New House Fic: Letting Go Pt. 1/2
Title: Letting Go
Author: Megan
Rating: PG-18 (Yes, I made my own rating!)
Summary: House and Wilson vacation in the woods. Mayhem and fluff ensues
Spoilers: None really. If you’ve seen the show, you have nothing to fear.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.
Author's Notes: This is set sometime during the 7th season. In this fic they ARE broken up but it was a good break-up, not the crap they made on the show.
AN2: Written for the Camp Sick!Wilson Random Items Challenge. My words were: black bra, satellite dish, and a twig. Enjoy!
FF Link to Story here
~~~~~~~~~
Dr. James Wilson woke to the warm July sun blaring through the cabin windows. For a moment he didn’t remember where he was but once the haze of sleep cleared it all came back to him in a rush of giddy anticipation.
House had marched into Wilson’s office holding two plane tickets and a formal release of duty for vacation from Cuddy. The destination on the tickets read Washington which did not excite Wilson’s enthusiasm until House had explained, while nibbling on Wilson’s neck, that they were going to go to a cabin in the woods, equipped with all the comforts a man can want (with the exception of a TV) and himself.
The prospect of getting House alone to himself for an entire two weeks excited more than just his enthusiasm and the meeting had ended with both men trying to keep their moans of pleasure quiet.
Wilson didn’t know if it was just him acting like a girl, which according to House he did a lot, but it seemed to him that House wasn’t fully over Cuddy which was putting a strain on their new relationship. House had assured him over and over again that he was over Cuddy and their relationship (which had ended quite well considering) but Wilson couldn’t believe him. Not when every stray look of House’s was to Cuddy or on Cuddy’s ass. He hoped that this vacation would help House let go of his past and start a future with him.
A loud snore broke him out of his thoughts before he could slap himself on the head when he realized how girly that sounded. Thank God House couldn’t read minds, especially while he was asleep.
Quietly, Wilson crawled out of bed, sparing a minute to stretch his sore back before placing his feet on the floor. In general Wilson’s back didn’t bother him often but the bed in the cabin reminded him of sleeping on solid ground with a pillow and his spine was letting him know it didn’t appreciate it.
He padded barefoot over to the suitcase which held both of their belongings and grabbed a pair of faded jeans and a blank t-shirt. Something black and satin fell on the floor as he pulled out the shirt and he ignored it until after he’d gotten dressed.
Stifling a small moan as his back protested the movement, Wilson bent down to pick up the article of clothing. Jealousy filled his stomach and pumped ice through his veins when he discovered it was a bra which smelled unsurprisingly like Cuddy’s laundry detergent.
“Well that’s a plus,” he thought bitterly when he realized that at least House hadn’t taken it directly off Cuddy.
Angrily he tossed the bra onto his side of the bed which he knew House would check first, announcing to his lover that he’d found the “token” and wasn’t happy about it. Somehow he’d managed not to slam the bedroom door shut when he exited the room to calm down and make breakfast. If he and House were going to talk, or not talk, then they were going to need some Macadamia Nut Pancakes to smooth things over.
~~~~~~~~~~~
House woke to the smell of something delicious being made in the kitchen just a wall’s width away. He rolled over to Wilson’s side, his brain not yet registering that the smell meant Wilson wasn’t in bed, and frowned when he felt a scratchy yet smooth surface rub against the short, bristled hairs of his beard.
He pulled his face away, confused for a brief moment before he recognized the garment as Cuddy’s bra. Shit! Wilson had found it and given that he already thought House wasn’t over her, he’s going to assume that this is proof of it.
Steeling himself for a long, tear-filled (on Wilson’s end) conversation, House rolled out of bed, grabbing a few Ibuprofen before he pulled on a pair of wrinkled jeans and a Van Halen t-shirt.
“Are those for me?” He asked as he walked into the kitchen and saw a plate of pancakes in Wilson’s hand.
“Uh, yeah,” Wilson answered not having fully decided who the pancakes belonged to. He grabbed the small pitcher of syrup and the plate of butter then passed them to House who was already beginning to dig into the food.
“It’s not what you think,” House said refusing to pussyfoot around the conversation.
Recognizing the statement for what is was, Wilson played along, “Then what is it?”
“Not yet,” House replied cryptically.
Wilson lost his patience and laughed bitterly, “House, I can ignore a lot but this is not something I’m going to let you weasel your way out of.”
“What are you going to do?” House challenged annoyed, “You’re stuck in the middle of the forest. You have a horrible sense of direction, no way of leaving and no money to speak of since I hold your wallet and keys.” A spark ignited in Wilson’s eyes and House felt his own burn in response, “You can’t take me and you know it.”
Wilson spluttered indignantly for a few seconds then simply stormed out of the room.
“Don’t forget to install the satellite dish! We need some TV out here” House called loudly after him. While he had agreed to no TV, he’d already changed his mind before they’d left so he’d brought a spare satellite dish from home for Wilson to install.
Wilson’s response was to slam the front door hard enough for the picture frames on the walls to shake in reply.
~~~~~~~~~
Wilson stormed out of the cabin and walked huffily outside, hoping the warm summer breeze would calm him down.
