Lullaby
Title: Lullaby
Pairing: House/+Wilson
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG
Warnings: sick!Wilson.
Summary: Wilson wakes up from a month long coma. House was singing to him.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Um... I found the song and wrote a fic around it. My brain is dead from packing for starting college and working on a bigbang-sized crossover. This may suck completely. Or it might be sweet. I really can't tell at this point.
T
Warmth.
Warmth, on his hand, skin touching skin.
Warmth.
Soft breath, a gentle voice.
Speaking, quietly, softly, gently.
Warmth, again.
Against his forehead, soft and moist.
A kiss.
Cool, but not cold; gentle, but certain.
Cool, on his chest, on his arms, his face.
Dimming light.
Breath, and gentle words.
Warmth against his hand, hand curled around his.
Then song.
“Durme, Durme mi angelico.”
The voice was male, but smooth and gentle, practiced in the song it was singing.
“Hijico chico de tu nacion.”
He... he almost recognized that song, somehow.
“Criatura de Sion.”
Where... where was he.
“Por que nombre, ah me demandas.”
He didn’t... that song... he knew it, from a long, long time ago.
“Por que no canto yo?”
But the voice... shouldn’t be male.
“Ah, cortaron las mis alas y mi boz amudicio.”
His....grandmother. His mom’s mom. She was dead, a long time ago.
“Ah, el mundo de dolor.”
He opened his eyes, as soft and gentle and warm and moist pressed against his forehead.
“Hmm?”
The warm and gentle touch seemed to freeze, against his skin, then lifted.
He blinked, slowly, at his friend’s face, “House.... you’re not my grandmother...”
“I had a friend when I was thirteen. His Mom sang that to his baby sister. I babysat a few times, and she had to teach me it so I could get the baby to stop crying and go to sleep.”
“House?”
“Hmm?”
“Why were you singing me a lullaby?”
House didn’t answer, just looked around the room for a little, then back at his friend, for some reason smoothing down the sheets over the younger doctor’s chest, “you’ve been unconscious for a while, buddy.”
Wilson blinked, “I remember feeling like...something was wrong...”
“Yeah. You had a seizure and went into a coma. They found a tumor in your occipital. It was operable, as was the micro tumor in your temporal lobe, and there’s been no sign of cancer since, but you didn’t wake up.”
Wilson blinked, slowly sitting up.
“How... how long?”
“A month. You’ve been sort of waking up and sleeping, it was past time for you to start sleeping, but you seemed agitated.... I just figured... if it worked on a baby... maybe it would calm you down.”
“I’ve really been unconscious for a month?”
House nodded, “you’ve seemed to wake up a little more than usual a few times this week... not opening your eyes, but... reacting, kind of. But yeah. I think it was most likely because of the swelling after the surgery on the microtumor starting to go down all the way.”
Wilson reached out, frowning, as he ran his hand along the side of House’s face, gently, “you look tired.”
House shrugged, getting up, clearly uncomfortable, “I’ll go get Baker-“
“House.”
House stopped, turned around, looking back at him.
“What?”
“I...can’t really see very well.”
House sighed, sitting down on the edge of Wilson’s bed, “how bad is it?”
“It’s... not... I mean, I’m not blind. But it’s... fuzzy. Dark. Wrong.”
He seemed a little scared.
House shook his head, “it’s just the scar tissue from the surgery. You’re fine. I mean, your vision isn’t, but it’s okay.”
Wilson nodded. He still looked upset.
House sighed again, and scooted up against the head of the bed, allowing Wilson to lie close against him, upset, “okay. It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay.”
Wilson’s hand curled a little in his shirt, and he bit his lip, hesitating, before covering it with his own hand, “shhh. Just calm down. It’s gonna be okay.”
Wilson nodded, but he still looked quite upset, lying on his side, as close against his friend as he could be without being on top of him..
House watched him, then, resting his hand on Wilson’s boney back, rubbing gently, and started to sing again.
Wilson closed his eyes, and House watched the tension slowly fade from his face.
It was gonna be okay.
Wilson was okay.
It would be okay.
Sleep, sleep
Little child of your nation -
Child of Zion
Without knowing pain
You ask me why do I not sing -
My wings were cut and my voice died away
Ah, what a world of pain …
Pairing: House/+Wilson
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG
Warnings: sick!Wilson.
