
Wilson leaned against him, sighing.
House ran his fingers through his friend’s hair, “feel any better?”
Wilson laughed, weakly, turning his head into the crook of House’s neck.
“Yeah. All better.”
Wilson closed his eyes, and allowed himself to take comfort for a while, in just the closeness with his friend.
“House?” asked Wilson, half whimpering, a few hours later.
House put down the book he was reading.
“Yeah?”
Wilson had his hand over his eyes-clearly the headache had only gotten worse.
“Lie down,” instructed House, nudging Wilson’s shoulder.
Wilson complied, hand still across his eyes.
House gently pulled the hand off, and placed his own hands on either side of Wilson’s head, “just relax. This should help a bit more than a kiss.”
Wilson wondered where House had learned to rub like that, and why he’d been keeping it to himself all these years.
By the time House had finished, Wilson was half asleep, the tension gone from his face.
House smiled a bit, and brushed his fingers through Wilson’s hair, briefly.
“No more reading today, okay? This should go away within a few days, your brain just has to adjust.”
Wilson nodded, sleepily, then frowned, and opened his eyes, “I have to give a speech-I have to memorize what I’m going to say”
“What?”
“I’m supposed to give a lecture on the use of cisplatin in the treatment of esophageal cancer...”
“So?”
“So, the lecture stage is too bright. What am I supposed to do, wear sunglasses giving the lecture?”
“If you need to, I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“I’ll look ridiculous.”
“It’ll be fine. Just explain you hurt your eye and the lights are too bright. Nobody’ll care.”
“Then I’ll feel ridiculous.”
House gave him an annoyed look, “it’s just friggin’ light sensitivity. Get the hell over it. It’s not like you’ve got a cane.”
Wilson flushed slightly, realizing how his statement must have sounded to his friend.
“I just... feel really stupid.”
House shook his head, “nobody’s gonna care, Wilson. I’ve got an idea, anyway, but it won’t mean squat if you don’t memorize the speech.”
Wilson nodded, miserably, reaching for his files.
House grabbed for them, “no.”
“House-“
“Shut up. If you keep reading you’re going to get an even worse headache, and then you’ll be useless all night. Gimme the speech, I’ll help you memorize it, and then we can get on with the night.”
Wilson nodded, reluctantly handing his friend the pages of the speech.
So by the time Wilson showed up in the lecture hall with an eyepatch on, after about twenty pirate jokes from his friend, he knew what he was saying, and didn’t have to wear his sunglasses.
House was waiting for him outside the lecture hall, grinning.
Wilson walked into the doorway a little bit, but otherwise looked happy.
“House?”
“Hmm?”
“I think this is gonna be alright.”
Author: Alanwolfmoon
Prompt: 88: Wilson loses sight in one eye.
Pairing: House/Wilson
Category: Slash, hurt comfort
Rating/Warnings: not much
Words: 1190
Summary: see prompt
Disclaimer: NOT MINE!
Extra Note: I'm leaving on vacation the day posting opens, so I'm posting the two stories I've finished so far early because I don't know when I'll have internet access next, and it might not be during the posting period.
T
Wilson jumped, as something touched his neck.
He turned, quicky, but there was no one there.
But then there were hands over his eyes.
Wilson shivered a little at the soft breath on the back of his neck, pulled away, and turned around.
House was standing there, grinning.
Wilson looked at him, and sighed, "what are you doing?"
"Screwing with you."
"Well, find a less annoying way of doing it."
"But annoying you is why it's fun!" pouted House, before giving Wilson a quick kiss on the cheek.
Wilson smiled, despite himself, and curled his hand around House's, "have lunch with me?"
House nodded, "duh. Cafeteria or somewhere else?"
"I’ve got time to go out."
House grinned, "meet me at the bike. There's a new place."
Wilson groaned, "do we have to take the bike?"
House nodded, "yep," he said, smugly.
Wilson rolled his eyes, but leaned into House's shoulder, "meet you there at twelve?"
House nodded, and kissed him again, before limping off to answer a page.
Wilson smiled after him, and turned back to the form he had been filing out.
He didn't see the gurney, as he turned to the left, until it was too late.
The next thing he saw, was his friend's face, creased with worry, "Wilson? can you hear me?"
Wilson nodded, dizzily, as hands supported his slow attempt at sitting up.
His vision spun, and he was starting to feel nauseous.
House helped him stand, and another person he couldn't really see gripped his left arm, helping him stagger to a chair.
"How many fingers?"
"Three."
"Your eyes don't look aligned."
"They never are, you know that."
"Yeah, but they're different than usual. you seeing double?"
Wilson swallowed, and closed his eyes, "I think I screwed up."
"Why's that?"
"I'm only seeing one image."
"So? that's a good thing."
Wilson opened his eyes, and covered the right one, "now I’m seeing no image."