That man was so frustrating it was a miracle that he hasn’t beaten him senseless yet. There have been a few times that he’s wanted to and each time Wilson had the presence of mind to shut him out either mentally or physically get him out of his sight.
He heard, with haughty indignation, House’s comments as he was leaving and as much as he didn’t want to, he knew before they left that House would change his mind about the TV so he’d expected the satellite.
With less anger in his footsteps than when he exited the cabin, Wilson walked over to where the dish lay wrapped in a blanket next to the tool box and ladder.
Readying himself against the hot July sun, Wilson began to attach the satellite that House so desperately wanted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
House sat inside the air conditioned cabin listening to the footsteps on the roof with arrogant satisfaction. He knew that no matter how angry Wilson was at him, he’d always do anything to make House happy. It was one of the things House loved about the oncologist.
He listened for twenty minutes to Wilson attaching the dish. He was surprised his friend had gone this long without hurting himself, he’d expected a pained “Ow!” any moment from whatever way Wilson managed to hurt himself by doing an easy task.
He only had to wait another five minutes for the very thing he had been listening for happened, albeit not in the way he’d wanted.
Uneven footfalls told House that Wilson was moving around on the roof. A sliding shingle followed by a hard thump on the roof was enough to get House moving outside to see what was going on. He didn’t think Wilson was actually hurt but he wanted to ease some of the tension by showing that he cared.
By the time he’d gotten outside, Wilson had made his way down the roof to the edge where House suspected a ladder should be. “Hey Wilson,” he called loudly, his voice echoing through the trees, “you get that satellite installed yet?”
Wilson let out an explosive breath of frustration, “No, thanks I’m good. I don’t need help.”
“Who asked if you needed help? I wanted to know if you’d finished with the satellite.” House replied almost managing to sound annoyed.
“House!” Wilson yelled angrily. Before he could get another furious word out of his mouth the sweat on his grubby hands pooled to his palms and the edge of the roof fell out of his grasp.
He gave a startled cry before he felt the earth break his fall with bone-jarring force. Pain tore through his ankle, setting his calf and foot on fire. His knee joined the torment soon after and Wilson found it hard to do anything else other than try to breathe evenly.
“You know,” House’s voice said, the increasing volume indicating that he was coming closer, “if you wanted something to break your fall, a ladder isn’t the thing to do it.”
Frustrated passed the point of return, Wilson grabbed the closest thing he could find and swung it at House. Of course, a twig with leaves at full bloom wasn’t about to do any damage but it made him feel better none the less.
House stared at him in shock for all of a millisecond before his lip curled up in amusement, “Did you just try to hit me with a twig?”
“House,” Wilson ground through clenched teeth, “if you’re not going to help me up then go away.”
Upon hearing the strain in his lover’s voice, House quit the mock joking and limped as fast as he could over to where his friend lay. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes searching Wilson for sign of injury.
“What makes you think something’s wrong? Maybe I just don’t want to joke around with you.” Wilson snapped, his pain fueling his bad mood.
To refrain from smacking the man upside the head (since he didn’t know if Wilson had hit his head or not), House grabbed the oncologist’s face gently in his hands, forcing Wilson to look at him. “I’m sorry. I know you’re upset about the bra and I know that your mad because I won’t explain but I promise you, you have nothing to worry about and you might even like that I brought it.”
Though the last sentence confused him, Wilson felt his eyes tear up at the sincerity of the rest. His anger began to melt away and all that was left was pain; deep, throbbing, gnawing pain.
House saw the anger flee from Wilson’s eyes but he wasn’t happy when he saw pain replace it. Deciding it would probably hurt the injured man more if he tried to figure out what was wrong merely by feeling, the diagnostician decided to ask, “Where are you hurt?”
“Ankle, knee,” Wilson answered steadily, still trying to control his breathing. The pain had calmed but not enough to where he felt like he wouldn’t be sick.
“Did you hit your head at all, twist your back?” House asked wanting to make sure Wilson didn’t have a concussion or a spinal injury.
“No and maybe. My back hurts but it did before I fell.” Wilson answered straightforwardly. The sooner he put House’s mind at ease, the sooner he could get inside and on a chair.
House didn’t like the last answer but it did help to calm the suspicion that something was terribly wrong. Now he just had to figure out how to get an injured Wilson inside.
“Do you think you could walk?” he asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure he wanted Wilson trying to walk on a damaged ankle and knee but he really didn’t think he could get both of them inside by himself.
Even as he spoke, House’s hands had begun to venture their way down Wilson’s leg. They stopped at the swollen knee and after his brain told them that it wasn’t too bad of an injury, the hands moved on to the ankle.
Wilson hissed and groaned as House’s hands prodded the badly swollen ankle and though the leg jerked away, House could tell that Wilson was trying to keep still so House could finish his inspection.
The frown in House’s brow creased deeper and for a second House thought sweat would pool there but no it steadily dripped down his face. He felt how swollen the ankle was and he could feel something rolling around underneath the skin when he gently rotated the ankle.
“I’m not sure,” Wilson answered at last, drawing in a deep, wheezing breath, “help me up and I’ll try.”