Summary: Wilson wakes up from a month long coma. House was singing to him.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: Um... I found the song and wrote a fic around it. My brain is dead from packing for starting college and working on a bigbang-sized crossover. This may suck completely. Or it might be sweet. I really can't tell at this point.
T
Warmth.
Warmth, on his hand, skin touching skin.
Warmth.
Soft breath, a gentle voice.
Speaking, quietly, softly, gently.
Warmth, again.
Against his forehead, soft and moist.
A kiss.
Cool, but not cold; gentle, but certain.
Cool, on his chest, on his arms, his face.
Dimming light.
Breath, and gentle words.
Warmth against his hand, hand curled around his.
Then song.
“Durme, Durme mi angelico.”
The voice was male, but smooth and gentle, practiced in the song it was singing.
“Hijico chico de tu nacion.”
He... he almost recognized that song, somehow.
“Criatura de Sion.”
Where... where was he.
“Por que nombre, ah me demandas.”
He didn’t... that song... he knew it, from a long, long time ago.
“Por que no canto yo?”
But the voice... shouldn’t be male.
“Ah, cortaron las mis alas y mi boz amudicio.”
His....grandmother. His mom’s mom. She was dead, a long time ago.
“Ah, el mundo de dolor.”
He opened his eyes, as soft and gentle and warm and moist pressed against his forehead.
“Hmm?”
The warm and gentle touch seemed to freeze, against his skin, then lifted.
He blinked, slowly, at his friend’s face, “House.... you’re not my grandmother...”
“I had a friend when I was thirteen. His Mom sang that to his baby sister. I babysat a few times, and she had to teach me it so I could get the baby to stop crying and go to sleep.”
“House?”
“Hmm?”
“Why were you singing me a lullaby?”
House didn’t answer, just looked around the room for a little, then back at his friend, for some reason smoothing down the sheets over the younger doctor’s chest, “you’ve been unconscious for a while, buddy.”
Wilson blinked, “I remember feeling like...something was wrong...”
“Yeah. You had a seizure and went into a coma. They found a tumor in your occipital. It was operable, as was the micro tumor in your temporal lobe, and there’s been no sign of cancer since, but you didn’t wake up.”
Wilson blinked, slowly sitting up.
“How... how long?”
“A month. You’ve been sort of waking up and sleeping, it was past time for you to start sleeping, but you seemed agitated.... I just figured... if it worked on a baby... maybe it would calm you down.”
“I’ve really been unconscious for a month?”
House nodded, “you’ve seemed to wake up a little more than usual a few times this week... not opening your eyes, but... reacting, kind of. But yeah. I think it was most likely because of the swelling after the surgery on the microtumor starting to go down all the way.”
Wilson reached out, frowning, as he ran his hand along the side of House’s face, gently, “you look tired.”
House shrugged, getting up, clearly uncomfortable, “I’ll go get Baker-“
“House.”
House stopped, turned around, looking back at him.
“What?”
“I...can’t really see very well.”
House sighed, sitting down on the edge of Wilson’s bed, “how bad is it?”
“It’s... not... I mean, I’m not blind. But it’s... fuzzy. Dark. Wrong.”
He seemed a little scared.
House shook his head, “it’s just the scar tissue from the surgery. You’re fine. I mean, your vision isn’t, but it’s okay.”
Wilson nodded. He still looked upset.
House sighed again, and scooted up against the head of the bed, allowing Wilson to lie close against him, upset, “okay. It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay.”
Wilson’s hand curled a little in his shirt, and he bit his lip, hesitating, before covering it with his own hand, “shhh. Just calm down. It’s gonna be okay.”
Wilson nodded, but he still looked quite upset, lying on his side, as close against his friend as he could be without being on top of him..
House watched him, then, resting his hand on Wilson’s boney back, rubbing gently, and started to sing again.
Wilson closed his eyes, and House watched the tension slowly fade from his face.
It was gonna be okay.
Wilson was okay.
It would be okay.
Sleep, sleep
Little child of your nation -
Child of Zion
Without knowing pain
You ask me why do I not sing -
My wings were cut and my voice died away
Ah, what a world of pain …