House responded by gripping Wilson's arm, and pulling him to his feet, "how long?"
"A few hours...."
"Shit, Wilson, you're an idiot!"
"No, it's okay. I just mean, I screwed up by getting hit. it's probably just a migraine, I’ve gotten ones that didn't hurt before."
House grabbed Wilson's shoulders, marching him down the hall, "or it could be a clot, you ever think of that?!"
Wilson paled, "I..."
"How long. how long, exactly."
"Maybe three and a half hours."
House's hand tightened on wilson's shoulder, almost imperceptibly
Three hours was the limit for use of clot-dissolving drugs.
Dr. Marvin Baker, head of neurology at Princeton plainsboro, sighed, "I’m afraid House's diagnosis is right, James. It's a clot, cutting off bloodflow to the retina...and as he said, it's past the window for dissolving it. we can remove some of the fluid in the eye itself, and see if the clot moves on its own, but that risks it ending up somewhere more vital. in truth, the safest bet is to just let it be."
Wilson closed his eyes, miserably, and leaned against House, who was standing next to the exam table wilson was sitting on.
They made it outside, and wilson suddenly stopped, flinching back, and ducking his head down, stumbling against his friend.
House gripped his shoulder, “what?”
“It hurts... the light, it’s too bright.”
House nudged him back inside the hospital, an arm around his shoulders, keeping him from tripping or running into the edge of the door.
Wilson sat down, covering his bad eye with one hand.
He straightened, slowly easing the hand off.
“Sorry. Guess I need sunglasses.”
House nodded, “I’ve got a pair in my office you can borrow.”
“Thanks.”
House sighed, plopping down onto the couch next to his friend.
Wilson was sitting with a journal, rubbing his forehead.
His lazy eye had become more pronounced, since the clot, and was currently looking in a completely different direction than the good one.
“Hey,” he said, quietly, as House joined him.
“Headache?”
Wilson nodded, still kneading his forehead miserably.
House reached over, “let me.”
Wilson slowly lowered his hand, “House...”
“Don’t say anything. Just let me do it.”
“Why?”
“Just shut up, okay?”
House gently kissed his friend’s temple.
Wilson turned to look at him, blinking slowly.
“Did you just...”
House smirked.
Wilson leaned against him, sighing.
House ran his fingers through his friend’s hair, “feel any better?”
Wilson laughed, weakly, turning his head into the crook of House’s neck.
“Yeah. All better.”
Wilson closed his eyes, and allowed himself to take comfort for a while, in just the closeness with his friend.
“House?” asked Wilson, half whimpering, a few hours later.
House put down the book he was reading.
“Yeah?”
Wilson had his hand over his eyes-clearly the headache had only gotten worse.
“Lie down,” instructed House, nudging Wilson’s shoulder.
Wilson complied, hand still across his eyes.
House gently pulled the hand off, and placed his own hands on either side of Wilson’s head, “just relax. This should help a bit more than a kiss.”
Wilson wondered where House had learned to rub like that, and why he’d been keeping it to himself all these years.
By the time House had finished, Wilson was half asleep, the tension gone from his face.
House smiled a bit, and brushed his fingers through Wilson’s hair, briefly.
“No more reading today, okay? This should go away within a few days, your brain just has to adjust.”
Wilson nodded, sleepily, then frowned, and opened his eyes, “I have to give a speech-I have to memorize what I’m going to say”
“What?”
“I’m supposed to give a lecture on the use of cisplatin in the treatment of esophageal cancer...”
“So?”
“So, the lecture stage is too bright. What am I supposed to do, wear sunglasses giving the lecture?”
“If you need to, I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“I’ll look ridiculous.”
“It’ll be fine. Just explain you hurt your eye and the lights are too bright. Nobody’ll care.”
“Then I’ll feel ridiculous.”
House gave him an annoyed look, “it’s just friggin’ light sensitivity. Get the hell over it. It’s not like you’ve got a cane.”
Wilson flushed slightly, realizing how his statement must have sounded to his friend.
“I just... feel really stupid.”
House shook his head, “nobody’s gonna care, Wilson. I’ve got an idea, anyway, but it won’t mean squat if you don’t memorize the speech.”
Wilson nodded, miserably, reaching for his files.
House grabbed for them, “no.”
“House-“
“Shut up. If you keep reading you’re going to get an even worse headache, and then you’ll be useless all night. Gimme the speech, I’ll help you memorize it, and then we can get on with the night.”
Wilson nodded, reluctantly handing his friend the pages of the speech.
So by the time Wilson showed up in the lecture hall with an eyepatch on, after about twenty pirate jokes from his friend, he knew what he was saying, and didn’t have to wear his sunglasses.
House was waiting for him outside the lecture hall, grinning.
Wilson walked into the doorway a little bit, but otherwise looked happy.
“House?”
“Hmm?”
“I think this is gonna be alright.”