Stiffly House got off the ground then held out a hand for Wilson so he could help him up. Wilson grabbed the hand and used it to leverage himself off the ground.
The pain that emanated from his ankle had him squeezing House’s hand so tightly it nearly cut off circulation and he hated the thought of actually putting the foot to earth.
House moved around to the injured side, which luckily happened to be Wilson’s right, and slung his arm around Wilson’s waist while the oncologist placed his arm lightly across House’s shoulders.
“Ready?” House asked, giving Wilson warning that they were about to move.
NO! Every fiber of his being screamed but he put on a “brave face” and nodded.
Pain, fierce and strong stabbed his leg and Wilson would have fallen when his leg collapsed under him if House hadn’t been holding him upright.
“Easy,” House instructed letting his friend know that he wasn’t in any hurry and he wanted to do this as painlessly for both of them as possible. He wished they had another cane there for Wilson to use but alas, House was a one-cane kinda guy.
A proverbial light switched on in House’s head and he eased Wilson over to the side of the cabin so he could lean on it while House went searching.
House came back rather quickly with a branch as thick as Wilson’s forearm and as high as his hip. “Here,” House said handing it to Wilson, “use this and me to lean on.”
“I’m sure I can get away with just this,” Wilson responded knowing that supporting his weight had to be hell on House’s thigh.
“Nope, you’ll use both of us. Don’t worry, caney won’t think you’re cheating. He might actually like a boyfriend.” House said lightly. In a more serious tone he added, “I don’t want you on that ankle until I’ve had a better look at it.”
Surprised by how serious House was taking his trifling injuries Wilson did his best to comply but it was hard. His leg instinctively went down to support his weight then it went out when the ankle couldn’t support it.
At last they made it into the cabin where they both promptly collapsed into the nearest thing available - the couch and a chair. Unfortunately House had managed to land on the couch and Wilson the chair.
Deciding it was easier to drag another chair over than to switch places, Wilson used the stick to pull the leg of another armchair over. House’s cane slapped across the stick, stopping it from its chore.
“Caney wants some love,” House said with a pleading expression in his eyes. He got off the couch and motioned for Wilson to get up. “Couch, now.”
While House went to get the first aid kit, Wilson hopped the short distance over to the couch and gingerly plopped down onto it. He groaned when pain throbbed again through his leg and back then laid his head against the arm of the couch.
“Take this,” House instructed making Wilson open his eyes. House sat in the chair Wilson had vacated. He had two pills in the palm of his hand and a cup of water in the other. “It’s just Ibuprofen but it should help.”
Wilson smiled truly grateful, “Thanks. I could use that right about now.”
House pulled out his supplies while Wilson swallowed the pills. He stripped Wilson’s foot bare while the injured man put the cup on the coffee table.
“Ah!” Wilson gasped in pain.
“Sorry,” House apologized, placing an ice pack over the injured joint as he did so. Absently, House’s hand rubbed Wilson’s calf and shin in an effort to ease the pain he’d caused.
“It’s okay,” Wilson forgave wearily.
Doing his best to be gentle while he examined Wilson’s ankle, House prodded and rolled the ankle, keeping his eyes stone when Wilson made noises of pain. Confirming that it was a bad sprain, House grabbed two ace bandages and wrapped them around the damaged ankle.
After carefully placing the heavily bandaged ankle on a couple of pillows, House moved on to Wilson’s knee. The knee wasn’t nearly as bad as the ankle but it would still be painful. He grabbed to instant ice packs from the first aid kit and placed one over Wilson’s ankle and the other over his knee.
“How are you doing?” He asked while his hand stroked the younger man’s defined cheekbone.
“I’ll be fine,” Wilson assured with a small smile. “How’s your leg?”
“It’s fine,” House answered brushing aside Wilson’s blossoming concern.
“House-“
“Wilson, I’m fine. Just relax.” House soothed, brushing his hand through the thick chestnut hair.
“The bra?” Wilson asked.
House chuckled, “You aren’t going to let that go are you?”
“Nope, I’m stubborn like that.” Wilson said, his face relaxing minute by minute.
Unable to stop himself, House bent down and gave Wilson a kiss. He pulled back for a breath of air, “After dinner.”
“Which I should probably start making,” Wilson said resigned to the idea.
“Uh-uh,” House replied as he gently held Wilson down to the couch, “I’m making dinner tonight. Providing your ankle feels better, you can tomorrow night.”
“House, I can sit while I cook. You need to get off your leg.”
House sighed. Wilson was working himself into mama bear mode and that is hard to get him out of. “Fine, I’ll race you to the kitchen. Whoever makes it there first, cooks.” When Wilson actually got up to race, House pushed him back down harder than he meant making Wilson wince with pain. “Stay there you idiot.”
Wilson brought his hand to his back and stifled the groan that threatened to escape. He looked up at House, about to argue, when the look on House’s face stopped him. House’s eyes were hard with determination but there was apology in them too and Wilson understood that if he needed to, House would hurt him to keep him still. “Fine, you can cook.” he conceded.
“Thank you,” House answered proudly, “now what place delivers out here?”
Part 2